#no one can say shit about my choices i will fight <3

[ishikawayukis]

@svtsource carat revival 2024: Alternative universe

[strang3lov3]

Dirty Laundry

Joel's best kept secret is the washer and dryer he's not supposed to have. Your best kept secret is that you've been using that washer to get yourself off.

Tags - 18+, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, masturbation on a washing machine, dirty boxer sniffing (you fucking freak), fantasizing about a dirty old man, unprotected piv, creampie, curmudgeon joel talks you through knife safety, washing machine repairs, and overstim. 8k words, idk what the fuck happened. Thank you to @noxturnalpascal , @beefrobeefcal , and @papipascalispunk for helping me edit this monstrosity and @joelsgreys for letting me scream about washers and dryers for days <3 A/N - i have worked harder on this than my finals, but that should surprise no one. i only have one more left and then you should be seeing more of me this summer <3 i have a lot a lot a lot planned and I've been so excited to share new shit with you. Roman girlies, I haven't forgotten about you. He's up next. Anyway, you maniacs know what you’re here for, so please enjoy.

Joel’s best kept secret is his Whirlpool brand washer and dryer set, which is hidden deep in his basement. You stand before it now, loading your dirty laundry into it, using what is definitely too much of Joel’s detergent. 

Perhaps it’s more accurate to say his washer and dryer set was his best kept secret, until you came along and forced his hand. Everything was fine, and then you showed up, both yourself and your basket of laundry soaking wet, leaving Joel with no choice but to lend you a hand. Biggest mistake of his life. 

As great as Jackson is, it still comes up short sometimes. Not with everything; you’re beyond blessed to live in the safety of its walls. Just technologically, sometimes it can leave you missing the finer things. It's not Jackson’s fault society is twenty years into an apocalypse, thus running on twenty-plus year old appliances. The older ovens, refrigerators, and other appliances that were built in the seventies to the nineties or so are surprisingly doing alright, but the ones built when manufacturing began to take a turn for the worse around the later nineties and 2000s are beginning to crap out, especially the washers. God, you hate laundry day. The washers at the laundromat in Jackson always give you a hard time. Week after week, your chosen washer won’t start, or it’ll stop mid-cycle. The laundry attendant, Patti, often helps you wash your clothes by hand which is nice, but still frustrating for you both. 

On a busy and gloomy Sunday a couple months back, you were lucky enough to pick one of the less temperamental washers and hardly had to fight or beg and plead with it to get it to wash your clothes. However, your luck ran out when it came time to dry, your dryer wouldn’t run. Refused to start, even with Patti’s help. Worse yet, every other dryer was in use at the moment.  You were shit out of luck. Patti offered you a sympathetic smile and sent you home with a baggy full of clothes pins and a wagon to carry your basket of sopping wet clothes. The clothespins were a nice gesture, but didn’t help much as you didn’t have a clothesline. And - you had to laugh - most of them were broken. Oh dear, sweet Patti.

Once at home, you did your best to hang up your clothes on your porch, laying them out over the thick wooden railing, securing them with rocks. The wind was blowing something fierce that day, and then you felt it – a raindrop. And then another, and another. Before you knew it, you were caught in a torrential downpour, with your clothes blowing every which way. Working to gather your clothes as quickly as possible, you haphazardly chucked the rocks that were keeping them still in every direction, your neighbor Joel interrupting the task when he came outside and started to shout at you. Joel’s a man that can only be described as crotchety. A curmudgeon, even. 

“The fuck are you throwing rocks at my window for?” he shouted, but you couldn’t hear him over the sound of the wind and the rain smacking your porch. 

“What?” you yelled back, “Joel, I can’t hear you.” 

“ROCKS,” he shouted again, “Why are you throwi–” Joel realized it was a lost cause then. He could see in your face that you couldn’t hear him, you looked puzzled and annoyed for a moment before you returned to throwing rocks and gathering clothes. “Fuck it,” he mumbled to himself. Through the pouring rain, he marched across both his and your lawns and right up the steps of your porch. “What are you doing?”

“I was at the laundromat and the dryer stopped working so Patti gave me clothespins but I don’t have a clothesline so I tried to lay them out on my porch with rocks so they could dry but then it started to ra–” Getting the picture, Joel had stopped listening to you and joined you in gathering your clothes tossing stones back into the rock edging surrounding your house. “What are you doing?” you asked. 

“Nothin’, just– come on. Let’s go – we’re goin’ to my house,” he answered, dumping the last of your clothes into your basket. 

“Why?”

Lightning shoots from a nearby cloud, with booming thunder following suit. Joel’s soaking wet, as are you. His hair was dark and stuck to his forehead, his thin t-shirt clung to his body, outlining his soft, pillowy tummy and belly button and his thick, muscular biceps. “Go, go, go,” Joel shouted, waving you away. “Just go. Move.” he grunted as he lifted up your laundry basket and hauled it across the grass in quick strides. He held the basket on his hip as he opened his door for you, guiding you inside with a push to your lower waist. 

Your shoes squeaked as you followed Joel through his house. He took your basket down his basement stairs, “Be careful for me, stairs are steep,” he warned you, “Don’t need you crackin’ your skull open. Got enough shit to deal with.” It was sweet, knowing that he was looking out for you – even with the irritation lacing his tone. 

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you saw what Joel had led you to. A washer and a dryer, olive green in color. He opened the door of the dryer and shoved your wet clothes inside it, then took off his own soaked shirt and pants and tossed them in too. “They’re clean,” he told you. 

In another lifetime where the world doesn’t go to shit and fungus is the least of your problems, the mundane appliances in front of you would be the very last thing on your mind. You’d be focused on Joel, watching rivulets of water slide down his jaw, past his Adam’s apple and pool in the hollow of his throat. You’d be tracing the outline of his body with your eyes, following that thin line of hair that spreads down his lower stomach, disappearing under his boxers. You’d be eyeing his thick bulge and the way that if you squint, you could see the outline of his cock. But in this life, in this moment – where the world went to shit a long time ago – you’re more amazed by the washer and dryer he stands next to. “This is why I never see you at the laundromat? The whole time, you’ve had a washer and dryer?” you asked, astonished. 

“M’not supposed to, but yeah,” Joel answered, shutting the dryer door before turning to you with his chin tilted down, eyebrows raised. Don’t you go tellin’ anyone, now.”

“I’m gonna tell Patti.”

Joel looked betrayed and puzzled. “I’m doin’ you a favor,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

“You want me to dry your clothes or not?” You crossed your arms and bit the inside of your cheek as you shrugged. “Oh, Christ,” Joel grumbled under his breath. “Why the hell would you go and rat me out?”

“Because, Joel, ” you began explaining, “All of the washers and dryers are breaking and you’re hoarding your own? I don’t think so – if everyone else has to share the washers, then you do too,” you scolded. “It’s selfish.” 

“Life ain’t fair, sweetheart.” You stared at Joel for a moment before turning on your heel to go tattle on him, just like you swore you would. “Wait–” Joel grabbed your arm, stopping you. Despite being long gone from Boston QZ, Joel couldn’t quite shake those smuggling and bargaining habits of his. You were serious about this threat, and he knew it. You’d march your ass through the pouring rain to go snitch on him to Patti. And really, the worst that would’ve happened to Joel would be a scolding from Maria and the washer and dryer removed from his home and placed in the laundromat. It’s not like he’d be placed in a pillory and have rotten tomatoes thrown at him. But still. Joel liked his washer and dryer. He sighed. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything, Joel. I just want to better our community.” 

Give me a break. “What do you want,” he repeated, his voice lower. 

You pressed your lips in a thin line, eyeing those pretty olive green appliances of his. It’s not a far walk to Joel’s house… And you wouldn’t have to wait in line to wash your clothes behind twenty other people. You did want to better your community, that much was true. But you weren’t opposed to bettering your own life. “Let me use your washer and dryer. Whenever I want.”

Joel was quick to counter in a stern voice, “Twice a week, tops.” 

“Three times,” you tried.

“Once,” Joel lowered his offer and then looked at you with his eyes squinted, his head cocked to the side. “Who does laundry three times a week?” 

It was a fair point. Even with your very own washer and dryer, you wouldn’t do that much laundry. “Fine. Twice,” you agreed, and Joel held out his hand for you to take and you shook on it. His palm was warm and calloused, his grip firm. In that moment you met his eyes, taking in the beauty of his face. Those sparkling, big brown eyes and the beautiful curve of his aquiline nose. Your eyes traveled lower still, and it hit you both at that moment - the realization that Joel was wearing nothing but his boxers, and that you were still shivering in your cold, wet clothes. Joel dropped your hand quickly and grabbed a clean t-shirt from one of his own laundry baskets on top of the dryer. “Here. You can change into this and toss your clothes in there too, f’ya want.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly, taking the shirt from his hand. “Do you have something to wear?”

“I’m a little behind on laundry, actually…” Joel trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. You scoffed and chuckled at that. The luxury of his very own washer and dryer, right in the comfort of his home, and Joel had the audacity to be behind on laundry. “Uhh, anyway. You just turn the knob on the dryer to ‘high’ and press the start button. I’ll give ya some privacy to change, you can meet me upstairs when you’re done,” he said, and then shuffled past you. 

Once Joel was up the stairs, you took off your clothes and put them in with the rest of the clothing in the dryer. You changed into Joel’s t-shirt, the fabric was soft with time and many wearings, and it smelled like him despite being washed. It was a muted teal in color, littered with a couple of bleach stains here and there. You liked it. 

Upstairs, Joel made a couple of mugs of hot tea to warm you both up. “Honey?” 

“Yeah, Joel?”

“N- no, like…Was askin’ f’ya wanted honey in your tea.”

“Oh.” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. “Y– yes please. Thank you.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks. What a stupid thing to say. You watched as Joel stirred a bit of honey into your cup of tea, smirking as he then handed you the mug. Asshole. “Thought you were a coffee drinker,” you mused awkwardly, attempting to change the subject after taking a sip of the hot liquid, “You like tea?”

Joel grimaced in disgust as he took a sip of his own tea. “No. Just tryin’ to be polite for ya.” 

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it, you know,” you smiled into your mug. 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Aaand there it is. Curmudgeon Joel was back, Neighborly Joel never lasted long anyway. 

You sat on Joel’s couch, warming up with your cup of tea. Joel had noticed goosebumps on your thighs and pulled a blanket over your lap. He sat next to you with his mug steaming in his hands and just stared at you, not even realizing how deeply he was admiring the way his shirt hugged your curves just right, highlighting all the right parts of you. He jolted when he felt his cock thicken in his boxers, spilling his scalding hot tea all over his bare thighs. “God bless it,” he swore. Without thinking, he pulled the blanket from your legs and covered his own lap to hide his growing erection from you. 

“Joel, what the fuck?” 

“Nothin’. Just– m’cold,” he lied. “Jesus fuckin’- just - c’mere,” Joel huffed as he patted the spot next to him and urged you closer, then laid the blanket back over your legs. You sat shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh as you sipped your tea and Joel’s went cold. Dork. 

Moments passed. You sat in silence, the only sound was the rain pounding against Joel’s windows as your heart fluttered in anxiety, or maybe excitement. You might’ve even called it butterflies in your tummy. But you knew better. It was just the close proximity to Joel. And the fact that you were wearing his shirt, and he was practically naked. All of it pretty insignificant, honestly. It was basically nothing.

Joel finally spoke first, “Was thinkin’ it’d be best if you’d come by at night, when I’m on patrol or somethin’. Nobody’ll see you with your laundry and it’ll stay our lil’ secret, yeah?” You nodded, still a little bashful with everything that had happened. You aren’t often like that. It’s cute, Joel thought. “An’ you can use my detergent and whatnot. Whatever you need, s’yours.” 

“Thank–” an especially bright flash of lightning followed by nearly deafening thunder interrupted you. You startled and sort of hurled yourself closer to Joel, grabbed his forearm and held it tight. It was just a reflex, probably. Basically nothing. 

“It’s just a storm, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna bite ya,” Joel teases with a grin. 

“Oh, shut up,” you let go of his arm and missed the warmth of his skin beneath your palm almost immediately, but your longing for his touch was quickly soothed. Joel wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his side as you listened to the sounds of the storm together. You stayed like that, inhaling the sweet scent of him, masculine and heady. He smelled like the rain, too, and the hair on his underarms tickled your skin but you didn’t mind. When your laundry dried, he carried your basket home for you. You thanked him and moved to shut the door, but Joel stopped it with his hand, “Washer can be sorta delicate sometimes, so just be careful with it.”

“Noted,” you replied. “See ya, Joel.”

“See ya, hon.”

A few nights later, you returned to his home with your basket of laundry. Joel was gone, on patrol as he often is at night. Doing the laundry was uneventful , even though you probably used too much detergent, but whatever. Joel didn’t have to know. The next time you did laundry, Joel was at home. He told you not to worry about whichever nights you come by, that he’d always leave the washer and dryer empty in the evenings for you to use. He was even generous enough to make you dinner that night. 

It all worked out. Joel’s washer and dryer stayed unknown to the rest of Jackson, and your laundry was cleaned in a much more efficient way. There really weren’t any flaws in your and Joel’s system, as long as you didn’t include the one laundry night where Joel was gone on patrol again, but had come home just as you were leaving. You bumped into him accidentally, causing a lacy pair of your panties to fall right out of your basket and onto his shoe. He bent down and picked them up for you, not even realizing what he was holding. “Oh. My bad,” he blushed, once he recognized the garment. “I’ll just…” and put them back in your basket. From that point forward, he was always careful to stay out of your way. Aside from that it really did all work out. 

-

After loading your clothes into Joel’s washer, you shut the washer door and turn it on. You make your way upstairs and there’s a note on Joel’s table – Leftovers in the fridge are yours if you wanna heat them up.

Opening the fridge, you see a neatly packed container of what looks to be chicken and vegetables. Yum. God, you’ll miss these vegetables when it gets cold again. You take advantage of the offer and heat up the food in a pan on the stovetop, humming to yourself as you stir the food to keep it from burning. A light flickers above you. Weird. It flickers again, and then finally goes out. But it’s no big deal, you’ve seen in Joel’s basement that above the washer and dryer is a shelf full of supplies and you know there’s a couple of bulbs there. You go back downstairs where the washer hums, working its way through the cycle.

“Hmm,” you hum to yourself. You’d never quite realized just how high up that supply shelf is. And the bulbs are in the middle of the shelf, so there’s no good way to get them without climbing on top of the washer, which Joel would probably kill you for doing. He did ask that you be careful with his fragile washer, after all. Whatever. It’ll take like six seconds, tops. You hoist yourself on the washer and first try kneeling on it to see if you can reach one of the bulbs. No luck. You stand on your feet then, raising yourself up carefully, slowly, feeling the washer shake slightly beneath your feet. Joel would be absolutely irate if he saw you like this now. When you finally grab one of those light bulbs, you carefully lower yourself to a seated position on the washer to catch your breath. You’re not usually prone to vertigo, but Joel’s wobbly washer brought the dizziness on. You know better than to try and move right now, so you just settle yourself down to avoid fainting.  

The washer vibrates under the flesh of your thighs. It’s a gentle sensation, lessened by the angle you’re sitting at. But if you focus really hard, you can feel it in your core. Curious, you spread your legs and turn to the corner of the washer, tilting your hips to the floor, and oh, this is it. You’re not even thinking about potential consequences when you shimmy your shorts and panties off, then find that sweet spot once more. The metal of the washer is cool against you as it vibrates, sending sweet little buzzes through your hot core. You’re not quite wet yet, just enjoying the sensation. Letting it build and build, seeing where it can get you. You let your mind wander, not really thinking about much in particular. The low hum of the washer fades away in your mind and you’re starting to become wet. Shifting your position, you extend your arm to find something to grab onto when you feel fabric. Joel’s clothes. He’s still a slacker with keeping up on his dirty laundry. Usually it would irritate you. It does irritate you, this exorbitant waste of an advantage he has. You look at the shirt in your hand, the same shirt Joel had lent you. You think back to that first time you did laundry here at Joel’s, how he sat next to you nearly naked. The feel of his skin and the smell of him - sweat and rain and musk. And Joel being the beautiful, incognizant man he is, probably had zero clue of how sexy he looked. Or smelled, for that matter. 

With Joel now on your mind and his shirt in your hand, you decide to experiment, create a better ambiance. You keep those images of him in your mind, those feelings too. You remember the low timbre of his voice, the rain splashing against the windows, the weight of his arm wrapped around your shoulders. And with his dirty t-shirt clutched in your fist and its armpit pressed against your nose you remember his scent. Smell is a powerful sense, closely linked to memory and emotion, his shirt and what it’s doing to you is a testament to that fact. Legs spread wide, your hips angled down with your clit pressed to the corner of Joel’s washer, the machine vibrating under you as you inhale his scent deeply - you’re back in that memory. And then some. 

In your mind, your back on Joel’s couch. You can smell him, feel him, and if you really concentrate, you can even taste him. You’re on your knees and he’s drawing lazy patterns on your back as you suck his cock and fondle his balls, and he’s moaning, grunting and whimpering your name. He tastes like he smells, heady and all masculine. He grips the back of your neck and lifts you up, guides you to straddle his hips. His forehead pressed against yours, he notches the tip of his cock inside you and pulls you down slowly, careful so as not to hurt you but it does, of course it does. Not that you mind, you love the stretch and the ache of his thickness splitting you in two. You rock yourself, grind your clit against that unruly patch of hair at the base of his cock. You’re coming, you’re coming, you’re coming. 

You’re coming. Loudly, whimpering Joel’s name as you rut against the vibrating machine. As you finish, so does the washer. It sings you a little chiming song indicating the load is done washing. You can’t help but giggle at that as you bask in the discovery of this fortuitous delight. You’ve got private access to a washer and dryer and a vibrator now too? Lucky, lucky, lucky. 

God, Joel’s shirt smells good. You inhale it deeply, wondering if he wears cologne. It smells almost woodsy…smokey, even. 

Fuck. You’re smelling smoke. 

You pull on your pants and sprint up the steps, racing to Joel’s kitchen only to find that the chicken and veggies you were heating up are no more. They’re black and shriveled, cemented to the stainless steel pan, and there’s no salvaging that. No amount of scrubbing can erase your masturbatory mistake. Fuck, Joel’s gonna kill you. Your only choice is to conceal the evidence. Surreptitiously, you take the pan and hide it under a bush outside Joel’s backdoor.

You’ll be more responsible next time - yes, there absolutely will be a next time. Gas off before you get off. 

The next time came and went. And the time after that, and the one after that. Laundry was always your least favorite chore, but with access to Joel’s washer and dryer and this new trick up your sleeve, it’s not so bad. Getting off on Joel’s washer has become a weekly thing and it’s been lovely, relieving, dirty, and exciting, but you’d be lying if you were to say it’s been perfectly fine the whole time. 

You’ve been abusing the poor machine. It’s no secret. You get every bang for your buck out of the washer, taking full advantage of Joel’s twice a week offer and then some. Some nights you’ll sneak over and do an extra load, wash a blanket or something just to make the washer run for your masturbatory purposes. And so, the vibrating sensation the machine produces has begun to weaken. In order to compensate, you’ve been rocking yourself harder on it, which probably isn’t helping. But it’s still washing your clothes, right? 

…Yes. Mostly. It still washes, but it’s become sort of finicky. And the door doesn’t quite shut the way it used to, and it makes an odd noise now that it never made before. 

Tonight you’re at Joel’s doing a double load of laundry. There were no ulterior motives on your part when you came over, honestly and truly. Your first load is drying, the second load is in the washer. Joel’s home tonight, he’s gonna cook you dinner like he always does when he’s around. For such a grouch, he wears his heart on his sleeve. 

It would be more accurate to say you’re cooking dinner together. Joel came home with a basket full of fresh vegetables from the market and actually put you to work, his reasoning being that he was starving and wanted dinner ready yesterday, and that having your help cutting up the vegetables for the meal he was making would have dinner ready that much sooner. He places a cutting board in front of you and hands you a knife, “Chop chop,” he says, then laughs at his own pun as he rifles through some cabinets. “Missin’ a saucepan…” he mumbles to himself. Oops.

You start by peeling the carrots. As you begin to chop them, you realize he didn’t give you any sort of instruction. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon.”

“How small do you need me to cut the carrots?”

“Uhhhh,” he thinks. “Lemme see.” Joel turns around and watches you with a look of disappointment and repulsion painting his features. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What?” you ask defensively. 

“Why are you tryin’ to cut off your fingers?”

You look down at your hand holding the carrot and your other hand holding the knife, then up at Joel. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I’m not trying to cut off my fingers.”

“Sure looks like it to me. Is that always how you handle a knife?”

“Yeah,” you reply, “Why?”

“‘Cause you’re gonna cut off your damn fingers, dammit, that’s why. C’mere,” Joel stands behind you where you stand at the island, then lifts up your left hand and curls your fingers underneath themselves. “Keep your fingers like this,” he instructs. “Holdin’ your fingers out flat like that are a sure fire way to cut ‘em off. Now show me how you chop.” 

With your fingers in the proper position now, you begin to cut the carrots. They wobble beneath you, you hate the way Joel has you holding them. “This is uncomfortable,” you tell him. 

“You know what’s more uncomfortable? Missin’ fingers. Keep goin’.” You groan but keep chopping per his demand. He’s pressed against your back, one of his palms lays flat against the countertop, semi caging you in as he watches you work. “Okay, okay, stop. You’re makin’ me nervous. Gimme this.” Joel wraps his hand around yours on the handle of the knife. He moves the knife for you, cutting the carrot slowly, your hand securely in his. “You’re liftin’ the knife too much, sweetheart. Just rock it back and forth for me. Just like this,” he whispers, showing you how he rocks the knife in a fluid motion to cut the carrots. His hands are warm, his grip on your hands is firm. His breath is hot and tickles your ear, sending goosebumps erupting down the back of your neck. He chops the carrots quietly, and you feel him against you - the rise and fall of his chest and tummy with each inhale and exhale he takes, his wiry scruff kissing the side of your face. “That’s it,” he praises, “Good girl.”

Fuck. His words go right to your core. As if him holding your hands and caging you in to teach you how to cut vegetables wasn’t enough, he had to call you ‘good girl’ as well. That had to be deliberate on his part, you’re almost certain of it. And now you’ve got to pay his washer another visit. His fault, honestly. “Laundry,” you blurt out, pushing his hands off of yours and shrinking away from his hold. “Sorry. Gotta check the laundry.”

“Oh. Alright, then.” Joel watches you pace down the basement stairs and listens to you pretend to check on your clothes, opening and shutting the washer and dryer doors. He’s waiting for you to come upstairs, but you never do. “You comin’ upstairs?”

“Yeah, just a minute,” you call back.

“There’s spiders down there, you know. Big an’ fuzzy too.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you yell as you unbutton your shorts and pull them down your legs. “I don’t mind them.”

Your reply immediately has Joel feeling suspicious of you. Even a mention of a mere ant should have sent you running into his arms and pleading with him to get rid of it. On more than one occasion, Joel’s woken up to you pounding on his door in the middle of the night begging him to come kill a spider that’s in your bedroom. And he always does, of course, even when the spider is miniscule and simply minding its business in a corner somewhere. He’ll scoop it into the palm of his hand and set it outside in a bed of flowers, call you a wimp and be on his merry way, grumbling the entire walk home. He wonders why the hell you’re so brave all of a sudden. 

A loud, clunking noise interrupts the silence. “Oh, fuck,” you swear. And Joel’s deaf, but not deaf enough to not hear you. “What was that?” he calls from up the stairs. 

“Nothing!”

Joel knows it wasn’t nothing, it certainly didn’t sound like nothing. You quickly pull your shorts and panties back on when you hear him stomping down the stairs to investigate. Wracking your brain to think of a lie to tell Joel, you realize you’re fucked, utterly and completely. It would’ve been more appropriate to think of one before now, probably around the time the washer started to make weird noises. Now you’re faced with god knows what consequences. 

Joel greets you with a puzzled and angered expression. “What the hell happened?”

“I d– I don’t know. Just something… Happened, I guess,” you stutter. Subtly, you stuff the used pair of his boxers you were smelling down the back of your shorts to hide the evidence of your even dirtier secret. Joel sees that you’re avoiding eye contact, looking up and away, scratching your head. The silence hangs heavily in the air and Joel sees the guilt on your face and that your shorts are undone for some reason. “You have ten seconds to tell me the truth before this becomes a much worse day for us both.”

“Nothing happened–”

 “Nine, eight…”

You fold instantly. “I sit on it,” you confess, Joel exhales in frustration. “Sit? As in… this is a regular occurrence, you’ve been sittin’ on my washer,” Joel asserts. You nod in confirmation. “Why.”

 “I don’t know,” you shrug, another lie. 

“Well, how much have you been sittin’ on it?” 

“Just like…a lot, I guess.” You look down at your feet, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.  

