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ladadiida · 7 months

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𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth.

or,

you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, heavy (kind of) angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 HERE IT IS! the response to the sneak peek was crazy, and so i rushed to get this done. i only watched the live action so beware of minor mistakes if you ever saw one. english is also not my first language and you are welcome to correct me anytime for any grammatical errors. title is a lyric from the last time by taylor swift ft. gary lightbody. this fic is also posted in ao3 with its full summary and WITH A BONUS CHAPTER. enjoy reading!

𝐰𝐜 11.3k

"There you are."

Your soapy, wet hands almost dropped the ceramic plate you were currently washing in the dirty kitchen sink as soon as you heard a familiar smooth and honeyed voice. Abruptly turning off the sink so that the sound of his approaching footsteps were clear to your ears, you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand before turning your body towards him.

He was carrying a stack of plates, a fresh batch to add to the pile you had to wash, with an obnoxious yet handsome smile plastered on his lips. You took a deep breath to calm the growing irritation at the bottom of your stomach, reminding yourself that this was your job and you only had a couple of hours to endure until you're free to lock yourself up in your bedroom. You were particularly looking forward to writing today, and the thought of finishing the lyrics to your new song tonight slightly eased your mood. Accepting your fate, you pointed to the remaining space beside the sink.

"Place it there." You told him, albeit begrudgingly as you turn on the sink again and pour more soap on the battered sponge.

You took a mental note to ask Zeff later about buying new sponges, and if you were lucky to catch him in a good mood, you'll put in a request to get the sink fixed and cleaned. Your eyes scanned over the grime and rust around the area. If you were going to spend the rest of your life washing dishes, then you might as well get a proper kitchen sink to do so.

An amused laugh fell out of the golden haired man you grew up with, surprised at your compliance to do the job you hated. The sound nearly sent your poor heart into a dizzying whirlwind of little nuisances called emotions. "What a hardworking woman."

"I could say the same to you. It seems like you have a new record today." You said while you splashed dirtied bowls with soap water, smiling at him teasingly, "Thought you would've been kicked out of the line by now."

"The old man just can't help but to accept the fact that I am a greater cook than him." He smirked, wiping a knife with a dish cloth. Trying not to roll your eyes, you shook your head at his usual display of arrogance, yet you can't help but to grin as you began to hear scratching sounds against the floors.

"Then you better get those chopped carrots ready." You replied, and when you got to finish your sentence, the doors to the kitchen swung open, revealing the head chef.

Zeff's cold and steely eyes immediately landed on the blond. He walked towards him with a fast pace despite only having one leg, his braided mustache bouncing in each step.

"Aye, aye, aye. Why haven't you started on the carrots yet, little eggplant? Can you get any slower?" He scolded, loud enough for the whole staff to hear, but none of them even flinched. You returned back to your plates and glasses, smiling softly. This was part of your routine everyday: to listen in their silly arguments.

However, before the younger chef can reply, you butted in, "Sanji fetched some of the plates for me. Since there's a lunch rush, I couldn't leave the kitchen."

Zeff let out a low hum. You couldn't even see Sanji's face, but you knew him well enough to know that he was smiling triumphantly, knowing that he won this time. After a few minutes of contemplating, the head chef clicked his tongue. "Don't defend him, little lass. But I'll let it slip this time. What are you waiting for, then? Start cutting them!"

"Yes, chef." Sanji answered in a jovial manner, placing the carrots on a chopping board.

Twisting the faucet lever so that the water flow from the sink is gentle and quiet, you then paid attention to their little banters every now and then. You brought up a wine glass and positioned it by your side to try to get a glimpse of the two most important men in your life. Through their reflection on the glass, you can see Zeff hunching over Sanji's knifework, nodding every time the vegetables were correctly sliced.

On the other hand, Sanji was unbothered by the head chef's observations and continued to cut the ingredients calmly. Some of the strands in his hair fell down on one side of his face, covering an eye, and most people would think that it was an unusual way of styling hair; yet it was one thing out of many that you loved the most about him.

