#like stop pretending!!! who are you trying to impress you are only hurting yourself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

annwrites · 4 months

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you need a hand with that, baby?

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: hurt from billy's constant hot & cold behavior toward you, you begin to pull away from him. refusing to lose you, he offers to open up to you, but only on his terms. he then wakes in the middle of the night to an unexpected sight beside him.

— tags: billy actually opening up and discussing his past and feelings toward you, at least a bit. angst.

— tw: drinking, childhood trauma, masturbation, fingering, handjob

— word count: 7,132

— a/n: oh yeah, it's all coming together. pun maybe intended.

When you enter the motel room—your hands full of a selection of things the motel was serving for breakfast—it’s to Billy falling over himself, trying to quickly pull on a pair of jeans, quietly cursing to himself.

And then he barely glances up to you as he finally yanks the zipper up. “There you are. Where the hell have you been?” He looks at you. “Do you have any idea how wor-”

A smile slowly forms on his lips, cutting short the lecture he was about to bestow upon you about never leaving his eyesight ever again unless you wanted to see him pissed...also again.

He settles his hands on his hips—still shirtless—giving you a long look-over before stepping closer and reaching up, twirling a teased curl around his finger.

“Thought you stopped doing your hair like this weeks ago, doll?”

You shrug, setting the food down on the table, sitting. “I just wanted to try it out again.”

He sits, not bothering with a shirt for the moment being, and watches as you take a bite of a pastry, your eyes flitting to his chest for only a moment, before looking down to the buffet of food before you, cheeks warming.

He leans back, biting into an apple. “Really going to sit there and pretend like it has nothing to do with trying to impress me, honey?”

You glance up to him with furrowed brows, pouring a small bottle of milk into a paper bowl full of cereal. “Why would I want to do that?”

Each day he’s spent with you has made him more bold in his advances, even minimally, and today is no different. He finally just throws it out there. “I see the way you look at me. Especially when I’m like this. Half-dressed, or less. Or working on the Camaro. If you want to keep playing hard-to-get, sweetheart, we still have plenty days of driving before us, so we can play that game. Just know you won’t win.” He leans toward you, eyes boring into your own. “I will get what I’ve been waiting patiently for weeks for.”

You stop chewing, suddenly swallowing. You don’t want to admit you’d spent the better part of an hour teasing your hair and using so much Aquanet you’d nearly finished off the entire can until it was perfect just to see his reaction. But he could see right through you.

You were tiring of this game to an extent—you pretending like you felt nothing toward him than annoyance, and him making sexual advances toward you every day.

It all amounted to nothing.

Maybe sometimes it did feel a bit exciting to be desired by another, but it wasn’t about you with him. It was about what you were: a collection of body parts for him to play with. He’d all but thrown as much in your face two nights ago. What was it he had said about you being just another pair of lips?

You suddenly regret doing your hair.

Maybe you have been leading him on a bit lately. You hadn’t intended to. You’d done your utmost to ignore him in Hawkins—he was the one who refused to leave you alone. And being on the road together…it’d simply been about getting from point a to point b. Now…you tell yourself that’s still all it is. Both of you leaving behind nightmares to find new dreams out West.

Once you reach California, you’ll both go separate ways and never see one another ever again. Because that’s what people do: they leave.

You look back down to your food, stirring your now-soggy cereal, mood dampened. And Billy notices your sudden shift in mood, wondering what the fuck just happened.

You stand, throwing your food away. “I’m not hungry anymore,” you state, picking up your chair and going to sit by the window.

He rolls his eyes. Women and their damn mood swings. “You on your rag or somethin’?”

Your head jerks back toward him. “What?”

“You’re sure as hell acting like it.”

You don’t bother arguing as you turn back to the window. “No.”

He takes a few more bites of his apple, watching you. He chooses to change the subject. “So, what’re we drinking tonight?”

You’d forgotten about that… You look back to him. “Can you even buy alcohol?”

He smirks. “I have a fake, honey.”

You raise a brow, not entirely surprised. “You do?”

He pulls his wallet from his back pocket, slipping the card out and tossing it to you.

You pick it up off the floor and look it over. ‘Billy Squier’, really? You look at him and he has a smirk on his face.

“What, don’t tell me you don’t get the name?”

You walk it back over to him, extending the plastic card toward him. “You must’ve thought it was terribly clever, since you both share the same first name.”

He considers you for a moment, grabbing the card, tossing it onto the table, then yanking on your hand, pulling you into his lap.

You immediately try to stand up, but his arm wraps around your waist, holding you against him.

“Let go!”

He holds a piece of bacon up to your face. “Not until you’ve eaten something.”

You snub your nose at the offered food, so he just holds it closer. “I have no problem hand-feeding you, princess.”

You sigh dramatically and he uses that opportunity to shove the food into your mouth.

Once you’ve finished chewing do you try getting up again.

“You can get up just as soon as you tell me what the fuck that was a minute ago.”

You roll your eyes. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do,” he says casually, taking a bite of the pastry you hadn’t finished.

Feeling your temper growing shorter, you let him have it as you turn the least bit more back toward him so you can look at him. “Stop pretending like you give a damn about me. We both know what this is. That as soon as we get to California, we’re both going our separate ways. Nothing you do is going to change the fact that I refuse to fuck you before then.”

His jaw feathers. He knows you’re not trying to make him angry. You’re just hurt yourself from his vulgar behavior—his being hot and cold toward you. He decides he does not like the taste of his own medicine. You’d tried to connect with him more than once now, had tried to get him to open up like you had with him, but he’d shut it down at every turn.

You were clearly beginning to grow tired of it. He doesn’t entirely blame you. When was the last time you’d had someone show the least bit of concern for you? Even his step-mom, at times, had tried to show him some kindness.

He reaches up and gently tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “I’m nothing if not a man of my word, baby. I told you that you were stuck with me. I meant that. So I’ll wait for however long you want to keep holding out for. You take that to mean whatever you want it to.”

Your brows furrow and your hands come to rest atop his arm. “I… You…” You have no idea what you even want to say.

He holds another pastry up to you. “Muffin?”

Once breakfast was through—Billy refusing to let you off of his lap for the next hour; he’d taken his time eating and hadn’t tried to fight against the erection your constant squirming had caused, even if you’d ceased the moment you’d felt it—the two of you had gotten into his car and driven around town aimlessly, just sight-seeing, even if there wasn’t much to see here in the first place.

Some small Oklahoma town had to be one of the worst places to be stranded. He’d mused to himself that there was a reason it was known as a fly-over state.

You’d stayed mostly silent, even as he’d obnoxiously blared his rock music, trying to get your attention.

He could feel your interest—attentions—toward him beginning to wane, and it was an unsettling feeling. So, he’d, at every red light and stop and yield sign, reached over and touched you. You thought it’d been just to get under your skin. For him, it was just a reminder that you were still there beside him.

Once lunch time hit, he’d pulled into a family-owned diner, and even bothered holding your hand as the two of you went inside. You’d tried to tug away, but he’d held firm, twining his fingers between yours.

Once the two of you were eating—you refusing to even look in his direction, but instead watching the view outside the window at your side—he’d tapped your foot under the table and you’d rolled your eyes, pulling your leg back toward you.

He’d sighed then. “Your hair looks nice, since I never told you. I was right: it makes you look hot.”

“Thanks.”

He’d frowned. “Fine. Since it’s clearly what you’re after—five questions. That’s all you get. So, ask whatever you want and I’ll answer.”

You’d looked to him in surprise. Shocked he was offering such a thing. You were sure he’d never bother to open up. Or, if he did, it would be only when he was ready and deigned to divulge bits and pieces of himself and his life to you here and there. But putting you in control of what he was to share? You weren’t sure what to make of that.

You sit back, idly stabbing at your garden salad. You look up to him then, expression serious. “Why did you pick on me so much back in Hawkins?”

He raises a brow, forearms resting atop the table. “Why do you think?” He gestures as if the answer should be obvious.

You look back down and shift, and you suddenly seem uncomfortable to him.

“I… I thought that… Maybe…” You look out the window and a pained look seeps into your eyes. He reaches over, having no idea why the fuck he’s doing it, and takes one of your hands in his.

You look at him again. You let out a shaky breath, your hand trembling slightly in his firm grip. “Maybe something was wrong with me. I mean…my dad and the way he treated me. And then you show up and…” You swallow thickly.

That’s what you’d thought the last two months? That he’d been giving getting on your last nerve his every effort because what? You just attracted that kind of treatment—cruelty? Especially from men?

You’re now staring intently down at the table, lost in thought, like you’re somewhere else.

“Angel, look at me.”

You do, hesitantly. “You think I acted that way because I didn’t like you?”

You nod, hand shaking harder.

He leans in toward you. “It’s the very opposite. You should know that by now, honey.”

You blink at him. “You don’t actually like me, though.”

He raises a brow again. “Reading my thoughts now?”

“It’s…” You stop yourself short, pulling your hand back, settling it in your lap. You didn’t want to say this. Didn’t want to let on that you, at the very least, thought you felt something more toward him. Not when you knew how he thought of you. You never meant more toward anyone—they just did for you. Because you were always stupid enough to get attached.

“Go on.”

You clasp your shaking hands together. Opening up…you’d never been able to do that before. Had wanted to. With someone—anyone. But even just crying in front of your dad… That was an excellent way to get hit.

Your heart-rate quickens. You can’t do this. He’ll get angry, too. Just like the other night when he put his fist through a wall.

No man was a safe place for you.

“I don’t remember now.”

He stands then, sitting beside you, pressing his body against yours, arm behind you. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he says lowly, cupping your cheek in his other hand.

You shake your head, your body trembling in fear.

He leans down toward you. “Please.”

You look at him, blinking back tears and his heart fucking breaks.

“What if you get mad at me?” You ask, voice breaking on the last word.

“I won’t.”

You open your mouth to speak, until the waitress interrupts the both of you with the check.

Billy lets out a low swear, snatching it from her.

When he looks back to you, the moment is gone. You having withdrawn further away from him.

It seems he’s not the only one with difficulties sharing parts of himself.

He presses a soft kiss to your cheek and you whimper. He pulls back, and you still don’t look at him.

After lunch, Billy pulls into a gas station. Getting you drunk probably isn’t the best idea right now, but it’s the only way he’s going to get you to talk—get himself to, even.

So he heads inside, purchases a bottle of Crown Royal, and then comes back out, handing it to you.

You look it over for a moment, then look at him. “This is a stupid idea.”

He shrugs. “We made a deal, sweetheart. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now.”

You look back down at the bottle. “I only do stupid stuff when I’m with you.”

He smirks. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Once the two of you are locked in your motel room, you sit on the bed—him leaned back against the headboard, and you at the foot of it facing him.

“So…what do we do now?” You ask nervously.

“Could always play a drinking game. Or just start chugging until one of us is shit-faced. Or…” He grows quiet for a moment, then unscrews the lid, taking a long swig. “There’s a reason they call this shit liquid courage. Drink enough and you don’t feel afraid anymore. You want to talk, then we’ll talk. But I need to get my blood-alcohol level up first,” he says, taking another long drink.

He holds the bottle out toward you and you take it from him gingerly, taking a small sip. Your face screws and he laughs.

“That’s disgusting.”

He shrugs. “It’s one of my favorites. But when it comes to booze, you don’t always drink it for the taste.”

You take another sip and it still tastes just as bad as the first time. You then feel heat pool between your legs and you flush. You look up to him and see he’s just waiting on you to make your next move. You briefly wonder if this is what alcohol does for everyone—cause this kind of reaction. And if so, if he’d really meant the ‘taking advantage of you’ comment from last night.

You take another drink, then hand it back to him.

“So, you want to continue what you were saying at the diner?” He asks, taking a sip.

You’d had so many thoughts racing through your mind afterward that you honestly couldn’t remember now.

You’d asked him about his treatment toward you. He’d insinuated that he’d done it because he liked you and…you were going to imply you felt something for him, but were worried he saw you as just a sex toy.

You have half-a-mind to feign ignorance; that you’d forgotten, but you reach for the bottle again and take a long drink, swallowing multiple times, head beginning to feel light when you lower it down to your lap.

You smile to yourself and Billy only feels mild surprise that the liquor is working so quickly on you. With him having a good bit more body weight—not to mention tolerance—it would take him a few more drinks yet.

You look up to him, caressing the glass bottle. “I think you were right.”

He raises a brow, making a beckoning motion with his finger for the bottle and you hand it to him. “Oh, yeah? What about?”

“Me being attracted to you.” Your words already sound a bit slurred.

He’s not taken aback in the slightest by your admittance. He was aware of your physical attraction awhile ago. Knew you were too, even if you didn’t want to admit it—or, rather, wanted to try and bury it.

He drinks. “Read you like a book weeks ago on that, honey.”

You balk. “Weeks?” You’d not liked him back in Hawkins. Not in the least. Not his leather jacket or stupid car or dumb smirk. Not his deep voice or pretty eyes or swagger.

“Mhm.”

“Don’t humor yourself.”

He drinks again. "No?"

You stare at him for a moment and he smirks, thinking. He has an idea, but chooses to hold off for the moment being. He won't make this just another opportunity for him to try at getting in your pants. He's done enough damage to whatever was tentatively starting to grow between the two of you. He fears he's nearly killed it altogether.

This is him trying to dial it back.

You don't respond, instead reaching out for the bottle and he gives it to you. You drink, and then giggle lightly, and his lip twitches at the sound.

"So, the hell happened this morning when you started acting like a sour-puss all of a sudden?"

You look down at the bottle, tracing your finger along the comforter beneath you. You suddenly realize he's right about the whole liquid courage thing when you look up at him and suddenly don't feel so afraid anymore. "You make me feel safe sometimes. You've...done a lot for me. Even if you almost put a hole in my head..."

His jaw feathers. "I wouldn't have done it. Should've never raised a hand to you in the first place." He's quiet for a few seconds, then, "So I make you feel safe, huh?"

That was a first for him. The only person he ever had any responsibility in looking out for previously was Max, and he knew he scared the shit out of her. Not that he didn't do so on purpose at least half the time. They couldn't stand each other. He never pretended otherwise.

You pull the bottle into your lap and he licks his lips as you make a fist around the neck of it. "Mm, yeah."

"How's that?" He asks, unbuttoning his shirt halfway.

Your cheeks grow warm and you lower the bottle between your legs where a pulse is beginning to form. "I don't know. It's just the whole package, I guess."

Unable to help himself, he smirks before giving his reply. "You like my package, sweetheart?"

You groan, rolling your eyes, flopping back on the mattress, feet still planted atop it, knees bent.

He glances between your spread legs, growing hard.

You stare up at the ceiling. You're not drunk yet. And so you choose to revert back to more serious topics while you're still able to think straight.

"You said at the diner I could ask you questions. I still had four to go."

His eyes trail over your pert breasts. "How about we make things a bit more interesting?"

You lull your head to the side, looking at him, his shirt now fully undone. "How?"

His lip twitches, eyes growing dark. "I answer, but once I have, you have to remove a piece of clothing."

You roll your eyes back to the ceiling, sighing dramatically.

He laughs.

"Only if I get to choose what item."

His eyes widen. "Wait, really? You'll do it?"

You shrug. "If it's the only way."

"What's your first question, doll?"

You consider what you want to know the most about him. What best to start with. "Tell me about your mom."

He considers whether seeing you undressed is really all that important to him now. "Take another drink."

Maybe if he can get you plastered, you won't remember any of this conversation come morning.

Not understanding why he wants you to, you sit up a bit, swallowing another sip, then lie back down.

He reaches forward, taking the bottle from you and taking multiple pulls before leaning his head back, closing his eyes. "She..." His brow twitches as he imagines her on that beach, watching him in the water, a loving look in her eyes. "She tried with him. But I guess, like you, there was only so much she could take." He's unsure whether he's referring to the situation with your dad, or the other night on the interstate. "He was always fighting with her—accusing her of cheating and shit, not that I'd blame her—hitting her, pushing her around. I guess one day she'd had enough and hit the road. Maybe she just forgot me. Or didn't want me anymore. Maybe she only saw him when she looked at me. Who the fuck knows? She got out, I didn't. Until now. End of story."

You look at him and see that he's now staring up at the ceiling, his eyes a bit bloodshot, nose red. You want to reach out and touch him—give him a comforting gesture, but fear it will only make him feel worse. So you instead extend one of your legs, lying it atop his own.

He looks at you then, smirking, and he slides one of his hands along your calf. "So, what piece is comin' off first?"

You wiggle your foot that's currently resting atop his thigh. He shakes his head. "Of course it's something boring."

He slips your sock off, tossing it on the floor, then pauses, looking at you and a wide smile breaks out on his face as he grabs your ankle in one hand and starts tickling your foot with his other.

You squirm, letting out panicked laughs. "S-stop. N-noooo, please, aha!"

He lets up after a minute, hand sliding along your smooth leg again, chuckling to himself. "Three left to go, sweetheart."

For your next question, you tread as lightly as you possibly can. You make your voice light, soft. "You hate your dad for what he's done to you and your mom. For what he is—who. I guess I understand why you're so angry all the time. But why act similarly? Picking on me at school by pulling my hair...and what happened the other night... Is it just because that's the only example you've ever had set of how a man acts?"

He stays quiet, thinking. He begins to massage your foot with both his thumbs. Then, "I haven't been this open—vulnerable—with someone since before my mom left." He glances up to you. "I was ten then."

He looks back down. "I'm a man now. Not some kid. And a man doesn't cry or broadcast his shit to the world. He gets angry and fights back."

"Is that really what you think? That's how your dad—mine—are. Do you think they're real men?"

He stares at you then, hands stilling.

You wonder if he'd ever thought about it like that before. You continue. "You know what they say: you catch more flies with honey than vinegar."

He smirks. "Oh, I intend to get myself some honey eventually."

"Do you ever take anything seriously?"

"Not if I can help it," he says, taking the bottle and drinking again. "That your way of asking me to be sweet on you, baby?"

You reach for the bottle again, taking a drink yourself, wiggling your other foot.

He pulls your sock off, tossing it next to the other one. He doesn't tickle you this time. "Two more."

You're both thankful and not that he'd only offered you five. Had he done more, you'd be naked before you were done. And you were sure at that point he'd cut the questioning short, neither of you able to concentrate then. But you have so many things to ask—him still a bit of an enigma to you, or, rather, how he works.

You want to ask about his past with surfing, want to know how many girls he's been with—but know that question is far too juvenile and will make your feelings too obvious. You want to ask about his fascination with cars, what his favorite subject in school was, what about rock music appeals to him so much, maybe even ask about his step-sister. Instead, you ask about yourself.

"Why me?"

He begins rubbing your other foot. "Why you what, beautiful?"

That was a new one. And 'princess' earlier.

"You said it yourself the other night: you could've had any girl you wanted at Hawkins. I mean, I saw the way they all looked at you. So why me?"

He shrugs. "Like you said earlier, I guess it's just 'the whole package'."

You shake your head. "Try again, James Dean."

He laughs then, resting his head back, fighting the smirk on his lips. The last thing he needs is you thinking you're funny and it going to your head.

He looks down at you, the expression on his face now soft. "I only had eyes for you since day one, baby. There was just somethin' about you, I guess. Honestly, I think it was the fact you never tried to get my attention." He smirks. "Every man likes a chase. And I'll be damned if you haven't given me one. A few times."

He thinks about chasing you down on the interstate the other night.

"What about Angie?"

He raises a brow. "Were you jealous?"

You don't respond, just continue looking at him.

He shrugs. "It was what it was. I just did it to piss you off. Try to, at least. But once I had her in the backseat and we got down to business, there was only one girl on my mind, and it sure as hell wasn't her."

You blame your sudden sense of dizziness on the alcohol. "Oh."

"That surprise you?"

"Yes." You reach for the bottle and he hands it to you, your fingers brushing against one another as you take a few gulps. Your head really starts to spin then.

He leans forward, running his hand up your thigh. "Time to take something else off, darlin'."

You hand him the bottle, and with nervous hands, reach down to the hem of your shirt and pull it off, balling it up and tossing it at him.

"Now we're talkin'," he says, throwing your shirt across the room.

You shrug. "You already saw me in a bathing suit."

He smirks. "Context, doll."

His eyes glance down to your shorts. "Last one."

You're silent, for a long while, Billy taking a few sips from the bottle.

And then you speak.

"When we get to California...what happens?"