“Why?” he asks again.

“It…uhh…sort of…” you mumble, picking at your fingernails. 

“Sort of what?”

“Vibrates.”

Joel’s face falls at the admission. “You’re not serious,” he says, but he knows you are. “Oh my god.”

“Stranger things have happened, right?” Your voice wavers as you try to soften the blow with a joke. 

“Unbelievable,” Joel pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “No. Stranger things than you have not happened, sweetheart.” After taking a few deep breaths, he pushes you to the side and reaches for the shelf above the washer for a toolbox. He takes out a putty knife and wriggles the front of the washer off, then drops to his knees to inspect the washer. “Did I not ask you to be careful with it?” It’s a rhetorical question. Joel groans when he sees what’s broken inside of the washer. 

“What is it?”

“Belt’s broken,” he answers. “You’re lucky s’fixable.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well, it’s good you can fix it, right?”

 “Oh, no. You are fixin’ it, my darlin’. You broke it.”

Joel’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re putting his washer back together. “I don’t know how,” you tell him. You’ll make it up to him in any other way than this, but there’s no way he’s serious. Besides, he’s now the first to know that your track record with washers isn’t to be trusted.

 “I’ll walk you through it,” Joel replies plainly. “Get down there. On your knees, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes at him. “Now,” he says, unimpressed with your defiance.

You drop to your knees in front of the washer, looking for the broken belt that Joel speaks of. You find one of the big and fuzzy spiders he was talking about instead. “Jesus!” you yelp, launching backwards and nearly knocking Joel over in the process “There’s a spider, Joel - kill it, kill it, kill it, Joel - kill it, please,” you beg. 

“Oh for Christ’s sake, it’s harmless.”

“Joel!”

Joel nudges you out of the way to find the spider sitting right at the bottom of the washer. He scoops it into his hand, then holds it in front of you, “I thought you said you didn’t mind ‘em,” he taunts. 

“I lied. Get it away from me,” You shove him away from you, and he clutches the spider more carefully in his hands, laughing. 

“Yeah, I know you lied. You’re very bad at it,” Joel opens one of the basement’s egress windows and sends the spider on its way, then closes it and returns to you, first grabbing what looks to be a replacement belt for his washer from a nearby shelf. Leave it to Joel to have the most convenient yet obscure supplies right in his basement twenty years into an apocalypse. “Back to work.” You’re in front of the washer once more, and Joel takes his seat right behind you. “See that black belt at the bottom of the drum?”

“No.”

“This thing here,” he points at it with his finger. “Take it off,” You reach for the belt and tug on it a bit, “Gotta wiggle it a bit,” following his instruction, you wiggle the belt and it falls off the drum. “Attagirl. Now put this one on,” he hands you the new belt and takes the old one from you. “S’gonna be snug.”

You struggle to stretch the rubber over the drum and it snaps your hands when it slips. “Fuck.”

“Keep tryin’. Put some elbow grease into it, hon,” Joel hovers over your shoulder, just as he did earlier in the kitchen. “M’just checkin’ to make sure you got it lined up properly,” Joel tugs on the rubber belt, making sure it’s sitting where it needs to. “So tell me again how long you been doin it for,” he whispers. “Long time?”

You answer cautiously, “Uhhh…a while now, I guess.”

 “Yeah, I figured. S’it feel good?” 

The question throws you off, makes you nervous. But his voice is low and gravelly, and his tone isn’t pointed or accusatory. He seems curious, but for what reason, you’re not quite sure yet. “It does.”

“Better than your fingers?” Joel tightens the belt a bit and leans back. He’s watching you, but you can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes. You gasp when you feel his warm palm sliding underneath your shorts. “What the–” Oh, fuck. Joel found his pair of boxers. He holds the fabric in his hands, a knowing grin on his lips. “These are mine. What’re you doin’ with my dirty boxers?” he asks. He doesn’t allow you time to stutter out an excuse. “You’re a dirty lil’ bird, aren’t you?”

“Joel.”

He tosses his pair of boxers onto the dryer and whispers in your ear again, “I asked you somethin’. My washer feel better than your fingers?”

“Yeah,” you answer, “Better.”

Joel hums in amusement. He slides his hand down the front of your pants, still unbuttoned from earlier. “Saved me the trouble, didn’t ya, sweetheart?” he breathes. Your breath hitches when his fingers find your mound, as he toys with the curls there. He traces over your lips, then dips a finger between them, circling your hole, then circles your clit. “Better than mine?” he asks, dipping a finger into your center and you moan.  He holds one hand on your hip as the other pumps in and out of your center, and you lean back into his chest, relaxing with his touch. You sigh deeply. “Don’t get all cozy on me, now. You ain’t done. Gotta put the front of the washer back on, should just click right into place.”

Joel pulls his hand away from you so you can lift the front piece of the washer. “It’s not–” you complain, struggling to click it into place the way Joel says it should. You push and push, but it doesn’t budge. “Joel, it’s not–”

“It will. Just try.” 

“I am,” you argue, shoving it once more but to no avail. You’ve grown frustrated by his washer, by the task Joel bestowed upon you in fixing it, and his teasing, too. In a fit of anger, you stand up and kick it.

 “Hey, easy,” Joel scolds. “Look, like this,” Magically, the front piece of the washer fits right into place, just like he said it would. He does nothing different than what you did, it just works out for him. Of course it does. “You’re impatient, huh?” he murmurs, moving behind you. You gasp when you feel his hands on your hips, tugging the fabric of both your shorts and your panties down to your ankles, he helps you out of the garments and tosses them elsewhere. His hands are on your hips again, this time guiding you, whispering, “Back, back,” as he positions you where he needs you, spreading your legs apart. You’re leaning on his washer and he’s on his knees behind you, using his nose to tease and part your slick folds. He inhales you deeply, taking in the sweet scent of your arousal before he tastes you. He traces your lips with a pointed tongue, up and down, before he dips his tongue into your heat, savoring you. 

“How ‘bout my tongue?” he purrs, whispering against your skin. You don’t answer, and it’s not like you could anyway, with the way he devours you. His arms are wrapped around your legs, his fingertips are digging harshly into your thighs like he means to bruise you, tear the flesh off your bones even. It’s possessive in nature, but not abusive or aggressive. You know his actions aren’t borne of anything except pure pleasure and you indulge in it, in him. He moves slow like honey as he tastes you languidly, kissing you. He laps your velvety heat, his tongue teasing all of your sensitive, slick flesh. Now and then the wiry hairs of his beard will tease and scratch your inner thighs, a sensation that tickles you and rubs you raw all the same. “Oh my god,” you moan, reaching behind yourself to take hold of his head, fingers tangling in his graying curls and waves. “Joel, oh my god.”

Joel takes your lack of a real answer to his question as a no, his washer pales in comparison to his tongue. Good. He bets you’ve fantasized about him, all those times you’ve used his washer for those needs of yours besides washing your clothes. And he bets that you probably grind yourself on it, picturing it’s his warm flesh beneath you and not the cold metal of the machine. He’d be right. He sucks your clit, circling the sensitive bud with his tongue. He nips at your folds, sucking one, then the other between his plump lips, then focuses his attention back at your clit. You’re moaning his name, the only word you know anymore. Joel keeps you still, held tight in his arms so that you can’t push your ass back and grind against his mouth like he knows you’re fighting to do. All you can do is take it, feel his perfect aquiline nose tease between your cheeks. He’s buried himself face first in your most private place as he consumes you voraciously, his tongue flicking and swirling and painting you. You’re biting into your own arm, seeing stars as you come on his tongue. It’s an elusive sort of orgasm, the kind where you don’t exactly know where it begins and it ends. All you know is that you’re sensitive, so fucking sensitive and Joel is relentless. Your knees buckle as he toys with your clit, gives you a break for a moment before he’s right back there again, continuing to eat you. He keeps going and going, repeating the actions over and over again just to make you cry and beg, “Stop - please - I can’t, I can’t, Joel. T-too much.”

“Know it’s too much, sweetheart, s’why I’m doin it,” Joel coos. But he obliges, places one last kiss to your heat, soaked by his spit and your own arousal before he stands up behind you. He wraps one arm around your stomach, pulling himself close to you. You can feel his hard cock against your ass, separated only by his denim as he uses his other hand to turn your face to the side, meeting him beside you. He kisses you, tracing his tongue along the seam of your lips, licking into your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, then feel his hand leave your face to reach for his fly. You hear him unzip his jeans slowly, and then he’s pulling his cock out, still kissing you as he lines up with you, first parting your thighs with a gentle nudge of his knee before notching his tip at your entrance. He finally pulls his mouth away from yours and gently forces your chest down toward the washer. He pushes himself into you, careful so as not to hurt you but deliberately so that you still feel that ache, the stretch of his thick cock separating your insides. Joel continues holding your body close to his as he reaches for your hand with his free one, interlacing his fingers in between your own.  “How about my cock, sweetheart? You like it better, worse?” he whispers, kissing, nipping at your ear in between words. He pulls out of you nearly all the way, then pushes back into your dripping cunt. 

You try to answer, “Bet - oh, ahhh,” 

Joel chuckles at the way he’s reduced you to nothing but broken syllables and moans. “Ohhh, listen to you. I think it’s better, huh? S’that what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” You nod frantically. “Yeah, I know, beautiful.”

His pace is slower to start, but it builds in quick time. You can feel he’s fighting with himself to be more gentle than he actually wants to be, his thrusts sloppier than he intends, like he’s losing himself in you. You’re lost in him, lost in the moment all the same. You take it all in, the lewd and obscene sounds of the pleasure he creates with you - his thighs slapping against yours and the gushing of your cunt on his cock. Your moans, your cries, all babbling nonsense. And Joel’s deep breaths in and out, shaky and stuttering as he does it. His grunts and his swearing, a whimper here and there if you listen closely. He fills you up perfectly, hits that sweet spot deep inside you over and over and over…

“You coulda had me like this the whole time,” he pants, “Didn’t have to go an’ break my washer f’ya needed somethin’ more than those fingers of yours, sweetheart. Know you been needin’ some lovin’.”  He reaches for your breasts, squeezing and groping the flesh, twisting your nipples and smirking when you twitch and whine. “All you had to do was ask.” You don’t respond, but he doesn’t expect you to anyway. What he did expect, however, were your moans of displeasure as he pulls out of you. He knows, oh, he knows how empty you must feel, you poor thing.  He’ll soothe that. He flips you around, seats you on his washer. “I’m gonna make you come again,” he promises, “I’m gonna watch.”

 “Too much, Joel, I can’t,” you cry. You want to come again, really. But you don’t think you have it in you, still so worked up, overstimulated by the endless teasing of his tongue on your pussy.

 “Oh, don’t cry. You can do it, hon. You can take it,” he says, “Open up those legs for me, darlin’.” Joel pushes your trembling legs wide so he can slot his hips between them, then wraps your legs around his waist before sliding his cock into you once more. He thrusts just once, rather harshly, before he’s met with another rather loud noise from the washer. Joel halts and scratches the back of his neck. God, he hopes he didn’t just do it in. “Probably shouldn’t…uh…”

“Yeah,” you agree. 

“Did you use my dryer too?”

“Duh,” you answer. “How else would I dry my clothes?”

Joel rolls his eyes, “No, smartass. Were you usin’ it for your dirty work, is what I’m askin’.”

“No.” 

Still inside you, Joel slides you over to his dryer. “Good girl. Poor washer’s been abused plenty by you already.”  

“But I will,” You whisper defiantly under your breath, wrapping your arms around his neck as he adjusts. 

“Wrong ear, sweetheart. My right one’s deaf. I heard that loud and clear.”

Joel’s back to fucking you in an instant. He wastes no time in making good on his promise, thumbing your clit as he rolls his hips into you. “See, look at you. Takin’ me just fine,” he praises.The way you squirm and take your shallow little breaths fills him with satisfaction and delight. He knows this isn’t easy, that you’re tired and sore and overstimulated. He’ll be done with you soon. “Come with me, wanna feel you come with me, sweetheart,” he says. “Focus here, eyes on me. You’re gonna come with me.” 

It’s a few moments of Joel painting your clit with those tight, steadied circles as he fucks you hard and deep. There’s a push and pull to it, where you’re not sure who this is for - yourself or Joel. Just like before, you’re not sure where it starts and stops, but you’re there. God it’s intense, you’re gonna break and you know it. Joel’s got his palm on the back of your neck, squeezing you. His jaw clenches and he’s coming undone first, but he never loses focus on you. His thrusts stutter as he milks himself in you but doesn't yet stop - he’s making sure you’re gonna come. “C’mon baby, c’mon. Give it to me,” he says. “One more for me. Last one.” 

His words are all it takes. You whimper and moan, cry his name as you find your climax. Release washes over you the way waves crash onto sand - it’s repeated, the way the tides push and pull. Deafening. Powerful. 

But there’s a calmness yet. The rolling of his hips slows, slows, stops. He presses his damp forehead against yours, breathing deeply. “You’re okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay?”

You nod and smile, “Yeah, I’m good.” He smiles with you and helps you off of the dryer. Joel finds your clothes and dresses you in them, steadying your shaky legs. 

Joel tentatively restarts the washer. It chugs a bit, but makes all the right noises and he breathes a sigh of relief. You’re a bit startled when he takes you by the arm and marches you up the stairs. “New rule,” he says, “You stay with me when your clothes are washin’.”

You bite your lip to hide your guilty smirk. “Yes. Joel.” 

“And I still need you to cut them veggies for me, too.” 

I struggled heavily with this fic, comments and reblogs would be much appreciated if you were feeling so inclined🙏 they keep me motivated and I look back at your words when I’m writing to remember that I’m capable of pleasing you all

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 (𝐈𝐈)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: After you reveal the truth of what your relationship really was between you and Miguel, everyone's keen on learning more. So what better way to give a little more insight than a dinner at your shared home?

Warnings: None~ Just back again with silly shenanigans and the softest of fluff :3

A/N: Hello, everyone! After the first part of 'What's In Between' blew up (you can read it here, thank you so much by the way, you're all so sweet), many people have asked for a part two, so here it is! Enjoy <3

The moment you break the news to them, the volume of the table booms to a fever pitch as everyone begins talking at the same time.

“W-WHAT?!”

“Married? No way,” Hobie says.

“How long have you been together?” Pavitr asks.

“I can’t say I saw this coming…” Miles says, eyes widening in surprise.

Miguel had been watching you the moment you snuck up on the group, but with the newfound panic from everyone he couldn’t help but make his way over to the commotion.

“You’re all being loud, what are you yelling about now?” Miguel asks, walking over and standing by your side.

“HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL US YOU WERE MARRIED?!” Gwen shouts.

“You never asked,” he blinks, “and also, it’s none of your business.”

“Miguel, as your best friend I am deeply offended that you haven’t told me after this long, does our friendship mean nothing to you?” Peter says, hand on his chest in pretend hurt.

“You are not my best friend,” Miguel deadpans.

“After I opened up to you no less, I mean, you were the first person I told about Mayday! All the details-” he continues, ignoring the comment.

“Not by choice,” he mutters.

“Does no one know about this?? At all???” Pavitr asks, “I mean, you two are married.”

“I mean, Jess knows about it,” you gesture, and she only grins.

“And now all of you do too,” Miguel sighs. “Vida mía, I thought we talked about this,” he admonishes.

“Oh, c’mon, it was cute how they were all trying to figure it out for so long. I was starting to feel bad,” you say, smoothing your hair back. He only stares at you for a moment before sighing.

“Fine,” he relents, “Can’t do anything about it now anyway.” He smiles softly at you, and the group watches in awe as their cold leader softens in your presence, but his gaze quickly grows dark as he turns back to the group.

“One word of this to anyone outside of this group,” he says with a pointed finger before trailing off, allowing everyone to fill in the blanks as to what he might do.

Everyone’s faces pale like a sheet at the unnamed threat (well, except for Hobie, he only watches with blatant amusement on his face), but you only laugh.

“Miguel, don’t threaten the kids,” you giggle. “Don’t worry, he’s all bark and no bite,” you whisper to them with a wink.

“Hey, that’s what I say!” Peter says.

“You are his best friend after all,” you grin.

“I have never said those words a day in my life,” he scoffs, but you ignore him, eyes lighting up with an idea.

“Oh! I have a lovely idea, how about you all swing by our place for dinner later? We never have guests,” you suggest.

Gwen gasps, “Really?”

“This…maybe doesn’t seem like the best idea,” Miles says as he shrinks down in his seat at Miguel’s glare towards you.

“I have plans tonight…though I don’t think they’d mind if I cancel,” Hobie says nonchalantly, but everyone knew there was no way in hell he’d miss something like this.

“What am I, cat litter?” Jess asks. She was the only person to have been at your shared home, having joined around the same time as you, and being one of the few people Miguel fully trusts.

“You know it's not like that, Jess,” you turn to her with a grin.

“Absolutely not, it's already a liability that they know querida, now you want them traipsing into our home?” Miguel argues, and you narrow your eyes at him, never one to back down from a fight. While it got on his nerves, it's what he loved about you too. He needed someone that wouldn’t take his shit.

“Miguel,” you say, giving him a look. “All our enemies are literally in alternate universes who, aside from those small tears, have no way to go cross-dimensional, let alone find us in the expanse of a universe. Besides, I think it would be nice,” you say, and Mayday seems to agree since she climbs right up into your arms, babbling happily.

“And don’t think I don’t know you have a soft spot for this lil ragtag team,” you smile, bouncing up and down as Mayday laughs.

He huffs, “I am anything but soft, especially for them. They never listen, don’t follow protocol, are immature, and the list goes on.”

“He’s lying,” you whisper, covering your mouth from his direction as though that would stop him from happening. Mayday grabs your hand though, playing with your fingers happily. “See how his ears are turning red?”

At that, his ears turn more red and the group tries to stifle their snickers to no avail.

“Querida,” he warns. “Do you feel the need to share anything else about me? Or have you had enough,” he asks, poking your shoulder. You place a hand on his bicep with a gentle smile, and his expression softens much to his dismay.

“Honey, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you grin. “Alright, it’s settled then! You’re all coming over tonight.”

~

You hummed softly to yourself as you moved around the kitchen, preparing the food for dinnertime when everyone would be coming over.

Then, you feel the hair rise on the back of your neck as a familiar presence makes himself known, strong arms wrapping around your waist as his head rests on top of yours.

“Vida mía, the food smells good,” he says softly before sighing. “But I’m not very happy with you today.”

You let out a sigh of your own as you turn off the stove before turning around in his arms to face him.

“Miguel, my love,” you say, smoothing out the collar of the pullover he wore before looking up at him. “I know you well, don’t I?”

“More than anyone,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting the tiniest amount as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Then it’s safe to assume that you’ve been wanting to hang out with more people in the Society apart from work-related things?” you ask, placing your hand on his chest.

“I can’t afford anything like that in this line of work, you know that querida,” he sighs, that familiar hardened look in his eyes for a moment.

“Miguel, your only friends can’t be me, Lyla and Jess,” you pout.

“Vida mía, you are my wife,” he says.

“Yes, and it's miracle enough that I was able to grow close enough to you to get to that point,” you chuckle, “so my existence in your life is proof itself that you are capable of growing close to people. I’ve seen you, I think you’re ready and deep down I know you don’t always want to be perceived as the cold and unfeeling leader of the Society. Why not start with them?”

“That’s not a decision for you to make,” he says, glancing away from you.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” you apologize, feeling a bit guilty that you threw Miguel into this without warning. “I should have spoken to you about it first but who knows. Maybe this is a good thing, opening your heart a little more,” you explain. “Don’t think I realize you’re the hardest on them because you believe in them,” you smile.

He huffs before pausing to think for a moment. “Sometimes I wonder when you snuck your little way into my head, querida.”

“Admit it, you’re growing soft,” you giggle softly.

“Never,” he counters, tickling your side which makes you scrunch up your face as you laugh breathlessly.

“OKAY! Okay, you’re one soft fluffy teddy bear, happy?” you say which only makes him continue with even more fervour.

“That is the most ridiculous thing I think I have ever heard you say, querida,” he snorts but finally relents.

“Yeah….I can’t even say that with a serious face,” you chuckle. “But you do have your moments, tough guy,” you smile, leaning up on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he rolls his eyes. That’s when the doorbell rings, and immediately your eyes light up.

“Oh! They’re here!!” you say excitedly, escaping from his grasp as you move to open up the door.

“Here we go,” he murmurs to himself, and you turn to face him.

“What was that?” you ask.

“Nothing, vida mía,” he replies, and you narrow your eyes in disbelief.

“Behave, Miguel,” you tell him.

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else,” he replies, and you grin before opening up the front door.

There, you find Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, Peter (alongside Mayday of course), Hobie and Jess all standing outside, chatting amongst themselves before turning to you.

Miles almost looks like he’s in disbelief like he couldn’t really believe this was your home quite yet.

“Hi!” Gwen starts.

“Took you lot long enough,” Hobie says. “Was starting to think we'd have to build a fire and cook it ourselves.” Gwen punches his shoulder, to which he lets out a little “Ow!”

“Sorry about him,” Gwen apologizes.

You just find yourself laughing at it all though.

“No apologies needed, we were a little preoccupied. Come on in, make yourself at home,” you say, opening the door a little wider for them to make their way through.

“Not too at home though,” you hear Miguel say, leaning into the foyer from the living room, arms crossed over his chest.

“Ignore him,” you say, giving him a pointed look to which he just stares at you blankly. “Dinner will be ready soon, I just have to set the table and we can eat, alright?”

“It smells delicious,” Pavitr says, “I’m starving.”

Mayday seems to agree as she crawls up from the baby carrier onto Peter’s head, making grabby hands from the top.

“Someone’s hungry,” Peter chuckles. “Got anything she can eat?”

“I have a few things, don’t worry,” you smile.

“It really does smell really good though, but it always does,” Jess adds.

“It’s nothing special,” you say sheepishly. “Just some of Miguel’s favourites.”

You guide them all into the living room. “Settle in! I’ll be done in a snap,” you say.

As you make your way back to the kitchen (with Jess joining you to help out), back in the living room the squad of spiders settle in almost hesitantly, a watchful eye monitoring all of their reactions.

No one dares say anything, only sitting around nervously.

“So…nice weather we’re having,” Peter says, trying to lighten the mood but even Mayday gives him a deadpanned expression.

Miguel sighs. “You’re all acting like there’s a ticking time bomb waiting for you to speak before setting off,” he says, still leaning up against the doorway.

“We don’t know, mate. Is there?” Hobie jokes, but Miles’ face drops anyway.

“There isn’t, for the record. I can be harsh but I’m not evil,” Miguel scoffs before making eye contact with Pavitr who looks like he wanted to ask something but was holding back.

“One question,” he says simply with a nod.

“How long have you two been together?”

“…a little over 4 years now,” he replies.

“How did you meet?” Gwen asks.

“I said one question,” he says before your voice cuts in.

“My universe was one of the first he visited! He hated me back then, though,” you laugh as you walk back in. “Speaking of which!! I have some things you might all want to see after dinner,” you grin mischievously.

“I thought you said I was the one that had to behave, mi corazón,” Miguel says, a warning tone in his voice.

“And I am, aren’t I?” you say, poking his side playfully. “Anyway, dinner’s ready,” you say, leading them to the dining room. “I know it's not much but-”

“How in the hell is this not much??” Hobie exclaims, and you just shrug. “You should see dinner with my family, then you will think that it’s not much,” you say with a chuckle.

On the table sat a wide expanse of food, all of Miguel’s favourites from Mexico. Empanadas as the appetizer, alongside pozole, ceviche, enchiladas, and chicken with mole poblano all served with a side of rice, beans, or homemade corn tortillas depending on each person’s preference.

You can see Miguel’s eyes visibly brighten as he looks at the food, settling in at the head of the table with you by his side.

“Come eat!” As you say that, everyone sits down before beginning to eat, everyone heading straight to what appealed to them the most.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Miles says, eyes closed in bliss.

“Oye, don’t let your Mother hear that, kid,” Miguel says, but the corner of his lip was upturned in the tiniest of smiles. The most he would allow himself around this many people.

“Thank you, Miles,” you smile.

“This, uhh, how do you say it again? Poh-zuhl?” Gwen asks, and you laugh out loud as she turns pink, meanwhile both Miguel and Miles cringe slightly.

“I’m sorry for laughing, sweetheart. You’re almost there; it’s pronounced like ‘poh-zoh-lay’,” you say kindly.

“Ohh, okay gotcha. Pozole. It’s really good! Feels…comforting, almost,” she says.

“Yes,” you say, glancing at your husband with a soft smile, “it’s Miguel’s favourite. Says it ‘tastes like home’.” A chorus of ‘awws’ go around the table, while Miguel only holds the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“Alright, alright. Enough with the cheesy stuff, let’s get back to eating, yeah?” Hobie says before shoving his fork back into his mouth.