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite desert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

Today was the day, and you won't allow anyone to ruin it for you.

You had saved enough Berries to travel around the world and sustain yourself for the upcoming months. Your notebook containing the lyrics of the songs you wrote laid open on top of your bed as you spent all night revising them while planning out an itinerary. Then you'll find a place to settle in, a stable job that required doing what you loved the most, and overall just be peaceful and free from pirates and chefs and pirate chefs. It was perfect.

Folded clothes surrounded you everywhere, ready to be packed in your bags. Once you finished stuffing them all in, you grabbed your treasured instrument, the one thing you couldn't live without: your guitar, which has been with you since you were a little child. It was given by your mother and you've been attached to it ever since.

It has scratches all over its wooden surface, and the strings needed some fixing occassionally, but you wouldn't trade it for the greatest treasures in the world. You ran your fingers over it, suddenly feeling like it was lacking something. Seeing the paint chipping off at the corners, you figured that it needed a little color. You'll need lacquer, and paint if you managed to find some.

You set the guitar aside and left your bedroom to head downstairs to the kitchen. As you were about to push the doors open, a loud, angry shout made you stop in your tracks.

"I won't ever become a pathetic waiter for you!" Sanji's thunderous yells can be heard from outside. Your shoulders tensed up. It was a good thing that brunch was over and all the customers had left.

Zeff's own furious voice followed, "Leave then, for all I care! You can do anything you want, but don't you ever serve one of your shit dishes in my kitchen!"

A frown settled on your face. Their fights were a normal occurrence to you, but this one sounded more grave than usual. Crossing your arms, you stepped in closer to the entrance and hesitated whether you should go in or not. Before you could make a decision, Zeff beat you to it by pushing the doors open, rage emanating from his figure as he ignored and walked past you.

Without hesitation this time, you entered the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Sanji bowing over the counter, breathing heavily, his face covered with his hair. He didn't move an inch even as you approached him, the clacking of the heels in your boots echoing throughout the room.

Both of you were silent as you rummaged through cabinets, trying to find lacquer to cover your guitar with, while he tried his best to calm himself down after his outburst. Many cupboards later, you finally found a small can of used up lacquer, but as you started to reach for it, your hand completely stopped mid-air.

You looked over your shoulder, and found Sanji already recovered from the argument seeing that he was on the move again, preparing a cut of beef tenderloin and other ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner.

Slowly, you closed the cupboard and went closer to him. He still refused to look at you. And so you watched him place a bag of flour on the countertop, slices of cold butter, and a variety of spice bottles to season the meat with.

Sanji began to wrap twine around the beef tenderloin. You sighed, and before you could stop yourself, you grabbed a bowl and decided to help him. Your guitar can wait.

It was rare for you to cook inside the kitchen, having so little knowledge about food and how they were prepared, but you knew this recipe well. You poured two cups of flour through the sifter, followed by placing heaps of the cold butter in the mixture.

The moment you started to mix the dough for the puff pastry, Sanji quickly pointed out in a monotone voice, "You're adding too much butter."

You raised your head and glanced at him, his attention now on the meat he was searing on a skillet. You smiled, glad that he was speaking again.

"You're beginning to sound like the old man himself." You joked lightly.

His jaw clenched. "Don't compare me to that shitty geezer."

In a softer voice, you asked, "What happened?"

"The usual." He replied curtly. "Didn't approve of my dishes."

You perked up upon hearing about a dish he made himself. Sanji was talented when it comes to creating his own recipes, and sometimes, you would be the person he chooses to test them out. Every time he lets you taste them, your chest would feel warm and you wouldn't be able to sleep for days because you'll keep replaying it in your head. "What did you make this time?"

"It doesn't matter. He'll never agree to any of them."