"I've been thinking about getting back into surfing again. I used to be really good at it. But that was almost a decade ago now. Might take a bit of practice to get back to where I was on the board." He shrugs. "Maybe I start competing and do odd jobs on the side until I maybe make it into something full-time."

You stay quiet.

"But that's not really what you're asking, is it?" He says.

You look at him.

"You're asking what happens to us when we get there."

You look at the wall. "No, I wasn't."

He clicks his tongue. "Thought we were being honest tonight."

You don't say anything, nor do you look at him.

His lip twitches. "You could always be my own personal cheerleader."

You look at him. "Would you even want that?"

He shrugs. "Someone's gotta do it."

A small smile comes onto your lips. "What's my rate-of-pay?"

His brow raises. "How about I just pay you in sexual favors? Your uniform will be covered."

Your face heats, remembering that comment. Stupid girl.

"Yeah, I still haven't forgotten about that, by the way."

"You wouldn't, would you?"

"No way in hell." He states matter-of-factly.

He then leans over you and reaches down, unbuttoning your jean shorts, slowly easing down the zipper and when you feel your body's reaction to it—rather, the reaction it's been having to him for awhile now—you desperately don't want him to pull them down. But a deal is a deal. And you know he won't be letting you out of this one either.

He hooks his fingers under the waistband and begins tugging them down your hips, sliding them off of your legs and he keeps his eyes trained on yours as he tosses them to the side.

And then he looks down and your face feels like it's boiling when his eyes grow wide at the sight before him.

He looks up to you then, removing his eyes from your panties that're now soaked through and sticking to you.

And for the first time in all the while you've known him, he's speechless.

But you are as well. So you simply push your thighs together, drawing your feet toward you.

He then shakes his head, letting out a low curse. "I should've let you ask more questions."

Once the two of you have showered and are in bed for the night—you'd gotten delivery for the night, Billy refusing to let you put your clothes back on all the while as you ate, and you pretending not to see his erection the entire time—you lied down in bed.

In truth, Billy had gotten off in the shower after your little drinking game—unable to think of anything else but the lovely sight between your legs, all for and from him. He'd not been quiet when he came, either. And when he emerged naked, going to lay down, he'd noticed a wet spot on the seat you got up from as you silently went to bathe.

It'd taken some time for him to calm down enough to sleep. His mind and body both, wondering if he shouldn't have taken a cold shower instead.

You, however, lied awake next to him, your own body still on fire, head still swimming, replaying the sight of him removing your shorts over and over again. The look in his eyes, his fingers pulling down the zipper, the veins in his hands as he gently yanked them off of you, curls falling over his shoulders, the scent of his cologne. The sight of him coming naked out of the bathroom. The sound of him orgasming in the shower.

You feel dampness in your panties again and you glance to him, still fast asleep. You then make what may very-well be a stupid decision and slip your hand beneath the waistband of them and begin to circle your clit with your fingers and your body jerks in response. You honestly couldn't remember the last time you'd not only touched yourself, but felt turned-on in general.

Living in that house with him...it killed all sense of hope and happiness and normality for you.

You look to Billy, your eyes trailing down his bare muscled chest, to his waist—his privates the only part of him that's covered, and barely at that, with a top sheet—and you slide your fingers between your wet folds and bite your lip.

You glance to his face, his lips, and circle your clit again, closing your eyes.

You spread your legs the least bit wider, closing your eyes, softly panting as you cup one of your breasts in your free hand.

Billy had been just on the verge of sleep when he'd heard you whimper beside him. His first thought had been that you were having a nightmare—stomach dropping at the thought of it being about him, about the other night—and then freezes when he looks at you and sees you touching yourself.

Your hand is in your panties, your other touching your breast, your lips slightly parted as you quietly moan.

His erection quickly returns to him then and he slowly turns onto his side. "You need a hand with that, baby?"

Your ministrations cease immediately, your eyes shooting open and head jerking to the right, looking at him. You open your mouth to reply and at first nothing comes out. Then, "I-I'm sorry."

He raises a brow, moving closer to you, erection brushing against your thigh. "For what, darlin'?"

You stare up at him.

"So, do you? Maybe I should just call in that offer for a sexual favor now. What do you think?"

You feel like your brain is suddenly misfiring as you actually consider saying yes. It's the alcohol. You're not thinking clearly. Not as you usually would without it in your system. But the thought of him touching you like that... It ignited something in you just when he looked at you.

He props himself up on his left forearm, his right hand coming to rest atop your stomach, then slowly moving lower and lower, his eyes trained on yours all the while.

Once his hand is just above the waist of your panties, you slowly pull your own hand out, resting it beside you, your heart now pounding.

He takes that as permission and slips his own between your legs, looking down.

"Fuck," he swears, looking back to you. "Are you always this wet?"

You consider telling him 'only with you', knowing that would most certainly get you a reaction. "S-sometimes."

His fingers explore between your hot folds, erection coming to settle atop your right thigh. It's only then you realize just how lengthy he truly is.

You turn more onto your right side, facing him and he slowly slips one finger inside of you, groaning at the tight feel, the slick sensation of you.

He then slowly—very slowly—leans down, pressing his lips gently to your own. And you let him this time. You kiss him back. And his heart fucking jumps.

Something it's never done with a girl before. The last time it had? The first time he set eyes on you in the parking lot at school as you walked inside. He'd known right then and there it was over for him.

He eases another finger into you and circles your clit with his thumb and you gasp against his mouth, then wrap your left arm around his neck, pulling your body against his own, and you begin to kiss him more fervently.

He circles that sensitive bundle again and again and slips his tongue in your mouth and you whimper, your own coming to dance with his.

He arches his strong fingers upward and you pull away, sighing, your lips brushing against his own.

"That feel good, honey?"

You nod, crushing your lips back to his own.

He massages that ledge inside of you and your body shudders and he smirks, continuing to kiss you, barely believing this is finally happening. That he's getting to touch you like this and you're allowing him to—enjoying it.

The entire time he'd been at the drive-in with Angela, all he'd been able to think about was you and Harrington in his car doing what he was doing with her.

What if he was your first time? What if you fell for him? What if he made you his instead? What if he lost any chance with you for good while Steve became your whole fucking world?

And for the first time, while having sex, he'd nearly been unable to finish. So, he'd closed his eyes, flipping her over, imaging it was you. And he'd finished almost-instantly then. Had damn-near yelled your name as he filled his condom.

And when he came back to reality, his erection had softened quickly as he pulled out and away from her, wanting—wishing—for someone else instead.

You'd never know the relief he'd felt—utter fucking joy—when you'd let it slip that you were a virgin, that you didn't even like Harrington like that.

And then he'd felt secure in knowing he didn't have any competition. Not for the moment being. You could still be his.

He moves his lips to your neck and you ease your head back, whimpering at the feeling of him licking and kissing and gently biting your hot sensitive skin. He then trails wet kisses to your ear and speaks lowly into it—you clenching around him when he does.

"When you come, sweetheart, I want you to fucking scream my name. I want half this damn place to hear it." He crushes his lips back to your own, tongue flicking against yours and you spread your legs wider, his fingers diving deeper.

Just as his arm begins to grow tired, your body jerks, your pants becoming more frequent, harder.

"That's it, baby, come for me. C'mon, sweetheart, you're almost there."

You begin to rock your hips against his hand, whimpering at the feel, clit growing more and more sensitive.

"Mm, please." You look up to him, kissing him again. Then, "Ah, right there."

His fingers work rapidly, rubbing and plunging in and out of you, your body responding accordingly.

Both of you are sweating now, panting, hearts pounding. His excitement grows knowing he'll be the first man to give you an orgasm. That he's the first to have his hand between your legs. The first for, well, a lot of things. And even more to come, he hopes.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, your breaths coming in shallow gasps and he knows he has you right on the edge. "C'mon, baby. C'mon, fuckin' come for me. That's it."

And then, "Billy! Ah, mm." You practically scream his name as you finish, your walls clenching rapidly around him, his callused hand now soaked in you.

He chuckles excitedly. "That's my fuckin' girl," he says between satisfied laughs, fingers still plunging away between your legs, until your hand comes down to grip his wrist, his movements ceasing.

He slips his fingers out of you, resting his forearm atop his naked hip as he looks down at you and you up at him from under hooded lids, lips swollen, face flushed, hair messy, the look on your face that of satisfaction.

"Thank you," you say shyly.

He presses a long kiss to your lips, then brushes some hair behind your ear. "No, thank you."

And then you do something unexpected: you take his throbbing erection in your hand and stroke him once, then twice.

He looks down, then back up to you. "Yeah?" He asks, brow raised, wondering if maybe you're just curious about touching him there after feeling it pressed against you so many times.

And then you nod, stroking a few more times.

He then wraps his fist around yours. "A bit tighter, baby. Yeah, no, tighter. You're not going to hurt me, sweetie." Then, "Fuck, that's fuckin' perfect. Just like that, angel."

You press your lips back to his, kissing him more softly this time, until his left arm snakes under your neck, gripping the back of your head, tugging at your hair and he devours your lips with his own. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you to him again, then slides down your thigh, lifting it onto his waist while you continue stroking away.

He squeezes your ass-cheek, then gives it a light slap, slipping his hand under your panties, keeping his hand there, squeezing and massaging as you continue to get him off.

Your strokes are a bit sloppy, and unsure, but he ignores that, just enjoying the feeling of being in your grip, of you bothering to return the favor. He then reaches down, pushing your t-shirt up and it's only then that he notices you're wearing one of his—the front design the cover of Def Leppard's Pyromania album. It only turns him on all the more.

Once your breasts are visible, he cranes his neck down, taking one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking, then rolling it between his teeth and you moan his name.

He trails his tongue along your chest, taking your other nipple in his mouth, precum dripping onto your hand.

He begins kissing upwards, to your neck, then back down again. God, he's never felt this fucking turned-on before.

His cock twitches in your hand, then does it again and he knows he's close. He should've gotten up and grabbed a towel, but it would've risked ruining the moment.

His hips jerk, sliding through your grip, and then he calms. He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead to your own, his right hand cupping your cheek now. "I'm so fuckin' close, baby. I'm about to cum. Fuck, keep going. Jesus Christ."

You begin to stroke faster and faster, and then he pushes you onto your back, taking himself in his hand as he comes all over your stomach in hot sticky spurts, groaning all the while, hips bucking, wishing he was doing this between your legs instead.

Once he's calmed—his cock softening—does he lie down for a moment next to you, trying to catch his breath. He then smiles up at the ceiling and starts to laugh.

You look at him and he swings his arms over his stomach. "Woo! Fuck yeah, baby!"

He looks at you, then leans over you again, kissing you, tongue licking your lips, dancing against your own. And then he pulls back, smiling down at you, curls hanging down, framing his face, and he flashes you a smile, showing his brilliant white teeth. "I'll go grab you a towel, sweetheart."

You nod, smiling yourself, pecking him on the lips.

You watch as he walks to the bathroom and he smirks, feeling your eyes on his ass.

You hear the sound of water, him washing up quickly, and then he returns with a damp towel and begins to wipe you down.

He then tosses the towel on the floor and climbs on top of you, resting his forearms on your breasts and his chin atop his arms, looking up at you. "God, that was fuckin' perfect."

You smile. "So I did a good job?"

You'd been afraid he would've eventually gotten bored, or tired of how long things were taking, but he'd not complained once.

He then scoots higher, resting on his right forearm, left hand smoothing hair away from your face as he hovers over you. "Yeah, baby, you did."

He kisses you again, then scoots back down a bit, resting his cheek between your breasts and your arms come to wrap around his warm shoulders. And then you move your hands higher, tangling in his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp.

And he falls asleep in your arms.

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader)#billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader

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anniebeemine · 1 month

Text

Pink Roses- s.r x fem!reader

This one hurt my heart. So have fun with it!

Spencer couldn't help but smile as he watched you through the glass. You were gabbing with Garcia by the elevators, arms waving animatedly, a big grin on your face. He loved seeing you so full of life, your laughter echoing faintly through the hallway.

Morgan strolled up beside Spencer, catching the direction of his gaze. "You know," he said with a teasing grin, "you should really stop pretending to be fascinated by the glass and just tell her how you feel."

Spencer glanced at Morgan, trying to hide his smirk. "Who says I haven’t already planned something?" he replied, a hint of smugness in his tone.

Morgan raised his eyebrows in surprise before breaking into a wide grin. "Oh really? Look at you, finally stepping up your game. My man!" He clapped Spencer on the shoulder, his voice full of approval.

Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling a rare sense of confidence. "Yeah, I’ve got it covered," he said, his eyes drifting back to you as you continued chatting with Garcia. For the first time, he felt like things might just work out the way he hoped.

As you walked past Spencer, you gave him a polite wave, a small smile playing on your lips. He nodded in return, feeling his heart skip a beat. He noticed the paper in your hand, curiosity piqued as he wondered what it was about. You headed straight for Hotch's office, knocking lightly before stepping inside. Spencer tried to refocus on his work, shifting his attention back to the files on his desk. But his thoughts kept drifting back to you, replaying the moment you walked by, the way your smile lingered just a little longer than usual.

Unable to resist, Spencer glanced up through the glass walls of Hotch’s office. You were standing there, beaming as you talked with Hotch, your enthusiasm apparent even from a distance. He watched as Hotch listened intently, nodding occasionally. The conversation ended with a firm handshake, and Spencer couldn't help but admire the way you handled yourself, confident and composed.

As you exited the office, Spencer quickly averted his eyes, pretending to be deeply engrossed in his work. But the truth was, his thoughts were entirely consumed by you, and the growing anticipation of whatever plan he had in store. As you left Hotch's office, you made your way over to Spencer’s desk, a bright smile still lighting up your face.

"So," you began casually, leaning against the edge of his desk, "we’re still on for tonight, right? You’re picking me up at my place?"

There was rarely ever parking in the small lot behind his apartment. Rather than walking two blocks in the night to the nearest free lot, he offered to start picking you up. This often gave both of you the excuse to let you stay over, ‘accidentally’ falling asleep on the couch together and then being too tired to drive back.

Spencer looked up at you, trying to suppress the nervous excitement bubbling up inside him. "Yeah," he replied smoothly, "I’ll be there at seven. And don’t worry about dinner—the delivery’s already been ordered."

You nodded in approval, clearly impressed. "Nice, you’ve really thought of everything," you said with a grin, holding out your fist. Spencer hesitated for only a moment before meeting your fist with his, the playful gesture making his heart race just a little faster.

"Can’t wait," you added, pushing off from his desk. "I’ve got a few errands to run before then, so I’ll see you later."

"See you later," Spencer echoed, watching as you turned and walked away.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Morgan, who had been quietly observing the exchange, sent Spencer a knowing wink. "You’re on fire today, pretty boy," he teased, a proud smile spreading across his face.

Spencer chuckled, feeling a mix of pride and nerves. "Just trying to keep up," he replied, the anticipation for the evening ahead making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

+++

Spencer couldn’t help but feel a little nervous and, admittedly, a bit ridiculous as he stood on the welcome mat outside your apartment. In his hand was a bouquet of flowers he had impulsively picked up at a little stand he passed on the way over. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his free hand nervously adjusting his tie, as he rehearsed what he was going to say once you opened the door.

Before he could second-guess himself any further, the door swung open, and you stepped forward, only to run face-first into the bouquet. Startled, you took a step back, your eyes widening in surprise before they softened into a delighted smile.

“Spencer!” you exclaimed, gently taking the bouquet from him. “You really didn’t have to—these are beautiful!”

He felt a wave of relief wash over him as you gushed over the flowers. “I, uh, saw a little stand on my way over,” he explained, trying to sound casual but knowing the nervousness was creeping into his voice. “I remembered you mentioned once that you liked pink roses, so I thought these might be perfect.”

You smiled even wider, clearly touched by his thoughtfulness. “Come in,” you said, stepping aside to let him in. “I’ll just put these in a vase real quick.”

As you moved to the kitchen to find a vase, Spencer followed, unable to stop himself from rambling on as he often did when he was anxious. “You know, flowers have this whole ‘secret language’ that people used to communicate with each other over time,” he began, watching as you carefully arranged the bouquet. “Different flowers and even different colors of the same flower can have specific meanings. For example, solomio flowers,” he pointed to a few bright blooms, “mean ‘my own sunshine.’ They’re often given to someone who brings light and happiness into your life.”

You looked up at him, clearly intrigued, and he continued, pointing out the different flowers. “Ranunculus symbolizes charm and attractiveness. It’s often used to convey how captivated you are by someone’s beauty.”

You smiled, a faint blush creeping onto your cheeks as you added the ranunculus to the vase.

“And the eucalyptus,” Spencer went on, his tone softening, “represents strength, protection, and abundance. It’s often used to wish someone well or to protect them from harm.”

You paused, looking up at him with a warm, appreciative gaze. “And what about the roses?” you asked, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

Spencer hesitated, suddenly feeling the weight of what he was about to say. He pointed to the pink roses, his voice growing quieter. “Pink roses stand for happiness. They’re given to someone who brings joy into your life.”

His fingers lightly brushed against one of the red roses as he continued, “And red roses… well, they symbolize love.”

There was a brief silence as the meaning of his words settled between you. Spencer felt his heart race, wondering if he’d said too much, if he’d been too forward. But when you turned to him, your eyes shining with a mixture of surprise and affection, he knew he had made the right choice.

“Spencer,” you said softly, stepping closer to him. “These are perfect. Thank you.”

Spencer held out his hand, his eyes soft with a gentle smile as he stepped aside for you to lead the way. “We should probably go before dinner is delivered,” he suggested, his voice filled with a quiet anticipation.

You nodded, taking his hand and heading out the door with him. The conversation flowed easily between you as you made your way to his apartment, your chatter filling the space between you. You began to ramble about some of the latest office gossip, and Spencer listened intently, even though he never really cared much for it. But when you spoke, it wasn’t about the gossip itself—it was about the way your eyes lit up as you told the stories, the way your voice held a rhythm that he found mesmerizing.

By the time you arrived at his apartment, you were mid-sentence, talking about a partnership at the office that had recently been dissolved due to the couple’s marriage hitting a rocky patch. Spencer opened the door for you, and you kicked off your shoes with practiced ease, placing them neatly on the rack by the door without missing a beat in your story.

“I mean, it’s really not surprising,” you continued as you made your way into the living room, “considering all the tension between them lately. But it’s still sad, you know? They seemed so solid for a while.”

Spencer nodded along, his focus on you as you moved around the room with a familiarity that made him smile. You curled up on the couch, tucking your legs beneath you, and looked up at him expectantly. “So, how was your day?” you asked, shifting the attention to him.

He settled down beside you, taking a moment to appreciate how comfortable and natural this felt. “My day went fine,” he replied, his voice warm with a hint of contentment. “Mostly paperwork and a couple of meetings. Nothing too exciting.”

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his as you listened. There was something so soothing about the way you were with each other, the ease of your conversation, the way you could share the mundane details of your days without feeling the need to impress or entertain.

Spencer leaned back, resting his arm along the back of the couch as he turned slightly to face you. “But honestly,” he added after a moment, “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

You smiled, the warmth in his words wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice soft and sincere. “It’s nice to just… relax, you know? Especially after the week we’ve had.

He nodded in agreement, his eyes studying your face with a quiet intensity. “Exactly,” he said, feeling more at ease with you than he had in a long time. This wasn’t just about a dinner date; it was about the connection between you, the growing bond that had slowly but surely turned into something more.

You grinned, your excitement bubbling up as you looked at him. “I have some news,” you began, but just as the words left your mouth, Spencer leaned forward, a determined look in his eyes.

“I—uh—there’s something I need to talk to you about,” he blurted out, his voice overlapping with yours.

You both paused, taking a breath, the air between you charged with anticipation. Spencer gestured for you to go first, but you shook your head, insisting, “No, no, you go.”

He hesitated, his mind racing, but before he could gather his thoughts, you spoke up again, unable to hold back your excitement. “Okay, well, the textbook I’ve been consulting on? It’s really taken off. The other authors loved my contributions so much that they’ve asked me to teach for a semester in Denver—starting in a week.”

The words tumbled out of you in a rush, your smile wide and full of pride. Spencer blinked, taking a moment to process what you’d just said. He felt a surge of pride for you, mixed with a sudden wave of anxiety.

You smiled. “And I’m going. I already said yes!”

“That’s… amazing,” he finally managed, his voice sincere but slightly distracted as his own thoughts swirled. He stood up suddenly, the motion catching you off guard. “But—I, I need to say this now, or I’ll never be able to say it.”