~

Once dinner was finished (and after both Miles and Gwen insisted that they did the dishes despite much argument from you), everyone was settled again in the living room laughing and talking together, and while Miguel only said a few things here and there and sat by your side like a lost puppy, he did seem to be enjoying himself.

“Alright! Now, before everyone goes back home, I have one more thing I’d like to show you,” you say once it quiets down a bit. Standing up, you make your way over to a large bookshelf you and Miguel had built together when you first moved in together.

“I’ve gotten tired of having only myself to show these photos to, so this is the perfect opportunity,” you smile.

“Querida-” Miguel says, holding out a hand to block your way but you look at him with pleading eyes, and he can’t do anything but relent. He couldn’t say no when you looked at him like that.

With a triumphant ‘haha!’ you grab a photo album labelled with a date and a single word; ‘Ours’.

Everyone crowds around as you place it down on the coffee table, and you open it up to the first page.

Gwen is the one that gasps first, eyes wide with awe.

“You both look so beautiful,” she says softly.

There, front and centre was a photo of you and Miguel on your wedding day. You were smiling wide at the camera, a bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand while Miguel only looked at you with an expression so in awe it was as though you painted the stars in the sky.

“You clean up nicely, big man,” Hobie comments, and Pavitr nods.

“Weddings, my favourite,” Jess says, a fond expression on her face as she thinks back to her own husband.

“I had a bird fly into my face at my wedding…but they are nice,” Peter says, rocking Mayday gently as she naps away after the hearty dinner even despite the commotion.

You continue to flip through the photobook, pausing periodically for a little anecdote about each one. Miguel had long stood up to make room for everyone else, but he looked at you in the same way he did on your wedding day.

Like you were the light of his life, the one good thing he had amongst the millions of universes parallel to his own. Like you were his everything.

~

“Admit it, you like them,” you smile, the house finally quiet after everyone headed home. He only rolls his eyes before pulling you into his lap, his face going into the crook of your neck as he holds you close.

“There is a big difference between ‘liking’ and ‘tolerating’, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing circles into your hip soothingly.

“Yeah, yeah, tough guy. Whatever you say,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck and settling into his touch with a happy sigh.

You both sit there for a moment in silence, the two of you weren’t ones to fill silence with mindless chatter. If words needn’t be said then they weren’t.

“That was…nice, though,” he admits softly after a little while.

“I know,” you whisper.

~

~

~

“That won’t happen again for a long while though,” he says, pulling away to look at you, crimson eyes pleading with you wordlessly.

You can’t do anything but laugh.

Taglist (for those who requested a part two): @lotustv @mars-ifuknowmeirlplsgoaway @elliewilliamsactualgf @randomhumans-blog @iluvkonig @phillygraves @gothgirlziez

[wittlesissyb4by]

Why do we keep letting these pigs get off scott-free? They think they can come in, play with our hearts and our heads, then cut and run and do the same to some other poor girl! Hell, sometimes they’re doing it to multiple women at the same time!

Well, I say “no more”! No longer will we let these immature men run around and take advantage of women! It’s time we take a stand! Starting with little Benjamin here.

Benny tried to slip a little something in my drink at the club last week and thought I wouldn’t notice. Little did he know, I’d already been watching him, planning a little bit of payback after what he did to my friend Lauren. She cried for weeks over this guy.

So when Benny wasn’t looking, I did the ‘ole switcheroo, he was out like a light 2 hours later.

Ohh you should have seen Benny’s face when he woke up for the first time! His hands and feet were chained to his new crib, and he kicked his little legs when he saw (or felt) what he had on. Every flail of his body only made his fresh new diaper crinkle louder and louder. He whined and cried and screamed as much as his gag would allow. But Benny had no idea that was just the beginning.

He thought, he really thought he wasn’t going to have to use his diaper, that it was just there for funsies. The way he moaned and groaned as he clenched and tucked his legs, trying anything he could to quell the painful throbbing coming from his very full bladder. I told him to save himself the torment, that all he was doing was delaying the inevitable, but still he resisted. To his credit, he made it a whole ‘nother thirty minutes before he sighed in relief and flooded his diaper for the very first time. His whimpers and whines after were pathetically adorable.

He drank the bottle out of desperation. He was obviously starving, and I made it clear he would not get out of his (now *very* wet) diaper until he finished the whole thing. I wonder if he could taste the laxatives and hormones mixed within? No matter, he certainly seemed to notice the effects about an hour later when he started fussing and complaining about the cramps.

“Just get over it,” I spat back at him, something I’ve heard way too many men say when they learn a woman is on her period, “just don’t be such a bitch!”

When I tell you: the man cried. Like, full-on bawled like a baybee when he couldn’t hold it anymore and started shitting all over himself in that diaper. He continued to cry for the next 3 hours when I refused to change him. I made him sit and wallow in his own filth while he thought about his life choices.

Reluctantly, his diaper was eventually changed, but so was his outfit. His eyes were wide as saucers when i held up the pink onesie and frilly skirt, but they closed soon after once the drugs kicked in. He woke up halfway through me doing his make-up, and seemed less than thrilled when the wig was put on.

Now, one week later, he’s mostly silent in his crib. I’m not sure if it’s the cocktail of hormones in his system messing with his brain, or he has finally accepted that this isn’t all a dream, that this isn’t going to stop, and this is his new life now. Any attempts to run will just lead to the thousands of pictures I have of him ending up all across the internet. The livestreams of him pooping his pampers notwithstanding. He’s quite docile now. He knows to keep that pacifier in his mouth otherwise it will delay his diaper change by several hours. It only took him a few rashes to learn to comply.

Lauren is now on her way over to get a look at the so-called “Man” that broke her heart. I highly doubt she’ll feel any sort of anguish now. Knowing her, she’ll have even more fun with him than I have.

So this is a call to all women, it is high time we put these deadbeat little fuck bois in their place. Take back what is ours. Let’s fight the patriarchy and turn it into a true Matriarchy, one pathetic little pervert at a time!

[queenofallimagines]

Blue lock NSFW HCs

A/n: so since I’ve let this anime take over my life completely I feel I’m overqualified to give better hcs and since I don’t have a specific scenario in this is general headcanons💕 (pls request blue lock I have brainworms)

Blue lock:

- off the bat isagi telling us he has a thigh fetish is so real it me he keeps his hands on your thigh at all times

- Really one hand on the steering wheel the other just barely in your pants fingering you

- They all kinda got that sauce in ‘em yk?

- Isagi can say “pretty thing” or “sweetness” in that low ass voice and it will have you on your knees

- NAGI CALLING YOU PRETTY

- Idk WHERE that shit came form but every fic he just calls you pretty and that’s def canon that man is 6”3 so hear me out

- This big ass man who’s usually lazy and barely paying attention putting in that work on you, keeping you pressed into the bed with his full body weight

- Mumbling in your ear in his monotone voice that’s just one octave lover

- “Cmon pretty, gunna come f’me?” he’s looking at you with his egoist eyes

- Will have you in between him and Reo

- Sorry but that’s just as canon as bachira and isagi it’s gunna happen at LEAST once

- Seishiro can run with the best of them w that ego too like he says he’s a pacifist but he’s squared up first on someone like 4 times😭

- He Probably offhandedly mentions something about you in convo with Reo and you’re done for

- They’re like gaming or something and you walk into the room

- “I’ll prove it- hey come here for a sec” and now all of a sudden you’re seated in between his delicious thighs being fingered open by nagi in front of Reo like he’s giving a tutorial😭

- I see y’all’s saying Reo would do that for inexperienced nagi but I raise you that Reo only has casual flings and has been intimate with nagi so he’s not used to their duo being a trio

- Nagi spreading your legs keeping them wide open for Reo to see everything while he leans over your shoulder and makes sure he’s focused on what he’s doing

- Something something good with his givers because gamer

- He’s working you open with his huge fingers almost unbothered by the fact that your squirming and grabbing at his arm

- Reo is a little flustered but he’s def paying attention

- They’re acting like they’re talking about the weather like you not gushing all over his fingers

- Makes you cum like three times this way before he says “Reo is pretty good with his tongue, can he have a taste too?”

- Nagi and his crazy stamina will not let you rest!

- RIN! My beloved baby boy!

- He’s a FREAK like freaky NASTY and mean about it too!

- Little slow on the uptake but once you really start learning about each other he’s working out all his frustrations on you

- Not very emotive but he’s blunt so he will make his feelings perfectly clear

- Brat tamer by default bc you push his buttons

- “Keep that same energy when I get you alone”

- Fucks you in the locker rooms

- Likes you wearing his jersey while he does it

- Had hella pictures and videos of it too that you don’t remember him taking😭

- Keep him company on his long away games💕

- Everyone knows he’s having good sex bc he has scratch marks all over his back and dares someone to say shit about them

- Since like every single one of his dispositions is bc of Sae you have to be patient with him

- The itoshi issue is that they will have conflicts in their head, decide what YOU are gunna say and make choices silently based off that

- Like bitch if you don’t TALK TO ME??

- Rin will not start the convo and avoid you in a fight bc in his mind he fucked up and you never want to see him again but like did I say that??

- You gotta go to him and be like say what the fuck you’re thinking :/

- Both the itoshi brothers are rough

- Rin will use his insane stamina to fuck you right to sleep like he’s trying to watch a game stop playing w him

- Probably end up fucking you with or in-front of isagi

- One thing about Rin Itoshi is that he has something to prove always

- Sae and shidou you already know lmao

- My favs?? Come the fuck ON they have nasty ass sex daily

- Sae count your fucking days bc imma best your ass 😐

- However,,, the dynamic between him and Ryusei is too tasty to ignore

- Sae and his butt fetish will usually do anal if you’re taking both of them at once

- His dick is really pretty you and shidou have full length discussions about it and he is TIRED

- Sae likes to think he has you two on a leash and for the most part he kinda does

- But you might as well be on demon time too bc once you and Ryusei tag them

- Him??

- The great cold and calculated Sae Itoshi the gem of Japan will be a whiny little Bitch

- Likes to piss you off so you’ll be rough with him and Shidou right there with you

- You’re both fed up with his shit so you decide to punish him

- You edging him while Ryu fucks him mercilessly

- Imagine you’re riding him reverse cowgirl and shidou is fucking him so hard and deep he can’t breathe

- You two doing that whole outwardly ignoring him kissing while he wants you to pay attention to him clawing at your lower back and hips

- Moaning out “sorry” and babbling nonsense

- Cums a lot and it’s thick in consistency

- Whimpers when you and shidou taste him on each other and he can’t kiss either of you

- Tears steaming down his face while he struggles to keep his eyes from rolling back and can barely even say what he wants because he’s moaning so much

- Aftercare is so cute bc you both clean him up and give him as many kisses as he wants

- That really fixes his attitude LMAO

- Isagi can get pretty try mean too you trigger that ego and he’s just as ruthless as he is in the field

- “You think I’m gunna let you cum after you spent all day on my nerves? Be serious”

- He’s big on eye contact

- Will sit back in a chair and stare at you as he makes you ride him with no help

- “Go on, you wanted it, ain’t you?”

- Spanks you hard

- Chigiri hyoma is HUNG

- like oh my god pretty face huge dick

- People paint him as like corset when he’s like really mild mannered and mean? Lmao his egoist profile even says he’s mean

- He’s blunt and says exactly what he means

- If “okay?? AND??” Was a person😭

- Will get choked up if you kiss the scar on his knee when you go down on him

- “Cmon you can take more than that can’t you?”

- He can go fast but likes going slow and deep

- Really savor the moment

- Wants to feel every second of you going up and down his dick

- Meanie!!

- “You’re creaming around me already and I’ve barely made it all the way in”

- Preps you really good before hand too that’s like mandatory even if you’re ready he’s going to have you cum on his tongue or fingers first

- Gets pussy drunk a lot and ends up fucking himself into overstimulation

- Liked his hair pulled on

- Barou? Whew the king definitely deserves that title!

- A big fan of slow and deep like Chigiri

- Will make you face him as he fucks up into you

- “Quit wining and take it, you’re the one who kept begging for me to fuck you all day”

- Will clean the sheets fully after sex like lmao he’s changing the whole bed

- Let’s see hiori too! People like to say the self proclaimed “ultra sadist” as like just a bottom all the time

- He’s more mean and doesn’t care about it

- “Ow! That kinda hurt!”

- “Hm? Good”

- Big fan of face fucking

- Shidou alone is very baby

- I’m his defense lawyer yall like he’s an aquifer taste so you can not like him

- But that’s your fault and a skill issue💅🏿✨

- He’s the unhinged very soon of isagi very emotionally intelligent and can read a room

- He simply does not CARE about others

- Very ‘if people are going to isolate me then I’ll push them away’ vibes

- Like he rly has a connection w the whole cast minus rin and kunigami

- If he hadn’t took a kick at isagi him and bachira would be besties!🥺

- They understand the same type of loneliness

- Back to the horny

- He will split you open on his cock any time of the day

- He’s very god at anatomy and chemistry like look at how tf he talks

- HES LITERALLY A STRAIGHT A STUDENT!

- Has a breeding kink in canon

- “If you keep my cum inside you for the whole game I’ll eat it out of you when we win”

- Cock bastard also

- Rin def walked in on you two once and it haunts him

- Seeing your face utterly fucked out not caring that you’re both locking eyes while shidou who’s blissfully unaware keeps bullying his fat cock into you against the lockers🤭

- He can’t look you in the face for like a month lol

- Chigiri like pegging and kunigami can suck dick rly well

- Don’t ask me how ik I just KNOW Mr. Bisexual representation has had a relationship with a guy who he was intimate with

- Bachira likes to paint your face white

- Loved seeing you with his cum on your face

- Won’t tell you he’s close when you suck him off on purpose sometimes

- “Oops, my bad! You do look pretty like this tho☺️” be so the fuck fr

[formyloveoflove]

The Bear S3 and the Choices We Make

Ok. After a second watch of S3, I'm feeling a little bit more optimistic about the future. Trust - it's a sad ending. It's my worst nightmare for Sydney. But there's still hope, and that all lies in what Carmen and Syd decide to do next. Season 3 Spoilers - read at your own risk :)

In S3 E10 Forever, we see our two mains go through a breakthrough. Starting with Carmen, he finally confronts his former boss (who has a name, i think, but fuck him, I ain't using it). It's the first (and only time) that we see Carmen proactively voice his resentment. He avoids his mom (rightfully so imo). He never got the chance with Mikey. But he approaches him, expects the man to have repent (maybe), or at the very least, have a little remorse.

He doesn't. He regrets nothing. In fact, he takes credit for Carmen's success: his hard work, his skills, and his talent. He tells Carmen that he should be thanking him, and that's not even the worst of it. No, for me, it is when he says

Carmen: My life stopped. Chef: That's the point, right? [...] You wanted to be great. You wanted to be excellent. So you got rid of all the bullshit, and you concentrated, and you got focused, and you got great. You got excellent. It worked. You're here. Look at all this

Sound familiar? It should. It's the same sentiment that Carmen said in the Season 2 finale. Remember, he said,

I wasn't here. Right? What the fuck was I thinking? Like I was going to be in a relationship? I'm a fuckin' pyscho. That's why I'm good at what I do. That's how I operate. I am the best because I didn't have any of this fuckin' bullshit, right? I could focus, and I could concentrate.

Carmen's thoughts about himself aren't even his own. They were drilled into him by a man who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. He was emulating the abusive behaviors and patterns that crushed him, that gave him "uclers, panic attacks, and nightmares" on the people that he cares about. On his sister, on Richie, on Tina and Marcus. and especially on Sydney, who is the only one who knows exactly how bad it can get. He's hurt those closest to him. He hurts them daily. And for what? And for why? For his own ego.

And this realization leads us to Carmen's first cry.

For three whole seasons, we see this man lose his idolized brother to suicide, witness his alcoholic mother physically, emotionally, and mentally abuse him, and experience mental degradation to the point where it affects his physical health. Not once did he shed a tear. This is the first time Carmen Berzatto lets himself cry. And I think this is the best thing for him. If he chooses to acknowledge the err of his ways, turn back course, and begin again, I think The Bear could be what he wanted it to be. He needs to decide to stop running, stop fighting himself and everybody around him. He needs to let go. Let it rip, right?

However, if this is what he decides to do, the cards ultimately fall into Sydney's hands.

If anybody's been through hell and back, it's Ms. Sydney Adamu. All season she's been forced to work in a volatile environment, putting herself between Carmen and whoever's the victim of his anger. She has her ideas shut down, her skills demeaned, and her credit is outright non-existent. Staff keeps quitting; they're not making any money; and Cicero and Co. is doing some shady background shit.

She's trapped, but not really. Not until she signs that Partnership Agreement. But like she told her dad in S2 E9 Omelette, she doesn't think she has another one in her. She can't have The Bear fail like Sheridan Road. She doesn't want to make the same mistakes she did last time. She wants to grow and learn and make her mark on the industry - prove she's not a failure.

She's waiting for Carmen to make good on his promises from The Table Scene, but he's not.

"You deserve my full focus." But his focus is not on her. Remember the Carmen that noticed when something was off with her? Remember the "say more?" or the "what's up with you?" Remember when they worked together, when the menu was truly theirs? Where was Sydney's "margin" moment? What did Carmen do this scene that signaled to Sydney that he was there and present.

"I couldn't do this without you." He does everything without her. Don't even get me started. From the menu to the list of nonnegotiables. Syd gets to make no decisions after being forced to make ALL the decisions. What is she there for? To be Carm's wrangler, his doormat? What has he does to convince her that she is invaluable?

He's egotistical. He's verbally abusive. He's the exact person that she warned him not to be. That he assured her that he wouldn't be in S1 E3 Brigade. She said,

You know I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But, in order for that to be true, we need to run things different. [...] But you just didn't really listen, and if this is going to work the way I think we both want it to work, I think we should probably try to listen to each other. The reason why I'm here, and not somewhere else or for someone else, is because I think I can stand out here. I can make a difference here. We could share ideas. I could implement things that make this place better. And I don’t wanna be wasting my time, working on another line or tweezing herbs on a dish that I don’t care about.

He didn't follow through the first time, so she left. But now, it's different. She's put her blood, sweat, and tears into this place. She's made a place (a home even) at The Bear. Leaving is not as simple anymore.

S1 Syd would've taken that CDC offer in a heartbeat. But building something and it failing (like The Bear. like Sheridan Road.) is terrifying. Slowly but surely, Carmen has been chipping away at her confidence and her fire. So much so that good things, like The Offer or the review of her risotto from The Beef, don't feel like good things.

Sydney's Panic Attack is HUGE for her character. We see Sydney at her lowest: her most frightening and vulnerable. She's uncertain. She's in a constant state of panic. And the person that she trusted with her fears and insecurities facilitated this, drove her to this point. It's heartbreaking. I cried when I saw it. No one would blame her for jumping ship. At this point, I encourage it (but she has to talk about it, acknowledge it. no running).

Now, if Carmen decides to change his ways, he'd have apologized to Sydney twice without changed actions. She'd have to believe him after many, many broken promises. At this time, she doesn't trust him, can't rely on him. But when having to decide between staying or going, will she try to trust him again?

Will she? Should she?

That's where I'm at so far. I have more thoughts, but I'll write those out when I get back from my weekend trip.

[mentos-or-mentoes]

Hihi Pooks, I love your writing and was wondering if you would write for a Mitsuri!reader, like a reader who looks quite weak (IS FEMALE as mitsuri is a female) but is INSANELY strong and quite flexible (which breaks the stereotype of ‘women aren’t strong’). (Helluva boss x Mitsuri!reader) reader who can eat LOADS while staying fit bc yk she’s strong and exercises regularly but could definitely rival a sin with her strength and probably could do some magic with the ‘power of love’ typa shit

yes I mean Mitsuri from demon slayer.

Sorry it took me so long to do this! I had to move, then completely forgot I had a tumblr blog. And now after somewhat of a midlife crisis I have just realized that I infact DO have a tumblr blog. So ye, I apologise for keeping you waiting for so long

I.M.P & Stolas x Mitsuri!reader

Blitzo

First of all, this dude thinks your strength is HOT (take that however you want).

He thinks you're kind, yet knows that if you really wanted to, you could probably beat Lucifer himself in a fight.

Blitzo definetly can, will and has fucked around with your whip-like nichirin sword, but will stop the second you tell him to, well if its serious, if not then he'll keep goofing around untill he manages to destroy something.

He once walked in on you eating what can only be described as a 3 course meal that would be served at a thanksgiving dinner. He is both surprised, and horrified once he finds out that it is the normal amount of food for you because of your extremem muscle density.

Once tried to challenge you to an arm wrestle match just to see how he could compare, and that day he found out that you had an absolutely insane physical strength after winning with just your pinky finger. He will do everything to hide that fact

He has definetly said some stupid threat like ''My grilfriend will beat *hiccup* your ass if I *hiccup* don't'' to someone in a bar while drunk

Moxxie

Being the most realistic out of all of the employees at I.M.P, Moxxie is outright terrified of your strength.

He can and will try to keep you happy, already wanting to hide in fear at just the thought of you having a bad day.

No matter how much you re-assure him, its gonna take a while before he actually begins to think you wont kill someone whenever you feel angry.

He thinks its both impressive and weird how that you can eat so much food without even gaining as much as a miligram. He won't comment on that tho.

He is very curious as to how your weapon works. Y'know since its metal, yet can be used as a whip.

Millie

She thinks your weapon is incredibly cool, and encourages you to use it more often.

She's asked you about how well you think you'd do with other weapons as well.

Either way will still love you, regardless of your choice of weapon <3

You two are a power couple and you can't convince me otherwise (two strong women who can and will kick the ass of anyone who disrespects them in any way, shape or form).

She loves your power of love magic, especially because part of her thinks it becomes stronger with the love you two have for eachother

Loona

This legit feels like the fandom classic of shipping the two characters who are the exact opposite.

She secretly really loves your whole power of love thing, even if she says otherwise.

Has probably jokingly asked you to punch Blitzo one time because he really annoyed her.

She will blush MADLY if you decide to pick her up and just carry her around, but if its in private, she won't complain.

She loves seeing you use your strength in combat.

Stolas

Like Moxxie, Stolas is scared as fuck.

He can and will do EVERYTHING to avoid you when you're angry.

You can convince him, that you're not going to hurt him. But the last thing Stolas is trying to do is becoming bbq chicken because he decided to approach you while you were angry, so no risks

He likes how strong you are, makes him feel safe. Mostly because you'll kick the ass of anyone who dares try to hurt him.

He was surprised when your power of love wasn't some sort of magic to make others fall in love, but is quite literally love turned into raw power.

This 100% isn't worth the wait, sorry it took me so long. But hope it was, somewhat decent, am willing to do a part 2 tho

[paleprincessturtle]

Closed

Hi, peeps! Please excuse any inaccuracies in my writing. Enjoy!

Summary: Harvey closed yet another deal. So, what's new?

Warnings: Nothing

"Where the hell were you?" Harvey barges into your office, unannounced, and with such force. You slide the pamphlet you’re reading underneath a pile of documents in front of you and hope to God that Harvey didn’t realize your abrupt movement. "Where the hell were you, and what are you hiding? Answer the questions consecutively," Harvey says sternly while looking you dead in the eyes. “Okay, so umm." You paused and realized how Harvey was looking at you skeptically. You have to pull yourself together. You can speak in the middle of a courtroom with such elegance, determination, and confidence. But Harvey Goddamn Specter strips it out of you.

" The answers to questions one and two were correlated. " Harvey sighs, "then starts answering. Smith was my old client, and I know how long it takes to get from his house back to the office. You took almost 3 hours and blew me over in our meeting.” Shit. You forgot completely about the meeting. You were supposed to be in this meeting with Harvey hours ago. “So, pray tell, where were you and what happened?” Harvey sits himself down on a chair across from yours. "Like the initial plan, I went to Smith’s place to drop the final contract. I was about to go straight back here until I saw something just on his doorstep." You bite your lips, contemplating how you should proceed with this story. Harvey nods his head, encouraging you to continue. "I saw a black kitten, alone.” You see Harvey’s eyebrows draw closer together. "So I took him to the vet to make sure if he’s okay and all.” Harvey’s lips turn into a straight line. "You bailed from our meeting for a cat?” You flinch at his tone. When you choose to work for Pearson Specter in the middle of dating Harvey, you know that he won’t always be your boyfriend. You know there will come days like this when he is nothing but your boss. And you know you are in the wrong for this. "I’m sorry, Harvey. It won’t happen again. My emotions got the best of me, and I didn’t think it through. I’m sorry." Harvey sighs and leans back on the chair. "Where’s the cat?” Harvey asks. Again, you bite your lips and point at the corner of your office. Harvey follows where your finger points, takes a solid 5 seconds to look at the crate with a sleeping black kitten inside it, and looks back at you. You start before he says anything: "I won’t have any meetings with anyone in my office today. And you didn’t even realize he'd been there since you got into my office, right?” Harvey just stares at you. "Don’t let something like this happen again. I wasn’t only pissed because you hung me dry in our meeting; I was worried about you too. I’ve insisted you should take Ray.” Harvey stands up, and you find yourself following his movement as if he were your client. You get more nervous under the scrutiny of your own boyfriend than all your clients. He can be intimidating when he needs to be. He starts to walk for the door before you say, "What about the kitty?” Not only do you ask for his existence here, but you also subtly ask if you can bring it home. Harvey stops and looks like he’s contemplating his choices before he looks back at you. "Bring the cat home until you find the cat an adopter. Talk to Louis; he likes cats.” Harvey leaves you alone, sad about his answer.