"Maybe I can—"

"Drop it. Don't poke your nose in things you're not involved." Sanji cut you off, his hardened gaze meeting your concerned stare. You only blinked at him, straightening up.

"I see." You muttered, eyes landing on the bag of flour. You looked at him, then at the flour, then back at him. A smile began to form on your lips as a devious plan formulated itself in your brain. Sticking your hand inside the bag of flour, you took a fistful of the pillowy powder and threw it straight into his face.

Sanji jumped back, flinching and closing his eyes when some of the flour's particles managed to enter them. His jaw dropped open in surprise, hands quickly removing themselves from the skillet's handle to dust off the flour that rested on his now white hair. You tried to stifle a laugh as you watched him struggle getting the flour out.

Once he managed to clean himself, he stared straight at you and said in the calmest way possible, even if you knew deep inside that he was fuming, "What was that for?"

A high-pitched snort left your mouth. You covered it to prevent yourself from laughing.

You cleared your throat and smiled at him innocently. "Am I involved now?"

His piercing blue eyes then started to sparkle with mirth, amusement replacing the vexation previously swimming in them. He also looked to be trying to push down a smile, and that made your heart skip a beat. "You're insufferable."

He reached for the bag of flour. You squeaked and took off running, trying to escape from his attack, but he still managed to throw a small amount on you. Giggling, you ran the opposite direction to confuse him, and yet he caught up with you, throwing another round of flour. This time, it hit your cheeks, making you laugh loudly. He laughed along, pointing a finger at you because you probably looked crazy at the moment.

You tried to take the bag of flour away from him, but he just took it an as opportunity to catch your arm and grip it firmly. He pulled you into his chest, caging you completely.

With your cheeks warm and your breaths short, you tilted your head up and looked at him, noticing the way that you were both covered in flour; and not only that, you also noticed the short distance between your bodies and how your noses were almost touching. His pupils were dilated, black dominating the alluring blue shade that kept haunting your dreams. You drank in the attention he was giving you, the breathing coming out from his soft lips, and the comfortable silence that wrapped around the both of you like a safe little bubble.

"Caught you." Sanji muttered, voice deeper and huskier, making you let out a quiet sigh. His arms snaked around your waist as he leaned in closer. A million questions started to run inside your head, begging to know what this situation was and how you got into it. "Nowhere to run now, darling."

A slamming of doors shattered the secret moment you shared, and you immediately pulled away from each other. You pushed down your disappointment and hid it in the secret crevice in your heart as the two of you faced your intruder.

Zeff observed your flour-laden figures, his thick eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. He then demanded, voice seething and dripping with anger, "What in the hell are you two little brats doing?"

Sanji blurted out in defense, "Zeff, we—she was the one who started it!"

"And you went along with it!" You accused incredulously, grinning from ear-to-ear. Sanji grinned back, shaking his head and biting his lower lip.

"Oh, shut up before I stitch your mouths! Just by looking at you two, I already know that you snot-nosed shits are both at fault!" Zeff shouted, clicking his tongue at the sight of the half emptied flour. "Wasted them good flour for your childish fights. You're even worse than fatwits. Get out and clean the toilets!"

"Not the shitty toilets!" Sanji groaned, and you couldn't blame him for it. The bathroom area smelled revolting and the floors were always wet for some reason.

"I don't wanna hear complaints from you when you've dirtied my kitchen! Off you go!" Zeff dismissed, and you can't help but to laugh again when you saw Sanji pout like a little kid.

The head chef watched the two of you leave the kitchen together while giggling and exchanging fond looks. Patty, who also saw the whole situation unfold, suddenly appeared beside him, snickering, "I can already hear the wedding bells ringing."

Zeff took a deep, tired breath.

"Oh, they're ringing alright."

You cleaned and scrubbed the toilets the entire afternoon with the man you're in love with, flushing your plans down the drain and forgetting all about them, and that was the second time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

You didn't know how you ended up in a ship full of pirates.