You looked up at him, your smile fading into a more serious expression as you saw the intensity in his eyes. “Spencer, what is it?”

He took a deep breath, his heart pounding as he looked down at you, feeling the weight of the moment pressing on him. “I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell you this,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “But there never seems to be a perfect moment, so I’m just going to say it now before I lose my nerve.”

Your heart raced as you waited for him to continue, the room suddenly feeling smaller, more intimate. Spencer’s eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the vulnerability there, the honesty he was about to lay bare.

“I’m in love with you,” he said, the words coming out in a rush. “I’ve been in love with you for a while now, and I can't go another day without telling you.”

The room went silent, the only sound your own heartbeat thudding in your ears. Spencer looked at you, his expression full of hope and fear, as if everything he was feeling was laid out in those simple words.

Your breath caught in your throat as you processed what he’d just said, the weight of his confession settling over you like a warm blanket. It wasn’t just about the textbook, or the teaching gig, or any of the exciting changes happening in your life—it was about this, about him, about you and the bond you had nurtured without even fully realizing it.

“Spencer…” you began, your voice soft, but the rest of your words caught in your throat as you met his gaze, the world around you falling away until there was nothing left but the two of you in this moment.

Spencer felt the tears welling up, the pressure building behind his eyes as he tried to hold them back. He looked up at the ceiling, willing them not to fall, his voice trembling as he struggled to find the right words. “But, I… I don’t—”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, the weight of everything hanging heavily in the air between you.

“Spencer,” you interrupted, your voice desperate and pleading, “come with me. Please, come with me to Denver.” You took a step toward him, your eyes wide and filled with hope. “We can figure this out together. You don’t have to stay here; we can start fresh.”

He shook his head, his face contorted with anguish. “I can’t,” he whispered, barely able to get the words out. “The team needs me—especially if you’re leaving. I can’t just walk away from them. From everything we’ve built.”

You stood up, the frustration and heartache bubbling up inside you, threatening to overflow. “So what happens now?” you asked, your voice rising as you paced the room. “This is too good of an opportunity to pass up, Spe-

He looked at you, his heart breaking as he realized how close he was to losing you. “So leave,” he said, his voice cracking. “You take the job. You do what’s best for you.”

But even as he said it, his mind screamed at him that he was an absolute idiot. How could he have ever thought someone as wonderful, as vibrant, as incredible as you could be interested in him? He was just a man who spent too much time in his head, who never quite knew how to navigate the real world, let alone love.

You started to speak, to argue, but the words got caught in your throat, and all that came out were half-formed sentences, desperate attempts to communicate the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “I… I just… We…”

The frustration and sorrow in your voice hit Spencer like a ton of bricks. He couldn’t bear to see you so upset, couldn’t bear to lose you without trying—without giving you, and himself, a chance. Before he could second-guess himself, Spencer reached out, his hand finding the back of your neck. He pulled you close, his lips crashing onto yours in a deep, desperate kiss, the kind that held everything he hadn’t been able to say. His tears mingled with yours, the saltiness of them mixing as your lips moved together, frantic and raw.

You held onto Spencer for a second, your hand going flat against his back, feeling the warmth of him, the solidity of his presence. It was as if time had stopped, and in that brief moment, all the pain, the frustration, and the sorrow melted away, leaving only the two of you—vulnerable and connected.

But just as quickly as that moment came, reality crashed back in. The weight of everything that had happened, the uncertainty of where you stood, and the overwhelming emotions surged back like a tidal wave. You gasped, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily as you pushed him away, your hands trembling as they left his back.

A shaky breath left your lips, your chest heaving as you tried to steady yourself, your mind reeling from the intensity of the kiss, from the depth of feeling behind it. You stared at Spencer, your heart pounding in your ears, as if trying to understand what had just happened and what it meant for the two of you.

But the hurt, the confusion, was too much. You grabbed your purse and shoes in a rush, your hands shaking as you fumbled with them. Without another word, you turned and left his apartment, the door slamming behind you with a resounding echo that seemed to linger in the silence that followed.

Spencer stood there, rooted to the spot, his heart shattered as he realized he had just let you walk out of his life. The tears he had been holding back finally fell, but it was too late now. You were gone.

Spencer stood there for a moment, staring at the door, the silence of his apartment closing in around him. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts—regret, sorrow, the ache of what could have been. But he knew he had to pull himself together, at least for a moment, just long enough to get through the rest of the night.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, wiping the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. His heart still pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to take a deep breath, to push down the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill over again.

Just as he began to gather himself, he heard a knock at the door. Spencer’s eyes flicked toward the sound, and for a brief, foolish second, he thought it might be you, coming back to talk. But reality settled in quickly—there was no way you would return so soon after what had just happened.

With a heavy sigh, he walked over to the door, fishing his wallet out of his pocket as he opened it. The delivery boy stood there, holding the bag of food that Spencer had ordered earlier, before everything had fallen apart.

“That’ll be twenty even,” the delivery boy said with a practiced smile, holding out his hand for payment.

Spencer paused, his brow furrowing in confusion as he handed over a twenty-dollar bill, pulling a ten dollar bill out for the tip. “It’s usually more than that,” he muttered, more to himself than to the delivery boy.

The delivery guy’s smile widened, his tone light as he explained, “Oh, yeah. The owner noticed you and your girlfriend order the same thing every week, so he added you to the list of regulars. It’s a special discount for people who order so often.”

Spencer blinked, taken aback by the news. The regulars list. Of course. It made sense—he did order the same thing every week, always on the same night, always at the same time. A creature of habit, even in the small, mundane details of his life. It had become tradition for you two to share a meal each week.

“Thanks,” he murmured, taking the bag of food from the delivery boy’s hands. He offered a small, polite smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The delivery boy nodded, tipping his cap before turning and heading back down the hall.

Spencer closed the door softly, standing there in the quiet of his apartment, holding the warm bag of food in his hands. He felt an odd mix of emotions—gratitude for the small kindness, but also a profound sense of loneliness. He was so predictable, so set in his ways, that even the local takeout place had noticed.

He carried the bag to the kitchen, setting it down on the counter. The smell of the food wafted up, but it only reminded him of what tonight was supposed to have been—a dinner together, something more, something that was now lost. Spencer leaned against the counter, staring at the bag of food as if it held all the answers.

But the only thing it offered was the reminder of what he didn’t have: you.

+++

As the morning wore on, Spencer struggled to concentrate on his work. The files and case notes on his desk seemed to blur together, the usual clarity of his thoughts clouded by the weight of the previous night. He kept glancing at his phone, hoping for a message from you, though he knew deep down that he wouldn’t get one.

The office buzzed with activity, but Spencer was barely aware of it. His colleagues’ chatter and the hum of the fluorescent lights seemed distant, like they were happening in another world. Every so often, he would catch himself staring blankly at the screen, lost in thought.

Around midday, Garcia came over, her usual bright demeanor dimmed by concern. “Hey, Spence,” she said softly, her voice carrying a note of sympathy. “Are you okay? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Spencer forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Just a rough night,” he admitted. “Nothing to worry about.”

Garcia’s eyes searched his face, clearly unconvinced. “If you need to talk, you know where to find me. And if you need anything else, just let me know.

He nodded appreciatively, though he wasn’t sure what help he could accept. “Thanks, Garcia. I’ll be fine.”

As Garcia walked away, Spencer’s phone buzzed with a new message. His heart leapt, but it was only a reminder from his calendar about a meeting later in the day. He sighed and set the phone down, feeling a pang of disappointment.

Around mid-afternoon, Hotch stopped by Spencer’s desk, his expression as stern and unreadable as ever. “Spencer, I need to discuss a few things with you in my office.”

Spencer nodded, pushing away from his desk and following Hotch to his office. He took a seat across from Hotch’s desk, trying to shake off the melancholy that had settled over him.

Hotch didn’t waste any time. “I know things have been a bit tense for you this morning,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. “And I understand that you’re going through something personal. But I need to ensure that it doesn’t affect your work. Can I count on you to stay focused and do what needs to be done?”

Spencer looked up, meeting Hotch’s gaze. “Of course,” he replied, his voice steady. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t impact my performance.”

Hotch nodded, seeming satisfied with the response. “Good. I appreciate your dedication. If you need time off or any support, just let me know.”

Spencer nodded, thankful for Hotch’s understanding, even if he didn’t fully believe in his own ability to stay focused. He left Hotch’s office feeling a bit more resolved, though the ache in his chest remained.

As the day dragged on, the team worked through their cases, and Spencer tried his best to keep his mind occupied. But every time he thought about you, about the way you had left and the kiss he had shared with you, he felt a deep, gnawing regret.

By the end of the day, the office was winding down. Spencer packed up his things, his thoughts still swirling. As he prepared to leave, he caught Morgan glancing at him from across the room. Morgan raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Spencer quickly headed for the door.

He stepped into the cool evening air, the city lights casting long shadows on the pavement. As he walked to his car, he realized he had to face the reality of what had happened and find a way to make things right. He knew that he couldn’t just let things end this way, that he had to take action, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what to do next.

+++

The next few days dragged on with a suffocating heaviness in the office. Your absence was like a gaping hole in the daily routine—a missing presence that everyone felt but no one openly acknowledged. Your desk, once a lively spot with personal touches and a cheerful energy, now sat empty and stark, a constant reminder of what was missing.

Spencer’s heart ached every time he glanced over at the vacant desk. The little squishy pet from Garcia, the photo of you on graduation day, the birthday card—all of it was gone. It was as if you had never been there, leaving behind only the ghost of your presence. Each time Spencer caught sight of the empty space, his breath seemed to leave his chest in a sharp pang of regret.

One afternoon, after a long, fruitless lunch where he had tried to push thoughts of you out of his mind, he returned to the office to find your desk had been completely cleared out in the time he’d been gone. The sight of the empty desk, devoid of your belongings, hit him hard. It felt like a punch to the gut, the physical evidence of your departure magnifying the emotional pain he had been trying to ignore.

The following morning, the office was as subdued as ever. Spencer was lost in thought as he made his way to the kitchenette for a cup of coffee. He was barely aware of his surroundings until Morgan appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, blocking his path with a concerned expression.

“Hey, Reid,” Morgan said, his tone unusually serious. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Spencer nodded, feeling a wave of unease wash over him. He followed Derek into the kitchenette, where the hum of the refrigerator and the clinking of coffee cups provided an oddly comforting backdrop.

“What’s up?” Spencer asked, trying to sound casual, though his voice betrayed his tension.

Morgan leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “I’ve been meaning to ask you… What exactly happened with Y/N? I mean, I saw her come in the other day, sweep everything off her desk into a box, and practically run out. She didn’t say a word to anyone.”

Spencer’s heart sank at Morgan’s words.

“I…” Spencer began, his voice faltering. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “It was my fault. I… I should have talked to her earlier. I wanted to, but everything just fell apart.”

Morgan’s gaze softened slightly, his concern evident. “If something went down, you can talk to me about it. You know that, right?”

Spencer nodded, feeling the weight of his regret pressing down on him. “I know. It’s just… I messed up. I thought if I said it, she’d stay.”

Morgan didn’t press further, but his expression was one of empathy and frustration. “Look, I don’t know the details, but you need to figure this out. Y/N’s a great person, and from what I saw, she didn’t just up and leave for no reason.”

Spencer swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah. I know.”

Morgan clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture of support before he turned to leave. Spencer watched him go, feeling more isolated than ever. The office, once a bustling hub of activity, now seemed like an empty shell, a reflection of the void left by your departure.

As Spencer stood there, alone in the kitchenette, he knew he had to do something. He had to find a way to make things right, to reach out and try to fix what had been broken. But for now, all he could do was hold onto the hope that it wasn’t too late to salvage whatever was left.

+++

Since that night, you’d been a wreck. Every waking moment was a reminder of how you’d left things with Spencer—something you never intended to do, but ended up doing anyway. It was as if you were stuck in a state of disbelief, grappling with the reality of what had happened and the inexplicable choice you’d made.

Packing up your life and moving from Virginia to Colorado had been a whirlwind. You were overwhelmed with the details: sorting out your belongings, organizing the move, and saying goodbye to the life you’d built. Amid the chaos, clearing out your desk was something you almost forgot. It wasn’t until the last minute that you realized you hadn’t taken the time to say a proper goodbye. You had hoped, even believed, that you might find a moment to talk to Spencer, to explain everything before you left. But with a plane to catch and a million things to do, time slipped through your fingers. You had made the decision in haste, driven by a mix of confusion and heartache, and now you were left with a gnawing sense of regret.

Sitting in your university-provided apartment, you stared blankly at your phone. The small, indifferent screen seemed to mock you with its silence. You had hoped for a call, a message, anything that would signal that Spencer might be reaching out, trying to make things right. But the phone remained silent, offering no comfort or answers.

You felt a deep, aching emptiness, as if you had left a part of yourself behind. The apartment was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning. The space around you felt cold and unwelcoming, a stark contrast to the warmth of the life you had left behind.

You found yourself begging any entity out there—be it fate, chance, or even just your own stubborn hope—for the phone to ring. Maybe it was a long shot, but you needed to hear from Spencer, to know if there was still a chance to make things right. Your fingers hovered over the screen, ready to dial his number, but each time you hesitated, unsure if you should reach out or wait for him to make the first move.

Your thoughts were a jumbled mess of regret and longing. You wanted to explain everything, to tell him how much you had hoped things would be different. But the fear of opening old wounds, of facing the possibility that it might be too late, held you back.

You leaned back against the couch, your gaze fixed on the phone as if willing it to ring with sheer force of will. You thought of Spencer’s face, his voice, and the way he had looked at you. The memory of his tears and the kiss you shared were haunting, a reminder of the connection you both had and how quickly it had unraveled.

As the evening wore on and the apartment remained eerily quiet, you felt the weight of your decision pressing heavily on your chest. You didn’t know how things would turn out, but all you could do was hold onto the hope that somehow, somewhere, there might still be a chance to mend what had been broken.

+++

A few weeks had passed since you moved to Colorado, and despite the overwhelming start, you found yourself gradually settling into a new routine. It wasn't easy—each day brought its own set of challenges, but you managed to carve out a rhythm that helped anchor you in this unfamiliar place. Mornings were spent in the classroom, where you poured yourself into teaching, trying to lose yourself in the work. The students were bright and eager, their energy offering a brief distraction from the turmoil in your heart. After classes, you’d head to your office to prepare lectures, meet with students, or grade papers, anything to keep your mind busy.

In the evenings, you’d head back to your apartment. The space was small and simple, a far cry from the home you had left behind, but it was starting to feel a little less foreign with each passing day. You’d make yourself dinner, often something quick and easy, and then spend the night reading or watching TV, trying to fill the silence with anything that wasn’t your own thoughts.

But every Tuesday night, the routine faltered. Tuesdays were the nights you and Spencer used to have dinner together, a tradition that had started almost by accident but had quickly become a cornerstone of your week. Now, those nights were a stark reminder of what you’d lost.

Every Tuesday evening, as you sat in your quiet apartment, you’d feel the ache of his absence more keenly. You’d think about picking up the phone, about dialing his number just to hear his voice, to ask him how he was doing, to see if maybe—just maybe—you could fix what had been broken. But each time, the fear of rejection, of hearing that he had moved on, kept you from pressing that final button. Instead, you’d curl up in bed, clutching your pillow, praying that he wasn’t sitting down to dinner with someone else, someone who could take your place.

By the time your sixth week in Colorado rolled around, you had settled into your routine as best you could, though the loneliness of those Tuesday nights still lingered. One day, after a long day of teaching, you returned to your apartment to find a small box sitting in front of your door. Your heart skipped a beat as you bent down to pick it up, your hands trembling slightly as you untied the ribbon that held the box closed.

Inside was a bouquet of pink roses, their delicate petals tied together with a white ribbon. The sight of them made your breath catch in your throat, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face. You fumbled with your keys, struggling to unlock the door as you tried to hold back the sobs that were building in your chest. Once inside, you set the flowers down on the table and collapsed into a chair, clinging to the bouquet as if it were a lifeline. The familiar scent of the roses filled your senses, and you held onto them for what felt like hours, letting the tears flow freely.

Your phone rang, cutting through the stillness of the apartment. You barely registered the sound at first, your mind still lost in the swirl of emotions the roses had stirred up. With trembling hands, you reached for your phone, the screen glowing faintly with an unknown number. You hesitated for a moment before answering, your voice barely above a whisper as you greeted, “Hello?”

There was a shuffle on the other end, and you could faintly hear Penelope’s voice in the background. “She picked up,” she whispered, her tone laced with relief. Then there was a pause, followed by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

“Hello,” Spencer’s voice came through the line, hesitant and unsure, yet unmistakably him. The sound of it sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words to respond. The two of you sat in silence, the air between you thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You searched for something to say, anything to break the tension, but all that came out were three simple words, the only ones that mattered in that moment.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice cracking as the weight of those words settled between you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reidx reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #fanfic

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iouinotes · 1 year

Text

Drunken Love | Five Hargreeves (Part 2)

summary: Five shows you what he always wanted to do with you...

pairing: Five Hargreeves x female!reader

word count: 1,5k

warnings: SMUT (Five is 18 in this fan fic)

author‘s note: here is the second part, a little longer this time :))

part one here

As we make our way out of the room, he reaches in vain for a wine bottle, but I reach out and take his hand so that our hands are joined. My heart quickens, his gaze becomes more fixed. As soon as we are out of the room, out of reach of the liquor, I let go of his hand. He says nothing, I do the same.

A silence spreads, only the beeping at the elevator can be heard. The only thing he addresses to me is the floor he has to go to and his room number, I nod even though I already know that. And then he squints his eyes at the bright light in the elevator, slumps against the wall. I look at him, press the button and notice the tormented expression on Five's face as the speed increases.

"Feel sick-" Luckily for me, the elevator stops the next second and the doors open. It takes a while to reach his room, but suddenly he stops. ,, K-key. Pants." Shit. Although he tries to reach into his pocket, it is no use. "I-" my voice fails. " Do you want me to?" I ask hesitantly.

His tired eyes look at me, his gaze glides over my face. Then he nods. With shaky hands, my hand wanders to his jeans, I swallow and avoid his gaze. Fortunately (unfortunately) for me, he seems to be slowly sobering up a bit. "You're shaking." I get the slight impression that he is trying to keep his tone monotone, but he can't quite hide his curiosity.

However, I remain silent and try to ignore his statement so that I can quickly get him into his bed, at least so that he can sleep in it. Despite my attempt not to say anything to his words, he does not give in. "Are you... nervous?" His assessment is rude, even if he guesses exactly right.

"No." I murmur, but his eyebrows rise lazily. "I feel so light, unconcerned. Why are you with me?" His change of subject confuses me. "You weren't in any condition to get up here yourself, or to your own bed." My gaze wanders to his face, surprisingly he is already looking at me. But different than usual, more like he hates me less than normal. I am even more confused.

"Yours?" He asks, without me understanding the context. "What?" I almost forget why we're even standing here, I'm not used to being questioned by him like this. Usually he only talks to me when it's necessary. "You could have taken me to your bed." My eyes widen, because what did he just say? I look at him puzzled.

"Why do you always want the things you can't have?" Now he babbles, the alcohol showing its effect. "You tried everything to save the world, don't blame yourself for that." He shakes his head.

"I want you."

I drop the keys I just obtained. I don't think I can move. "Every dream I have is plagued by you. Your eyes, your mouth. Your voice, I'm addicted to it. I want to hear you speak again and again, it's a punishment not to."

"You're drunk." My voice trembles, now I'm the one who feels sick. "That's true. But I'm also in love with you." He laughs, so loud that it echoes throughout the hallway. "I feel so liberated to finally be able to say it. I thought I was going to die with this burden. God, I can finally admire you for as long as I want."

My head hurts, I think I'm going to cry. "You don't know what you're saying." I want to run away, I must be dreaming. It seems to be the most beautiful dream, but in a moment he will roll his eyes and tell me how naive and stupid I am to believe that. That he could never be in love with me. But none of that happens, he just looks at me with a drunken smile on his face and bright eyes reddened by alcohol.

"I thought you hated me." My whisper is fragile, my eyes are fixed on the floor in front of me.

"Pretending to hate you was easier than pretending not to love you."

The first tear escapes my eyes.