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It’s 7 p.m. when you turn off your laptop and decide to finally go home. Timmy, the black kitten you found earlier today, is still sleeping soundly in his little bed. You grin, looking at him. You have to admit that you already love this cat. You replay what Harvey said to you, and your heart heaves at the option you have. No, you think to yourself. You’ll fight Harvey, so he’ll let the cat stay. You’re also a lawyer yourself anyway. You sure can wiggle around to get something you want. You call Ray to help you bring down the crate while you walk down the hallway to go fetch Harvey. The room is dark, but you see Donna still at her desk. You lean on her desk, and she smiles. "Where’s Harvey?" you ask as you peek inside, trying to find any sign of him in case your eyes deceive you. "He didn’t tell you? He went to Atlantic City to close a deal after lunch," Donna says as she studies you. Harvey always tells you everything. "The Blanchard case?" you ask, and Donna nods. "Why didn’t he tell you?” Donna asks; all are curious. "I ditched the meeting we had. I was supposed to go back to the office after I dropped a document, but I saw a kitten," you pause as you shuffle around to grab your phone. "This is Timmy, the kitten in question.” You show your phone to Donna, and she smiles. "He was all alone?" and you nod. "I took him to the vet and forgot I was supposed to be Harvey’s number two at that meeting." You put your phone back inside your handbag. "He went all Boss Harvey on me, not that I blame him. But he told me we couldn’t keep the cat." Donna looks at you and smiles again. "We all know how he deals with emotions. He was more worried about you than you missed the meeting. You huff and nod, "Yeah, we all know he’s trying," and you smile weakly. "Just go home after you’re done, Donna. I gotta go home and get Timmy situated in the house." You wave her goodbye as you walk to the elevator.

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Once you get home with Ray bringing the crate inside and all, you sit by the kitchen and try to listen for any sign of Harvey’s arrival. He won’t stay out for the night; he was mad, but he’ll get home. You know that. After jolting out notes on your current case, you hear a ding outside from the elevator. You close the file and run to the door, ready to welcome him home. He opens the door to you, smiling. He looks tired but smiles once he sees you grinning. "Welcome home," you say as you cup his cheeks with your hands and give him a kiss. "What an excellent service," Harvey whispers, his lips touching yours. "I’m sorry about today," Harvey says as you lead him inside. "If anything, I’m the one who is sorry. About the meeting, about making you worry. He stops both of you in the middle of the hallway and kisses you. You smile against his lips, take his coat off, and walk further inside. “Harvey, look," you say as you point near the couch. "You’ve found an adopter?" Harvey asks as he takes the mug of warm tea you offer him. "I’m thinking of keeping him here.” You say it carefully. Harvey sighs, as he takes your hand and leads you to sit with him on the couch. He sits you down as he faces you. "We can’t keep him, baby.” You instantly pouted at his words. "Because you know both of us are busy. A pet is a big responsibility.” Harvey explains with a stern voice, trying to make you see reason. "But Louis had Bruno,” you said defensively. "Bruno died because Louis was too busy to realize he was sick. And why do you think he hasn’t got another cat yet?" You see where this is going. "I want you to be happy, and you know that. But a cat with our work schedule right now will be quite hard, don’t you think?” As you look down at your intertwined hands, tears threaten to escape. You really do love Timmy. “Remember, we made a promise; once we marry and decide to start a family, we’ll lessen our workload and move to a bigger place. We’ll have more time then. And we can have 10 dogs and 20 cats.” He cups your cheek for you to look up at him and smiles as he wipes the tears from your cheek. You see his reason and just nod. Harvey kisses your forehead before saying something about a bath and bed.

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Harvey sighs as he looks at the time on his phone. 2.30 am. He looks down at you, sleeping soundly. He carefully untangles you from him. He walks to the kitchen and retrieves a bottle of cold water from the fridge. He chooses to work for a bit as he opens the door to his home office. He’s deep in some files when he sees a movement just at the door, and he snaps his head up. He cocks his head at the sight of the cat walking inside his office. The cat uses the chair across from him to climb up to his desk. The cat sits down, looking at Harvey. Harvey has no choice but to look back at the cat. And so the staring contest begins. Harvey looks at the little creature and contemplates how much this cat can make his girl happy. He believes a cat won’t require as much care as a dog. He remembers the tears and the pout on his girl’s face when he said they couldn’t keep the cat. He remembers how she was an only child and never really had a friend growing up. He petted the cat in the head. The cat looked cautious at first, but then he closed his eyes and purred. "Okay, bud. Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’ll make our girl happy, you and I. And in return, you’ll get the best care this world has to offer, deal?"

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MASTERLIST

[lover-of-mine]

I know I wrote a whole essay on why Eddie fell first and how you can track down some level of awareness all the way back to the tsunami if you try and all that, but I'm having let's recontextualize season 3 and 4 thoughts so... Here's the thing, Eddie's relationship with Shannon was defined by Christopher (and hypothetical child #2), right? He proposed because she got pregnant, he wanted to propose again when he thought she was pregnant again, he brought her back into his life because Chris needed something from her even though they had been living in the same city for a while and he had never tried to contact her for himself, he uses bringing Shannon back into Chris' life as a statement about their marriage until Shannon pushed him into the corner again asking what they're doing. So the one relationship ever had at that point in his life was defined by Christopher. And the way we witness Eddie struggle to trust Shannon adds to things. They're married, she's Christopher's mother but he's not all the way in unless when he's pushed into the corner. So when you look at all that, and the choice Eddie makes of looking Buck in the eye and say "there's nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you" means a lot given the circumstances. Christopher almost died while on Buck's watch. No one in their right mind would blame Eddie for being cautious. But not trusting Buck doesn't occur to him. So he makes a very definitive statement about the space Buck has in his life using Christopher. I hate making the explicit comparison because a lot of the way Eddie doesn't trust Shannon comes from the fact she didn't choose to come back while Buck keeps barreling his way in, but he tells a Shannon begging for forgiveness that he's not sure he can trust her and then he turns around and pushes his way in to make sure Buck knows he still trusts him. Eddie might not understand all the implications of the way he still trusts Buck that much, but the implications are there. Then we have the lawsuit of it all. The lawsuit is categorically NOT about Eddie. But Eddie makes it about himself because he can't understand the way Buck wouldn't consider him while deciding he didn't have the 118 anymore when he thought he was being clear about what Buck means to him. Buck made it legally impossible for Eddie to talk to him and Eddie does not know what to do with not being able to talk to the one person he relies on even more with the way Chris is also struggling. So dude makes a statement about his relationship with Buck using Christopher yet again. "Do you have any idea how much Christopher misses you? How could you? You're not around." We don't know that for sure but I think it is safe to assume that Eddie did not find out about the lawsuit directly from Buck so all of a sudden, he was not allowed to talk to Buck and he took that very personally, but he uses Christopher as a shield for how the thing makes him feel, but he's still very much talking about himself because the second Buck offers a solution so he can see Chris, he turns around with "it prevents me from reaching out to you, I couldn't even call you to bail me out of jail," so even though Eddie is hiding behind Chris, everything is very obviously about their partnership. But it's Buck who forces him to talk about them. And Eddie let it go because he wanted Buck to consider him and Buck basically promises he will from then on and he keeps that. The thing is, Eddie is in therapy at this point and while Eddie is good at repression, it's not like the dude is unable to name the shit he's repressing. That man has to have thought about why Buck leaving him made him that angry. He has to have thought about why one of the fights he starts is with Buck. He might've not connected the dots, but he has to have realized there are dots to connect. Even more, considering the way Eddie shuts down Buck's attempt to get him to open up about why he was so angry. He's all things got out of hand, let's not think about it because he does not want to open that can of worms.

Then we have the Christmas and the way Buck adjacently fixes a problem by helping organize the party and making so Chris can be with Eddie and the skateboard incident where again, Buck is part of the solution. Those are situations that show that Buck and Eddie have similar parenting styles. And all of that leads us to the well. Eddie's I need to keep fighting montage is very interesting because of the amount of Buck in it, so Buck is in his mind. But also because the well prompts Eddie to change his will. Something became clearer while he was down there because it's not like Chris wouldn't be well taken care of by his parents and he has sisters, he has a lot of blood relatives who would make sure Chris was cared for. He's known Buck for what? A year and a half? And this is maybe 6 months after the lawsuit? And the guy is like "yeah, I'm gonna make this dude responsible for my kid and I am absolutely certain he'll do everything he can for me like I would" after almost dying. Mr defines relationships using his kid gives his kid to someone after the type of experience that makes a human take a deeper look into their lives and I need to believe Eddie doesn't know? He might've not named it in his head. He might've not looked at it head-on and accepted what it truly means. But he has to know something. There's no way that man thinks that what he has with Buck is just a regular friendship. Especially because he hides it. He could've asked Buck, taken Buck with him to talk with his attorney, Buck would've said yes. But he hid it because he didn't want to answer the "why me" question because even during the will reveal my man is in deflection mode and does not fully answer why he did it, he just answers the "why are you telling me" question. He needs Buck to understand he matters and he pulls the will out of his pocket. He goes "here's a reminder you're loved" with something that's one hell of a statement for Eddie. It's the thing Shannon asks for as a statement about their marriage that he couldn't give until he was pushed to it. The idea that he doesn't have some level of awareness he's in love with Buck is... He has to know and just have accepted he is gonna take that to the grave because Buck doesn't want him like that because the way he acts is very specific for me to believe it's fully unconscious. Dude repressed the shit out of it, but he knows what he's repressing, there's no way.

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Please Please Please - Rafe Cameron Short Story (Part 6 of 6 Final Chapter and Epilogue)

Bonus smut chapter is complete - making final edits now 💕

+18 Minor DNI

Older MobDealer!Rafe x Female Reader

⭐ NEW DROP ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

🪄 Warnings contain spoilers: blood, cheating, swearing, name-calling, threats, soft!rafe, mentions of killing partner, kissing, general violence, guns, fighting, ownership kink, mention of drugs, stabbing, murder, major character trauma, pet names.

📖 Loosely based on the song and music video Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter 💕

✨ “You are. You think I’m gonna believe that line of shit. ‘Bout her lyin’ to me? About you beating the livin’ shit out of her to throw me off? ✨

Reader’s POV:

You roll into the parking lot, unable to fight back your smile. The week was long, but the phone conversations with Rafe held you over just enough. The jail in Charleston wasn’t as lax as Kildare County. Understandably, Rafe did not want to push his limits, leaving the phone conversations shorter than you’d hoped they’d be. Until Rafe was out and everything was taken care of, he didn’t want you to leave the penthouse, which meant no face-to-face visits, leaving you craving him even.

Rafe ensured you were taken care of: additional security, groceries sent over, dinner brought by every night, fresh-cut flowers when he thought the old ones had wilted. Rafe had the G-Wagon scrubbed and triple-checked for any additional trackers placed or bugs planted.

He paid a hefty fee to have the cops delete a single recorded call between the two of you. Rafe wanted to know what happened the night he had gotten taken away by the officers. He wanted to know what Tony had said in the voicemail, and what happened between the restaurant and the penthouse. Everything was awful, but the voicemail conjured up the most fury. Rafe dissected each word, dragging Tony; your ex’s vile words just added fuel to the fire, like he needed any more. Rafe was very conscious with his words, careful not to incriminate himself further, emphasizing the importance of the business meeting, and that he was looking forward to it even more now.

Of course, given the situation, you couldn’t ask about Tony. His well-being wasn’t the concern, just curiosity. Where was he? Where did Barry take him? It’s been seven days… He must be well-hidden, or his boys would have found him by now. There’s no way he’s dead… Rafe would never allow Barry to take that pleasure away from him.

A conversation— it’s never a conversation with these men, even more satirical after watching how the first one unfolded. If Tony had been there, this would have been over. Maybe this is how it was supposed to happen. I’m sure Rafe has a few things he wants to say to Tony before he pulls the trigger. There are so many things I want to say to him. I wish I could have been strong enough to take the call at the bar. His words have done nothing but haunt me. But maybe I was meant to hear it too… Any fraction of guilt I had about my choices were eliminated in an instant.

The door of the jail fans open, just like it did the week before; Rafe all smiles once again. He bites his lip as he walks to you, taking you in like it's the very first time. Rafe shakes his head in awe as he looks down at you, clearing the space between as you do the same. You jump into his arms, hugging him tightly, burying yourself in his neck. He kisses wherever he can, mumbling against your soft skin about how you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen and feelings mutual. Seeing the beautiful man before you, paired with all the lovely things he did brings nothing but tears and emotion. “I love you, Rafe. I love you so much,” you snivel.

“Mmm…” He hums happily, taking his turn kissing up the column of your neck to your ear. “I love you, princess.”

You pull back and smile, eyes locked. His ocean eyes shimmer with happy tears as well. Rafe’s gaze falls to your lips, his focus like a magnet pulling you in. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck as he cradles you in his embrace. Rafe backs you against the car, deepening the exchange. Your tongue swirls with his, lips moving in perfect harmony. He smiles along your mouth, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Damn, I missed my girl.”

Rafe grips the steering wheel, the other hand resting on your bare thigh. His gold chain twinkles on his athletic chest, poking slightly out of his black fitted polo. It had taken everything in your power not to pull him into the back seat after watching him change out of the button-down he walked in with, still sprinkled with blood from the club. He looks at you with a smirk, catching you gawking, loving every second of your attention. “It’ll be a short meeting. Aight? Think you can wait?” He teases, making your cheeks warm up as you fight back a dizzy laugh.

“Honestly, I don’t think I can.” You take his hand in yours, lifting it, kissing his fingers one by one. “I still have to thank you, baby.”

Rafe releases a lusty laugh, relaxing in his leather seat a little more. “Trust me, princess. I have not forgotten. I've thought about it every night. But, a ‘thank you’ is not necessary… I love takin’ care of you, and I always will.” The car speeds past the town’s welcome sign, barreling toward the Atlantic.

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“You’re droppin’ me off at the beach house, baby. You can head over to Tanneyhill. I’ll meet you there when I’m done, and we can get out of here. How does that sound?” He smiles. You clear the lump in your throat, trying to focus on the question Rafe is asking, but your mind is fixated on the rest of his words. Rafe wants me to leave? “Baby?” he asks gently. 

“I’m dropping you off…” You question uneasily. “Don’t you want me to come with you? Don’t you need me close by?”

The muscles in Rafe’s arms flex as he tightens his hand around the steering wheel, shaking his head ‘no’ as he narrows his sights on the road. “I don’t want you to see this, princess,” he responds levelly, his eyes landing on yours.

“Couldn’t Barry take care of him?” You invite without thinking. Rafe’s brows knit tightly, a puzzled look pulling on his beautiful face.

“No… Why, baby?” He asks, trying his best to keep his compass on the road ahead.

“I don’t know,” you answer hastily. “I just don’t - I don’t know.” Your stomach sinks, uneasiness setting in. After everything that Tony has done and said, he’s better off dead, but thinking about him dying at the hands of Rafe mere minutes from now had your heart racing. I can't help but think about the fact that he bamboozled Rafe not once but twice. He would have walked into an ambush at the strip club without me there… He had no clue the drugs were planted in the Mercedes. “I don’t know!”

“What don’t you know, exactly?” He asks as he pulls up to the beach house, sailing into the driveway, pulling between a vintage BMW and the white van that Tony got taken away in. Rafe turns toward you, demanding your attention. “Are you having second thoughts about this?” He questions, his words dripping with accusation.

“No!” You gasp. “I - I just. I don’t know, Rafe. I’m just freaking out. Okay?” You whimper as tears start to cloud your vision, your anxiety about the situation making your mind muddled.

“Do you want him to live?” He asks. It’s hard to place his tone; Rafe at the junctions between perplexed and agitated, his frustration with you clear in his body language alone.

“Of course I don’t. I want this to be over with,” you blubber.

”So do I, princess. And we talked about this before. It’s not going to be me and you if he’s here. Do you want it to be me and you-”

”Yes!” You cry out before he can even finish his sentence.

“Don’t think about it then, Aight? Let me handle business. This is why I don’t want you in there. I don’t want this on your conscience. I want to handle this for you. And we will never talk about this again. Okay?” You nod in silent agreement, but he shakes his head ‘no’. “Words, baby.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Rafe leans in, kissing you softly. You cup his cheeks in your hands, running your thumbs along the stubble that’s grown on his face since confinement. “I’m sorry for doubting you, Rafe, but things keep goin’ wrong. Tony keeps getting in the way. I don’t want him to hurt you. I don’t wanna lose you.”

He melts into your touch, looking at you with adoring eyes. “You’re not gonna lose me. And he’s not gonna hurt me. All right? He’s strapped to a chair. He has been for a week. This is just a matter of me lookin’ him in the eyes and letting him know that he will never get to hurt you again. Yeah?”

“Okay, baby,” you breathe as Rafe catches your tears with his thumbs.

“I love you, y/n. It’s all going to be okay.”

“Okay… I love you too, baby.”

“I know you do,” he whispers. “Once I close this door, I want you to drive. Understand?” He asks as he opens up the navigation on your phone, pulling up the address to his home in Figure Eight. “Remember what happened last time I told you to leave but you stayed an extra two minutes. You gotta listen to me,” he asserts.

“I’ll listen.”

“Promise?”

“I swear,” you whisper.

Rafe grabs the handle of the driver’s side door, pushing it open before walking around the front, helping you to your feet. His arm wraps around your waist, leading you to the other side. He hugs you tightly, pressing kisses on your forehead and cheeks before landing on your lips, kissing you one last time.

“Just a conversation,” you whisper.

“Nah,” he breathes. “Not this time. I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Rafe.”

Your hand holds his as he steps away until your fingers lose contact. Rafe reaches behind his back just as he did the night you walked into the club, checking the pistol tucked into his waistband before falling out of sight. You step into the driver’s seat, wrapping your hands around the steering wheel, still warm from Rafe. You grab the shifter, putting it in reverse, fighting against the impulse to wait in the wings ‘til he handles business, just in case he needs to flee. This man gives and gives. He has barely asked me for anything in return. Just leave. You roll out of the drive, pressing down on the gas.

Rafe’s POV:

“Barry?” I bark, my voice bouncing off the walls of the beach house. Rap music swells from the basement, the dank smell of weed hazing the place. My aggravation starts to mount; a SOLO cup crushes under the heel of my dress boot, just one of many. Empty liquor bottles and beer cans litter the counter, takeout food strewn across the tables, thongs, stripper heels, and a few stray lines of coke left cut on the counter. “I’m gonna kill him,” I curse his name under my breath as I bound toward the basement door.

I tug it open, my heart plunging as I see a pool of blood gathered on the floor. Shit. I catch my gun, heart banging as I race down the flight. “Oh, fuck… No. Sh-Shit. Barry?” I stutter as I run toward him, his white tank top drenched crimson red. His dark eyes lift momentarily, falling heavy the next. I catch his shallow breathing, leaning in close as he tries to mumble out a few words, quelled in blood.

“Tony?” I ask, watching as he gives me the slightest nod. This blood is fresh. He’s here.

BANG.

I draw my gun again as the door at the top of the stairs bangs shut. Here we go… I sprint toward the wall, half-hidden, listening to his heavy steps as they move closer and closer.

“You hidin’ from me, Cameron?” Tony’s voice cuts through the hush. “That was an awful lotta coke. You come to pay up? Or, did you just come to take somethin’ else from me?” He booms as he steps out, footing right past me.

He looks like shit. His white button-down shirt tattered and bloodied on his large body; Tony’s donning the same worn-in beard as me after his week of imprisonment in the basement. The fucker got the shorter end of the stick apparently, beaten to the edge of death, Barry doing all but killing the bitch.

I check his hands, breathing a sigh of relief; no gun. I adjust my mine as I see a weapon, however, a large kitchen knife clutched in his massive hand. End this. I find his head in my crosshairs, aiming my pistol at his skull, gritting my teeth, battling with the rational part of my brain that’s tellin’ me to fire. The irrational part of my mind yearning to feed my pride and tell him everything I wanna say for her… Tony bends around, smiling with blood-stained teeth. Shit.

“You gonna shoot, Cameron? Or you gonna just stand there like a pussy,” Tony spits.

“We got some shit we need to talk about first. Hmm?”

“You wanna talk about my girl-“

“My girl,” I stop him as I step a little closer, making him shake his head in disbelief, snickering cruelly as he looks back at me.

“Yours? Your girl? Since when exactly. ‘Cause she never said shit to me. Do you honestly think that she loves you? Are you that fuckin’ stupid?” He asks as he rolls up his sleeves, preparing for a fight.

“I know she loves me,” I grunt as I square up with him.

“You think she’d leave me? It was our plan for you to die at the club. She knew it. I knew it. You were just supposed to walk in.”

”You’re lyin’,” I spit.

“Am I?” He smiles again— that same wicked and crazed smile; punch-drunk after a week of torture. “You know I’m not, Rafe.”

“You are. You think I’m gonna believe that line of shit. ‘Bout her lyin’ to me? About you beating the livin’ shit out of her to throw me off? You think I believe you you’d actually let me fuck-”

”ENOUGH!” He thunders, his loud, deep voice making my muscle tense up. “Don’t finish that FUCKING sentence. Because how hard you make this is how hard she's gonna get it after I KILL you. You understand?”

“You can't even let me finish the sentence, Marietta. You can’t even let the words leave my lips,” I chuckle. “Ya know, about fuckin’ “your” girl, on the couch of your club? That same couch you fucked some stripper on. You think I believe that you’d actually let that happen? She ain’t in on this, Tony. This is you losin’ her and settin’ me up.” He steps closer and so do I, the pair of us level-eyed.

“I’m not lyin’. That women would do anything for me. And, at the end of the day, even if I am lyin’, she’d only want you for your money, Cameron. I’m man enough to admit you got more than me— new money and old money in your pocket. She saw an opportunity and took it. She’s either in on this or in it for the cash.”

“She’s not after my money,” I mumble as I try to keep my emotions at bay. “She’s not in on shit.”

“‘Course she is… Your head is just too far up your ass to see what’s really goin’ on around you. N’let’s just say my baby isn’t in on this with me and she just after your money and she finds someone else with more, buddy, you’re fucked. ‘Cause if you get what you came here for and you kill me, everything in my name goes to her: all of the hard earned money that I made that she loves to spend, the club, the law firm, my cars, my jewelry, my homes. Everything that I have she takes from me. And she knows that. You gotta see what’s goin’ on here. Right?” He asks as he looks back at me like I'm stupid.

“You’re pathetic.”

“I’m pathetic?” He chuckles. “You know before your boys picked me up, I was on the way to fuck my girlfriend in that pretty little penthouse you bought her. She even sent me a few pictures in that pretty pink lingerie. You know, the one she was describin’ for you on the phone? Fuck, Rafe. You should see it on her. My princess doesn’t just talk a big game. She knows how to fuck,” he sneers as he catches me battling my emotions. “Why don’t you go look at my phone. Pretty sure it’s in his pocket. You can see for yourself.”

My stomach falls as I hear the door crack at the top of the stairs—one step then another, as the person at the top creeps down. No. No. Tony hears it as well, the man looking over my shoulder with a smile. “Guess who’s here, Cameron,” he whispers. “Princess?” Tony softens his tone with her, the sound of y/n’s slight feet stopping in a flash.

Was this her plan all along?

I scrunch my nose; eyes burning with tears of deceit and rage. There’s no way the story he’s spinning is true. If he kills me, and he’s lying, what will happen to her? I can’t take that risk.

I shove him hard, making him stumble back, kicking him with the heel of my dress shoe square in the chest before he can rise back up to his feet, sending him and the knife to the ground. I hear her soft gasp; her feet quickly clearing the rest of the steps. “Don’t move, y/n,” I bark back at her.

“Rafe?” She whimpers, making me look over my shoulder. The second I do the air flees my lungs, Tony’s big body tackling me to the floor. My skull ricochetes off the hardwood floor; eyes slamming shut in pain, losing my gun in the process. I overpower him, rolling him to his back, grabbing his shoulders I lift him slightly, bashing his head against the ground again and again making him scream out in pain.

He scratches and claws at my face and shirt as I wrap my hands around his throat, squeezing with all my might. "Not so easy to fight a man. Huh?" I hiss.

"F-Fuck you," he stammers as he throws a rough punch, meeting my jaw. I respond with four of my own. The connections, direct and brutal, the dried blood on his face replaced with fresh blood as his body starts to go limp.

Finally.

I stare down at him, lifeless, one with the floor, his breathing almost nonexistent. I draw my hand back, slapping him across the face, his head snapping to the side; body unresponsive to the pain. I drag myself to my feet, stumbling across the living room for my gun. An execution. This ends right here. Right now.

My chin trembles with adrenaline and emotion as I try to get his words out of my head. There’s no way she was in on this all along. Everything she shared with me, the things she said to me, the things we did… That was real. She's here ‘cause she was worried. She's here ‘cause her intuition was right. She's here for me.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. My heart sinks, the rapid bounding of Tony’s feet stopped almost as soon as it start. It’s quiet, wet gurgling and a soft whimpers are all that remains. I turn around, facing Tony but his eyes aren’t on me. He looks down at his chest, the bloodied tip of carboned steel poking out from his chest. He falls to his knees before me, y/n standing behind him in shock, watching as he tumbles face-first on the floor.

She looks up at me, eyes filled to the brim with tears. I run to her, pulling her into my arms, holding her body close as she clings to me for dear life.

I haven't let her go since. It wouldn't feel right. I hold her, watching as the sun sets in the east; a blood-red sky, painted across the Atlantic. The last sliver of the golden sun dips below the horizon. I kiss her gently on her cheek, down the soft flesh on her neck to the dip on her shoulder before resting my chin on top. “Are you okay, baby,” she whispers. I rest my hands on the top of hers, pressing my chest against her back as we both look over the edge of the yatch, watching the black water swell below.

“M’perfect, princess,” I whisper as I nuzzle into her neck. “Are you okay.”

“I am,” she whispers, “because of you. Thank you...”

“Thank you,” I mumble as she melts into me. “I needed you. I can't believe you did that for me.”

“I’d do anything for you,” she whispers as she turns, resting her hands against my chest, looking up at me with pleading eyes. “I know him. I know Tony probably filled your head with lies but I promise, none of it’s true.”

“I know,” I assure as I cup her cheeks in my hands, guiding her soft lips to mine. “This is almost over and from here on out it’s just you and I.”

“You and I,” she echoes. I kiss her forehead and her lips before pulling away.

“Stay here. M’serious.” She nods submissively, falling back as I move foward. I shuffle across the main deck, grabbing the rail, walking down the small flight of stairs to the carport before raising the hatch. I reach behind my back, pulling out my 9mm, opening the trunk.

There he lies, Tony Marietta. I smile as he lifts his eyes, matching mine; the bloodied knife already laying by his side. I take the gun, pressing it against his temple, tilting my head slightly to keep his eyes on me. “M’so glad you’re alive for this… I could make this fast,” I whisper. “But after all the shit you did, I’m gonna have you dyin’ nice and slow. Too bad I don't get to watch.” He goes to speak but all that comes out is a thick trail of blood. “I know what you're gonna say… Don’t worry. I’m gonna do what you couldn’t. I’m gonna take care of her. And that's a promise.” I toss my gun inside before slamming the trunk.

Moving to the front I step inside, firing up the engine before shifting it into neutral. I give the vintage ride a little push, the pull of the yacht sending the tires rolling. I follow the car as it plunges into the deep, dark waters, the depth snuffing out the headlights ‘til all that’s left is blackness.

Goodbye, Tony.

Epilogue

One year later…

Reader’s POV:

You roll up to Tanneyhill, flooding the big driveway with light after a late night shift at the Country Club. It’s mine now and business is booming; a new staff with increased security. Rafe took it upon himself to turn it from the dive it once was to a luxury experience, all for me. Of course I clean his money, the perfect front. Anything for my man. Stepping out of the car you make your way up the cobblestone walk to the front door, passing the bay window, watching as Rafe shuffles by in a black button down, resting two plates of food down on the table.

“Knock. Knock,” you sing as you open the door with a smile, matching Rafe’s beautiful blue eyes making him return the same.

“Babygirl,” he croons as he walks closer, helping you out of your jacket before, swathing his strong arms around you waist, looking down at you lovingly.

“Welcome home. Happy Anniversary,” you coo as you rise on your tippy toes, pressing a kiss on his lips. “I didn’t think you’d be home ‘til next week.”

He smiles against your lips, recalling his initial plan, the pair of you knowing there was no way he was gonna miss this day, even if it meant flying home from Morocco for one night only. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, you know that, princess,” he mumbles against your mouth between kisses. “I got your favorite.”

Rafe takes your hand, leading you to the dining room, pulling out your chair, directing you to sit. You look across the table seeing all of your favorite things; the meal, the flowers, wine. Little candles glint in the middle of the table, adding to the ambiance as he runs you a glass of Chateau Lafite Rothschild, the first bottle of wine you shared on your very first night together.

"You look stunning," Rafe praises, lifting his glass to his lips, sipping slowly as his eyes drink you in.

"And you look very handsome, Rafe Cameron," you hum, resting your hand on the thigh of his Armani suit.

"You know baby, you’ve been working too hard. Are you free this week?” He asks, knowing the answer is ‘no’, but that’s not the reply he’ll get. If he’s asking you to go somewhere he’s already worked everything out for you.

"I’m always free for you, baby."

"Mhmm… Barry and his girl are gonna watch the club so you can come to Morocco with me. How does that sound?”

“So nice… You’re so good to me,” you sigh blissfully as you grab him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him to your lips. “Fuck, I love you.”

"Mmm… Yeah? Wanna sit on my lap and tell me how much you love me? We can see what happens next,” he chuckles warmly.

“Don’t tempt me, baby. You know I have no problem taking you right here,” you smile, the blonde smirking as he recalls what happened the morning before he left.

“You are so good to me,” he corrects you. "Y/n, I'm so happy you're mine. I hope you feel that.”

"I'm so happy I'm yours," you smile, spreading a little wider. “Of course, I feel that.”

"You deserve to have the very best, sweetheart. You deserve to be happy, and safe, and loved.” He leans in closer to you, his eyes meeting yours.

"I do… You’re perfect, Rafe.”

“I’m not, princess. But I wanna be for you,” he whispers, swallowing thickly. Your brows rumple as his mood shifts from flirty and light-hearted to serious. His eyes always look bluer when he’s on the verge of tears, yet, his smile contradicts it all. "I got you something."

"Yeah?"

“Mhmm,” he hums and nods as he reaches into his suit jacket pocket, pulling out a blue box.

"Oh my gosh! Rafe Cameron,” you gasp. “It's too much.”

"It's not, princess," he smiles softly. You reach for the box, but he keeps it in his hand, using the other to brush the tears out of his eyes.

"Rafe... Are you okay?" You whisper as you cup his cheek in your hand. He shuts his eyes, relishing in your touch, leaning into you slightly. He takes a few deep breaths before opening his eyes again.

"I’m perfect, baby.” He whispers weakly. "Umm... I'm not sure how I'm this in love with you, baby. But I am. And, at this point, I genuinely can't remember a time when I wasn't. Every night since I saw you I fall asleep with you on my mind, and I wonder if you're doing the same. I can't even comprehend losing you, or someone hurting you. I’ve said this once and I’ll say it a million times I don’t trust anyone to protect you but me and that includes your heart too. It's you, princess. It's fucking you. I can't describe it any more than that. You are the only person I want and will ever want. You make me feel safe. You make me feel loved. And since I've met you, sweetheart, you've always been that person. My girl. I can't love anyone else. And, I don't want to. So, with that being said. Y/n, will you marry me?" Rafe moves from the chair, dropping down to one knee, pulling open the box, the Tiffany engagement ring, resting in the center.

Your eyes widen, hand covering your bright, ecstatic smile. "Yes!" You squeal in delight, making Rafe let out a happy chuckle as he glides the jewelry on your finger.

"Yes?"

"Yes! Yes, Rafe! Oh my gosh. I thought it was a necklace," you gasp as you eye the ring on your finger.

"I figured, when you tried to take it from me. I got nervous," he laughs warmly, guiding you to his lips. You smile against his kiss, Rafe doing the same.

"I love you, Princess."

"I love you too, Rafe Cameron.”

Bonus smut chapter 💕

Thank you so much for reading my short story! I hoped you enjoyed it 💕🩷

Miski 🩷

tag list and masterlist on my pinned post @starkeysprincess @rafesthroatbaby @gri959 @loserboysandlithium @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @akobx @darlydixon83 @hyperfixationgirl @savayvayblr-blog @oxpogues4lifexo @rafesgiirl @sleepiibunniiii

[nothorses]

youre the first person ive seen since biden drop out who seems genuinely positive abt it, everyone else ive seen is being rlly negative or making jokes and it scared me a lot.... can you explain, or link to another post or article, that explains why its good that he dropped out? i keep seeing everyone saying that biden didnt do anything, then that he did so many things, thrn stuff saying kamala is a bad choice to endorse then you sounded so positive abt her and im very confused ): i avoid politics a lot cuz i live w a very protrump dad and its so difficult to find accurate information that isnt seaped in memes and sarcasm and pessimism but you sounded very genuine! thanks for any help <3

I went into more depth over here! I also wanna share a couple of videos I've been getting these perspectives from, because these folks are a lot more educated on the topic than I am.

I first heard the perspective that Biden was woefully unlikely to win from Olayemi Ulurin, in this video. She has a kind of "I can't blame anyone for not voting" perspective that I do think I agree with, largely because she's coming at it with nuance: Biden is not a compelling candidate, he's not likely to win, it makes sense people don't wanna vote for him, and the Democrats need to get their shit together and pick someone else.

She also posted this video (below) that goes way more in-depth into the issue, and which I think reflects (and GREATLY expands and adds to) my personal stance on the "vote blue no matter who" thing: i.e., voting is ultimately about making the fight easier for activists who are working for real change. It's important for that reason, not because the person you vote for can be trusted to do anything helpful of their own volition.

If you're gonna watch any of the videos I link here, watch that one.

The other source I've looked to a lot recently is Some More News, which is where I initially heard a lot more detail on the "Biden should drop out oh god oh please it's our only hope" perspective.

First was their podcast episode immediately following the recent Biden/Trump debate, in which they delve (somewhat casually, but thoroughly) into why Biden's 2024 campaign was so fucking terrifying for everyone who needs a Democrat win:

They also get into more detail on the topic here, in another podcast episode:

Those two videos are great just for understanding this election and why Biden dropping out is very much the best thing that could have happened. That's basically the topic for the full length of both podcast videos (where Olayemi just kind of touches on that specific question, in comparison). If you just want more details on that question and only have the capacity for one of these, you could probably watch either podcast video (I personally have only watched part of the second one, and all of the first one).

I'd also recommend these two channels for political insight in general.

Olayemi is great because she comes at things from an explicitly activist perspective, and she has a huge personal background in very grounded, concrete political activism, especially as a black immigrant woman. She brings in a lot of other experts as well, often themselves marginalized political activists, which is just a fantastic way to be exposed to a really awesome diversity of knowledgeable perspectives without having to look very far on your own. She's also relentlessly hopeful- and grounded in that hope- which is so, so important and refreshing.

Some More News is a good supplementary to Olayemi, imo, just in that they have a good, upbeat (and again, very grounded) energy, and they cover a lot of very current political stuff in an easy-to-digest kind of way. I find both them and Olayemi really fun to watch, but the vibes are definitely different between the two, and they're good counterpoints to each other- plus they tend to cover different stuff, which just helps broaden your awareness of what's going on, again without needing to look super far.

I know this is a lot of information; hopefully I've made it possible to sift through for the piece you actually want to start with, though. If nothing else, I really encourage folks to check out Olayemi and see if any of her videos catch their eye. She's really fantastic, and her stuff scratches my "video to do laundry to" itch while also being, like, a really valuable watch overall.

Best of luck!!

[mufos-photo-album]

The Spearmaster, dressed up as his primary design inspirations

If you like reading, I've included commentary about the Spearmaster's inspirations below the cut.

I don't have as much to say about the Spearmaster's design compared to the Swordmaster, since his design doesn't stray that far from Piripu's base design. The biggest departure is the mane the Spearmaster has, which is directly inspired by Goku's (of Dragon Ball, if I needed to tell you) Super Saiyan 3 design. The thing is, I never referenced the SS3 design at all when first drawing the Spearmaster, so his hairstyle is moreso based on my vague memory of what super saiyans with long hair look like. As a result, the Spearmaster's hair looks a lot softer than Goku's, which is so spiky. Not something I'm upset about, but I do find it very funny.

Ah right, there's also the second guy in the drawing — Bobby from the Deadcells animated trailers. He's technically called the Beheaded but Bobby is the named used for the guy in the trailers. From the start I knew I wanted the Spearmaster to be cool, but I also wanted him to be charming (an aspect which may not carry visually all the time but one I try to keep in mind while writing). In the animated trailers, Bobby depicted equal parts cool and equal parts silly. Can hold himself up in a fight, but no doubt has an arrogant/cocky side that leads him to, for lack of better words, eat shit. I think there's also something somewhere about Bobby having a flair for the dramatic. Some of these aspects are reflected in how I see the Spearmaster. Goku also has some charming aspects about him but I can only describe them in vaguer terms. Like, look at the reference photo I put in the image above. Doesn't his smile scream "It's me, Goku!"?

These characters have more to do with how I see the Spearmaster carrying himself in battle as opposed to more mundane situations.

Kyoko Sakura, from Puella Magi Madoka Magica: Probably the character that solidified my choice in making Piripu the Spearmaster after realizing Sayaka was an inspiration for the Swordmaster. Kyoko has a specific lunging attack she does which I often imagine the Spearmaster doing as well.

Morganite, from Land of the Lustrous: When thinking about how the Spear/Swordmaster fight, there was this one video I'd watch a lot as reference. It mainly features Morganite fighting alongside their partner Goshanite. Aside from the swaggy animation, I'll point out that the dialogue between Morganite and Goshanite is very similar to how I see an exchange between the Sword/Spearmaster going. Morga/Gosha even have vaguely similar color schemes to the Spear/Swordmaster!

Bort, also from Land of the Lustrous: As you might see from the reference photo of them I used, Bort's hair lends itself to making very unique shapes while Bort is in action. I forget where in the manga this scene appears, but there's a moment where Bort is depicted descending upon an enemy, but its shot from afar. Despite the distance, you can still tell its them from the abstract shape of their hair. This aspect is something I'd like to tap into if I drew the Spearmaster in action.

[mashiraostail]

"You know I love you right?" With aizawa please !!!! maybe pining reader instead of established relationship?

yurrr!!!!! i figured you wanted SFW bc you didn't specify otherwise, if not resend and I shall re do :3

At its best hindsight tends to offer a lot of useful illumination, though at its worst it is able to make everyone look like an oblivious idiot.

Truth be told Aizawa isn't sure what comes over him, he's level headed, he tends not to worry even at the worst of times. He knows this is your job, he knows better than anyone how badly you can get hurt doing this sort of work. You're no stranger to bumps and bruises, and usually that thought puts him at ease. He isn't sure, maybe the way you hit that building looked nasty, the way you let out a gurgled sort of half grunt half sob as you hit the ground, the way you held your ribs as you rolled over onto the pavement, or the way the rock of the building crumbled and fell to the ground around you...any of those things could have made his stomach churn. He certainly isn't heartless, he feels remorse every time someone is hurt in a fight, he feels worry too, though usually not so intensely. You were good friends too, Hizashi was always trying to tell Aizawa you were sweet on him, he didn't see it himself but he would be lying if he didn't preen a bit at the thought.

He wasn't considering that now though, and he wasn't considering the drinks you'd had together the night before, the way you leaned over the table to talk to him, the way Hizashi kicked him underneath it when your hand brushed his wrist, or the way you lingered at your door after they walked you home. The realization dawned on him as he and Hizashi walked home, maybe he did care for you, that same realization was cast aside the moment catastrophe struck and hadn't been considered since. All he was thinking about now was your eyes, the way you laughed at his dry and somber jokes, the subtle kick in your step, your hair, the softness of your skin every time you found a reason to touch him, and the way you said his name.

"Holy shit that looks like it hurt." Nemuri materializes beside him somehow, maybe she had always been there, but is just now choosing to snap him back to Earth. "Should we go get them?"

Aizawa looks between you, Nemuri, and the retreating villain. You hadn't gotten up, you were still curled onto the ground, he could see you rubbing your head with one hand, the other cradling your ribs. "You get them, I'll handle this. Send anyone else you find my way."

He regrets it the moment he says it, as soon as he turns away from your body on the street his stomach lurches painfully.

"Are you sure?" Nemuri blinks at him, "you look...different than usual. I can handle the villain, I'm sure Vlad and the others are kicking around out there somewhere."

"I'm sure." What he isn't sure about is why he can get it out that he wants to stay with you.

"Just..come with me to check them out."

Nemuri was a lot of things, most pointedly she was intuitive. He gets to you before she does.

"Are you alright?" He puts a hand on your shoulder and you roll over.

"Shota," You squint at him, like the sunlight burns your eyes, you probably have a concussion. "I've been better. I'll live, go deal with that freakshow."

He doesn't want to, for the first time in a long time he feels...petulant, like a child, he wants to hold firm to his spot, to stay glued to you until you make it to a hospital. But his brain is telling him to turn and go like always, to entrust you to his colleague and go where he's needed, just like he would for anyone else.

"Can you stand?" Nemuri's voice spurs him on, he nods as if to leave, but he can't help but linger on you.

"Shota they need you." You urge him away. Something sits in his throat, he can't swallow it down, nor can he spit it out, and it's heavy it makes his face feel warm. Between that and the way you look he has no choice but to linger, "I-" and it starts to crawl out, but it's pulled back down to the pit in his stomach just as quickly and twice as painful.

"Shota it's going to be okay." Nemuri is checking you out, poking and proding for breaks or blood. Your voice is weak and gravely, the pain had made you cry, he could tell from the clean streaks on your otherwise dirty face, but you said his name with so much care and earnest, as if he was the one laying broken on the pavement.

"I'll come find you as soon as this is over. Call me, text me where you're heading." By the grace of some higher power he can tear his eyes away from you long enough to shoot off into the distance, in the general direction of all the commotion.

It takes barely seconds for it to dawn on him. The way you looked up at him last night, the way you looked up at him just then. He thought about you, the things he always thought about, the way your neck curved smoothly to the delicate arch of your shoulder, the short and soft looking hairs on the nape of your neck and the way your fingers always found a way to them, tugging and twirling them as you thought. He realized this is probably what love feels like,  that this had gone beyond a pleasant adoration..or a casual admiration of your figure.  He could note small, minute things, things that should mean nothing to him if you didn’t. But these things made his heart get a little tighter in his chest. The way your eyes felt on him, the length of your eyelashes, the pout to your lip, and the seemingly perfect bridge of your nose, who else but a man in love would consider these things? He scoffs at himself, and decides to make the fight to come as quick as possible. If anyone notices his rushing they don't mention it.

When he finds you after the fact, just like he promises he would the feeling hits him like a wave, it is equally disorienting as it is eye opening.

"Shota, you came?" You seem surprised, to be fair he'd never come to you at a time like this before. He'd called and sent dinner to your room when you ended up in this sort of pickle before, but he'd never shown face and certainly not this quickly.

"I said I would."

"I figured you meant like..tomorrow?"

"How are you feeling?" He asks, because that was the other thing about you that was lovely, your voice, it was like whistling birds, like evening thrush, like melting honey, it was gooey and sweet and bright and warm like dark brown velvet and down feathers and perfect warm sunshine. It was nice to hear it normally, not gravelly or impaired with pain. He thinks about all the times he's called you with a question that could have been a text.

"I broke my ribs." You lean into the pillows, your middle was pretty heavily bandaged, your left arm was in a sling and you were littered with bandages, some already bleeding through. "I'm hopped up on pain meds though so I feel great. Say, are you alright? You seem flighty."

"I'm fine. I'm just..I was worried I guess. Looked like he really hurt you back there." He takes a seat on the edge of your bed, and though you look surprised at the sudden closeness you don't say anything. "I'm glad the damage isn't too bad."

"Me too." You nod, "thanks.."

You sit in silence for a while, he's looking down at you, like he's studying you, like he's never seen you before or like he'll never see you again. It wasn't an inquisitive gaze though, it was almost warm, appreciative even. He was looking to enjoy not to remember, it seemed like he already did.

"Shota, are you okay?" You ask again, "I'm not hurt so bad, you know I'm just drama-"

"Hey, you know I love you, right?"

You laugh, a nervous, fluttering noise. He realizes he even likes that. "I love you too Shota...we're good friends, thanks for taking care of me..."

"That's good..but I don't mean it like that. I know everyone is always giving you a hard time about me. I just...want you to know I feel the same way." He looks up to the corner where the ceiling meets the walls. "I didn't realize I was always..thinking it and never saying it. I'm in love with you. I want to...be with you. If I'm misunderstanding, tell me."

"You're...not." You feel warm, you're half way tempted to take of your heart monitor incase your pulse spiked or something. "I do love you. I figured you didn't feel that way. What brought all this on?"

"I don't know." He confesses, "i saw you last night, I guess it all dawned on me then and then I saw you get hurt and I...saw you." He shrugs, "I just realized I was always...looking at you, looking for you. I felt so worried when you got hurt." He's looking down at you again.

"It felt like I had left something unsaid, when you hit the ground and I assumed the worst..it was like my brain and my body were going separate ways and it all hit me at once. Like it was obvious this whole time." He shakes his head a bit, "I've probably loved you for a long time. It feels like I've been looking at you like this forever. I don't know why I didn't put it all together sooner."

You laugh again, confident now. "Me either." Your right hand reaches up to his shirt and you pull him downwards, "but I'm glad it all got sorted."

He's happy to kiss you, and happy to feel your hand on his face. It was a good kiss, warm and lingering. It spoke for itself, you were just as relieved with the feeling as he was, glad to have let it out in the open. You both felt 10 tons lighter from it.

"I hate to say I'm glad that villain hurled me into a wall." You joke, nudging his shoulder with your good hand.

"Don't say things like that." He scoffs, "when are you out of here?"

"I'm just waiting for some new bandages and wound wash." You shrug, "hopefully tonight or tomorrow morning."

"I'll come keep an eye on you." His hand is resting on your waist, his thumb dragging up and down your stomach.

"You don't have to go to the trouble. I can-"

"I want to. " He cuts you off, "I want to. Please let me come with you."

You preen a bit, "you wanna take care of me?"

In a moment of uncharacteristic earnest he nods, "I want to stay with you." He's glad to be free of the lump in his throat, and pit in his stomach.

"I guess I can't say no then."

[anacdoce]

I Wish Chapter 5 - In a heartbeat

Pairing: Astarion x you (f!reader, implied sorcerer)

Rating: M

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: a very angst chapter; hurt; self-sacrifice; death. Maybe you'll want to read this in a safe place :')

Summary: You have made your choice, and there's no turning back now. You'll give Astarion his cure. Even if it costs your life.

a/n: Once again my thanks to @bloodlessdarling for her screeshots. They're perfect! <3

First, let me apologize for the gap of time between the last chapter and this one. I know some of you have been eagerly waiting for a while.

Second, let me say that this wasn't an easy chapter to write. Even if it doesn't seem like it, I love Astarion from the bottom of my heart and all I want is his happiness, I promise.

Stay with me on this, will you? <3

Read on oa3

Previous chapter

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Astarion paces through the house. Impatient. Angry. Nervous. The more he thinks about what happened, the more he realizes he could have acted differently. Becoming mortal again had always been his secret and deepest desire. How could he refuse such an offer? But not like this. Not with the possibility of sacrificing his greatest treasure. You. 

“Shit.” He mutters under his breath. “I should have discussed this with you. I should have talked.” Regret claws at him. Maybe together you could have found a better solution. Or perhaps he could have made you see reason. Why would you sacrifice your life for him? For him? “Oh my love…” He gasps, the weight of his realization pressing down on him.

He has his armor on and eagerly waits for the sun to set. “Why did you have to do this? You’re a very stubborn woman! But I should have known better. This is on me.” His voice rises to a shout, echoing through the empty house. There’s no one there to listen and he’s trying to release the unbearable tension from him, but nothing is helping. And the waiting… oh, the waiting is making him become more and more anxious. With each passing second, you slip further away, and he doesn’t even know where to start looking. “Stupid! How could I be so stupid? Why didn’t I look at that cursed journal?! Because you’re stubborn too, Astarion.” He mimics your high-pitched voice, waving his hands in the air. 

He collapses into a kitchen chair, elbows resting on his knees, head buried in his hands. Why did Gale have to find such a thing? Why did he tell you about it in the first place? Because it was obvious what you were going to do. And yet Astarion didn’t think you could go against his will. 