My breathing is heavy and I don't know what to do. "I hate seeing you cry, even more when I'm the one who's causing it." I want to disagree with him, but my voice seems to have run away.

As I unlock his door, I feel two arms around my waist. I almost collapse. His lips are so close to my ear, I can smell the alcohol coming from him. "There's so much I want to do to you that I shouldn't." I am not able to answer, my knees are weak.

"I want to kiss you, hold you, hug you, talk to you. Spread your legs apart to be in between myself, do things to you that make your eyes roll back and your hands tug at my hair. Just the idea of seeing you like that in front of me could drive me crazy. I probably already am. Because you're making me stand so close to you and I don't want to be three feet away from you."

I feel so dizzy, I can't think. Slowly, he leads us into the room, letting the door fall shut and his hand slide to my hip. His lips approach my cheek, fluttering lightly over my skin and moving to my neck. My breathing becomes heavy, my eyes fall closed and when he starts talking again, I have to pull myself together not to crumble.

"Do you want me the same way? Because if you don't, run out of this room now and spare my heart. I can't wait to love you."

My teeth chew on my bottom lip, trying to make sense of his drunken words. I whisper, "Yes, I want to be with you," feeling my skin burn at the touch. "Good," he murmurs.

His hand moves down my side at a slow pace, slides over my skirt, under the fabric and lingers there. "Is that what you want? My hand? My lips?" I nod, trying to formulate words, but I'm too caught up in his way that I didn't imagine dreaming.

“Come on, dear. Talk to me, otherwise my hands will stay right there and do nothing. I need to hear you say it." My next breath is heard even by him. "I-I want you." I feel his grin, against my flushed cheek. "What exactly? Tell me and I'll do it, I'll do anything for you." My back presses into his chest, my legs tighten and are brought apart by his hand with a sinister giggle.

"So eager, huh? Make an effort, darling. I know this mouth can do more than what you're revealing. ,,Your hands." My voice trembles. "Where do you want my hands? Here?"

His hands slide down my thighs, leaving the place where I want them. I shake my head. "Here?" They skim over the plaid fabric, his fingers hooking at the top waistband. ,,Do you want this off? Or do you want to keep it on?"

His mouth slides to my neck, brushes away my hair. "On." It just escapes me, feeling like I'm in a fever dream. And then I feel his hands going under my skirt again, this time higher up. Until it comes back to me. "No underwear?"

My knees go wobbly as a finger strokes the throbbing spot. ,,You're wet, are you feeling turned on already? I haven't even really started yet." I feel weak, I've never had sensations like this before.

"I love you" it escapes me.

When he replies without hesitation, I'm sure that even if the world ends now, I'll be by the side of the person who means everything to me.

"Do you want more?" I nod. "Can't you speak anymore, so caught up in what I'm doing to you?" I nod again. "God, this turns me on. If you only knew what you were doing to me." His fingers stroke my folds, slowly, but so decisively that I have to remind myself to breathe.

"That's right, hold on to me, I've got you." My hands try to hold on to him, his breath brushes over my pulse, leaving a kiss in that exact spot. "You are beautiful." A sound leaves my mouth that almost sounds like a whimper, but it's cut short as his hand grips my chin and I hear his voice again.

"Open your mouth, darling." I listen to him, almost as if I am under a spell. His fingers slide slowly into my mouth, pressing gently on my tongue, making me breathe through my nose.

"That's it, you're doing great." My eyebrows draw together and a warm feeling spreads through my chest. As his fingers leave my mouth, they slide to my hips again, but this time a little more precisely underneath. "Still okay? May I?" Nodding, I wait.

And then I feel his wet fingers and have to hold back a moan. "Let me hear you, you can be as loud as you want." My mouth opens and with each movement of his fingers that roam over me, sounds escape me.

"You sound so beautiful. Do you want more?" My mouth moves "yes" and as his other hand turns my head to kiss him, his working hand slides inside me with tentativeness.

It feels good, even if it is unfamiliar. "You okay?" I nod. "That's good, it would be a shame to stop now." Without realizing it, my eyes have fallen shut, and now when I open them again, I see our reflection in the window.

I groan at the sight of him and the fingers that have disappeared under my skirt. "Looking at you is like having the sun in front of me. You are magnificent." His movements become faster, my knees more tender, his voice softer and my sounds louder. As I feel something building inside me, I feel his smile.

,,You are so good for me, come pretty girl."

At his words, I feel my release. As soon as my breathing synchronizes, I feel his soft kisses. I have to smile, even though I am exhausted. He turns me around in his arms so I can look at him. His eyes are clearer, his smile genuine.

As he walks me to the bed so I can sit, he puts an arm around me. I lean against him. "I'm sorry for my behavior over the last few years. I'm glad to be able to show you how I really feel."

I still have to smile.

"Yes. Me too."

#five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves #the umbrella academy #love #confessions #fluff #smut #praise #words

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ja3yun · 10 months

Text

The Sun That Always Burns | S.JY pt.4

sim jaeyun x afab!reader

warnings: suggestive, heartache (lots of it), flirty heeseung bc i can't resist, angst, confrontations, pet names, ynjake are so obvious it hurts.

wc: 9.7k+

synopsis: you and jake's high school relationship blossomed into a romance filled with hope and promise. however, as time went on, jake's long-term expectations began to weigh heavily on you, who struggled to meet them. your paths eventually lead you in separate directions, each experiencing different aspects of life and ultimately moving on from your past love. unexpectedly, fate intervened and you both reunite after years apart. the reunion allows you to rediscover your feelings for each other but also forces you to navigate the complexities of your past and present.

part 3 | part 5

a/n: so i was gonna stop this chapter earlier than it is here but I think having the last scene in this chapter makes sense! also I know nowt about physics so when they start talking about it just pretend it makes sense pls <3

In the guest room, Eunseo is deciding what to wear, it’s between her usual jeans and a crop top or playsuit she bought 2 years ago that she swears makes her look ‘snatched’. In your eyes, she always looks beautiful. “Why are you stressing? It’s just dinner.”

“Um,” She looks at you like you have 12 heads, “YOU should be stressing, Heeseung and you are sat next to each other.”

“Wait, what? We have designated seats?” You question.

Rolling her eyes she fixes her hair in the mirror, “Obviously, I mean, there are like 14 of us.” You knew that but no one came up with a breakfast seating plan so why now?

“I’m fine in this,” You look down at your midi dress and white cropped cardigan, “It’s simple and cute, and I am NOT trying to impress Hee.” You cross your arms to protest but Eunseo turns sharply and quips up, “You just called him Hee! That’s a nickname, see, destined to be.” If only she knew. In your defense, it was never that Heeseung was unattractive but Jaeyun was the only person you ever thought of, you didn’t have to think about anyone else.

You point to the playsuit for her to choose. As she goes to get changed there is a knock at the door, “Come on in.” you say just lower than a shout and Mrs Sim walks into the room. Urgently, you stand up and brush yourself down, ironing out the creases as best you can, “Hi Mrs. Sim. What can I do you for?”

“I’m just here to let you girls know that everyone is downstairs waiting for you.” She nods and eyes you up and down. “Tell Eunseo to hurry up please.” She smiles and goes to leave but you hold her arm to stop her.

“Why didn’t you use the money you saved up for this wedding?” You question, too impatient to wait and ask Heeseung later on. With a sigh she turns to you, cursing Heeseung’s name under her breath.

“She’s rich, I’m not, the family didn’t need my money.” Her face is screwed up, wanting to tell you more, wanting to tell you the truth, "Honestly, Y/N? We aren't thrilled with the wedding but at the end of the day it is happening. Nothing I can do."

“Mrs. Sim?” You call out to her as she is leaving, “I missed you.”

Her shoulders slump but a smile adorns her face, “I missed you too, Y/N. More than anything.” As she finishes her sentence you rush to hug her tightly, making up for the lost years. “Shh.” Her hand strokes your back as you hold in your sobs, “You had your reasons,” Mrs. Sim pulls away and looks you deep in the eyes, “If those reasons don’t matter anymore, you should do what you think is best.” As you look at Jaeyun’s mother leave you take in her words and how she looked at you, like she was telling you a secret you didn’t know, and you’re still clueless.

Eunseo emerges from the bathroom, dressed and ready for the night, “Ta-da!”

You give her a thumbs up and a weak smile, “You look amazing.” She jumps happily and clasps her hands. “Then if we are both ready,” She reaches her hands to yours, “Let's go.”

Making your entrance to the dining room was weirdly calm, knowing you had Heeseung by your side set your mind at ease. Eunseo addresses everyone with a hello and bow and you follow, the whole family smiles and greets you. A single place next to Heeseung and…

Jaeyun.

“Shit” you mumble under your breath as you walk towards your seat, smiling at everyone as you pass. Heeseung’s hand strokes your hip, guiding you to your seat, “I was wondering when you were going to come down.” His smile dazzles up at you as you tuck your dress under and sit on the white satin seats. The set up for this dinner is a little fancy but this must just be how rich people did things.

“Eunseo takes forever to get dressed.” Playfully rolling your eyes you get comfy, ignoring the tempting presence to your right, but it’s harder than expected. Jaeyun is wearing beige trousers with a mint green jumper accented by a white collar, and he looks beautiful, like the sun on a cold winter day, “Hi, Jake.”

His face frowns, not used to you calling him Jake, “Hello, Y/N.” His head tilts forward in your direction before facing forward pretending to listen to the conversation happening between his and Yeoreum’s parents. You want to reach out for his hand, tell him you missed him, tell him what a stupid mess you are, but as you stretch your hand out, Heeseung’s fingers interlock with yours. “Don’t” He whispers, pulling your body with his other hand to face him, “Focus on me, Y/N.” You nod and shift to Heeseung as he smiles, “You’re too close to the attentive members of the family, pretend I’m the one you want even for a few hours.”

It takes all your will power but heading his advice, you focus on him. “Thank you, Hee.”

Jaeyun hears it all, how Heeseung’s voice holds adoration, he sees how your fingers are intertwined. He is furious, his jaw clenched, and as much as he tries to remind himself he shouldn’t be possessive over you, it comes so naturally that he can’t help it. In every atom of his being, you are still his and he is still yours.

Heeseung’s thumb brushes over the back of your hand to settle your nerves. As Mr. and Mrs. Son bring out dinner, they place a vegetarian meal in front of you, and you glance at everyone else who has steak on their plate. You aren’t a vegetarian by any means but you are thankful since you hate red meat in general. But how did they know? You never told them about your distaste for red, especially bloody and rare, meat, and that's when a voice interjects your thoughts, “I told the cook you were veggie since you can’t eat any red meat that isn’t burnt to the heavens.” A chuckle follows the sentence and you turn to your side to face Jaeyun.

“Dig in!” Mrs. Son exclaims and gestures to the expansive amount of food in front of you all. You don’t know where to begin but Heeseung helps you as he picks up the bowl of marrowfat peas and scoops some onto your glistening white plate. You hold it up as he continues to pile the plate with food for you, not asking what you like because through what seemed like 20 million conversations about you with Jake, he learned enough about you. Heeseung sets the tongs and spoon down in their respective places and glances at you.

“Thank you.” your voice comes out no louder than a whisper. Just like the pepper incident earlier, Jaeyun knew you well enough to cater to your needs and it made your stomach flip. He nods courteously and faces his fiance once again, leaving you grateful but your heart is tired of pretending that his actions aren’t making you fall more in love with him. All the effort you made to try and bury your feelings deeply is unraveling with every passing moment.

“That okay?” It was more than okay, he picked all your favourites, but you simply nodded and smiled at him in gratitude and he smiled at you briefly before eating the food in front of him.

This was abnormal for you. Your parents were loving and affectionate of course, but you never really had dinner like this, a feast upon your eyes and having the option to choose. Usually, your mum or dad would come home from work, come in, find something in the freezer, and shove it into the oven. Nothing fancy, nothing extraordinary, but enough. You were always grateful.

“Baby, can you pass the salt?” Jaeyun says lowly and without thinking you reach out and pass him it, which he accepts gladly. You don’t notice the air shift until Heeseung’s eyes fall on you, wide and uncomfortable, and unfortunately, he isn’t the only one with that look on his face. As you scan around, half of the table, including Mr. and Mrs. Sim are looking at you incredulously, and then it dawns on you what you did. You aren’t his baby anymore.

Jaeyun is none the wiser, pouring the problematic salt on his food before setting it down and digging into his food. Yeoreum side-eyes you both, and only you seem to notice, making you extra uncomfortable because at least if Jaeyun acknowledged it, you could both cover your asses together, but you guess this is up to you now.

“Oh um, the salt was just there, thought I would save Yeoreum the hassle.” You say not daring to look at anyone. Your voice sparks Jaeyun’s attention and all eyes shift to him, who simply looks at you with confusion, but when your eyes plead with him to say something he understands the gravitas of the situation, “Thanks, Y/N. I guess the salt was closer to you.”

It’s innocent, the scenario that just happened, but after the whispers, the apple juice, and now this, someone could easily suspect something. You nod and go to eating your food, however, you still feel eyes on you. Yeoreum. Her gaze is too intense for you not to feel but you don’t chance a look at her.

“Come here.” Heeseung’s raspy voice flutters through your ears and you look at him, his face inches from your own and then, his lips on your forehead. They felt different, foreign compared to your ex-lovers, but pleasant. Heeseung and you had observing your surroundings as a common trait so when he saw Yeoreum eyeing you, he had to throw her for a curve.

Yeoreum’s eyes widen and fall back to normal in record time causing Jaeyun to follow her stare.

Red. He sees red as he witnesses another man’s lips on you, regardless of who it is, it should only be his. He grips his cutlery tightly and rips his gaze away before he does something crazy like grab his best friend and beat him to the last inches of his life.

“Hee, it’s okay.” You smile and place a hand over his, “Let's eat, yeah?” Jaeyun scoffs and flicks his food across the plate, suddenly losing his appetite. Jaeyun has always been jealous, this isn’t new information to you, but it makes your brain wonder how he still gets riled up like this even though he isn’t yours anymore.

Your hand instinctively wants to reach to Jaeyun again to reassure him, but you stop yourself, aware of how that would make the situation a million times worse but also, he wasn’t yours to comfort.

The meal goes on and no one bats an eye at you anymore, well, the two boys beside you steal glances as you all eat, but the majority have disregarded salt-gate and you’re thankful.

“Jake, how is the new job?” This is the first time you’ve heard about his new life outside Yeoreum as Mrs. Son asks him the dull question and it makes you remember that the Jaeyun you knew wasn’t the Jaeyun sitting next to you right now.

“It’s good. I’m still learning the ropes but the team is super nice.” He smiles and bows his head lowly when addressing his seniors, something he always did with your parents. Maybe he hasn’t changed that much at all. The answer seems to be acceptable enough as Mrs Son smiles and doesn’t press further.

Jaeyun smiles at you and his demeanor changes to one of glee, “You remember the Jo twins that started that enterprise with aerodynamic cars?” He asks quietly and you nod, eyes getting bigger as you piece the puzzle together before he can even finish the sentence, “Well for my dissertation I did a study on aerodynamic cars and their resiliency in weather adverse conditions, focusing on autonomous vehicles, and they loved it,” His eyes sparkled just like they did all those years ago when he spoke about science stuff, “Offered me a starting position with them in assisting the theory I proposed.”

“What’s the job?” You whisper to him but don’t look up, playing with your food just as he did earlier in the evening.

It was in that moment of Jaeyun speaking that you realised as unorthodox as your leaving was, it was 100 percent the right decision. He had stars in his eyes that would never shine as bright if he hadn’t gone to Apollo and got this opportunity, and for the first time this week, you’re content. Seeing him achieve a dream, or at least on the way to achieving it, made you feel elated.

“I’m so proud of you, Jaeyun.” It was a sincere statement and Jaeyun smiled widely at your words, like they were the words he had been waiting to hear his whole life. His heart is beating rapidly and you think you can hear it thumping against his ribcage, but you don’t mention it. He thanks you and that’s when Yeoreum pulls you both back to reality.

“My Jakey is so smart, aren’t you.” She caught onto your conversation halfway through his excited outburst, “I have no clue what it means but-”

“So you would propose a framework that tested all the elements to understand just how reliable self-driving cars truly are when faced with weather stress and how to adapt them to overcome the stressors?” You don’t mean to butt in but you always loved to speak about these things with Jaeyun, even if it was basic-level knowledge you had.

His focus was on you, his puppy energy radiating through and if he had a tail, it would be wagging right now, “Exactly! Fuck, the main focus these developers had on the vehicles was sensors that focused on detecting other cars and members of the public but say there is a massive hurricane coming, the sensors would trip out, I proposed a study to test the sensors in adverse weather conditions; fog, rain, wind, heat, all of them.”

Jaeyun rambles on about his theories and you fall right back into how it used to be. You listen intently and learn about something you didn’t care about until he starts speaking about it, and he teaches you something new. It was just like old times. Almost.

“Babe, Y/N doesn’t want to hear all that.” Yeoreum laughs and strokes his arm, “Sorry, Y/N, he gets into all this complicated sciencey stuff that no one has a clue about and forgets to stop.” You notice his face turn red in embarrassment as if he’s just been caught doing something indecent. There is a silence that follows Yeoreum’s words until you speak up.

“I think it’s interesting, I would love to hear more about it.”

He’s so in love with you and he really feels it at its purest form in this moment. It’s a simple thing to listen to his interest and he’s grateful you want to engage more in it. You’ve always been like this, supportive of his ways, never judgmental or dismissive. He’s thankful for you.

“You might be the only one.” Yeoreum and her parents laugh, but as you scan the top half of the table, you see Mr and Mrs Sim smile at you, appreciative. You give Jaeyun a look as if to tell him to continue he shakes his head. “It’s okay, it’s boring anyway.”

Your heart breaks a little seeing the fire in his eyes extinguish as he goes back to eating his food. There isn’t any part of you that hates Yeoreum, but right now you are not her biggest fan, but you let it go. His mood changed but he tried to hide it from everyone, smiling and laughing with them. Recklessly, you place a hand on his thigh and squeeze it to reassure him just like you always used to. Usually, it was to comfort him during his friend's teasing, but now seemed as good a time as ever. His eyes drop to where your hand is situated and he smiles, his left hand weighs itself on yours and he’s calmer. “Tell me later. I want to know all about it.” You whisper to him.

“Thank you, Princess.” The nicknames he used to call you fall so easily out his mouth that he never has time to stop them, but you don’t mind. “And by the way,” He says, his voice lower than ever, “I was asking you for the salt earlier.”

______

The next day, Mrs. Son enters you and Eunseo’s temporary room as you straighten your hair. She is dressed up casually for the first time since you arrived, even her pyjamas seem classy and elegant, so as your eyes take in her loose mom jeans, a grey old university jumper that reads ‘Boston University’ across the chest, and her hair covered with a navy baseball cap.

You remember all the walks you and the Sim family went on, your hand glued to Jaeyun’s as you took in the sights of the city, sometimes even taking hikes of your own early in the morning to watch the sunrise. It wouldn’t be like that this time.

“Girls, we’re going for a walk, Jake’s father's idea,” she rolls her eyes at Eunseo who chuckles, continuing to apply her strawberry chapstick, “Wear something comfortable.” Her sigh indicates that she is in fact not thrilled with the choice, never mind the clothing situation. Not to stereotype but it doesn’t seem that the Son family is common enough for a simple walk.

“Um, I think I’ll stay here, this seems like a family thing.” Your voice is a whisper as you try to get out of seeing Yeoreum take your place beside Jaeyun. This was also a good time to get out of this house and go back home before the wedding. Eunseo shakes her head and stands up.

“Be ready in 5 minutes.” Mrs. Son says and leaves the room. It doesn’t take 5 minutes because with Eunseo it takes 23 minutes and 13 seconds according to her dad who timed her.

“Absolutely not! You’re coming with me. I need my girl to motivate me.” Her eyes are pleading and a pout forming on her lips and you find yourself saying yes, just like you did in that cafe earlier in the week. That was the poorest decision of your life so, this couldn’t be much worse.

We walk downstairs to see everyone waiting and Mr Son is impatient, either from Eunseo’s lack of urgency or because he wants this over and done with just like his wife. “You guys are so impatient, I had to find these cute leggings!” Eunseo scoffs and turns around and models the navy blue leggings that do wonders for her ass.