“How did I not foresee this?” Astarion growls, clenching his teeth, angry in his voice. He replayed the past days in his mind, searching for clues. He remembers how strangely you were acting, a bit distant, actually. He assumed you were sad because he chose to ignore the scroll subject. Then he remembers last night, how you wanted to be close to him so badly all the time, how he felt your heart rushing when he bit you, and how you asked him to keep drinking your blood even when you were close to your limit. “You were saying goodbye…” The recognition hits him like a blow. For a moment he stands there, staring at the floor, with nothing but the noise of the cicadas outside to keep him company. “Aaahhhh!” He springs up from the chair with a snap, screaming, and in his anger, flips the kitchen table over the floor.

He slowly walks backward until his back hits the wall, letting himself slide down through it, crumbling on the floor next. His heart aches deeply, because he knows your love for him is true and he's about to lose you for that same reason. He wants to cry, give in to the fear and just cry. But he can’t. That is not an option. He has to be strong and fight for you. He tilts his head back, gazing at the ceiling, then shifts his focus to the window. The sun is nearly set.

“I haven’t lost you yet. There’s still time. Maybe I can reach you before you do something stupid. And that wretched Gale will help me. He knows where you’re going. He will lead me to you, my love.” He hopes Gale is still in the city, he knows that you talked to him just a few days before.

With a plan forming in his mind, Astarion shakes off his fears and starts to prepare to leave. The clock is ticking, and time is not on his side. 

—

When Astarion reaches Baldur’s Gate, he heads straight to the Elfsong searching for Gale. He sneaks past to the rooms, not wanting to be announced, and he finds Gale’s room easily by the smell. Lockpicking the door, he enters just to find it empty. Gale is not around. His bags are packed, he’ll be returning to Waterdeep soon. “Just in time.” Astarion whispers. He closes the door, and sits on a sofa in the darkest corner of the room, waiting.

A long while later, Astarion hears some movement in the corridor outside. It’s Gale. He opens the door, whistling. The night seems to have been pleasant for him. 

Astarion waits a little longer, letting him enter, and when Gale is about to take off his robes he says in a harsh voice, “I could have killed you if I wanted. And let me tell you, I don’t lack the desire.” 

Gale trips on the carpet in front of the bed, startled. He looks around the room searching until he sees some red glittering eyes enveloped in shadows, staring at him. “By the Gods! Astarion?! What are you doing here? In the dark?”

“The shadows don’t frighten me.”

Gale starts to light some candles, illuminating the room. Astarion remains in the same position, sitting with his crossed legs, staring at Gale like he is some sort of prey. “Well, I’m not afraid either. But this is my room and I wasn’t expecting any visitors.” Gale is feeling the discomfort under Astarion’s gaze. “Care to explain why you’re here? Where is (Y/N)?”

“You know, that’s a question I’d like to ask you myself.” He replies, without ever breaking eye contact with Gale.

The wizard feels the pressure. Something is wrong. “What are you trying to tell me, Astarion?”

“Such an intelligent creature as yourself can’t figure that out? How disappointing.” He pauses. Then he lifts and walks towards Gale, his face intimidating as it can be. When he reaches the wizard, he gives him the letter, your letter. “Here. Illuminate your mind.”

Gale holds the letter, recognizing your handwriting in it. “What is this?” He asks, already afraid of the answer.

“That, Gale, is her doom.” Astarion turns his back to him and walks to the window, where he can see the bustling streets of the city.

Gale starts to read the letter, and when he finishes it he looks to Astarion, incredulous. “She could not… I told her this was something she couldn’t do alone!”

“Do you not know her?! She was always ready to sacrifice herself to save your asses!” Astarion turns to him again, shouting, almost spitting with anger. “She has fallen for us over and over again! What do you think she was going to do?!”

“She told me the conversation with you didn’t go well, and she was going to drop this. I never thought…”

“You never thought?!” Astarion’s fists clenched, knuckles turning white. “Why didn’t you talk to me first? Before infecting her mind with such tales? This was about me! You should have asked me if I wanted it!”

“I knew that the possibilities of your acceptance on this matter were minimal.”

“You knew? And nonetheless, you told her.” 

“I did. She would have wanted me to. Astarion… tell me… if by any chance you could be gifted with your mortality again without any other conditions implied to it, would you accept it?”

“We’re not talking about what I want!” Astarion screams, menacingly showing his fangs.

“But we are. All of this predicament is precisely about what you want. And you just told me that I should have asked you first if you wanted it. So, would you have accepted it or not?”

“I would.” Astarions’s voice, low, shattered.

“She knew that too. I am sure if she had any doubt this was something you didn’t want, she would have forgotten it. But she also knew you would never choose this over her…” Gale approaches Astarion carefully.

“She had no right to choose for me.” 

“Maybe. And maybe she couldn’t live with the thought that she could have offered you your cure, but you refused that to her.”

“There could have been another way.” 

“You had given up on those, remember? Astarion… I’m sorry. I didn’t want any of this to happen.” Gale says with some anguish in his voice.

Astarion shoves Gale and turns around, walking away from him. “If she dies, I don’t want to see you ever again.”

Silence falls between them. Gale lowers his head, feeling the guilt of his actions. 

Astarion keeps his back turned to Gale. He can’t stand to look at him right now. He needs to keep control of his emotions. He needs to be cold and controlled again. But all he can feel is despair. And he can’t give in to that. Because nothing is lost. Not yet.

Love can give you so much. But it can shatter you in a million pieces too. Nonetheless, he is resolved to put himself together. He will have you back. 

Astarion takes a deep breath and, without turning to Gale, asks, “I believe that you know where she’s heading?”

“You didn’t even read the journal?!” But Astarion doesn’t answer, waiting for Gale to continue. “Yes… I know where she’s going. We can take a portal to Waterdeep and maybe gain some time doing just that. There we can discuss our next steps better.”

“You have half an hour. Gather your things. You will help me find her. This is as much your fault as it is mine.” And with no further words he leaves the room. He needs to get some fresh air. He needs to recover. 

Already outside, Astarion looks up to the starlit sky, to the very same starlit sky that had bound him to you some months ago. And he keeps staring at it, thinking of you, hoping you are doing the same somewhere, trying to be close to you in some way.

—

Laying on your bedroll, you gaze up at the beautiful stars in the sky. Your mind drifts to your own star, to the one you left behind. Your hand clutches your chest as if to ease the pain. You miss him so much. “Astarion…” You whisper his name, longing for him at your side. 

Several days have passed since you left home, and you finally decided to camp somewhere in a forest. You need to rest. You're weary and you haven’t slept much. Astarion’s last bite session has left you weakened, and your lack of rest isn’t helping. 

You’ve been pushing yourself to keep going, because you know Astarion is looking for you. For sure he went to Gale to ask him for help, so you have to take advantage of the time you have gained. Astarion can’t pursue you during the day, and you have made the effort to walk during the day and part of the nights too. But you can’t keep doing that any longer. 

Gale’s words are haunting your mind: “You have to be at your best.” And clearly, this is not your best. So, you decided to slow down a little. Have some good sleep. Recover. According to the journal descriptions you’re getting close - just a few days more and you’ll reach the place marked on the map Gale gave you. One more reason to regain some strength.

Every day since you left Astarion, you wonder if this was the right decision. And for some time now, you’ve been asking yourself the same question, over and over again: if you survive this, will Astarion be able to forgive you? Will he be able to trust you again? Because you defied him. You defied his will.

“If he can’t forgive me, I’ll have to accept that. This was my choice. I chose to sacrifice everything for him. And if with that he can live free from his curse, it will be worth it.” You hold your shirt, his shirt, by the cleavage and bring it to your nose, so you can smell him. It 's still there. His fragrance. Curling into a fetal position, you fall asleep with his perfume as your only comfort.

—

The day after reaching Waterdeep, Astarion and Gale had everything prepared to leave for the hunt. Gale gathered the most detailed possible maps of the region, in the short time they had, to make their choices easier along the way. And as soon as the night fell they got on their way.

During the first nights together, Gale made sure to tell Astarion everything he knew about the scroll, and the more he learned, the more his mood grew darker. Nothing in that story was good. Nothing in that story indicated a chance of success. For the next few nights all that was between them was silence. A deep and heavy silence. 

One day, after finding a sort of cave to rest and to keep Astarion protected from the sunlight, Gale is eating a snack, while Astarion is preparing his bedroll on the floor when Gale breaks the silence. “What are you going to do when we find her?”

“What do you mean, what am I going to do?” Astarion sits on his bedroll, embracing his knees.

“Obviously, you’re hurt. She defied you. And I was just wondering if you’ll be able to forgive her.” 

Astarion sighs, letting his head collapse in his arms above his knees. “Gale, I just want to have her in my arms again.”

“So, will you? Forgive her?”

“Forgive what? Forgive her for wanting to cure me from this bloody curse of mine?” Astarion lifts his head again. His voice is rising, and he feels some tears watering his eyes as he looks at Gale. He's so angry, but not with you, with himself. “Forgive her for showing me, once again, how much she's willing to sacrifice because she loves me more than anything?” 

Astarion senses that Gale is trying to find the right words to say, but he doesn't want to hear them. “I don't need your sympathy on this. I just want your help to find her.” 

“I know you don’t. But I’m worried all the same. I’m worried for you, and for her. I’m responsible for what’s happening. But I never wanted any of this. I feel guilty, and I deserve to be. I don’t need your forgiveness on this matter, but I need you to forgive her. She’s not the one to blame.”

“Yes, this is your fault, we can agree on that.” 

“I can live with that. What I can’t live with is seeing her with a broken heart after all this. You’re not the only one who cares for her…” Gale lowers his voice, looking to his hands, evading Astarion’s stare. Sadness in his eyes.

“I know how you feel about her. I always knew. In the beginning I never thought I could compete with such a refined man like you. But she chose me… me. And now I’ve let her slip through my fingers.” Astarion raises his hands, staring at his palms with his long fingers standing open in front of his face. In that moment the tears that were trapped in his eyes moments before, started to fall through his cheeks. He can’t stand the thought to be without you. It hurts. After all you’ve been through… He covers his eyes with his palms and pulls his silver curls with his fingers, fighting, once again, to maintain control. “If she had chosen you, she would be safe right now. But she had to choose me…”  

“I could never have offered her what you can. You make her smile like I never could. You give her more than you can imagine. You have to believe in yourself and in her. We have to trust she'll make it through this and you'll have a long life by her side, to prove yourself how worthy you are of her love, Astarion.”

A long life with you. That’s all he ever wanted. 

He lets his tired body fall in the bedroll, his back turned to Gale. “I think I’ve never felt so afraid. Not even with Cazador, because all he had done was to take. But she… she gave me everything.” His lips, trembling. “I’m afraid, Gale.” He feels his stomach flip at his confession. 

Gale takes some deep breaths before speaking again. “So am I, Astarion. So am I.”

—

The fog is thickening. For five days now all you see around you is fog. You wasted two days running around in circles trying to find the place where the scroll is hidden with no success, and the other three were spent retracing your steps, desperately seeking the right path. 

At the end of the sixth day, while searching for a spot to rest after a tiring day, you find an old ruin which looks like some kind of a tomb, surrounded by dead trees. It feels eerily familiar to you. You know this place. Your eyes are wide open and you frantically search your journal. You flip the pages one after the other, until you find it. This is it. This is the place. You feel your heart racing in your chest. There is no turning back. You're there. 

You approach the entrance of the ruin cautiously, studying the surroundings. That’s when you spot a death shepherd pacing inside. “That’s fine… I was expecting something like this. I just have to sneak around. The fog will help me.” You whisper, changing direction to circle the ruin.

You walk around it, trying to find another entrance. Two other possibilities were guarded too, and you continue searching, until you find a hole in a wall where you can fit. After making sure no one is on the other side to surprise you, you crawl through the hole to find yourself inside the tomb. Endless skeletons on the floor, equipped with swords and bows. “I can’t declare myself, or it will be the end of me…” 

Without moving you take a look around. It’s a round dark room, walls of stone, roots of dead trees breaking through the ground, and in the middle of it three steps lead to an altar where in it lies a scroll. The scroll. You feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skips for a moment, while you listen to the steps of the death shepherds in the room next to you. 

It looks simple. You can walk there, grab the scroll and leave. But nothing is so simple as it seems. So, you try to find the catch, somewhere. You walk slowly and silently, minding the skeletons on the floor, always alert at your surroundings. And you reach the altar without setbacks. You step on the stairs, one by one, closer and closer to the one thing that you most desire. The chance to give Astarion a possibility to live without his curse, giving him peace. 

When you realize you are next to the altar, hypnotized, looking at the rolled up piece of paper in front of you. And for a moment you stand there, at a palms reach of fulfilling your demand. Then you shake your head, trying to focus. You could daydream after getting out of there. You look for traps, but you can’t find any. And without further thinking you hold the scroll and take it.

Click!

“Shit.” When you lifted the scroll you triggered a trap, it was hidden by it and you couldn’t perceive it. In that moment a circle of necrotic magic surrounds you, spreading the effect to the majority of the room, leaving only the place where the altar stands untouched. At the same time some of the skeletons lying on the floor rise up ready to fight you to the death. Three death shepherds appear, standing at the entrance of the room, and you know that there lies your doom. They are out of reach for your spells, and even if you could kill some of the skeletons, the death shepherds will keep rising more and more after. 

You can’t flee either, because your misty step can’t reach the end of the necrotic aura that surrounds the room, and if you walk through it, it will drain your life and you’ll drop dead without even putting up a fight.

While you’re trying to master the panic that invades your body an arrow passes next to the left side of your face, kissing your cheek and earlobe as it flies over you. You scream in pain feeling the sharpening sting of the arrow kiss. A warm fluid runs down your neck staining your robes on the shoulder. You throw your hand to your neck just to see it painted with your blood moments after.

It’s time to fight. The odds are not in your favor, but you have to try. There is no other way. “Gale was right. I shouldn’t have come alone. But I won’t lower my arms now! You can take me, but it won’t be an easy task!” You shout, casting a call lightning and with that taking out some of the skeletons that were approaching you. 

You try to manage your spells the best as you can, but for every skeleton that you take out, the death shepherds rise tree more. But you keep fighting, trying to keep the skeletons away from you and evading the arrows that keep flying in your direction.

Suddenly, two skeletons reach you by the back and one of them hits you with his sword on your right flank, making you fall to the ground and losing the concentration on your spell. They leap on you trying to take advantage of your position, and they strike you again and again. You try to protect yourself the best as you can, but you are getting tired, and you feel the puddle of blood, your blood, growing beneath you. You need to take them off of you. A thunderwave is the solution. You cast it and the skeletons drop dead some meters away from you. 

You get on your feet with some effort, and there are more coming to you. In your anger you cast chain lightning, buying you more time. You take a healing potion from your pocket, but when you are about to drink it you stop. You look at the flask for a moment and then you put it back in your pocket. There is no point in healing. Your spell slots are almost over. You can’t fight them much longer. And you still have one special scroll to read. 

Resolved on what you must do, you give them all you have left. You’ll destroy as many skeletons as you can, providing you the time to read the scroll and make your wish, and after that your fight is done. And you can let go.

—

Astarion is hiding, crouched behind a dead tree, trying to see what lies inside the tomb ruin, while Gale is trying to confirm on his map if this is the place they're looking for.

He’s been feeling a little unsettled today. His ring has been burning his skin for quite some time now, and that can’t be a good sign. Suddenly, a gust of wind blows in their direction, and Astarion can smell a familiar scent in the air. His eyes widening in terror. “This is the place. She's here. And she's hurt.” His voice, trembling with fear.

“How do you know?” Gale asks, looking everywhere trying to figure that out.

“I can smell her blood.” With a snarl of rage, Astarion dashes through the ruin’s entrance. He doesn’t care who is inside or what is happening. He just wants to make sure that you're alive and they make it in time. 

Gale runs behind him, trying to catch him, and as soon as they enter the tomb they hear a really loud noise of ice falling from above and breaking on the floor, making the ground shake beneath their feets. “It’s her, all right. This was her doing.” Gale confirms it.

At that instant they hear you scream, a cry so raw and agonized that Astarion can feel his heart break with it. Every part of his body shivers by the fury that consumes him. He growls like a beast in response, showing his fangs with anger, and charging from where the noise came.

As the death shepherds turn around to face Astarion he's already there, leaping with his daggers in position to strike one of them. He jumps so high that when he lands, his feet are on the death shepherd's waist. He takes advantage of his proximity with its head and crosses his daggers around it, decapitating him in a swift movement, roaring in his fury.

As the lifeless body crumples at his side, Astarion takes a brief moment to survey the room, trying to find you. That’s when he spots you, in the middle of it, next to the altar, kneeling on the floor, covered in blood, holding an arrow well buried in your belly. “Astarion!” He hears you calling in a faint voice, pointing to his side.

A great sword is falling in his direction, and he dodges just in time. The blade hits the floor beside him, giving Astarion the opportunity to attack back. He pierces his daggers into the armpit of his enemy’s armor, a perfect weak spot to take some damage. 

The death shepherd tries to respond, but his armor and his long sword makes him slow for Astarion’s swift movements, so he escapes once again, swirling behind its back, like a dance, jabbing his daggers on its thigh on the other side. With this strike the undead loses the strength on its legs, falling on its knees on the floor.

“Take cover!” Gale shouts from behind. 

Astarion moves away from his foe at Gale’s warning, and a fire ball explodes right next to him, taking down the two remaining death shepherds. 

“Don’t touch that necrotic cloud! It will kill you!” Gale shouts to Astarion as he's preparing to run to you.

“It was a trap… I triggered it.” You manage to say from afar.

“There must be some kind of mechanism to disarm it. Try to find it. I’ll handle the skeletons.” And with that Gale starts to bring the destruction to the remaining undead in the tomb.

Astarion sprints around the walls of the room, trying his best to concentrate on his task, but the smell of your blood is all around him and your heartbeat is fading. And the ring! The ring is getting hotter and hotter. Hells! Why can’t I find anything?! 

He doesn’t care how Gale is fairing with your foes, Astarion is focused on finding a way to get to you. Only that matters now.

By the second time he passes through the door he finds it, a small metallic device, near the floor. “That must be it.” He crouches and starts to disarm it, but he fails. His hands are shaking, making it a difficult task to hold the disarming tool. He tries again, and again he fails. “Shit! I can’t do it! I can’t control my fucking hands!” He snarls in frustration.

“You can. You have to. She 's there. And she needs help.” Gale reaches Astarion after killing the rest of the skeletons in the room. His face is grave.

Astarion looks at you again, and you smile at him. A brief small smile tugging in the corner of your mouth. She's bleeding to death, and yet she's smiling at me. Pull yourself together Astarion! She needs you. With that thought he turns to the trap again, takes a deep breath and tries once again to disarm it. And finally, his dexterous fingers destroy the trap, and the necrotic aura around the room vanishes.

In that moment Astarion flies to you, but freezes in the same instant. Panic courses through his body. You're holding the scroll, opened. “My dear, what are you doing?”

“I’m giving you what no one else could.” Your voice, barely audible.

“Darling, put that aside, will you? We can discuss this later… you’re weak, you need attention. Let's heal you first, hum?” He slowly walks to you, step by step, trying desperately to control his fear.

“You will never let me, Astarion. You made that clear.” You cough up blood, a pained whimper escaping your lips.

The puddle of blood is growing beneath you, and Astarion feels your heart weakening by the minute. “I know… I’m sorry, my love. I’m a prick. I should have listened to you… I want it, you know I do. I just don’t want you to risk your life for it. It isn't worth it.”

“But you are wrong. You are worth everything. I love you, Astarion.” You give him the biggest tender smile that he remembers. Your hands raise the scroll, firmly, to the level of your eyes.

“No, no, Darling! Please… Listen!” He pleads, reaching the first step of the altar.

“I wish…” And you whisper your wish to the scroll.

“FUCK!! Stop it! Don’t say another word! Please, Love…” Astarion screams in anguish. 

But it’s too late. The spell is done. As you speak the last word, an aura of bright magic envelops your body, throwing your arms behind you, and you tilt your head upwards, with your mouth open. The spell is consuming you.

At the same time the ring is burning like hells in Astarion’s finger and he urgently wants to take it off. But he can’t. It's stuck. He's fighting to manage his pain and he's fighting to reach you, but none of that seems to be working. The magic aura is too strong, he can't approach you and the pain is too unbearable, clouding his thoughts.

But as soon as it happened, it soon ended. The aura vanishes, and Astarion hears you taking a deep sigh, before falling to the ground, unconscious. In that moment, the burning on his finger is gone, and the ring is as cold as if it had never been hot, but he feels a little vibration on it, very subtle, but present. 

“Gods…” Gale gasps from behind, stuck to the floor, not knowing what to do.

For a moment there was only silence. Astarion crawls to you in despair, when he feels something. A deep sting in his heart. He holds his chest, and afterwards comes the pain, an incapacitating pain. He curls up on the floor, screaming. All his body is hurting. So much pain… What’s happening to me?! 

He spasms his legs, then his arms. His eyes, burning, he can’t see a thing. All is blur around him. And he coughs again and again, because his lungs need the air that was missing. And his body keeps convulsing. Because his heart needs to pump all the blood that was lacking. 

Two hundred years of an undead body returning to life. 

Gale leans to him, worried but fascinated at the same time. “Astarion! She did it! It’s happening!”

By the Hells! I know it’s happening! I can feel it! 

He screams in agony for a long time until his body is ready to be reborn. 

When the pain stops he stays on the floor sensing the numbness of what had happened. He feels the need of breathing well present in him and he almost choke, like he doesn’t know how to breathe anymore.

By his side is Gale, gazing at him, like he's a miracle to behold. “I can’t believe what my eyes are seeing…” He reaches a hand to Astarion, slowly, but he snaps it away sharply.

“Don’t touch me!” He manages to speak. Seconds after Astarion gets startled by a deep beating in his chest. His heart, his own heart is beating again. Never he thought how he missed the feeling of his beating heart. That steady drum inside his chest, pumping life. But… and yours? Where is that familiar sound he's so used to? He can’t hear your heart any longer. 

Panicking, he crawls to you again, clumsy, still feeling the numbness on his body. When he reaches you he sits by your side, and he runs your wounds with his hands trying to stop the bleeding. “Darling, please, wake up. Open your eyes! You did it! I’m here.” He begs, but you stay lifelessly on the floor. 

Astarion feels Gale’s presence behind him and growls: “Do something! Do your spells! Heal her!”

“I think she's far beyond that, Astarion… She needs another kind of healing. Her wounds are too deep, and she lost a lot of blood. I don’t have the means to treat her.”

“I don’t care! Do it!” He commands, once again.

Gale does what he's told and he casts a healing spell on you. But Astarion still can’t hear anything, no beating, nothing. 

He holds your head, and gently places it on his lap. With his trembling fingers he removes a bloodied strain of hair from your face, and admires how beautiful you are. So peaceful in your rest… Tears starting to fall. All the tears retained for days, fighting to get out at the same time. “My sweet… don’t leave me. Don’t go where I can’t follow.” He begs you, sobbing. “We still have so much to live. I can’t… I can’t… I need you…” 

Astarion rests his forehead on yours, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. His tears, running down through your face, mingling with your blood. “She’s dead… My love is no more.”

I'm sorry 😭

Thank you so much for reading my story. Likes, reblogs and comments are very welcomed!

Love you all! 🖤

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 16 Prompt: Angst Themed Sentence Starters

3. I don’t know what you want from me. and 5. I don’t want to fight with you. Not tonight.

Tags: Established Relationship, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mentions of Past Child Neglect, Protective Eddie Munson

wc: 1184 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

“I don’t know what you want from me!” Steve shouts, arms thrown in the air.

He’s glued to the floor in their living room watching as Eddie stalks up and down the length of the room in the dim glow of their Christmas tree. Steve’s hands are clutched around the cordless phone, double-checking that he properly hung it up.

The last thing he needs is for his mother to overhear the argument currently going on.

The same argument that happens every year, without fail.

An unofficial tradition that Steve fucking hates.

“I want you to stand up for yourself!” Eddie shouts back.

Their voices may be raised, but they’re not screaming at each other. At least, not in the ways they were raised too. Their voices may be loud, but they don’t hurl insults at each other. Nor do they shout directly at each other, shouting their concerns into the void of the room instead.

“I do stand up for myself!” Steve defends, crossing his arms.

“Not when it comes to them!” Eddie growls, flippantly waving his hand in the air. “I thought we decided after last year's disaster that we weren’t going to put up with it anymore. If your parents wanted to be in our lives, they’d be there for us every day and not just on the choice fucking holiday so you’re mom can take her family picture that conveniently always makes me look terrible.”

“I know. Okay? I know we said that!” Steve uncrosses his arms, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The other hangs limply by his thighs, opening and closing into a fist, tethering him to the moment. “But they’re still my parents!”