Jaeyun’s eyes roam over your body as you bend down to put on a pair of old trainers Eunseo dug out from her cupboard so you could match “It’s important to colour match, Y/N! I have a pair of shoes in here just give me a minute” she told you. His teeth find their way to his lip as he bites down, the habit he picked up throughout your relationship because he could never hold in his want for you. Jaeyun wants nothing more than to grab your hips and hold you against him because truthfully he missed your body on his.

“Eunseo, sweetie, you’re going for a walk, not to Seoul Fashion Week.” Mr. Son laughs and starts to tie his shoes. She looks disgusted at her father's insinuation that she would ever wear this outfit to a fashion week and grunts as she sits down, putting on her trainers. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t pack any appropriate attire for this so you’re clad in Eunseo’s tight leggings and crop top. It’s exposing and not something you usually wear but it was either that or a sundress and wedges.

Scared of getting caught ogling you, he turns to his fiance and looks down as she clings to his arm, engrossed by a conversation she is having with his mum. He grabs her face towards his and kisses the side of her mouth, aching for a distraction from you but all his mind is occupied with is you. Even as he kisses Yeoreum, he’s thinking about how your lips used to taste, how they felt, he’s starting to forget how they feel and it sinks his heart into his stomach. All these years without you causing his memory to lapse, only remembering how you used to wear cherry lip balm, or was it oil? He needed to kiss you one more time just so he never forgets.

He feels shitty using Yeoreum as a distraction, kissing her not because he inherently wants to but because at least it keeps his mind and eyes off you.

Yeoreum’s hands glide down his arm as she kisses him back, her lips soft but not yours. He knows it’s wrong, to be thinking about someone else while his fiance is draped over him, her hands in his and giggling as she smooches his face.

You finish tying your shoes and turn round to see Jaeyun’s hand on her waist and mouth all over hers and a wave of sickness comes over you, you can’t do this, not now and not ever. Every time you think you’re okay and can control your emotions he does something that sends you spiraling.

A broad chest blocks your vision of him and you feel two big hands land on your shoulders. Heeseung. You glance up and softly smile at him in gratitude for tearing your eyes away from the horror scene of your love’s tongue down someone else’s throat. Heeseung’s hands squeeze your shoulders and his lips on your temple. You don’t recall Heeseung being affectionate like this before but it has been 4 years since you’ve seen him, he’s probably changed a lot, just like Jaeyun.

“Just stick beside me, yeah?” His voice is gentle and sweet, and you agree to stay with him. He has become your unofficial saviour this week and nothing you do will ever be enough to thank him.

Mr. Sim clears his throat to disrupt the couple’s PDA and starts to speak, “We have two cars to get us to the trail since it’s only,” Mr Sim starts to count heads since some of the family are staying behind,“5,6…9 of us, we should be able to fit 5 and 4. I have a bigger car so I’ll take the 5, Jaeyun can take the 4. Who wants in what car?”

Everyone looks around like it's the first day of school and you’re being asked to partner up. Yeoreum is the first to speak, raising her hand excitedly, “I’m in the car with Jakey obviously.” Jaeyun’s bottom lip protrudes as he nods his head. Of course, it made sense, but knowing you would have to witness her in the passenger seat, his hand probably laid on her thigh, you wanted in the other car more than anything else right now.

“I’ll go with Mr. Sim,” Jaeyun’s eyes dart to yours confused but you shrug it off. Eunseo, who is the opposite of Heeseung, seems to be your worst enemy this trip pipes in, “How about all the adults go in one car and we go in the other? I’m sure Y/N wouldn’t mind sitting on Heeseung’s lap, yeah?” Oh, you are going to kill her. Mr. and Mrs. Sim look between each other and share a personal laugh. You’re glad someone is finding it funny.

“Great! It’s settled then. Let us go.” Mrs. Son barges past everyone to get to her seat, mumbling annoyance along the way.

“It’s fine, I hope you got some meat on those thighs.” You say trying to lighten the mood, and it works for a second. Heeseung laughs and wraps his arm around you and guides you to the car before whispering, “My thighs can hold you just fine, Y/N.”

“You okay with that?” Heeseung’s voice is low but filled with concern, he knew what Eunseo was doing and he wasn’t uncomfortable with the idea, but considering you would rather ride with 4 parents, 2 of whom you don’t know and the other 2 aren’t exactly pitching for your team, he guessed you didn’t want to be in Jaeyun’s car.

Heeseung’s laugh runs through your ears and you feel instantly calm.

Jaeyun and Yeoreum get in the front and the three of you sleek into the back. It’s in this moment that confusion clouds your face. “There are enough seats in here? Why would I have to sit on Heeseung’s lap?” Your question is pointed to Eunseo but Jaeyun answers,

“Oh, we have to pick someone up on the way.” His smile was bright and wide, “She’s a diva and likes her own seat.” Tilting your head at him, Jaeyun looks down and laughs lowly as if you should know.

“You can avoid Heeseung’s lap for now until we pick her up.” Eunseo states as she slides into her side. “But after that…” She winks at you as you scoot into the middle seat. Your best friend really was something else.

You decide to focus on the interior of Jaeyun’s old but new to you car. It’s a lot less shabby than the one you knew, with black leather seats that don’t have cracks in them from years of wear and tear, and his old cassette player has been upgraded to a built-in CD system.

“Let’s put on some music!” Yeoreum says as she trifles through a CD case but Jaeyun quickly takes it from her and laughs nervously.

“Why don’t you take the aux like always? I've said before these CD's aren't your thing.” Jaeyun puts the CDs in his glove box and continues to drive forward. It piqued your curiosity about what was in the case. Probably a surprise wedding mixtape he spent forever on with all Yeoreum’s favourite songs, just like he used to do with you. That sickness from earlier starts to bubble, but you swallow it down.

“Fine. Y/N, what do you like to listen to? I know everyone else’s taste but yours!” Yeoreum is so sweet, and it’s killing you a little. If only she was a bitch.

“Um, I think everything,” You say as you watch her add songs into a queue, clearly picking an eclectic mix to keep everyone happy.

The car jerks forward as Jaeyun almost emergency brakes when Heeseung calls you angel. You’re body lunges forward a little at the jerk but Heeseung shields your body, acting as another seatbelt. “Mate, watch what you’re doing.” Heeseung scorns his best friend as he rubs your arms, “You good?” Nodding in response you get comfy again.

“Put some Monsta X on,” Heeseung’s face turns to you as he speaks. “She loves them, don’t you, angel?”

The rest of the car is filled with Yeoreum’s hand-selected playlist and tension between the driver seat and the one behind.

Jaeyun turns into a quaint little area with a few shops and buildings about 20 minutes into the drive. “Are we here already?” you ask Heeseung but he shakes his head. “Did you forget we have a passenger princess to pick up?” You let out a silent ‘oh’ and nod.

As the car stops in the parking lot you shift a little uncomfortable. “I’m going to stretch my legs.” Heeseung steps out of the car to let you out but you stumble out of the car, luckily, Jaeyun is there to catch you, his hands placed on your shoulders to stop you from face-planting. He doesn’t say a word but his expression is laced with concern to which you shake your head and whisper a thank you.

You brush yourself down and straighten up. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He says to you and lets his hand linger down your arm. All you can do is nod and watch him leave.

“You know her well.” Oh no. Not another ghost from 4 years past. You can’t face another stern face cursing you to oblivion for your previous actions.

“Who are we picking up?” You stretch your right leg and look at Heeseung who laughs.

Yeoreum squeals and gets out of the car, “There she is!” Your sights set on Yeoreum and follow to where she is staring and your heart leaps out of your mouth. As you cross round the car you see the familiar blonde charging her way to you.

“Layla!” You shout, a shit-eating grin plastered on your face as the dog bounds towards you, happiness evident on her face.

In a blur, you kneel down and she jumps up to give your face sloppy licks. Layla was Jaeyun’s family dog, a precious piece of their family, and admittedly your favourite, even before Jaeyun. “Whose my good girl?” You hug her tight as she barks, her tail wagging excitedly, the feeling of missing each other is mutual. Ruffling her coat she jumps around you and barks loudly. Jaeyun smiles down at you both, and you smile back at him, however, you’re the only two smiling as Yeoreum and Eunseo have a look of bewilderment.

“I thought you said she was reserved around new people?” Eunseo asks Yeoreum who hums to confirm.

You miss out on this as you give Layla long-awaited kisses and cuddles, whispering ‘I missed you’ and ‘good girl’ into her fur.

“Um, Jakey? Isn’t Layla shy around people she doesn’t know? She was like that with me when I first met her.” The question from his fiance brings him back to earth and his smile wipes from his face, clearing his throat to buy him some time to think of an excuse.

“Eh, maybe she just trusts Y/N because she’s with all of us.” A pathetic reasoning but you weren’t exactly any help, too busy playing with the excited animal.

Shit.

Heeseung crouches beside you and gives Layla a pet, nudging you in the process, “Remember where you are, Y/N.”

You look around and everyone’s eyes are on you. “She must just sense I’m a dog person. Are you a dog or cat person, Yeoreum?” If there was one thing you perfected over the years it’s how to deflect situations onto another person and that's through the art of asking them questions about themself.

“I like dogs!” She smiles, “But I do like cats.” Her pondering face is matched with her hand on her cheek, “Jakey, do you think she didn’t take to me because I like cats?”

“Yes!” Jaeyun claps and points to her excitedly, happy to have a reason for this scenario in front of him. “Must be that, Reumie.” His shoulders relax and his eyes fix on Layla. She’s clueless, just happy that you’re back.

Getting back into the car you sit on Heeseung’s lap and Layla looks at you, like if she focuses on anyone else you’ll disappear again. You pet her to reassure her and it doesn’t take long for her to lay her head on your thigh, just happy for your presence. Jaeyun’s heart flips at the scene as he watches it through the rearview mirror.

As you’re getting comfy on Heeseung’s thighs, you hover a little to not put all the pressure of you on him, but Heeseung is Heeseung and he notices. His hands grip your waist and plonk you down until your whole weight is on him. “You won’t break me.” He chuckles and rubs circles into your hips. A slight nod of your head is all you offer him and you get comfy.

Jaeyun starts the car, reversing out the car park, one arm resting on the seat as he looks behind him, for a split second he looks your way but quickly goes back to focusing on not crashing the car, his tongue pointed out the side of his mouth in concentration. You shift in Heeseung’s lap as heat bubbles in your stomach. There is something about Jaeyun driving that always made you think out of church hour thoughts, the way the veins run up his arm, how his tongue pokes out and wets his lips, his one hand on the wheel reversing, it was all so hot. There were times on occasion you couldn’t handle it and got him to take you in the backseat, those were not the thoughts you need right now while you’re on his best friend’s lap.

“Hey,” Heeseung rips your gaze from Jaeyun’s hand with his voice as you turn your head to him, his voice low enough only you can hear, “If you leave a wet patch on my sweatpants I will have you pay for my dry cleaning.” He huffs out a laugh as your face falls and goes bright red.

“I-I, shut up, Hee!” You whisper and slap his chest.

One hour later you arrive and see the couple’s parents waving Jaeyun over. As he parks the car you all clamber out and greet the others, Layla ping-ponging herself between you and Jaeyun.

A tap on your shoulder has you turning to face a serious Eunseo, “How did you know her name was Layla?” The question catches you for a new one but you just spout the same excuse you have this whole trip.

“Jake told me.”

“You know.” She crosses her arms and taps her foot a few times before continuing, “You seem to have spoken to Jake a lot and yet, I haven’t seen you talk to him once.” The tone of her sentence is accusatory but you keep calm.

She hums, “He knew about your distaste for black pepper, you knew he was captain of his high school football team, and I heard him request a vegetarian dish for you to our cook so I presume he knows you hate red meat. All that was way before dinner.” Her stance is strong as she leans back and waits for you to explain, but you can’t.

“W-what do you mean? We spoke last night, about his job and stuff,” your hand points to her, palm faced forward, “you saw.”

“Oh Eunseo, Jaeyun is actually the love of my life, we dated for about 4 years and then I left without a word. Now he’s going to marry your sister and I want to die at the thought.”

That is what you probably shouldn’t say, so you settle with, “Just small talk I guess.” A nervous laugh leaves you but she doesn’t let up. “Y/N-”

At the same time Eunseo is saying your name, Heeseung comes over and hugs you from behind, “You coming, ladies? Or do you want to stay here with all the screaming children?” Heeseung points over Eunseo’s shoulder to the crying toddler and their sleep-deprived parents.

“You two need to be more careful. If Eunseo finds out, she tells Yeoreum, and I don’t think you want to be the topic of that conversation right before the wedding, yeah?”

“Coming!” You say and rush off, grabbing Heeseung’s hand and getting you both out of Eunseo’s earshot. “Thank you.”

He’s right. He always is and it exudes a heavy sigh from your lips. “I know, it’s just so easy to forget.” You admit and his silent nod is all you need before the group of you head for your walk.

It’s peaceful, every so often you throw a stick for Layla, and chatter amongst the parents is all you hear as you make it your mission to not look Jaeyun’s way. Eunseo walks alongside the happy couple and you do as Heeseung suggested and stay by his side. The scenery takes your breath away, the golden sun burning your skin, not a cloud in sight. You take some time to reflect on the past 4 years and realise the sun doesn’t come out so much in Pyeongchang.

“Y/N?” You turn to see Yeoreum looking at you, “Can I ask you something?” Oh no. Eunseo told her, fuck, maybe Mrs. Sim did. Is she going to throw you over the cliff, is all this one big ploy to get rid of you?

“Oh, sure.” You look away and prepare for the worst-case scenario.

“Tell us more about your ex. I can’t stop thinking about it.” Your eyes widen and look straight at Jaeyun who, despite his golden skin, is suddenly pale white. “I don’t know why you broke up with him if you were so perfect for each other.”

Jaeyun and Heeseung look at each other in confusion. They weren’t there for the conversation when the football game was going on, so they had no idea what Yeoreum was talking about.

“Yeah!” It’s Eunseo’s turn to chime in, “Y/N is such a closed book, I still know hardly anything about her. Tell us. You said you had challenges.”

“I-”

“It’s not really our business though, it is? We don’t have to know.” Heeseung speaks up in your defense but Yeoreum just scoffs. “I know about everyone’s exes, I love hearing about them. I know all about yours,” She points to Heeseung, “I of course know all about Jake’s.” She rolls her eyes as she spits the last sentence out, clearly, Jaeyun had said some bitter things about you, but you don’t mind. You deserved it. “So tell us about yours, Y/N. Jake, you should have seen the way she spoke about him! It was true love, I know it, maybe we can give you advice and get back together?”

Jaeyun coughs and looks up to the sky, wishing a bright light would come from between the clouds and either obliterate him like in that War of the Worlds movie.

“It was just,” You stop, uncomfortable at the idea that the subject of conversation is only a meter from you. Maybe this was your chance to really explain yourself in a controlled environment where emotions had to be under control, not like that night in the kitchen.

“I just was scared I think. I didn’t really handle the situation well. I was scared of long distance so I didn’t tell him I was going to college in Pyeongchang and just up and left.”

“I thought it was the right call. He had dreams, and honestly? He would have given all of it up for me. His dream school, his future, just to follow me and I didn’t want to live with the guilt of it.” Your head hangs low, and Heeseung’s hand grazes yours in an attempt to comfort you. “In the moment, I thought it was the right choice.”

“Damn,” Eunseo slows down her pace and looks at you, “You mean you just, left him behind?”

Eunseo stops completely, “Your parents…”

“Left them behind too. I didn’t want to risk him finding out where I was going. I didn’t tell anyone. Literally.” It was all clicking in Eunseo’s head and her jaw hung open.

“That’s cold, Y/N. I can’t imagine how he feels. Does he know where you are now?” Yeoreum asks the wrong questions every single time and you almost laugh at the irony.

You shrug, “I-”

“What do you think about it now?” The Australian accent jolts you to attention and interrupts what would have been a lie. Turning your head to him you wish he wasn’t looking at you with his eyes wide, like they’re desperate for something only you can give him.

Swallowing you nod slowly, “I think- I think I made the wrong choice.” You should have stopped the sentence there but you continue, “He’s everything to me still, I would do anything to go back and change it.”

In another world, Jaeyun is tearing himself away from Yeoreum, picking you up, and kissing you because you are the only one that matters. But this isn’t a romance movie, and you’re both deep in this tangled mess.

“I think you should reach out. Then you can have what me and Jake have.” A scoff is heard behind you. Turning, you view Heeseung with disgust on his face, his jaw is clenched and his eyes don’t even give Yeoreum the time of day. “What? You don’t think she could have that?”

“I think Y/N can have anything she wants,” He’s biting his tongue. Jaeyun’s gaze is looking pleadingly at his best man to shut the fuck up. He doesn’t, “It’s just Y/N is describing a love that sounds like once in a lifetime.”

It’s Yeoreum’s time to stop in her tracks. “And you think Jake and I don’t have that?”

“Yes.” If gagged had a visual representation next to its definition in the dictionary, it would be a still-frame picture of your face right now. “It’s not that you don’t love each other obviously,” damage control Heeseung was coming to fruition as he saw the shocked faces staring at him, “It’s just love like that isn’t easy to find.” He mumbles, cursing under his breath that he even opened his mouth.

“Well, for your information, Heeseung I brought Jake back to life after his high school relationship. He was nothing but a hollow body until he met me. If it wasn’t a ‘once in a lifetime love’” She air quotes the phrase, “then he would still be moping around over a shitty, second string ex that never deserved him.”

“Enough.” Jaeyun’s voice is stern, not like you’ve ever heard before, “Both of you just shut up. I love Yeoreum,” He faces Heeseung almost trying to convince him, “I wouldn’t be marrying her otherwise, “and you don’t get to shit on my ex.” His attention now on his fiance, “You don’t know her, she had her reasons, and yeah she hurt me, but she deserved all the love I gave her. So keep her out of your mouth. Got it?”

Maybe Yeoreum’s face right now should be next to gagged in the dictionary. Scratch that, just have this whole scenario play out on a projector. Jaeyun strides ahead, annoyed that anyone in their right mind would ever say anything like that about you. The silence is loud as you all continue your walk, Layla still none the wiser.

As you reach the top of the trail, Jaeyun’s emotions have settled but he doesn’t look at you or Yeoreum once, focused on the sun. Even though it’s shining bright, it’s a lot colder with the breeze from the height where he stood.

Layla is pulling at you to follow her and with her leash in hand you do. She paws at Jaeyun who looks down with a smile and pets her head. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you take a moment to register he’s talking to you. “She shouldn’t have said that.”

Your heart beats loudly because even after all this time he’s still looking out for you, still caring about your feelings even though he would have every right to hate you and curse you just like Yeoreum had.

“Jaeyun, It’s okay. She’s not wrong. It was shitty.” You suck your teeth and then you laugh, “You’re gonna be a terrifying dad,” He doesn’t say anything but his eyebrows scrunch together, “The way you put them both in their place, I’ve never seen you get angry.”

“Ah, that’s not true.” Now it was your turn to adorn a face of confusion, “Your birthday party, with Sunghoon?” Oh. Yeah. That. You shift from one foot to another, wrapping Layla’s lead around one of your hands. “I think that was the only time though.”

“I’m sorry about that.” He laughs loudly and shakes his head. “Baby, that was like 7 years ago. I forgive you. I forgave you that night.”

“Then go forgive Yeoreum.” The statement causes Jaeyun to lean back. “You should forgive her. It wasn’t nice but she didn’t mean it like that, she was protecting you because she loves you. If you can forgive me that easy then you can do the same for her.”

He sighs and sticks his hands in his pockets. “It’s easy to forgive you.”

“Do you?” Your voice is a whisper, your heart rapidly hitting against your chest, “Forgive me.”

Jaeyun nods his head slowly and turns to face you properly, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Taking his hand out of his pocket he grabs yours and squeezes it. He loves you and that is never going to change. It’s just that he loves Yeoreum now. You can try to find contentment in that.

_______

For the car ride back, Yeoreum storms into the backseat without giving any warning, clearly mad at her future husband. Heeseung guides Layla into the middle seat before situating himself on the seat beside her and waiting for you to crawl onto his lap. That however does not happen. Eunseo decides to sit on Heeseung’s lap instead and he is less than impressed. “Um, Eunseo?” She turns to Heeseung as if sitting on his lap is the most obvious decision in the world. “What? I’m not sitting next to him after he shouted at my sister.” Jaeyun opens the driver seat and throws himself down onto the leather, muttering a barely heard ‘I didn’t shout’. You look at Heeseung to help you out but he shrugs and mouths a sorrowful ‘Sorry.’ which is no comfort at all. “Y/N can sit in the front.” Yeoreum huffs and you follow her instruction mindlessly. You get into the passenger side and buckle your seatbelt for the awkward 2 hours that await.

“Let me put on some music, yeah?” Your voice is calm and quiet like you’re trying not to disrupt the tension. Heeseung is the only one to agree but you still grab the aux and plug your phone in. Unlike Yeoreum, you don’t ask what songs people want and settle for one of your playlists but just as you go to hit play, your phone says it’s at 5% and you mentally curse yourself for taking so many pictures. You have a choice; you can either play the songs right now and have your phone die in 2 minutes, or sit in silence. You sit for a while and the silence causes Jaeyun to turn to you.

“You okay?” he asks and you hum explaining about your phone, “Here.” Opening the glove box he hands you the CDs he hid from Yeoreum and she notices, crossing her arms and holding back from making a sarky comment.

Flicking through the CDs you see the mixtapes he made over the years until one stops you dead. ‘Y/N #1’. Your fingers flip through and all of them are named something similar all the way to ‘Y/N #38’. The last one has drawings of rings and keys all around it and you lightly trace your fingers over it, scared that if you touch it you’ll break it.

To confirm your theories, you pick it out and enter it into the CD player and your heart skips at least 5 beats as the first notes play from Love is All Around by Wetter. You choke on nothing as the memories of that night come flooding back to that night. He had taken all those cassette tapes and made them into CDs. Even after you abandoned him he still took the time to transfer every single mixtape. Your chest feels heavy and you feel like you’re going to pass out until Jaeyun places a hand on your thigh to calm you down. His touch is so familiar and comforting that instantly you feel relief wash over you, your hand intertwining with his. Just like how you used to be, you’re seeking his comfort.

Yeoreum is in too much of a sour mood to notice how his thumb rubs your skin, and how his whole body suddenly feels like it’s found the missing limb that’s been detached from him. But Heeseung doesn’t. He sees it all and he wants to cuss you both out for being so obvious. Still, instead, he’s engaging Eunseo in meaningless conversation, distracting her of any chance to see how Jaeyun has his fingers tracing hearts into your thigh.

As the song’s final chorus blares through the speakers he brings your hand to his lips and kisses it gently. It’s a foolish move and Heeseung panics, looking between the sisters to see if any of them notice and somehow they don’t. He is going to have some words for you both when they all get back.

Alan Watt’s monologue at the end of the song doesn’t help the way you’re feeling, like for the first time in years you are exactly where you should be, with the love of your life. But his hand leaves yours as the journey goes on due to worrying that Yeoreum could turn her head and see it, and you’re pulled back to reality. He isn’t yours, and he’s getting married in two days.

____

Stepping out of the car you watch as everyone walks into the house, some sullen, and some oblivious about what happened. You wish you were the latter. Jaeyun walks with his hands in his pockets, head down as he follows a pouty Yeoreum up the stairs and into their bedroom. The house’s once light atmosphere is now heavy and by this point, everyone can feel it. Mr. Sim pulls Heeseung to the side and they share a whisper. Mrs & Mr. Son kidnap Mrs. Sim and Eunseo to the kitchen to help them prepare dinner.

You don’t follow your best friend, instead, you tread up the grand staircase, ready to shower and wash off the antics of today, craving the battering of hot water against your skin. Your foot is not but a second on the first floor when you hear shouting. It’s muffled and honestly, you shouldn’t be listening but you’re nosey and you one hundred percent know who it is.

“I just don’t understand why you shouted at me like that. And in front of our friends!” Yeoreum cries out. Don’t eavesdrop your mind is telling you, but your feet are gingerly walking to their door, it lays slightly ajar.

You don’t see lots but you can see Yeoreum’s back and sometimes when she moves, you can see Jaeyun. He looks lost, guilty, and bored all at once.

“Reumie, I did not shout at you. I told you to not speak about my ex. What is your fascination with her? You bring her up whenever you get the chance.”

Yeoreum scoffs and folds her arms, one foot pointed out to the right and her hip jutted out. “Me?! Fascination?! You have some nerve to ask me that.” Jaeyun looks at her confused, “Jake, you are so sensitive whenever I bring her up.”

“Because she’s my fucking ex, Yeoreum. It’s a sensitive fucking topic for a lot of people believe it or not. I told you talking about her makes me uncomfortable” He’s mad and he’s scared she’ll say something that will have him saying something regretful. Jaeyun’s hands are in front of him and his fingers are joined as he tries to calm down. “Look, let’s just forget it-”

“Get over it, Jake. She probably has. I am the one who got you out of your rut, I am the one who held you on those nights you’d cry over her wishing she would come back even though I, your girlfriend, was right there, and I sure as hell am the one you asked to marry you.”

Jaeyun stills at the memories of him laying on his dorm bed, willing you to come home to him, Yeoreum hugging him from behind, lulling him to calm down. He couldn’t even pretend to care about her presence when thoughts of you struck into his mind. She didn’t deserve the way he was back then and he’s surprised she stayed around.

Jaeyun opens his mouth but she cuts him off before he can even respond, her eyes are on him with a deadly stare, “Do you still love her?” It’s his turn to scoff but she doesn’t let up, “Tell me you don’t love her, and I’ll put it all behind me. I will forget this ever happened and drop it.” She knows the answer, but she wants him to lie to her.

“I- Yeoreum everyone still has feelings for their first love.”

“If she walked through that door right now, would you leave me for her?”

A gentle hand enveloped the top of your arm, causing you to gasp and turn around panicked. Mr. Sim’s gaze meets yours. He gently leads you from the door and into your room, “I think you’ve heard enough.” Although the statement can come across as rude from anyone else, his tone is comforting. He was taking you away from the possibility of the answer you knew he was going to say. Of course not. He wouldn’t leave her if his ex walked into his life again because you did walk back in and he is still very much engaged.

Jaeyun’s dad shuts the door behind him and sighs, “Y/N, Heeseung told me what happened.” You nod.

“It wasn’t a big argument, they’ll get over it in a minute.” Looking up you see him shaking his head and waltzing towards you, guiding you both to sit on the edge of the bed.

“He told me everything.” Oh. You nod again, this time heavy and with dread, as you think about the prospect of how this conversation will go.

The next words to leave his mouth are not in a million years what you would have guessed, “Thank you.” Shifting your body to face him completely you stretch your neck forward to make sure you heard him correctly, eyelids invisible as your eyebrows dart up.

Mr. Sim laughs and gently shakes your leg affectionately. “I know I didn’t give you the best welcome back reaction but you have to understand.” You daren’t say a word, trying to listen carefully, “When you left, you left behind my son but you took him with you. His livelihood, his character, his heart, he lost himself and I think it’s because you accidentally packed him up with your bags.”

“I’ll be candid, we lost all respect for you,” His face is sour and all you can do is nod because he had every right to feel this way, “But after these past few days, and Heeseung telling me why you left, I realise I have to thank you.”

The guilt your heart feels is astronomical, you knew it would hurt him, but something about the way his dad is putting it is like having someone poke multiple pins in your heart and dragging them down slowly, and painfully, torturing you as you awaited death.

“Why? You should hate me, you said yourself, I destroyed him.”

“Emotionally at the time, yes. But every step you took was always with his interest at the forefront. You knew he would reject Apollo if you told him you weren’t going with him.” A chuckle leaves his lips and his hand pats your leg again, “One thing about my boy? He is stupid when it comes to mind over heart. And you are so smart, baby girl.” Mr. Sim’s eyes are just as they used to be, full of adoration for you.

“If Jaeyun had left with you, he might have started to resent you and the relationship, wondering if he made the right choice, it would cause arguments, you’d drift and it would all have been for nothing. You saw that didn’t you?”

Yes. That is exactly how you saw it. When you made the decision to not tell him, long distance was your main reason, but as you stewed with it for years you truly know the guilt of keeping him from his dream school and ultimately sabotaging his future was the main reason. You wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. “Something like that.” Is all you mutter to him, “I knew how hard he worked for all of it, Busan, Apollo, his career, I didn’t want him to jeopardise it for some girl. And he always said long-distance scared him.” Tears are ricocheting down your face and you taste the salt as the liquid slips past your lips. For the first time, your feelings and actions are being validated.

“He also got Yeoreum.” You say smiling sadly. He grabs your chin and turns your face to his delicately.

“My son was always your number one priority, even when you didn’t realise it. Now do I wish there was a better way you could have gone about this? Categorically so.” He laughs and for the first time in the whole conversation so do you, nodding your head and your eyes looking up. “But you deserve a thank you because look what he has; honours in one of the most prestigious colleges in the country, a job he loves and is so dearly passionate about, I mean really, I cannot get him to shut up about it,”

“Do you love him?” You agree without hesitation and try to focus on anything but his eyes, too painful and far too similar to his son’s. “Then let me give you some advice,” Shouting can be heard, Jaeyun and Yeoreum’s voices getting louder but you’re too busy hanging on to every word Mr. Sim is speaking to tune in, “Do what you think is best, for you and him, either together or separate. You’ll make the right choice, Y/N. I know that now.”

#aj writes #jake x reader #jake sim #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #jake smut #enha smut #lots of hidden things in this part that sets up nicely for the last 2 parts :)

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another-lost-mc · 17 days

Text

(Fallen) Angels Round Table Discussion: Fashion

Featuring: A mixed bag of canon and OC angels and some of their fallen brethren.

"So, honest question - who comes up with these outfit designs?"

GABRIEL: Most angels meet with someone from the tailoring guild and they can request what sorts of clothing they'd like.

SERAPHIEL: Clothing is also a popular gift for angels that pass their ascension trials.

"Does hierarchy or rank have anything to do with the types of clothes angels are allowed to wear?"

SIMEON: Not really. It mostly boils down to preference. Certain styles are more practical than others too. For example, most of the warriors choose not to wear robes on a daily basis. I only wear mine for very special occasions.

METATRON: Michael and Lucifer couldn't be more different style-wise and they were both Seraphs.

MICHAEL: I designed a new outfit for Lucifer that was a little bit more...relaxed...but he wouldn't wear it. Asmodeus even helped with it.

LUCIFER: That’s exactly why I refused. You show enough skin for both of us.

"Now that you mention it, is there a practical reason for designing tight clothes with, um, decorative cut-outs?"

RAPHAEL: It helps us stay cool and prevent heat sickness during our hottest season.

HABUHIAH: Loose clothing isn't comfortable to wear underneath armor.

RAPHAEL: I don't think that's much of a concern anymore.

HABUHIAH: You have more faith than I do when it comes to certain demons.

BELIAL: Are you still upset about our little scuffle in the human world? It's been nearly five-thousand years.

URIEL: You mean the pointless war that you started?

BELIAL: It was actually very profitable.

URIEL: You're the worst.

GABRIEL: Shh, darling. Just pretend he's not here.

BELIAL: That's not very nice, Gabe. You haven't missed me even a teeny-tiny bit?

HABUHIAH: You can't be serious.

METATRON: If we have time later, I'd love to talk to you about your involvement in that skirmish. The official records we have aren't very detailed.

BELIAL: Say no more! I'd be delighted to stay as long as necessary and—

GABRIEL: Absolutely not.

"So, back to the whole why angelic clothing is so revealing thing...?”

SERAPHIEL: Right. Well, from a utility point of view, form-fitted clothes usually work best because you still want to be able to move your body freely without any restrictions. Wearing something flimsy like a cloak is a potential disaster too, at least if you're in a fight.

RAPHAEL: Michael learned that the hard way.

URIEL: The younglings were in the garden and got a firsthand demonstration about combat safety so at least something good came from it.

MICHAEL: You set your cloak on fire by accident one time and your friends never let you forget it.

RAPHAEL: That was an accident? I thought you did it on purpose to get out of training that day.

SIMEON: The point is, a lot of those considerations aren't as important as they used to be. Now we simply wear what we like.

AZRA: Are we going to gloss over the other very important reason? That some of us just wanted to look good?

LUCIFER: Riveting input from our resident incubus.

HABUHIAH: What's that gesture Azazel is making with his hand?

SERAPHIEL: I'm not sure, but judging by Lucifer's expression it's probably not nice.

MICHAEL: Their demonic forms are much more impressive than the photos I've seen on Devilgram.

RAPHAEL: Should we try to stop them?

SIMEON: It's more entertaining if we don't.

METATRON: But I don't want anyone to get hurt.

URIEL: Wait, why is Belial fighting now too?

SERAPHIEL: He's upset that his suit got scorched when one of their wayward spells hit him by accident.

GABRIEL: I hope you're pleased with yourself since this was all your idea, Michael. But I have to admit, I expected much worse.

MICHAEL: See, I told you not to worry. It's just like old times!

A/N: Here's something silly that helped distract me from real life stuff that's kept me busy lately. This vaguely incorporates some Celestial Realm headcanons/worldbuilding, and to be honest, I just wanted to throw these characters into a room and see what happened. (Chaos. Chaos happened.)

#obey me incorrect quotes #obey me oc #obey me headcanons #its like the most awkward family reunion

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shentheauthor · 1 year

Note

Headcanons for how the Harbingers react to their S/O getting into a fight and just beating the breaks off of some assholes who were insulting their beloved Harbinger? And the Harbingers see this happen? But then the next time they see their beloved Harbinger, they wanna act like they slick and that they didn't just solo a bunch of people in a fight to defend their honor?