Eddie scoffs, shaking his head. “Just because a piece of paper says they’re your parents doesn’t make it true.”

“I know, but—“

“No! No buts! They’re shitty people, Steve! I’m not going to apologize for saying that because it’s the truth! They only want you around when it's convenient for them and then they leave. You might not see it, but every time they walk out that door you turn into that lonely, abandoned teenager you’ve worked so hard to grow from! I’m not going to let them keep doing that to you!”

“Eddie,” Steve huffs. He’s not wrong, not in the slightest. But it still stings hearing it. Knowing that even though he tries to hide how he feels when his parents walk out the door every year, Eddie sees. That he hurts just as much as Steve does.

“What if it was my dad who called and said, “Clear you’re scheduled for the 20th, we’re having Christmas dinner since I’m going out on Christmas but still need to show face with my friends and see you?” What if he did it every fucking year for seven years, only to bitch and moan about every little thing? Questioning my life choices, talking shit about the man I’ve become because I didn’t live up to his expectations. Making snide comments about you when he thinks you’re not listening. Would you let him keep coming?”

“Of course not!”

“Then you understand where I’m coming from!” Eddie says, slowly making his way over to Steve. “I wish things were different. I wish your parents saw you for the amazing man you are. Saw us for all the work we’ve done to better ourselves. But they don’t. They never will. And I’m tired of pretending for a few hours every year to be okay with their bullshit. You deserve better than that.”

“I—“ Steve breaks, the first tear racing down his cheek before he can even register what’s happening.

He’s wrapped in Eddie’s arms in an instant, pushed and flushed with his warm chest. His shirt is soft, soothing the prickly feeling spreading across his own cheeks as he lets the tears fall. Eddie holds him, strong and firm. Rocks him slowly in his arms, and runs a hand soothingly up and down his back. Whispers encouragement into the wild tufts of hair on the top of his head.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie coos. “It’s okay. S’gonna be okay.”

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Steve hiccups, pulling away from Eddie’s embrace. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

“I don’t want to fight with you either.” With a gentle hand, Eddie swipes the tears from Steve’s eyes before cradling his face in his hands. “Especially not about your parents. Maybe about your questionable taste in movies—“

“Hey!” Steve laughs, swatting at Steve’s chest. “You’re the one with the questionable taste.”

Eddie hums, shaking his head. “Keep telling yourself that, big boy.”

They stay like that for a few moments, wrapped in each other's embrace. Letting the tension ease from their bodies and minds. The air in the room already feels lighter, the lights on the trees twinkling brighter.

But there’s still a weight pressing on Steve’s chest. One he knows isn’t going to go away until he figures this out. Once and for all.

“What should I tell them?” he mumbles, words nearly lost amongst the quiet hum of their space heater.

“You could tell them we’re going on vacation? Or that we already made plans.”

“I don’t want to lie to them,” Steve sighs, feeling the pressure building behind his eyes again. “If I tell her that she’ll want to see pictures or hear stories and then it's one lie after another.”

“You could tell them the truth?” Eddie suggests, arms wrapping around Steve again. “Tell them that they don’t deserve to spend Christmas with you because of the way they’ve treated you. That we don’t need their negative energy in our lives.”

Steve grimaces. He wishes he could have a conversation with his mom. Wishes they had the type of relationship that allowed him the grace, to be honest with her. To give her space to listen and hopefully learn. But they don’t. They never have. All that will get Steve is an earful of guilt and yelling, followed by a call from his father about he broke his mother.

Still, what other choice does he have?

If he doesn’t want to lie, the truth is the only other option.

“Will you stay by me while I make the call?”

“Of course, sweetheart. M’not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” Steve says, letting the plan take shape in his head. “Okay. I’m going to tell her the truth.”

“I’ll be the whole time,” Eddie says, squeezing Steve’s hand. “But if she starts yelling, I will grab that phone and hang up on her. You understand that, right?”

“I think you hanging up on my mom is the kindest thing you could do to her.”

“Damn right, it is!” Eddie laughs. “Now come on, let’s rip this bandaid off so we can start planning what we’re actually going to do now that we have the 20th free.”

“I’m sure you already have ideas.” Steve laughs, watching as Eddie’s eyes light up as they drink him from head to toe.

“Yeah,” he says, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. “I’ve got a few ideas up my sleeve.”

[wongyuseokie]

Drift Away | k.m.g

Summary: You made the biggest mistake of your life, and now, Mingyu is trying his hardest to forget and forgive you, but how long till your infidelity rips you both apart? Besides, it’s not like you’d blame him. You hurt him. You did the one thing you promised never to do.

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕ smut |  ♥ completed works

Word Count: 9321 words

Pairings: Kim Mingyu x Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AUs: Fluff, Smut & Angst, Idol! AU, but like it’s not that important. It just sets the tone, I guess? Like why he stays in a dorm, etc.

Content Warnings: Cheating AU! slut shaming, blaming, crying, fighting. Soonyoung is kind of a dick, but it’s truly very warranted. Chan makes lame jokes, and it’s adorable. Cheol is the best human ever. Insecurities about wealth and fame gap between the reader and Gyu. Mingyu is honestly the bestest boy ever, and the reader makes a terrible choice, but let’s see.

Smut Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, pussy slapping (like once). Is Mingyu growling a warning? Creampie. I think that’s it.

Authors Note: This fic involves infidelity, I don’t condone it, but I’m aware it’s different for everyone, just know that this is a work of fiction, and you should never feel like you should accept anything, but the best for you 🥺 High key broke my own heart writing this.

Authors Note 2: Thank you so much to @spacequokka​ for beta'ing this angsty mess for me. I love you dearly for this! 💕 also, thank you so much to my fellow emotional mess baby @the-boy-meets-evil​ for helping me edit. Finally, a big thank you to my lovely SVTHub friends for reading this over thank you lovelies, @multi-kpop-fanfics​, @bitchlessdino​ and thank you @onlymingyus​ for the title 💕

Authors Note 3: Also if you’ve seen this fic before, it’s because it was something I’d published once for a different group, but I wanted to revisit and rework it 🩷

Cross Posted to AO3

© wongyuseokie 2023. All rights reserved.

“So, I thought we could go on a road trip, just you and I. I know things haven’t been great, but I thought this could help us reconnect,” you suggested to Mingyu during dinner, and you could see him roll his eyes at you.

“I’m trying to make an effort here,” you mumbled, making Mingyu glare at you.

“Because that’ll make everything you did okay?” Mingyu asked, and you looked down in shame.

“Gyu, it was a mistake,” you defended weakly, sliding your hand over to hold his, making him flinch and move his hand away from you.

“You fucked someone else. I asked you if I was enough, and I wasn’t, so you left to find someone else,” Mingyu snarled, and you sighed.

“You were always gone for months on end–” you started to say, and Mingyu glared at you.

“Do not give me that shit, don’t you fucking dare. Do you realise I could have done the same thing? I know it’s not ideal to have me as your boyfriend, but I could have cheated on you, but I didn’t because I love you,” Mingyu’s voice cracked at the word love.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised.

“‘Sorry’ won’t change any of it,” Mingyu muttered.

“Then why are you still here?” You asked. There was no anger in your voice, just genuine and pure confusion. “Why stay?”

“Because…” Mingyu started to say, pausing to wipe a tear off his face. 

“Because I still fucking love you, like a moron. I want to believe that we can move past this,” Mingyu admitted.

Your heart broke at the sight, and you got up from your seat, walked over to Mingyu and motioned to his lap, and Mingyu nodded slowly. You slid into his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I’ll do anything. I promise I won’t hurt you again,” you promised, and Mingyu simply stared at you as you held his face in your hands.

“Y/N,” Mingyu stopped you as you moved to kiss him.

“I can’t, not yet, at least,” Mingyu admitted, and you nodded quickly, sliding off his lap.

“Look, I’ll be in the bedroom. I’ve lost my appetite.” Mingyu said, sliding out of his seat and heading upstairs. You felt tears run down your face, and you hated that you were the one crying when you did this.

You wiped your tears away, cleaned up the table, and headed to the bedroom, smiling softly when you noticed Mingyu sitting on the bed, running a towel through his freshly washed hair.

“Can I help you?” Mingyu asked, snapping you out of your daydream.

“Uh, I can take the couch,” you mumbled. “No. You can take the guest room, not the fucking couch. You don’t need to punish yourself. It won’t give me any comfort,” Mingyu spat, “and,” he added, voice softer. “I said we shouldn’t sleep separately because we will get comfortable like that, and then this will be over,” Mingyu added.

“I’m giving you space,” you mumbled. It made Mingyu sigh, drop the towel on the bed and walk over to you.

“You had space when I went on tour, and you fucked someone else, so no. I don’t think space is what we need,” Mingyu explained, and you looked down, unable to look him in the eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you said dumbly, knowing that you already had hurt him, which made  Mingyu glare at you.

“You broke me. There’s nothing else left to break. However, for some ridiculous reason, I still fucking love you, and I’m trying not to get mad because, despite the fact you slept with someone else, I still want you in my life,” Mingyu said, gritting his teeth.

You stayed still, unsure what to say, unable to look him in the eyes. Mingyu just huffed out in annoyance at your silence.  

“I’m going to bed. You do what you want. That’s what you seem to be good at anyway,” Mingyu scoffed as he moved away from you and moved to lie down on the bed and sleep.

You hopped into the shower once Mingyu started snoring softly, and you prayed that the running water would drown out your sobs. You had done the worst thing possible to the kindest person ever and had the nerve to cry.

You finished quickly and found Mingyu’s shirt hanging on the door and, out of habit, slipped it on once you dried yourself.

Once you exited the shower, you found your spot on the bed next to him, and out of habit again, Mingyu sleepily wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

You heard his soft snores and allowed yourself to fall asleep in his embrace, and just for a minute, imagine that your relationship was fine. Even then, peace was elusive as your mind replayed the day you told Mingyu that you cheated and how broken and devastated he looked.

“Mingyu, sit,” you said, your voice low and emotionless. Mingyu looked concerned but did as you asked and sat down next to you.

“Wait, are you breaking up with me the day after I got back from tour? Because ouch,” Mingyu joked, and you shook your head.

“No, but you might.”

Mingyu’s smile vanished when he noticed the lack of humour in your voice.

“What happened? Are you pregnant? Because if so, we can deal with it,” Mingyu offered, and you simply shook your head, your heart aching at how kind and considerate he was.

“You weren’t here for so long. It was the night after we got into a fight, and it was so fucking stupid–”

Mingyu felt his world fall apart as the words left your mouth. “You didn’t because you said you love me,” Mingyu interrupted, refusing to believe a word, and you looked up at him, eyes red and puffy.

“Was it once?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded.

“It was so fucking stupid,” you choked out, and Mingyu pressed his lips together.

“You know, of all the people in the world, I didn’t think you’d be the one to make me feel like this,” Mingyu choked out, his voice cracking. You tried to reach out and touch his hand, and Mingyu flinched.

“Don’t you fucking dare! When and where?” Mingyu yelled, and you shrank.

“Does it matter?” You asked, and Mingyu glared at you.

“It fucking matters,” he snapped. You nodded.

“His place. I left after it happened. I just felt so guilty,” you explained, your voice cracked with each word. Mingyu nodded.

“Well, you should. I’m glad you had the decency not to defile our bed,” Mingyu spat as he grabbed his bag, stood up, and took a deep breath before speaking again.

“I thought tonight I could make up for all the time I spend away from you. I would have held, touched, and kissed you all night. I would have spent all the time I had making it right, but you decided I wasn’t worth the wait,” Mingyu admitted with a broken sob, a sad smile gracing his handsome face.

“I was lonely,” you admitted weakly, needing to defend yourself. Mingyu scoffed at you.

“You don’t think I get lonely? I fucking do, but I didn’t once cheat because I love you and respect you. Sadly, you can’t say the same,” Mingyu stated.

“Mingyu, I love you. It was a mistake, a stupid fucking mistake. Please, just one more chance. I need you to know how sorry I am,” you begged, and Mingyu sighed.

“I need space from you. For now, I need to let my anger pass because right now, I can’t bear the sight of you,” Mingyu said, and you just stared at him.

Mingyu sighed deeply and pulled you into his arms as you sobbed into his chest.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you cried, and Mingyu placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I will reach out. Just give me some time,” Mingyu promised, a tight smile on his handsome face. You nodded as you watched him walk out the door, and you fell to the ground sobbing.

“Y/N, wake up,” Mingyu said, shaking you awake.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mingyu asked as he switched on the light and noticed your tear-stained face. You couldn’t bear to look at him, not when he was still concerned about your well-being, not when you had broken his heart.

“Mingyu, I’m so fucking sorry,” you wailed.

“I know.”

You whimpered as the sobs wouldn’t stop. “I just need time,” Mingyu said, and you nodded.  

“Why did you stay? Why didn’t you leave me?” you asked, and Mingyu shrugged.

“It takes a lot more effort to stay and make a relationship work than just to get up and leave. Unless that’s why you cheated? Did you want an out?” Mingyu explained, and you shook your head at his question.

“No. I just wanted to feel less lonely,” you explained weakly, and Mingyu sighed.

“I know I still love you. I just can’t trust you yet. I need time to heal,” Mingyu admitted.

“Mingyu?” You said softly, and Mingyu smiled softly back at you, wiped your tears away, and gently placed his lips on yours. It was the first time he had kissed you since the night you told him.

“Give me time,” Mingyu repeated, and you nodded as Mingyu turned off the light and laid back down, and you laid down next to him, feeling him pull you in again. Tighter against him this time, you felt yourself drift off into a dreamless sleep.

You woke up the following day, found Mingyu fast asleep, and smiled when you saw how handsome and calm he looked. You got out of bed and made your way into the shower and then to the kitchen.

“Morning,” you heard Mingyu as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, his lips gently meeting your neck, making you sigh as you melted against his touch.

“Shit, sorry,” Mingyu cursed, pulling away from you.

“Habit, I guess,” Mingyu mumbled, making you pout, not letting his actions affect you too much.

He had every right to be upset.

“So, um. What are you up to today?” you asked as you handed Mingyu a cup of tea.

“I think Seungcheol hyung is coming by to hand me a present of some sort,” Mingyu replied.

Mingyu bit his lip. He wanted to warn you and tell you that the boys deeply resented you for what you did. At the same time, he wanted to see you feel as horrible as he did, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Oh! I’ll get that,” you offered when you heard a knock on the front door, and Mingyu hesitated, hoping to stop you, but he nodded.

You couldn’t hide from the boys; they had been waiting to chew you out since the day they found out. However, Mingyu was glad it was Seungcheol who was headed over. He could trust his hyung to be diplomatic. He could not expect that of Soonyoung or Chan.

“Y/N,” Seungcheol greeted you. The eyes that once held fondness and love for you were now filled with rage and anger.

“Mingyu, good to see you,” Seungcheol said as he embraced him. You wanted to leave the room, unable to hide your shame.

“Y/N, we don’t usually ever get involved in one another’s business, especially not relationships. However, the way Mingyu cried after what you did, you need to understand that none of us are your biggest fans right now,” Seungcheol spoke, and you could only look at the floor, unable to make eye contact out of embarrassment.

Seungcheol wasn’t one to get involved in his members’ love lives, but he knew Mingyu would sugarcoat everything for you, and he wasn’t going to let you think that the rest of Mingyu’s members were okay with you.

“If Mingyu chooses to forgive you, that’s his right and choice. We’ll support him, but I can speak on behalf of the other members. None of us are keen on you right now,” Seungcheol continued to elaborate.

Seungcheol’s words broke your heart; out of all the members, you had grown very close to him and Soonyoung. You knew Soonyoung would probably kill you if he saw you, but Seungcheol could be reasonable.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, and Seungcheol scoffed.

“Not the one you need to apologise to,” Seungcheol bit back, and Mingyu knew he had to say something now.

God knows you apologised enough times.

“Hyung, um, what did you get me?” Mingyu asked in an attempt to dissipate the tension. Seungcheol smiled as he faced Mingyu.

“I got you a birthday present,” Seungcheol replied, and Mingyu laughed.

“Seven months in advance?” Mingyu asked.

Seungcheol shrugged. “I forget birthdays, except mine, so yeah, it’s an all-expense paid weekend at a fancy hotel, you know, wine, room service, the whole nine yards.” Seungcheol took a breath.

“I got it before all this happened. It was something for you two,” Seungcheol added, his words piercing your heart again.

“Hyung, we can still use it. If not, I can just use it myself, starfish on the bed,” Mingyu interjected, which made Seungcheol smile.

“Anyways. That’s all I came for. I’ll see you in the evening,” Seungcheol said, and Mingyu nodded and saw Seungcheol out.

“Hyung, she’s trying,” Mingyu pleaded once he was outside his front door as he tried to reason with Seungcheol, who simply sighed.

“I don’t doubt it, but she cheated on you,” Seungcheol said.

“She won’t do it again,” Mingyu asserted.

“I hope she doesn’t,” Seungcheol added, smiling sadly at Mingyu, who smiled back.

“Hyung, I love her, and if I can’t make this work, then I’ll leave, but right now, I want to have faith,” Mingyu spoke genuinely, meaning every word.

“Fair enough. Look, just try and keep her away from the studios and dorms for now. I can keep my cool, and so can the others, but Soonyoung will definitely tear her a new one,” Seungcheol warned.

“Yeah. I will. Thank you for the present again,” Mingyu thanked Seungcheol.

“Take care, Gyu.”

“Um, I have rehearsals. I won’t be home until eight. Do you think you’ll be okay?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah. I have a few meetings, and I have some work to do. Did you want to have dinner?” you asked, and Mingyu nodded slowly.

“I can give you a heads up if I am back in time?” Mingyu suggested, and you nodded, smiling sadly at him.

“They’ll come around, you know?” Mingyu added.

“It’s okay if they don’t. I mean, I wouldn’t blame them, ” you responded.

“They will. I mean. I’m trying,” Mingyu explained.

“Mingyu?”

“Yes?”

“How long will you keep trying for? I’m not asking you to dismiss the fact that you are already doing something that most people wouldn’t consider doing. I want to know because I don’t want to keep holding you down from finding the one.”

“You were the one at one point for me,” Mingyu started, and you felt your throat tighten with emotion.

“Maybe you still are. But to answer your question, I guess I will try until I no longer imagine you underneath another man. Last night when I kissed you, I felt like I was being burned. It hurts to physically love you right now, so if it comes to a point where one day I know I can’t look at you and not hate what you did, then yeah, we can move on,” Mingyu admitted.

“And if we can’t?” you asked, your voice small.

“Then we’re done,” Mingyu said, his tone calm and final.

“I need to go; I’ll message you if I am late,” Mingyu said, and you nodded at him.

“You’re late,” your boss remarked as you walked in, well, ran into the office.

“Sorry,” you said breathlessly. Your boss simply shrugged at you.

“Can I see you? In my office?” He asked before heading back to his office.

You nodded, followed your boss to his office, and waited for him to close the door behind you.

“Please don’t fire me. I can do better,” you begged, your voice cracking.

Your boss shook his head.

“Not here to fire you, but I’m worried,” he explained, and you nodded.

“Relationship problems?” Your boss suggested, and you nodded.

“Do you need to talk to anyone?” Your boss asked kindly, and you shook your head. “It’s my doing,” you explained, and your boss nodded, not pushing it any further.

“Well. I need you to manage this client. You have a natural knack for charming the shit out of fancy clients, so do it well, and we can secure a retainer, and you can secure a wonderful bonus,” your boss explained, and you smiled at him.

“Anything else?” you asked, and your boss shook his head, smiling.

“Thank you so much once again for the meeting. I know it’s late, but we appreciate the effort,” your clients thanked you at the end of the meeting, and you nodded, thanking your million-dollar clients.

You left once they left the conference room and fished out your phone.

“Fuck,” you cursed when you saw it was nine, and you had ten missed calls from Mingyu and several messages. You grabbed your things and tried to drive home as quickly and safely as possible.

“Mingyu, I’m so sorry. I got caught up in work,” you explained hurriedly the second you walked into the apartment, and Mingyu simply hummed.

“I got hungry. I ate without you,” Mingyu deadpanned.

“Y/N?” Mingyu asked, and you turned around to see Mingyu glaring at you.

“Yes?”  

“Where were you?” Mingyu asked as he walked closer to you.

“I was at work. I have a new client, and they wanted to go over so many things,” you explained.

“You sure? Or were you with someone?” Mingyu taunted, and you shook your head at him.

“Mingyu, no, I would never,” you said, and Mingyu scoffed.

“You have,” he bit back.

“Not again,” you said firmly. Mingyu sighed.

“You know, the entire time I was waiting for you. I couldn’t help but think about it. I was wondering if you found someone else. If you were ignoring my phone calls because someone else was making you feel so good that you forgot about me,” Mingyu said.

“I love you, and I know my actions have not matched that, but I would never do what I did again. Ever,” you explained again, and Mingyu sighed.

“I guess I just have to believe you, right?” Mingyu asked with a dark chuckle.

“If you want to go or leave me, then you can,” you offered, and Mingyu shook his head.

“I need to be able to trust you again,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded.

“I was at work. I didn’t meet up with anyone,” you repeated.  

“As I said, I don’t have a choice but to believe you,” Mingyu mumbled, and you frowned.

“Look, how about you join me? We can watch Netflix, and you can eat your dinner. I’ll join you for ice cream?” Mingyu suggested, and you smiled, nodding at him.

You rushed up the stairs to take a shower and change into his shirt quickly. You often forgot they weren’t your clothes; you were so used to wearing them.

Once you were done with your shower, you headed downstairs, grabbed your food, and sat on the couch three spots away from Mingyu, making him smile.

“I won’t bite.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Mingyu nodded.

“Just sit next to me.” You smiled and scooted over next to him.

“So, these new clients, what do they do?” Mingyu asked, making you glare at him.

“Are you interrogating me?” You asked, and Mingyu sighed.

“No. I’m asking you because I’m your boyfriend. I want to know about your day. However, your reaction makes me wonder why you’re so defensive,” Mingyu explained, and you pouted, placing your food on the coffee table in front of you and turning to face him.

“I’m so sorry. I  broke your trust and your heart. I won’t do it again,” you apologised.

“Shouldn’t have ever happened,” Mingyu mumbled, and you stayed quiet, knowing you shouldn’t defend yourself.

“Y/N? Why? I know you said you were lonely, but why?” Mingyu asked.

You took a deep breath as you looked up at him, his eyes watery, and you hated that you were the cause of it.

“You remember when you were on tour, we got into this huge fight because you missed three FaceTime calls with me, and you fell asleep on the one you did remember,” you cringed as you recalled the incident.

Nothing you were going to say would make anything that you did okay.

“Right, yes, so you cheated on me because I was inattentive?” Mingyu asked, not a hint of anger in his words, just pure confusion.

“I mean, after that call, we got into a huge fight, and we didn’t even speak for another two days, and I just felt neglected,” you added.

“So one night, when I saw you giggling on a live later, I got annoyed, went to a bar after work, and well, yeah, you know the rest,” you trailed off.

“Do I know him?” Mingyu asked.

“No, I don’t even know him,” you mumbled.

“So you threw it all away for a perfect stranger?” Mingyu asked.

“Tell me. What did he do to you? What did you do to him?” Mingyu asked, and you shook your head.

“Mingyu, I don’t want to hurt you,” you tried to protest, making Mingyu scoff.

“You already have. Tell me,” Mingyu repeated, and you took a deep breath before responding.

“He went down on me, and he then fucked me,” you said quickly, like you were ripping off a band-aid.

“You didn’t go down on him?” He asked.

“No,” you said, your voice small, and Mingyu nodded.

“Did you at least use a condom?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded.

“Did you feel good? Just for that moment? Did you get what you wanted?” Mingyu asked.

“I guess I got the attention I wanted. However, no. I didn’t feel good about it; I hated myself for it,” you admitted.

“Look. I told you I want to work on us and move on from what happened, so I appreciate your honesty. However, you need to understand why I might be suspicious,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something, but I need liquor, wine?” Mingyu asked, and you smiled, nodding at him. Mingyu smiled at you as he got off the couch, headed into the kitchen, and returned a couple of minutes later with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

“Here you go,” Mingyu said as he handed you a glass and sat down on the couch, this time sitting closer to you.  

“So Seungcheol hyung, he’s throwing a dinner thing next week,” Mingyu explained.

“I can make myself scarce,” you interrupted, and Mingyu smiled softly at you, shaking his head.

“No, he wants you there,” Mingyu said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Why?” you asked, unable to hide the shock in your voice, and Mingyu smiled softly at you,

“Because I want you there,” Mingyu responded, and you downed your glass of wine in response to his comment and placed the glass down before speaking.

“Mingyu, I don’t want to impose. Not in a room full of people who hate me,” you said, hating how weak you sounded when this was all your doing. Mingyu smiled softly at you before taking a sip of his drink.

“No one–okay, aside from Soonyoung–no one hates you,” Mingyu admitted.

“I know I have no right to be upset, not when I did this, but I feel so fucking stupid. I feel stupid for having the audacity to be upset when this is my doing,” you confessed, feeling pathetic for being upset. However, Mingyu smiled softly at you.

“Look. You have a week to decide if you don’t want to go. I won’t force you. However, it would be nice,” Mingyu offered.

“I’ll be there,” you said, your voice still soft, and Mingyu smiled at you.

“Good. Another glass?” Mingyu asked, motioning to your empty glass.

“Yes, please.”

You and Mingyu didn’t speak much, choosing to watch a Netflix series and just be near one another, trying and be normal.

“Mingyu?” You called out his name halfway through an episode, and Mingyu turned to smile at you,

“Yeah?” He responded, eyes still on the screen.

You hesitated for a second, “Can I, um. Never mind,” you mumbled, swallowed  your words, and Mingyu groaned, pausing the show.

“What?” He asked, looking at you.

“Can I get a bit of the blanket? I’m cold,” you asked, rubbing your palms together as if to prove a point, and Mingyu grinned, lifting the blanket off him and holding it up.

“Come on. You’ll freeze,” Mingyu said, motioning for you to join him under the blanket, and you froze in a different way.

“Y/N, I’m trying here, but you need to meet me halfway. I can grab another blanket for you, but I’d like to share one with my girlfriend,” Mingyu stated, making your heart swell as you nodded and crawled into and curled into his side.

“The new client, they’re designers, they deal with luxury goods, and they need someone to guide them through our consulting process and how we can be an asset to them,” you mumbled, and Mingyu smiled at you, happy to have a normal conversation with you.

“So, fancy rich people?” Mingyu joked, and you nodded.

“I’m aiming to secure a retainer agreement with them,” you explained, and Mingyu nodded,

“Well, make sure you rest in between, okay? Because you always overextend yourself, and I don’t want you burning out,” Mingyu spoke softly, and you smiled fondly at him.

“I won’t,” you promised, and Mingyu smiled, holding out his pinkie to you, “promise?” He asked, and you laughed and laced your finger with his.

“I promise,” you said, and Mingyu smiled, letting go of your hand, and pulled you closer to his side.

“Okay, now can we find out what happens in this episode?” Mingyu asked, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Gyu, it’s Suits. Harvey Specter will do something that is not viable in reality and save the day,” you explained. The lawyer in you just could not refrain from describing how wrong Suits was.

“You called me Gyu,” Mingyu mumbled.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to,” you apologised, and Mingyu paused the episode and turned to face you, his legs around you as you sat in the space between his legs.

“You know, all of the restraining, the formalities. I get why you’ve held back, but it’s been two months. I’m not mad at you for calling me Gyu. It made me happy. You’ve imposed all these restrictions on yourself, none of which I asked you to do. I’m not blaming or scolding you. I’m simply saying that I want you to be yourself—the funny, unfiltered, loving and frankly unrestrained woman that I fell in love with. I know you’ll say that you hurt me being that, but I just don’t want to dwell anymore,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded.

“Gyu,” you repeated, and Mingyu smiled at you before frowning when he realised you were crying.

“Hey now, why are you crying,” Mingyu asked.

“You’re so fucking, patient. You’re so kind for what I did, and I hate that I’m the one falling apart,” you admitted, and Mingyu smiled at you, wiping a tear off your face.

“In some sick way, I appreciate it because I know you regret what you did. It’d be worse if you acted so normal. If you showed no remorse, then I’d be like fuck. I’m on my way, I guess.” Mingyu confessed, wiping your tears.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologised.

“I know. You’ve said it enough times. So I know you’re sorry, but as I said, I need time, but I don’t want to act or walk around eggshells with you because then one day that will end up blowing up in our faces,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded.

“I don’t deserve you,” you mumbled, and Mingyu sighed and pulled you closer to him.

“You don’t, but I love you. So let me decide if I can do this?” Mingyu said, and you nodded, smiling softly as Mingyu wiped another tear off your face.

“Now, can I watch Harvey Specter save the day?” Mingyu asked, and you smiled at him as he pressed play.

Mingyu adjusted himself so you were lying on his chest as you watched the episode. Mingyu shifted slightly, making his leg brush against your underwear, making you bite your lip, an action that did not go unnoticed by Mingyu.

“What?” Mingyu asked, and you shook your head.

“Nothing,” you mumbled before fixing your eyes back on the screen.

Mingyu smirked, shifting his leg again, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that fell from your lips.

“You liked that?” Mingyu teased, and you sighed, nodding, making him smirk as you both continued to watch Suits.

However, he adjusted himself, and you were sitting between his legs, his large hands tracing small circles on your thigh.

Mingyu suddenly paused the show and asked you to turn around. You did as he asked, and he pulled you into his lap.

“Kiss me,” Mingyu whispered, his hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You smiled as you touched his lips, groaning immediately when you tasted him for the first time in months. You were kissing him, not just a peck, but a kiss.

You felt him run his tongue along your bottom lip, and he slipped his tongue inside you. You moaned into his mouth and kept kissing him until he slowly pulled away from you.

You were about to apologise in case you went too far, but Mingyu pulled you in for another kiss. You moaned into the kiss as his bulge pressed into your cloth-covered cunt. Mingyu moved quickly and pulled his cock out.

“I need to feel you,” Mingyu muttered against your lips, and you moaned and nodded. Mingyu moved your panties to the side, ran his cock against your folds and pushed into you.

“Fuck,” you choked out, your hands gripping his hair for support.

“You’re so fucking tight. So fucking tight,” Mingyu groaned as he let his cock stretch you open. You moaned as Mingyu guided his cock in and out of you.

He laid back and let you fall on his chest before he picked his pace, thrusting into you relentlessly. The lack of sex between the two of you meant that you both came quickly. You simply continued to kiss him, scared to speak as if it’d ruin the moment.

You rested your head against Mingyu’s chest as you felt him soften inside you, his warmth coating your walls.

“Mingyu?” you asked softly, noticing that your boyfriend’s expression didn’t match yours.

“Did you kiss that guy?” Mingyu asked, and you sighed, climbing off his lap.

“Mingyu, don’t,” you begged, making him scoff at you.

“I did. I’m so sorry,” you apologised, and Mingyu sighed, standing up and pulling his trousers up.

“This was way too quick. I know I initiated it, so I’m not mad at you, but right now, I can’t look at you,” Mingyu admitted, taking a deep breath before delivering the words that made you despise yourself further.

“The entire time I was inside you, all I could think about was the fact that you probably moaned the same way for that other guy. Looking just as fucked out, and that’s not an image I can get over so easily,” Mingyu continued.  

“I’m going to bed,” Mingyu said, not sparing you a glance and heading upstairs.

You decided to stay downstairs the entire night. It would do neither of you any good to be near one another now. You felt terrible. You should have stopped him, but you missed his touch.

You hated how you had become a slave to your instincts.

“Hey. Oh, you’re leaving?” Mingyu asked as he saw you sliding your heels on the following day.

“Yeah. Fancy clients, they call, I answer,” you replied.

“Like that guy in the bar? He snapped, and your face fell.

“Mingyu, I can do this with you after work. You can yell, scream and insult me as much as you need. Just not before work.” Mingyu’s glare intensified.

“Do you think I do it because I enjoy hurting you?” Mingyu asked, and you shook your head at him.

“Mingyu, I need to go,” you said, reaching for the doorknob, and Mingyu scoffed at you.

“Do you have anything you want to say?” Mingyu asked, and you sighed at him.

“I do. But I do not have the time for it now,” you explained, and Mingyu nodded.

“Just think about this as you go to work. Why do you have time for everyone except for me?” Mingyu said before storming upstairs.

“Y/N, well done. The clients are impressed with you, and I think we are getting closer to signing them,” Your boss praised after the meeting.

“Thanks,” you said with no real emotion, and your boss eyed you.

“Okay, what the hell? You should be happy?” your boss asked.

“My personal life is falling apart,” you admitted.

“Well, look. It’s already three. Why don’t you head home? You killed it today so that you can take the afternoon off,” your boss offered, and you thanked him profusely.

“Mingyu, I’m home. Oh,” you called out the second you entered the apartment and froze when you saw some of Mingyu’s members sitting in your living room. You got mixed reactions from all of them.

Seungcheol offered you a weak smile, Wonwoo nodded, Jun blinked a couple of times, and Jihoon looked your way to acknowledge your presence. You were thankful that the older members were discreet.

The same could not be said for the younger members.

“What are you doing here?” Chan asked, earning him a slight nudge from Jun for being disrespectful to someone older than him.

“I live here,” you muttered, and that was all it took for Soonyoung to snap.

“Right, because it’s your house, right?” Soonyoung fired back, knowing well that the building was in Mingyu’s name and not yours.

“I, um,” you stuttered, unsure of how to handle Soonyoung’s words.

“Y/N, why don’t you go to the bedroom? I’ll be done soon?” Mingyu interjected he couldn’t handle another fight with you, and he didn’t fancy seeing Soonyoung rip you to shreds, either. You gave Mingyu a forced smile and headed to his bedroom.

“Hey,” Mingyu said as he sat next to you on the bed.

“They’re uh gone. It’s safe for you to come out,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded.

“Does it bother you?” You asked.

“What bothers me?”

“The wealth gap between us,” you elaborated.

“You’re acting like you’re impoverished,” Mingyu scoffed, and he wasn’t wrong. You could live a very comfortable life without Mingyu’s wealth, but sometimes seeds of insecurity would get planted in your mind, and you’d wonder if you were enough.

“You know, if you dated an idol, she’d make as much money as you,” you said bitterly.

“I don’t say this to be a dick, but no. She wouldn’t. Frankly, what we make is very high. I’m grateful, but unless I’m dating another multimillionaire, then I’d still be earning more in a relationship,” Mingyu explained.

“She’d understand your life,” you offered, and Mingyu frowned.

“She’d understand that there would be lonely nights, weeks and months. She would get it, and she wouldn’t go looking for more when she had enough,” you admitted, feeling ashamed, feeling your voice crack.

“Is that why?” Mingyu asked.

“Why what?”

“Why you cheated,” Mingyu clarified.

“Oh god no, Mingyu, I wish I had a reason why, I don’t. It was dumb, it was stupid, and it’s something I’ll hate myself for doing to you. Nothing I did that night can justify why I did what I did. There’s nothing except a dumb fucking decision,” you rambled, not realising that you were crying until you realised that Mingyu inched closer to you, holding your face in his hands and wiping your tears.

“Don’t hate yourself. I don’t,” Mingyu said quietly.

“Why not?”

“I hate what you did, but to hate you? Fuck, that’s something I don’t think I can do,” Mingyu admitted.

“Soonyoung hyung was way out of line,” Mingyu added, understanding what your spiral was about, and you shook your head and gently moved his hands away from your face.

“No. He wasn’t. He’s protecting you,” you countered, and Mingyu shrugged, not wanting to argue with you.

“It wasn’t just Soonyoung hyung. I was out of line, too. I said some shitty things to you this morning and last night. Having sex with you again, trust me, for the most part, it was good, but the minute you started to moan and get close to cumming. I couldn’t help but think of you doing the same thing for another man,” Mingyu confessed.

“But I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I should have stopped Soonyoung hyung today,” Mingyu mumbled as you stayed quiet.

“Say something, please?” Mingyu asked.

“You had every right to act the way you did, and Soonyoung wasn’t wrong in expressing his anger,” you said calmly, and Mingyu pouted at you.

“Okay, let’s change the topic. Why did you come back early?” Mingyu asked.

“The meeting went well, and I guess my boss saw me miserable, so he let me come back early,” you admitted with a soft smile.

“Lovely, then I’m ordering food, and we can spend the day together,” Mingyu said, clapping his hands, and you traced circles on his hand.

“Gyu?” You said, making him smile.

“Yes?” He asked. You held out your arms to him, and he smiled, pulling you into his lap for a hug. You held on tightly. It was so fragile, and you were so scared to let go. You pulled away slowly, your lips inches away from his.

“Kiss me,” Mingyu whispered, his lips ghosting yours. You smiled and placed your lips on his. The kiss escalated quickly, as it always did. From being in Mingyu’s lap, you were now lying under him as he kept kissing you. His tongue was deepening the kiss. His hand moved up your body until it landed on the button of your trousers.

“Can I?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, and that’s all Mingyu needed.

Mingyu undid the button and pushed his hand down your trousers and past your panties. His fingers found your clit, and he started to rub. You moaned into the kiss. Whimpers and pants were leaving your lips as he rubbed your clit.

When he suddenly stopped, you were so scared that the events of last night would occur again. Instead, Mingyu moved away from the kiss, pulled your trousers and panties off, and laid between your legs.

Mingyu moved to let his mouth wrap around your clit, making you buck into his mouth. You wanted to scream his name but were so scared that you’d break this moment if you spoke. Not just for the sake of an incredible orgasm but because you felt as if things between you two could finally be okay.

A sharp slap to your clit took you out of your thoughts.

“Why aren’t you making any noise? Have I lost my touch?” Mingyu growled, and you shook your head.

“No, it’s just, fuck,” you could barely finish your sentence as Mingyu pushed three fingers into you.

You winced slightly at the stretch, slowly letting out a moan as his lips found your clit again. Mingyu licked and flicked your clit while thrusting his fingers in and out of you.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” you choked out as you grabbed the sheets. You came and felt Mingyu lick you more. His hands held your shaking legs in place as he licked you through your orgasm.

“Good?” Mingyu asked, moving up your body, capturing your lips with his.

“Yes,” you moaned into the kiss as Mingyu smiled into the kiss.

“Can I?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, knowing what he wanted, as he pulled his shirt off and threw his shorts across the room as he lined his thick length against your cunt and pushed in.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groaned as he started to thrust into you.

“Baby, you’re so tight, and it’s been so long. I won’t last,” Mingyu groaned as he played with your clit.

“Cum, Mingyu,” you encouraged as Mingyu started to pound into you harder, making you squeal in pleasure as you came around him. Mingyu groaned as his orgasm followed soon after yours.

Mingyu pulled you in for another kiss before moving his lips away and pulling out of you.

“No, don’t just stay with me,” Mingyu said, pulling you back into his arms.

“Gyu?” He hummed.

“I love you,” you said, and Mingyu sighed, placing a kiss on your forehead. It stung when he didn’t say it back, but you couldn’t take it.

You’d do anything to make it right.

“Do I look okay?” You asked later that week as you stepped out of the bathroom wearing a simple black dress. Mingyu smiled at you.

“They’ll love you no matter what,” Mingyu offered casually, and you froze.

“I mean. Uh,” Mingyu fumbled, and you gave him a small smile at walked over to him.

“I know.” Mingyu sighed, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You look lovely, and you know I’ll always think that, but please don’t go in expecting too much tonight,” Mingyu offered.

“I know,” you said with a sad smile, and Mingyu pouted slightly. He almost hated that he felt terrible for you, especially since you brought this upon yourself.

“Let’s go?” Mingyu asked.

The entire car ride to the dorm was quiet. You were both too nervous.

“Hey, look, they might be vicious. It’s just that they care for me, so they’ll get defensive,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded.

“Yeah. I’ll be brave,” you said, grinning.

Mingyu nodded at your comment. He knew you deserved their anger and resentment, but it didn’t mean that it made it easier for him to hear it. Mingyu hated watching you sink with every insult or backhanded comment that was thrown your way.

Mingyu knocked on the door while you prayed that one of the older members would open the door.

“Y/N, Mingyu, glad you two could make it,” Seungcheol said, smiling at Mingyu and nodding in your direction.

“Come in. There are drinks and appetisers being served now,” Mingyu nodded, guiding you into their dorm.

“Go sit, look Wonwoo hyung won’t bite. I’ll be there in a minute.” You tried to plead with him, but you knew that you had lost any upper hand you may have once had.

“May I sit?” You asked Wonwoo, who simply nodded. You sat down cautiously.

“Can I get you a drink?” Wonwoo asked.

“Careful, hyung. Alcohol is the reason she’s in this predicament,” Soonyoung muttered, and Wonwoo shot him a glare. While Wonwoo was beyond upset with you, he didn’t approve of Soonyoung’s behaviour either.

“Okay, I’m here. What did I miss?” Mingyu asked, sliding next to you.

“Nothing, Gyu,” you mumbled, curling into his side, and Mingyu simply stared at his hyungs, hoping one of them would tell him what transpired.

“Alright, let me get you a drink, gin and tonic, right?” Mingyu asked as he stood up and headed back into the kitchen before you could stop him.

“Alright, here you go,” Mingyu returned, thankfully, quickly as he handed you your drink.

“Oh, Mingyu, are you excited about your project? You’ll be co-writing with Yuri for her solo?” Jun asked in an attempt to ease the tension in the room.

“Actually, yeah. She texted me about the song. I think it’ll be really cool. I’m meeting her at her studio next week,” Mingyu responded, and you loved seeing how lively he looked when he spoke about his work.

“What’s the song about?” You asked, and you saw Mingyu freeze for a second.

“Heartbreak and betrayal,” Mingyu mumbled, and you simply took another sip of your drink.

“I mean, we should really thank you, Y/N. You gave Mingyu such amazing inspiration,” Soonyoung remarked sarcastically, and you cringed.

“Y/N, I left my planner in my room last week. Do you think you could get it?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded quickly, running away from the living room and upstairs to Mingyu’s bedroom, trying your hardest not to break down on your way.

You knew there was no planner, but you were grateful to Mingyu for giving you a reason to leave.

Back in the living room, Mingyu was trying his hardest to reason with Soonyoung.

“Hyung, I’m trying to fix things with her, but it won't work if you keep saying things like that. She’s sorry,” Mingyu pleaded, and Soonyoung scoffed.

“Cheaters don’t change, and to her credit, I can see she’s sorry, but you don’t deserve that, and I don’t know why you’re putting up with it. You could have anyone else, and you're choosing the one who broke your heart.”

“Hey.”

You heard a voice call, turned around to see Chan, and quickly wiped your face.

“Shit, you’re crying,” Chan muttered, closing the door behind him.

“No, uh, just allergies.” Chan laughed.

“Yeah, right,” Chan scoffed, and you sighed.

“Why are you here?” You asked, and Chan shrugged.

“Well, hyung sent me, and Soonyoung hyung is having a talk with Mingyu hyung. So you’ve got me,” Chan explained.  

“Can I ask you something?”

“Why? I mean, did he ever upset you or ignore you? Is there something we don’t know?” Chan asked.

“I was lonely. It’s not an excuse at all. We were fighting so much. I just wanted something to numb the pain.” Chan nodded.

“Alcohol would have been a better solution, literally. It’s a solution,” Chan joked as you let out a tearful chuckle.

“Yay, you smiled,” Chan cheered.

“Don’t you hate me?” You asked, and Chan shook his head.

“No. I’ll always be upset, but hyung isn’t a baby. He doesn’t need me to coddle him or fight for him. I’m not mean, but sometimes I can lash out, and even I can say that Soonyoung hyung took it too far. You’ve always made hyung happy, and if being with you makes him happy and he forgives you, then I think we should all make peace with it.” Chan offered.

“Chan, I need to talk to her,” a voice interrupted as you saw Mingyu enter the room.

“Sure,” Chan said, waving at you as he left the room.

“He forgave you?” Mingyu asked.

“No, but he said if I make you happy, then he’ll make his peace with it,” you explained.

“Fuck, well, this doesn’t make what I’m about to do next any easier,” Mingyu mumbled, and you knew. It was over. He tried and couldn’t, and you didn’t blame him.

“I’ll pack my things by the end of the day tomorrow,”  you said as you tried to get up, and Mingyu held your wrist gently.

“No, you keep that apartment. I want to have a fresh start. Most of my things are here anyway,” Mingyu countered.

“I can’t forgive you,” Mingyu admitted, and you simply nodded, eyes trained on the carpeted floor.

“Mingyu?” You whispered his name, and he looked at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologised.

“I can drive you back,” Mingyu offered, and you shook your head.

“No, I’ll take a cab,” you mumbled. Mingyu nodded and turned around.

“Then leave. I can’t pretend anymore,” Mingyu breathed out, and you could hear how shaky his voice was.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, squeezing it and left.

“Thank you for everything,” you said tearfully as you practically ran out of his bedroom and out of the dorms.

“Y/N!” Soonyoung ran after you, his hand on your wrist. The rest of the boys were confused for two reasons, one being that you left without Mingyu and the second that Soonyoung was the one that ran after you.

You were standing outside the dorm as Soonyoung held you in place.

“What the hell happened? Where are you going?” He asked.

“Home. Mingyu broke up with me, so I’m going home,” you admitted, and Soonyoung frowned.

“Did my comments do this?” Soonyoung asked, and you shook your head.

“No, we were bound to end. I should go,” you said sadly. Soonyoung sighed.

“I’m sorry it turned out this way,” Soonyoung apologised.

“Goodbye,” you said to Soonyoung.

That night when you got home, you couldn’t cry. You just felt numb. You felt nothing. You felt dead inside.

For the next week, you called off work, thankfully your clients had gone on a holiday and wouldn’t be back for two weeks. You took a week off. It wasn’t a lot, but it would be enough for you to start over.

You did every cliché there was. You went for a facial, went for a spa day. You drank and watched crappy movies with ice cream. Drank until you fell asleep. Every night you went to bed alone and hoped for a text from him.

You just needed to know that he was okay. You knew he felt every emotion deeply, and you didn’t want your stupidity to hurt him anymore.

One night after downing half a bottle of wine, you found it in you to dial his number. You sighed in relief when you realised he hadn’t blocked you.

“Y/N, it’s three in the morning?” Mingyu groaned, and that’s when you broke all the tears that never fell.

They all fell the minute you heard his voice.

“Y/N?” Mingyu said, more awake and concerned about your heavy breathing.

“Are you okay?” You mumbled, your voice breaking with every word.

“Y/N, fuck. Are you at home? Are you okay?” You sighed.

“Yeah. I just, I’m sorry, Mingyu.” Mingyu sighed before hanging up.

“Jesus, fuck,” you yelped when you saw Mingyu sitting in your kitchen the following day. You looked around the house.

“You cleaned up?” You asked, and Mingyu nodded.

“Most people change the locks when their ex moves out,” Mingyu joked, and you frowned.

“The house is under your name,” you said, giving a lame excuse, and Mingyu sighed.

“Am I okay? You called me yesterday to ask me that?” Mingyu asked, and you groaned. “Do you even care? You walked away,” Mingyu continued, raising his voice at you, and you just stared at him.

“You broke up with me,” you said, confused, and Mingyu nodded.

“I fought for us when you cheated, and you didn’t even fucking try,” Mingyu cried out.

“Gyu,” you started to say. Mingyu glared at you.

“Don’t Gyu me, I’m not yours,” Mingyu snapped, and you nodded.

“I saw the way you tried so hard to love me again. It broke you, and I want you to be happy, so I didn’t fight because you deserve better,” you yelled back, and Mingyu scoffed.

“You remember how I told you I’d be working on a song with Yuri?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded slowly, unsure why he randomly brought it up.

“We were in the studio, I think this was two nights after we broke up, and I think right before we wrapped up our session, she kissed me,” Mingyu explained.

“Oh.”

“I kissed her back,” Mingyu clarified.

“Okay.”

“But I couldn’t do it. Her lips, the kiss it all felt foreign to me. It wasn’t what I’m used to, and more importantly. It’s not what I want,” Mingyu added.

“She kissed you?” You repeated, feeling tears threaten to spill over.

“While you’re entitled to your feelings. I really hope you realise that getting mad at me for this will be beyond hypocritical,” Mingyu stated.

“I’m not. Just wow, she fits into your world. Better than I ever could,” you said weakly, and Mingyu scoffed as he stood up, moving closer to you,

“No. You can feel shitty for cheating on me, but I will not ever let you think you don’t belong in this world,” Mingyu said, and you pouted.

“I hurt you,” you choked out, your voice breaking.

“Yeah, and it fucking sucked. It still does, but one week. One week was enough to make me realise I don’t want to be without you. So we’re going to get through this,” Mingyu declared, determined, and you started to sob, and Mingyu took you into his arms, holding you tight.

“We’re going to hit reset. We will go on a first date again, and I will learn to trust you again. Clean slate,” Mingyu said, holding you close.

You nodded. Chances like these rarely come by, so you weren’t going to waste them.

“Oh and also, no more apologising. I’m not trying to rewrite history, but if you keep apologising, I won’t ever get past it. So let’s just start over, okay?” Mingyu explained, and you nodded tearfully.

“Reset?” You asked.

“Reset.”

“We’ll do this the right way,” Mingyu said, and you shook your head.

“No. I will. I’ll love you the way I should have,” you said, making him grin at you as you hugged him tightly, not wanting to let go.

You’d be damned if you lost him again.