On it 🫡

Harbingers with an s/o who defends them

~~~~~

Pierro:

First of all, he’s frankly shocked

He was ready to deal with it himself, but THERE YOU GO—

Just kinda watches for a minute in shock before getting hit with pride

Of course he’s concerned for your safety

And he will scold you to make sure you don’t put yourself in danger

But the way you act so casual after will give him pause

How often do you do this???

How strong are you if you can solo a bunch of people and not break a sweat???

Confused and shook, but he appreciates it

“Next time, let me handle it, dear”

Capitano:

He normally wouldn’t even bother with people insulting him, unless it’s soldiers who need to be put in their place

But oh boy

When you go in, fists flying and WINNING that fight?

He is SO impressed

He never knew his s/o had so much hidden strength!

He would tell you to let him handle it, but he secretly likes being protected

It’s nice to have someone else take the wheel

He’s not really phased by you pretending you didn’t just lay a dozen people out in front of him

He’s casual about his achievements too, it’s no big deal

Y’all are a literal power couple, it’s kinda terrifying KGKBKDKV

Dottore:

He’d be shocked by two things: the fact that you had this much hidden strength, and the fact that you beat him to it…

He wants to study you (literally)

“My dear, why didn’t you tell me you were so powerful? I would’ve asked you to participate in my experiments sooner!”

Don’t do it bestie—

He’d find your casualness hilarious

Def wants to pick your brain and find out why you brush it off like “it was nothing”

(It’s bc you care about him, he’s just stupid)

Be prepared to fight off his experiments for a LONG time

Unless you want to participate for some reason???

Columbina:

She hides her surprise well

But honestly she’s delighted

She likes being protected, and she finds it adorable that she has a personal defender now

“Perhaps I should hire you as a bodyguard, hm?”

Even more amused by the casualness of it all

You can perform incredible feats of strength when it comes to defending her, and brush it off like it’s just another Tuesday

It’s impressive, especially for a human

If you’re visionless? That’s just even cooler

Columbina doesn’t want you to sell yourself short in front of her

So she will encourage you to display your strength more often

She definitely doesn’t just think it’s hot, not at all /s

Arlecchino:

How did you beat her to it???

Seriously, she’s so fast to deal with insubordination, your speed is terrifying

Not to her tho

She thinks it’s impressive as hell, and she just watches with a smile

Doesn’t really get why you’re so casual about it

“You can’t seriously be trying to gaslight me into believing it wasn’t impressive 😒”

Lets you handle things from now on

Nobody else gets that honor

You are her personal bodyguard

Is it because she likes watching you fight, or watching people in pain from the outside?

The answer is both

Everyone is scared of y’all

Pulcinella:

One of the few who’s just worried, not impressed

A bit shocked, but the concern takes over fast

“Are you alright????”

Utterly baffled when you not only emerge without a scratch

But without even seeming to care about what you did

“Oh haha yeah it’s nbd, I’m happy to defend you”

“YOU TOOK OUT TEN PEOPLE”

You’re giving this man a heart attack

He tries to keep you away from people insulting him now

He doesn’t want you making things worse unintentionally, or getting hurt

Mostly getting hurt

He can’t stop you all the time tho, so plenty of rude politicians end up in the hospital still 😭😭

Scaramouche:

Again, how did you beat him to it

He’s annoyed at first, bc he had it under control

But that vanishes when he sees you LAY WASTE to the idiots that insulted him

He’s so impressed

He will hide it, of course, but he would be so bad at it

Especially when you brush it off after he asks about it

“What do you MEAN it’s no big deal????”

His tone sounds like he’s berating you

But he’s actually hyping you up

*don’t sell yourself short, you’re amazing, you’re so cool and strong aaaAaAaa*

That’s what he’s thinking

You are VERY impressive for a mortal

And if he lets you take care of insubordination from now on? Well that’s none of anyone’s business

Sandrone:

Honestly? She’s slightly annoyed that you damaged them so badly

She wanted some new dolls, dang it

BUT!!!

She also loves it 😭😭

She’s highkey down bad for you, and this only made it worse

Annoyed when you ignore what happened

“Don’t just pretend nothing happened, doll”

Demands an explanation as to HOW you did that

If she doesn’t get one, she’ll be pissy 😭

But hey at least she has a super strong partner who can take care of the dirty work so she doesn’t have to

Signora:

Dawg

This woman is not easily flustered

But you did the impossible and actually got her to blush

RIZZED UP

She would hide it fast, but man you impressed her

She doesn’t need protection at all, but she will accept it if it comes from you

Still, she makes sure you understand just how reckless that stunt was

“Let me take care of it from now on”

Lowkey angry when you pretend it never even happened

You can’t just do that??? And not answer any questions about it???

The audacity

Still, genuinely proud of you, happy, and a tad concerned for your safety

Pantalone:

Now where did you get those skills from???

This man is hella curious

“You never told me you could do that, darling…”

When you answer with “do what?”

Oh man, the offended look on this man

He doesn’t like secrets being kept from him, even if it… isn’t really a secret

Will deliberately bring you to places he knows he’ll get insulted

Partially bc he wants you to acknowledge it, and partially bc he also loves the feeling of being defended like that

He also likes seeing his enemies get the shit beat out of them

Congrats, you’re his personal bodyguard now /srs

Like he will deadass pay you money

You have a new job now KRKBKBKWKKV

Tartaglia:

I saved the best for last (I totally don’t just go in rank order every time so I don’t leave anyone out, nooo…)

My god this man is EXCITED

He is RIZZED

“Beautiful, fun, AND strong??? You’re so perfect :D”

No matter how much you pretend it didn’t happen, he won’t let it go

Constantly asking you to spar

He will talk bad about HIMSELF just to see if you’ll fight him

It wont work

Please please spar with him, he’ll be so happy

Of course he doesn’t want you to put yourself in excessive danger

But he will offer to train you

POWER COUPLE!!!

He loves having someone who will watch his back

He will have to keep you from overdoing it tho 😭😭😭 sometimes it’s better to let things go than fight

#genshin impact #fatui harbingers #harbinger headcanons #Shen’s headcanons #Pierro #capitano #Dottore #columbina #Arlecchino #pulcinella #Scaramouche #Sandrone #Signora #Pantalone #Tartaglia #fatui x reader #harbingers x reader #SO MANY TAGS

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youreallyshouldtalkmore · 5 months

Text

Infinity Castle

I haven’t even finished watching the Swordsmith Village arc yet but do you know how many times I watched the demon reunion in the Infinity Castle scene? I may have a slight obsession.

Why do some of the best scenes of this anime happen in Infinity Castle? I even rewatched the scene with Muzan and the lower moons in Infinity Castle more times that I want to count.

Let me shut up…. Akaza x reader, Douma x reader. You are in the middle of their fights. Congratulations.

____________

No human or demons could enter or exit Infinity Castle unless they were summoned or had the right to be there. Generally speaking that pertained to demons, however it was a not so quiet kept secret that you, a full-blooded human, lived in Infinity Castle. The particulars of how this arrangement came to be, was something only you and Muzan Kibuchi knew. None of the demons dared to so much as breathe a question of why you were there. Not even Upper One, Lord Kokushibo, ever questioned it. Not that he cared to. Such things were not his business. As long as you existed in Lord Muzan’s good graces, you were safe from all demons.

You heard the biwa sound from within the castle even as you made your way to the meeting. Nakime had impressed upon you that you were to at least pass through. You rounded the corner to see a familiar pot. You grinned and crouched down, trying silently to sneak up on Lord Gyokko. But just as you went to reach out, the pot slid away from you.

“Hehe, nice try, Miss Y/N, but I could hear you coming a mile away.”

Although you knew you had no way of sneaking up on any of the demons, you still amused yourself to try. You pouted, “Lord Gyokko, you could at least pretend.”

“Oh! I could not possibly. As amusing as that seems, my pride as a demon would not allow such a thing. However, perhaps you would be willing to peer into my pot?”

“Not even in the least, my lord.”

The pot vibrated, “Such a shame! Such a shame!”

You did not have a death wish. Although you knew you could get away with a lot, you were not willing to outright tempt fate. Who knows what Lord Gyokko might try if he was in the mood? You had seen full-bodied humans dragged into his pot before. And you even had the displeasure to view one of his artworks. You had no intention to become one. Of all the upper level demons, Lord Gyokko was the one that you were cautious of the most.

Rumbling reached your ears, as you saw a platform slowly lift and then stop. Your eyes lit up even as you gave a bow, “Lord Akaza! Welcome back!”

Akaza’s face softened when he saw you, “Lady Y/N, I’m surprised to see you are here. I thought this was a meeting for the upper rank.”

You shrugged, “Lady Nakime told me to come, so I came. And I’m no lady. I’ve told you this many times, my lord.”

“Fair enough, and I will address you how I see fit. You have the mercy of Lord Muzan, so you are to be afforded a sense of respect.”

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Lord Akaza!!” the pot jumped up and down before Gyokko decided to exit the pot.

You shook your head fondly as you made your way to Akaza who sent a death glare to the snake-like demon. Akaza didn’t comment on Gyokko’s “concern” for him, nor did he give Hantengu any comment either. He only tsked after they had their say before turning to you.

He didn’t quite glare at you as he asked, “Has Lord Muzan arrived yet?”

You shook your head.

"Then do you know anything about this meeting or if Lord Kokushibo here? I have a hard time believing he is the one that is dead."

You shook your head even as you shrug just as you heard the echo of a familiar voice around you, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! You are beginning to hurt my feelings, my dear Lord Akaza. Weren’t you even a little concerned about me?”

You bit back a giggle as you stepped away from the two of them. It never bolded well, if Douma was taking to teasing Akaza.

Ah, this was precisely why.

Although you had the foresight to put some distance between you and them, the force of Akaza’s fist, still sent blood splattering onto your kimono.

You heaved a sigh.

Akaza blinked once realized what just happened, “Ahh, I’m sorry, Lady Y/N. I did not mean to soil your kimono.”

“Y/N!! Did you see, Lord Akaza’s so mean to me!!” Douma cried, latching himself around your shoulders after the lower half of his face regenerated. He lowered his face into your hair and began to sob.

“Get off of her!” Akaza snarled.

Douma wailed, “And he wasn’t even conscious of your cute kimono!! This boy is a tragedy walking! He claims you are deserving of respect, so he addresses you as Lady, but what does he call me?”

Akaza simmered, “Were you listening earlier?”

“That’s the takeaway, Lord Akaza?” Douma cried, “We are the best of friends, aren’t we? Why must you treat me like this?”

“Eh!! Quit it!! I will not be in the middle of your fight!” you cried. You had seen Akaza’s right eye twitch, and although he was nothing if not respectful towards you, you had no desire to be the middle if he should lose his temper.

You would have stepped away but despite Douma’s lazyfair attitude, his grip was iron-clad. His hands only slid around your middle as he hugged you from behind,“Y/N!! I missed you!!”

You heaved a sigh, “You saw me last month. I do visit you sometimes, you know.”

“Yes, and what fine visits they are! We have great fun….” Douma cried before his lips were inches from your ear and whispered, “...don’t we?”

You knew he was looking dead at Akaza, whose nose flared once. This time you managed to snatch away from Douma who chuckled. You knew it was only possible because he allowed it, “You play too much, Lord Douma.”

Douma pouted, “How many times must I tell you to call me Douma. I don’t need formalities from you. You are our favorite human, after all.”

You gave a mock bow, “At least once more, Lord Douma.”

“Some people have manners.” Akaza stated, stepping up to stand beside you, even as he glared at Douma.

“I am the epitome of manners!!” Douma cried vehemently. He glared at you when you suddenly had a wheezing fit.

You waved away the cloud and got yourself under control. With a serene smile, began inching away from Douma.

Nakime spoke up then, “You do know that Upper One was summoned here first, no? He's been listening the entire time.”

You were glad of the interruption, not sure you were liking where it was headed. It seems no matter what you did lately, you always seemed to land in the middle of one of Douma’s and Akaza’s tug of war.

You weren’t exactly sure why though.

You all looked behind yourselves to see Lord Kokushibo sitting calmly from a small room, “Yes, and I did not get summoned here for such foolishness.”

“I apologize, Lord Kokushibo.”, you spoke with a low bow towards him even if his back was turned to you.

“You are not the one that needs to apologize. But this will have to keep, Lord Muzan has arrived.”

—

You kept your head bowed to your hands, even as your eyes widened. Upper Six were dead? Both Gyutaro and Daki had frequently visited you when they were able. Daki had been like a little sister to you. And you found Gyutaro to be charming in his own way. He always thought himself ugly but you were touched by his kind heart, as evident of how he handled his sister. Though that was the humanity that Muzan Kibuchi so hated.

So you never understood why he kept you around. Muzan Kibuchi never tried to change you into a demon and kept you locked in Infinity Castle. You found you didn’t mind. Being here was better than the cruel world out there. You learned that when you were only nine years old.

You didn’t really expect Lord Muzan to address you at this meeting, and he didn’t. His eyes only passed over you before he gave his final orders to the others and disappeared. Not two seconds after Lord Muzan’s disappearance did heads begin to roll.

And hands too, apparently.

You heaved a sigh as you watched.

Lord Kokushibo turned to you and beckoned you over. You stood and made your way over. His six eyes were riveted on you. It was a bit chilling to look at but you had long gotten used to it. However, you never figured out exactly which set you were supposed to look at, so you ended up being constantly distracted by all of them.

“No one is causing you any trouble?”

You shook your head, “No.”

“Eating well?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. Anything you need?”

“No.”

Kokushibo gave a nod, “Good. It would not do for Lord Muzan’s human to rot in here unless he chooses it, nor for others to bother you.”

You just bowed once, using this time to lower your eyes. If Lord Gyokko was an upper rank you were most cautious of, Lord Kokushibo was the upper rank you tried hard to give the utmost respect. Although Lord Gyokko would humor you, or perhaps it was you humoring him, Lord Kokushibo was to the point. Your interactions with him were always say what you need, get what you need and get out.

“You will tell me if anything becomes amiss.”

“At once, my lord.”

Then Kokushibo disappeared.

“You don’t have to rely on him. He’ll be dead soon enough. If anyone bothers you, let me know.” Akaza spoke a minute after Kokushibo disappeared.

“Oooh, bold! Lord Akaza!” Douma harped.

A smile toyed on your lips. You were well aware of the fact that their protective nature would last only as long as Lord Muzan said so. Maybe one day you would become food for one of them. A shiver ran down your spine as you dropped your head in thought. It used to keep you up at night but perhaps being around them, slowly in a way, your own human heart had changed despite the fact that you were still human.

“Are you okay?”

Your head jerked up only to realize that Akaza was gazing down at you. At some point, he had made his way over, standing so close to you, you could feel the heat from his skin.

“Ahh…” you went to step back instinctively only to step wrong. You would have tripped but Akaza reached out and wrapped an arm around your waist, steadying you. Your hands ended up on his biceps.

The pink-haired demon scowled, “Don’t become clumsy on me, Y/N.”

“F-forgive me, Lord Akaza.”

You peered into Akaza’s yellow eyes. You felt him pull you in slightly.

“.....Whatcha doin?”

Akaza scowled as Douma’s head popped up besides you both. You went to step back and Akaza released you. A playful smile was frozen on Douma’s face. You tried to quietly extract yourself but before you could get any further, Douma used one arm to pull you to him. Still the frozen smile on his face didn’t change as stared at Akaza.

You saw murderous intent flash in Akaza’s eyes as he balled his hands into fist. You ceased breathing. But then you blinked as you saw Akaza’s form from behind once as he moved out of Infinity Castle.

You were breathing again, only for that to cut short when Douma’s rainbow eyes swung to you, “My dear little human….”

Nerves ran through you. You never liked it when Douma sought to play too much. He used his free hand and reached up to cup your chin, bringing your faces inches from his.

“I think you are due another visit with me, hm?”

You barely heard the strum of the biwa or Gyokko requesting an expeditious exit with Hantenka.

“I think we need to have some fun, no?” Douma asked.

“Lord Douma…I have things I need to do.”

“Do you, now?” He dipped his head lower.

“I believe you have things you need to do as well?”

“Do I, now?” His lips hovered over yours.

Then the pluck of the biwa sounded as you blinked.

You were back at your own house in Infinity Castle.

You heaved a sigh.

First, let’s change and wash your kimono.

#demon slayer #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba #upper moons #akaza #kny x reader #douma #kny douma #kny akaza #infinity castle

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mhsdatgo · 6 months

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What fire and blood version do you read? https://pin.it/5zmnMIik4 this? Alicent and otto start claiming that viserys should name Aegon heir the moment he was born, that's why otto was litterally sent away. And alicent instead of creating a good relationship with rhaenyra cause yk she was an adult and rhaenyra a child, she make every effort to be sure to create dislike between the family. She start spreading gossip about rhaenyra’s sexuality, her first three sons claiming that their eggs would have not hatch and sequentially that viserys egg was a sign of bad omen (like girl none of your children eggs hatch shut your mouth), impressing her sons about them being the rightful heir over rhaenyra's sons, infact the book point out how aegon aemond and daeron were bullying rhaenyra's sons. If there was a damage alicent increased of 1000%. You would like to have a relationship with a woman that spread venom on all your family all the time? Alicent create all of this, rhaenyra had welcomed her when she marry Viserys. She made sure to create animosity only to end up like "rhaenyra will hurt my children!!!! " maybe if she didn't torment her she wouldn't have doubted? And that is really funny you to claim that alicent fight for her children as if rhaenyra wouldn't spare all of them only to aemond killing luke and aegon celebrate it. Please listen to yourself and re read the book, the only one who were in danger were rhaenyra and her children at the hands of alicent and her. The green were litterally write to be the villain stop pretending alicent was acting due to her good heart nor the care for her children. And stop pretending she was a victim of viserys's since she was marry to a men only 10 years older that adore her and cover her with gifs, litterally the only thing he denied her was taking a five years old eye and name Aegon heir, how could she lived with such abuse??

She was in a better situation that most of the ladies of Westeros, rhaenyra was married at 16, same rhaenys with a man of 37, haelena at 13. Also, ask Robert Baratheon or most of the men in Westeros what would they have done if their wife had disrespected them all the time like alicent did with viserys, and you will understand how privileged alicent's situation was.

"And Alicent instead of creating a good relationship with her because yk she was an adult and Rhaenyra a child, she make every effort to be sure to create dislike between the family."

Girl.

GIRLIE.

FAIR MAIDEN.

WHAAAAAAAT a horrible stepmother. LOOK at her, trying in every possible way to break the family she was made to wed inside, look at her disobeying to her KING!!! What a bitch move!

Instead, look at the way our beautiful perfect QWEEN Rhaenyra proved herself to be loving and compassionate towards her brothers, TOTALLY not showing just how much of a threat she was to their lives ❤️:

Note: sharply questioned means TORTURED. I'm tired of people saying it's not.

Breaking news: people have eyes. People had been whispering about these children's legitimacy since Jace was born. Alicent simply believed it as well, probably out of scorn not gonna lie, wasn't afraid to say it out loud and just happened to be someone with a lot of influence. Moreover I don't think it's ever been mentioned if Alicent's children ever HAD eggs put inside their cradles, it wouldn't be the first time. Neither Daemon nor Viserys had their dragons as hatched eggs in the cradle.

Seriously, we have the court, the whole Queen's party, the kids looking awfully similar to Harwin Strong (and leave Rhaenys out of this, she has black hair and purple eyes and the boys have brown hair and brown eyes) and you still believe all the speculations over Rhaenyra is to blame entirely on... Alicent?

Yes, all six of the children ended up hating each other, and yes, we have a quote entirely about the way their mothers' hate for each other was passed on to them, the key word is that it was both.

Again, blaming ONLY Alicent for what kids and preteens probably repeat from the elder people they hear it from. If saying that "Jace, Luke and Joff stole Aegon and Aemond and Daeron's birthright" and pushing a three year old down sounds like bullying to you then you don't know what bullying is. And honestly, (not saying they are necessarily right) who could blame them for thinking this way? They were the first trueborn sons in the history of that dynasty that were passed on in favour of a woman that basically had the word "treasonous" painted on her forehead, all because of favouritism.

No, Rhaenyra wouldn't spare them. She wouldn't have a choice, no matter if she wanted to or not. To a lot of lords, Rhaenyra's claim had been rid of any kind of ground the moment Aegon and his brothers were born. Viserys of course did nothing but make it worse, by never reaffirming Rhaenyra as the heir during a ceremony like the one we see in S1 or anything public, and never even changing the laws of succession.

If your reference for this is the statement she made after becoming a Queen, namely:

Then sorry, but after the way she treated them, spoke of them, threatened to do to them, then sorry but I don't believe she wouldn't do anything when most of the lords who had sworn loyalty to her were dead and their sons weren't bound by that oath like Jason Lannister. They were threats, serious threats, and needed to be put down.

And even if Rhae actually cared for them, y'know what? It would change nothing.

"The Greens were written as the villains" you're just proving my point. You didn't understand the whole point of the Dance of the Dragons. There isn't good or bad, there's a family that destroys itself over their own safety and a fucking throne.

Oh yes, I guess Viserys hoping to shut Alicent up (when she was making valid complains that excuse of a man did nothing but ignore) by giving her gifts surely means he adored her, wow. Best marriage ever. But hey, at least she wasn't beaten up, handed over as a child or groomed! How lucky Alicent is! And she still complains?

Greedy Alicent! No way to behave! Should've been slapped across the face like any other man would've rightfully done!

Seriously, calling Alicent "privileged" because her husband reportedly "only" ignored her all the time and saying Viserys adored her because he gave her gifts is... Wow. If you want to see a man who ACTUALLY adored his wife, go see Aegon V and Betha Blackwood.

#hotd #f&b #pro alicent hightower #anti rhaenyra targaryen #pro team green #anti team black #anon #anon ask #anti viserys i targaryen

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mammalsofaction · 3 months

Text

I Hurt You

Rating: G

Relationship: Heinz Doofenshmirt/Perry the Platypus

Add tags: Human Perry, mute Perry, POV Outsider, possibly a sister fic of When We Didn't Get Along, whipped this up real quick before I go back to actual productivity.

A/N: Inspired by the ask sent to Liz here

---

Chamy shushes everyone in the bullpan pantry so loudly it throws spittle in James' face, making him quickly twist his body with a hand over the his cup of coffee to keep it from contaminants. He kicks Chamy in the ankle to retaliate, but they ignore him easily, already distracted by the screen.

He doesn't know why they think they needed to do that; the chatter falls into a deathly silence when the gentle whoosh of Dr Feelbetter's post opening credits flashcards whirl on-screen, which is impressive, considering the sheer volume of bodies a 6 by 9 ft room could ever hope to comfortably contain. But OWCA work PCs were monitored, and there was no hope in recording Dr Feelbetter's Specials on the Evil Channel without your device somehow blowing into pieces anyway. The only way to catch today's episode was to watch it live, and there was not a single gossip hungry soul in OWCA that would dare to miss it.

The camera pans to Agent Panda, hefting an armchair over his head, and James' eyebrows creep up his forehead, wondering if the drama happened in studio before the cameras could catch it. The audience would never forgive him.

But then Agent Panda throws the couch into a messy stack in the corner of studio, and the camera catches someone in the crowd swooning. Ah, comic relief. Someone in the pantry, James thinks it's Sergei, snorts loudly.

"Thank you, Agent Peter the Panda, I've been meaning to stack those chairs." Phil says, to which the agent bows sarcastically. The camera pans back into the studio set, and James is sure they weren't going to see Peter again. "Dr Heinz Doofenshmirtz, it's time."

The statement is almost somber, the lights of studio turned down low. The camera switches focus, back onto the men of the hour, and Jesus, fuck, James doesn't think he'll ever get over how agent Platypus looks like.

He's looking, there was simply no way around it, absolutely horrible. With the unmade hair and red-rimmed eyes, the unshaven stubble, and darting eyes. Hunched shoulders and chapped lips. Not fidgeting, though, and his suit—sans Blazer and tie--was nothing short of crisp and pristine, but it is a pocky sheen of dignity. It's…startling. Disconcerting.

Perry was the best of them. He always had been; the kind of hero-eque idol you'd count yourself lucky to meet, much less work with on a daily basis. He had a spleen of steel and the aura of giants, despite his less-than-impressive stature. Perry had the family, the respect, the reputation and the skills to back it up. Christ, Perry the Platypus had it all. The freshies talk about him like he's a God among men, and Perry even had the envy of haters who can't even pretend he isn't worth the hype when they look him in the eye. And to see him so reduced, and for…what? Some hacky evil scientist Francis keeps insisting wasn't worth the audio recorders they planted all around his laboratory is…

James sips his coffee, internally disturbed. Just who was Heinz Doofenshmirtz? What makes him so special?

"Tell Perry the Platypus how you feel." Feelbetter suggests, and James watches as Perry rubs his lips with the tip of his finger, the hollow look in his eyes.

"Perry the Platypus, I'm," Heinz starts, and stops, and starts again. His voice sputters, and his fingers twist, but his gaze-on Perry-they do not waver, and Perry seems to smile despite himself. "I'm sorry, I really am. Perry, I am so so sorry. I'm sorry that I-I hurt you, when I wasn't trying to hurt you."

Heinz's eyes, blue and watery, there was no mistaking the apology, the watery sincerity. When he gets on one knee by Perry's feet, James could've sworn he hears Chamy quietly sniffle. The songtrack, instrumental, slow and sentimental, is subtle—but it plays out the scene of the studio in perfect harmony. They're really milking this for all it's worth.

"I swear," Heinz continues. "If you give me one more chance, I promise to only hurt you in the right way. With cartoonish physical violence, and elaborate traps constructed out of strange things I purchased over the internet."

The humor is half-hearted, but Perry (along with some of the in-studio crowd, and the pantry itself) finds themselves chuckling anyway, despite the mood of the hour. Perry buried his face in his hands, the crooked upwards curl of his lips unmistakeable, but so was the sniffle (crackling over the mic), the fresh tears trailing down his cheeks.

There is a collective gasp in the pantry, and James hides his gawping behind the rim of his coffee cup. Behind him, Agent Beatrice the Bee lets out a sympathetic coo, and he hears someone go, "What the hell?" James can relate; he couldn't have brought himself to imagine in a hundred years he'd ever see Agent Perry the Platypus, the best agent of OWCA, brought to tears. He didn't think that was physically possible.

The studio had also been brought to sympathetic cries, but Heinz isn't paying attention to any of them. He was crying too, reaching out, and Perry clasps both Heinz's outstretched hands in his own, still attempting to muffle loss in composure. It's a beautifully heartfelt moment. He's sure Feelbetter's going to want to keep this one in the books.

"What do you say?" Heinz asks, like a vow. Christ. Feelbetter squirrels in by the edge of the camera, right by Perry's shoulder and James feels like throwing his coffee at the screen for ruining the moment.

"Well, Perry the Platypus? What do you say?"

Perry spares Feelbetter only a single glance, before he turns back to Heinz. Their eyes meet, gaze heavy with all the words they couldn't say in front of a live studio audience, before Heinz, finally smiles.

Perry smiles back. Off-screen, someone hands him his hat back on a silver platter, and he doesn't hesitate a single more second before he takes it, putting it back on his unruly hair. The audience coos and cheers.

"Oh, what a beautiful conclusion folks! How absolutely wonderful!" Feelbetter cries.

In the third floor OWCA's employee pantry, the crowd bursts into their own cries of relief, patting each other on the back as they celebrate while pretending nobody had cared either way.

"That's better than any of my soaps." Chamy quips, as the crowd begins to thin along with the end of lunchbreak. Both of them were still standing there, because James had a hunch that something was About To Happen. "Nice to be reminded that Perry's just like any one of us, really."

Chamy would know, of course. Their nemesis-ship with the Sinister Sisters would hit their 20th Anniversary this Friday. A nemesis-ship, he'd been repetitively told by his graduating supervisor back in the Academy, was a commitment, so maybe they all should've seen this coming, really.

James wonders about Peter. He'd heard the guy had his own nemesis, back in Seattle. Someone should be looking into what happened there, but Mystery—some Doctor or Professor or other—was infamous for being almost undetectable. Perhaps they had the better sense to keep whatever happened there under wraps instead of coming onto a live studio recording for professional help. Maybe Ann was right and Perry really was a sucker for attention.

James is pulled out of his thoughts as Heinz gets to his feet, pulling a button out of his lab coat pocket. Uh-oh.

"Thank you, Perry the Platypus." He says, before he clicks the button, effectively trapping all studio staff members and OWCA agents in the crowd, and alarms began blaring all through the headquarters as Monogram and Acronym are demanding cavalry to the Feelbetter set in LA, double time. Chamy curses, and James finishes off the last of lukewarm coffee in three large gulps.

"Let's never speak of this again," he says.

"Agreed." Chamy answers. Agent Jackal and Chameleon shook on it, before they rush out of the office to save the day.

#perryshmirtz #choice of fic #human perry #mute perry #POV Outsider #heinz doofenshmirtz #perry the platypus #Phineas and Ferb

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thankeywa · 1 year

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Can i request a FILTHY SMUTY IMAGINE. that lo'ak has a wet dream of kiris best friend.that he hates.. 😔and then he has to deal with the results (bôñér) then later he like kisses us then that leads to filthy smut. 🧍🏻‍♀️

Cruel to be kind | Lo'ak x fem!Na'vi!reader (Smut)

Summary: request (above), enemies to lovers, a lil angst, NSFW, p in v, oral (reader receiving), Lo'ak and f! Omatikaya! reader are AGED UP (20+)

minors DNI with this or anything on my blog.

A.N: oof anon, this request got me bad, also the way you wrote boner is funny as hell. Going to try something new and write 'you' instead of 'y/n' for this. Also the fact that Lo'ak kisses both of us, I love that for us. I hope you enjoy 😉😘

word count: 4.2k

Lo'ak hated you. No, seriously. He quite literally couldn't stand the sight of you.

Kiri just had to choose you as her best friend for some reason, and you'd always been hanging around his family since you were little. Even though the years had passed, and you were no longer that annoying little girl who teamed up with his sister to bother him, you still found other ways to infuriate him.

Your constant strive to know more about humans, for example. Lo'ak could see right through your phoney attempts to pretend to be interested in Kiri's origins, no matter how often he caught you listening to her mother's music or learning how to read English through her 'books'. It was all a farçe and he knew it.

Your looks were another thing. Every single male his age couldn't help but fawn over you, and he just didn't get it. Honestly, it was hard to even look at you most of the time. Especially into your eyes. The mere idea made his stomach flip. One night, Neteyam had even briefly mentioned how 'beautiful' you'd become, and Lo'ak had almost torn his head off. How could his brother actually be so stupid? It had been completely lost on him that Neteyam was simply trying to make his brother realise he actually had a crush on you, and that's where all of his pent up anger was coming from.

It wasn't a secret that Lo'ak didn't like you, not even to you. Yet you still tried to be nice to him all the damn time. You were such a fake, it was unbelievable.

One night Lo'ak wanted to be alone, but on his way to one of his usual hiding spots he ran into you and someone who could have only been... courting you.

"Kaltxì, Lo'ak!" You waved at him sweetly while holding the guy's hand. It made Lo'ak sick. You made him sick.

"Bite me, [ ]." Lo'ak answered rudely, not stopping to engage in any further conversation.

You weren't really taken back by his hostility, but as always the hurt showed in your face. Sealtiel, your date, wasn't at all impressed with Lo'ak's behavior. "How dare you talk to her that way, you five fingered freak?"

Rage boiled up inside of you even before Lo'ak had a chance to react. You pulled yourself away from Sealtiel's hold on your hand and gave him a piece of your mind. Lo'ak imagined you were more intent on defending Kiri than him, since she had human features too, but he still felt like shit for being rude to you in front of someone else at that moment.

You stormed off, and after a few seconds of contemplation, Lo'ak tried to follow after you. But you stopped him in his tracks. "I don't need anymore of your crap right now, okay Lo'ak?" You snapped at him, turning around to face him.

"No, it's just--- I wanted to—" Lo'ak stammered. It had never happened to him before. Maybe only once, when he was 12, and he'd alone out in the forest, reciting all the ways he could think of to ask you a girl he liked out. Just for practice. It wasn't like he'd gone out to pick flowers, or anything.

"What? Make another cruel joke? Wait for someone else to come by so you can humiliate me in front of them? I don't know what I ever did, for you to hate me so much, but I'm done trying to understand." You hissed at him. "Stay. Away from me."

Fine, Lo'ak thought, as he watched you walk away from him. He had nothing to apologise for anyway. It wasn't his fault he couldn't be obsessed with you like everyone else seemed to be. Lo'ak had already been keeping clear of you, you were the one who always seemed to want to talk.

"Yeah? Well maybe you should take your own advice, then!" He yelled back at you, his voice cracking. You were already gone.

That night he couldn't sleep. It was just another thing about you. On those days that you really irked him, he just couldn't relax. Lo'ak would toss and turn for hours on end, rethinking all the things he could have said and done instead. Until finally exhaustion would take over in the early hours before the end of the eclipse.

...💫...

Lo'ak was making his way through the forest, longing for a soak and some well deserved time alone in the small stream just past the waterfalls. He'd gone out at night as usual, so none of his annoying siblings would follow him.

Soon enough he could hear the stream, and finally he came upon the small pond of clear water where he usually went to clear his head. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw someone had already had the same idea as him. Before the other Na'vi could notice him, Lo'ak panicked and hid behind a tree.

But then he made the fatal mistake of peeking around the corner to see who it was and was caught by them immediately.

"I know you're there, Lo'ak." Your voice called out to him, followed by a soft giggle. Lo'ak felt himself grow hot all over from the embarrassment, screwing his eyes shut and drawing his ears down as he desperately hoped for the ground to swallow him whole.

The last person he wanted to see at that moment was you. Especially underneath those circumstances.

When he dared to open his eyes again, he was staring right at you. Your body was wet and glistening in the darkness, and you were shivering lightly from the cool air of the night on your skin. Lo'ak could see all of you, or the best approximation of what his mind could come up with of your features, and he was completely frozen in place y the sight of them. "I was— I didn't know that you were..." He breathed out with some difficulty, doing his best to keep his eyes trained on your face.

"It's getting a little cold now..." You murmured, cozying up to him. "Come warm me up a little?"

Lo'ak was a goner as soon as he heard you say those words. The second he nodded and leaned into you to catch your lips with his own, your hands were on his waist and making quick work of ridding him of his loincloth.

All the desperation Lo'ak felt down to the very core of his being, made the scene in his mind escalate pretty quickly. The Na'vi pulled you close, finally able to let his hands roam your body as he pleased, and trapped you between himself and the tree he'd been hiding behind only a few moments earlier.

"Lo'ak, I need you, please..." You almost sobbed as he ran his fingers between your slick folds just to feel how ready you were for him there. Lo'ak took a moment to appreciate your arched back and spread legs as you presented to him, before taking his stance behind you. "This why you mess with my head all the time?" He whispered in a low voice as he began to pound into your warmth, but you could only answer with broken moans as you feebly tried to meet his thrusts. "You just wanted me to pay you a little attention, uh?"

He gave your tail a harsh tug when you didn't answer right away.

"Y-yes! Hh-hhn, w-wanted... you... t-to..." Your answer got lost in a babble of incoherent mewls and wails.

The night began to twist itself in a fever dream of Lo'ak body entangled with yours in different scenarios that came and went in his mind. If at first he was staking his claim on you at a punishing pace until the roughness of the tree bark began to cut into your skin, the next moment the two of you were by the stream and you were riding his cock like your life depended on it.

"See this?" You asked him sweetly as you gestured towards yourself. Lo'ak watched you run your fingers over your breasts (which were now covered in all sorts of marks left by him), down your stomach to your thighs, and finally back up to your core that was currently clamping down on his shaft. "You'll never have any of it..."

Those words startled him.

"And you'll—never—have—me, Lo'ak Sully." You punctuated each segment of that scathing sentence with a roll of your hips. Your words cut Lo'ak deeper than he'd ever been, all the while the sight and feel of your body on top of him kept knocking the air out of his lungs.

Lo'ak listened to you cry out from the pleasure of the two of you reaching your peak at the same time, meanwhile, a feeling of dread began to settle over him. You languidly let yourself rest across his chest, leaning down to leave a trail of soft kisses across his face that he was now desperately trying to commit to memory. "Don't... don't go..." Lo'ak mumbled, wanting to hold on to you for as long as he could.

But you were already fading from him. "Why should I stay? You hate me, remember?"

...💫...

Your voice was far away from him now. Instead, all the hateful things he'd said to you and about you during the years began to ring louder and louder in his mind, until finally, he woke up with a start.

"...I'm sorry." Lo'ak heard himself saying, as he woke up drenched in sweat, all the while sporting the most uncomfortable erection he'd possibly woken up with in recent memory. Thankfully he'd spent the night in one of the hiding places the Sullys had built for themselves across the years away from the rest of the clan. He had no reason to think anyone else would be coming by there so early in the morning, so Lo'ak saw no harm in taking care of himself then and there.

If anyone else were to climb up the treehouse, Lo'ak was sure he'd be able to hear their movements in time to cover himself up. There was little risk involved, and he certainly couldn't walk back home sporting a boner.

Little did he know, you were still trudging through the forest, your thoughts once again plagued by his hurtful behaviour. You'd always liked Lo'ak, despite your better judgement. He'd always been abundantly clear about not wanting you around, yet your heart seemed to have a hard time accepting that. Recently, you'd thought that maybe it was time for you to start courting and be courted. To know what it really felt to be cared for the same way you'd cared for the younger Sully brother.

But that night you'd realised, your heart had been completely wasted on him and there was nothing you could do about it.

Suddenly, your acute hearing picked up some ragged breathing coming from way up in the trees, and you were snapped out of your reverie. It was one of your people, and they sounded like they were hurt. You couldn't ignore it, especially since nobody should have been that far away from Home Tree after the eclipse.

Pushing your sadness to the side, to quickly climbed up the tree where you could hear the pained moans coming from. The closer you got to the top, you began to recognise the voice as Lo'ak's. Of course he'd gotten himself in trouble at that time of night. The adrenaline rushing through you made you perform a couple more reckless jumps until you finally found yourself outside of a hut built in the middle of the branches.

You rushed inside, worry written all over your tear stained face. "Lo'ak! Are you —"

The scene you were met with was a far cry from anything you'd been imagining until that point. Your eyes were perfectly capable of seeing in the dark, and there was no mistaking what was happening. Lo'ak's five fingered hand was wrapped around his... his... well, you knew what it was called, you'd just never seen one before...

The shameless act brought colour and heat to your face. Lo'ak had looked completely feral in that moment, and now the cries you'd been hearing took on a whole different meaning. The second he saw you, his pupils widened almost comically, and he quickly attempted to cover his arousal back underneath his loincloth, but the hard outline of it was still there, completely unaffected by your sudden appearance.

"[ ]" Lo'ak called your name as you began to turn your heal and run away from what you'd just seen. You couldn't deal with the way the sight of him naked and pleasuring himself made you feel, not after the way he'd treated you a couple hours prior.

You were about to jump down from and incredibly tall branch without even checking your landing, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around your middle to keep you from doing something utterly stupid. "Just what do you think you're doing?" It would have sounded like his usual rude self, if it wasn't for the soft tone and the clear concern in his voice.

"N-none of your business..." You struggled against him weakly. "Let me go, Lo'ak..." Lo'ak didn't even have that good of a hold on you, he was trying his best to keep his excitement angled away from you. You looked mortified, and he felt beyond ashamed that he'd been touching himself while thinking of you, when clearly you despised him. And with good reason.

"Forgive me, [ ]. Please forgive me." Lo'ak begged you. The words sounded so foreign coming from him. He didn't even apologise to his family most of the time. "I... never meant for you to see..."

Your ears lowered in understanding. Lo'ak wasn't apologising for his behaviour, just for the dishevelled state he'd put you in now. "It's fine..." You breathed out, relaxing a little bit in his hold. "I just... I thought you were hurt..."

Lo'ak couldn't deny the sincerity of your words, nor would he ever forget how worried you'd looked as you'd barged into his tent. He didn't deserve any of your care and attention, yet you kept giving it to him despite his brutish behaviour.

"You were crying..." He blurted out suddenly, seeing the tear streaks on your face and the redness in your eyes now that you were so close. Lo'ak thought back to the way the two of you had parted ways. Only he could come to the realisation he had feelings for someone just after bringing them to tears. "I... I made you cry..."

You didn't want to answer Lo'ak, and suddenly the need to get away from him became much stronger. It was humiliting, and you knew he'd realise soon how badly you had it for him. "Lo'ak... please... " You didn't know if you were asking for. To be let go? To somehow have this pain taken away from you?

Lo'ak didn't let you go however, and he decided he wouldn't, not until you calmed down. His hold wasn't forceful, you could have pulled away from him if you really wanted to. Instead, he was holding you like you were the most precious thing to him in the world. His hands began to caress your skin gently, all the while he was crooning soft apologies to you. It made you melt against him almost too easily, clinging to him while your breathing began to settle down.

To the back of your mind, a nagging thought began to grow. "Is... is this your way of playing a prank on me?" You asked, your words breaking Lo'ak's heart. Finally, he'd found away to be with you without reflecting the negativity inside of him onto you, but of course you didn't trust him.

Lo'ak was the one trying to fight back tears now. He looked angry, distraught even, as his face twisted into a side of him you'd never seen before. "Of course you'd think that..." He said, taking a step back from you. "What have I ever shown you if not hatred over the years...? I'm so much of a loser and a fuck up, why wouldn't you think I'd try to trick you when you're this vulnerable?"

"Lo'ak —" You tried to stop him from being self-deprecating, which hurt you more than anything.

"But what choice did I have?" He snapped back, his voice filled with grief. "You were always off with Kiri or Neteyam when we were kids. And that was fine, I could never live up to my siblings anyway. But then... everyone in the clan started to understand... how goddamm perfect you are... and I knew, I would never be enough for you... I would have brought you nothing but shame... so, so I had to shut you out. I had to make you understand how big of a disappointment I really am to everyone around me..." Lo'ak took a glance at his demon hands, a constant reminder of how sick his longing for [ ] truly was. Someone like him was meant to end up alone.

Lo'ak's words almost broke you. The realisation he longed for you just as much as you did, was unfortunately overtaken by the pain you felt for him. You didn't want him to believe these things he'd clearly been telling himself for years. Those thoughts of his had kept him away from you for too long.

You threw your arms around his neck, holding him so tight you would have cut his circulation off if he wasn't much stronger than you. "You... complete and... utter skxawng..." you reprimanded him. "I never want to hear you say those things about yourself again. What you are, Lo'ak Sully, is a moron, nothing more." Lo'ak gave you a little grin through his tears. "Because I have always been yours... and you never saw it."

Hearing those words leave your lips almost made Lo'ak's knees give out from under him. Afraid it was all just a dream, a sudden need to feel you and brand his touch onto you overcame him.

Lo'ak ran his nose against your cheek a little before capturing your lips into a searing kiss. You arched into him, letting out a soft mewl at the heated contact you'd never experienced before. It didn't take long for the two of you to retreat back into Lo'ak's hideout, and only then did he pull away from you.

"J-just... gimme a sec..." He said nervously. You were a little dazed from your shared kiss, and both of you were starved for more. Lo'ak was doing his best to create a comfortable spot for the two of you to rest on, and you couldn't help but giggle at how cute it was. You walked over to where he was fretting, laying down and pulling him down with you.

It wasn't uncommon for Na'vi your age to mess around before bonding, even outside of an official courtship. However neither of you had ever wanted or even contemplated having fun with someone else. So you were both completely inexperienced. That didn't stop Lo'ak from doing to you all the things he'd been dreaming about for years.

Once he'd made sure you were comfortable, he began to worship every single part of you, committing every single inch of your skin to memory. The little sobs you let out when he started playing with your breasts, had him teasing you relentlessly until you were in tears. "L-Lo'ak... I'm sensitive there... please...!" You didn't know whether you were beginning him to stop or keep going.

He absolutely loved having you at his mercy in that way, but the sweet scent of your arousal had him finally relenting as he directed his attention to your glistening cunt. "Look at you, what a pretty little syulang, huh?" Lo'ak licked a stripe up your slit without as much as a warning, making you moan and tug at his braids. His eyes were completely transfixed by the sight of you, letting his fingers pet you gently at first. "I hope you know, your little syulang is all mine now... I don't plan on sharing you with anybody else." He growled possessively, before burying his face between your thighs to drink down the sweet nectar you couldn't seem to stop producing. "Y-yes... Lo'ak... all yours..." you whined softly, fully losing yourself into the pleasure he was so adamant to give you.

You were so foreign to the feeling of an orgasm approaching, you ended up squirting all over Lo'ak face. When he pulled away to look up at you with fully blown pupils, you were completely mortified at what just happened. You tried to pull away and apologise, but Lo'ak didn't let you second guess yourself for a second. He'd never been more turned on in his life. "No way, baby... can't have you saying that... this pretty little cunt deserves all the praise and care in the world... now stay still, I'm not finished..."

He lapped up all the slick that had been running down your thighs before attaching his lips to your folds once again. Soon, you were begging for him to claim you. All of you. While Lo'ak had been painfully hard the whole time, he hadn't thought about his own pleasure for a single second until then. His hands and even his sex were different to the ones of other Na'vi. He was afraid of disappointing you again, of not being up to the standard of what you needed.

"Lo'ak, please... I don't want you to take care of it by yourself..." you crawled over to him now, your shyness almost gone while his own insecurities were back. He let out a deep croon, holding you tight as you sat in his lap, your back against his chest. You tilted your head to the side so he could kiss and mark up you neck, all the while the two of you were rutting against each other. "You're already taking care of me..." He reassured you, but you still positioned yourself to line yourself up with his cock.

Lo'ak bit into your shoulder then, the feeling of your tight walls awakening a feral need to claim and breed inside of him. You were so small, you were struggling to even take him more than halfway, but Lo'ak was there to reassure you everything was perfect, you were perfect. "You're doing such a good job, yawne... fuck, fuck, fuck.... you're just so tight aren't you? Gonna have to ruin that cunt nice and proper first, if I you want to take me all the way..."

"Yes, Lo... I need it..." Lo'ak's words had you completely dumb and needy for him, and the two of you had just lost any semblance of self control you may have had until that point.

Your sweet and pliable nature give Lo'ak an immense sense of power and control over you. While it was undeniably hot to watch you struggle to take in the size of him, it was time to give both of you what you wanted. He gripped your hips tight and pulled almost all the way out before driving himself back in, loving the obscene sound of your wet walls dragging against him. You cried out his name, as he repeated the harsh motion, steadily driving himself deeper and deeper inside of you.

The two of you went at it for the entirety of the eclipse. The desire you had for each other was so desperate, the promise of feeling each other's pleasure once more was stronger than any ache in your body or sense of tiredness.

Waking up the following morning, you still felt the need for Lo'ak to mate you before the two of you had to once again go back to reality. This time, you finally managed to take him all the way and he thrust into you in one swift motion. The two of you were outside in the sunlight, your body trapped between Lo'ak's and the rough bark of the tree he'd pinned you against.

"Good girl... such a good girl... knew you could take me all the way..." Lo'ak praised you, pounding your raw and sensitive cunt, now able to make you feel every single inch of him. The pleasure was indescribable, even if you were overstimulated and sore from the previous night. You were calling out him name and begging him not to stop.

Unbeknownst to you, he'd dreamed about having you exactly like that the previous night.

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