Well, maybe you knew. A little. But it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Your knuckles were beginning to turn white with how tight you were clenching them. A mix of emotions swirled around in your chest, namely confusion, impatience, and hesitation, pondering about whether you should be irritated at yourself or at Sanji.

The opportunity was there, handed to you like a steak on a golden platter, or a miracle that suddenly fell from the sky. The day you met Luffy and his strange pirate crew was the day you immediately realized that he was the key to your exit from the Baratie. He was friendly; a good pirate, according to his own words, so you figured he would allow you to tag along for a while until you find an island to get off to. You just had to ask for his permission and wait for his reply.

Luffy agreed. And you were ecstatic. You were finally going to leave Sanji Vinsmoke and your pathetic, unrequited feelings behind.

Or so you thought.

You watched in horror as he followed you when you boarded the Going Merry, also carrying a bag of his own. He said something along the lines of Luffy needing a cook for the journey to the Grand Line but you couldn't care less. You got here first. Why was he here?

So here you were, sitting in a corner, lonelier than ever and regretting your life decisions. You watched Luffy and his friends celebrate after defeating the pirate Arlong and saving Coco Village from his inhuman hold over its people, but Sanji and the beautiful orange haired Nami were nowhere in sight.

The thought of them being gone together at the same time left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.

Nami. The first time you laid eyes on her, ethereal was the word that came up to your mind. With soft deep saffron locks that framed her small face and a wide blue eyed gaze, she would have the cruelest of men begging for mercy and affection at her feet.

Unfortunately, Sanji was one of those men.

Fuck, you cursed mentally, rubbing your face with your hands to try and forget about the times he flirted with her and the moments he wouldn't stop talking about her or kept asking about her favorite food or dessert or if she's into blonds. Your already battered heart doesn't need the usual reminder that he'll never see you that way, that you weren't going to experience his sweet words and his loving gazes.

You took a sharp breath. It's okay, you tell yourself over and over again until they were buried in your heart. They'll make a great pair, Sanji the cook and Nami the thief. A strong man with an equally strong woman. Yes. That makes sense.

You'll leave soon anyway, and you'll no longer have to worry about seeing them or how they were going to end up together.

And yet you can't help but to think about the things that could've been if you were the one he was in love with instead.

You were crossing your arms and hugging yourself as the crisp afternoon air was getting chilly when a hand gripping a shot glass filled with amber liquid appeared in front of you. Looking up, you saw Luffy smiling widely at you, waving the glass encouragingly.

"Come on, just one drink! Usopp poured this for you!" The captain exclaimed heartily, obviously trying to uplift your spirits and to make you feel welcomed in his crew, even though you did nothing but to guard the Going Merry while they were fighting for their lives.

You shook your head and smiled politely. "No, I don't drink. Sorry."

Luffy's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. He nodded, setting the glass down on top of a barrel. "Well, okay." He said, then turned to Usopp, who was currently downing a whole bottle of whiskey. "Hey, where's Nami?"

"Oh, she's with the cook," Usopp replied cheekily, wiping his mouth after drinking. There was a teasing tone in his voice as he continued, "Someone's getting a boyfriend tonight!"

With that said, you reached for the shot glass that Luffy was offering you earlier, grabbed it swiftly, and poured the whole thing down your throat. The whiskey tasted unfamiliar, and it burned and made you dizzy at first taste, but it doesn't matter; as long as it can make you forget just for a little while, you were willing to drink more of the horrible beverage.

Zoro, the green haired swordsman and the captain's first mate, stared at you as if you had lost your mind, but a tinge of concern was visibly written on his face. "Woah, slow down." He warned sternly.

"I thought you didn't drink." Was all Luffy said, blinking in confusion. You chuckled tiredly.

"Now I do."

Drink after drink, glass after glass. You lost count on how many times Usopp poured whiskey for you, or how many times Zoro shook his head in disbelief. Luffy was the same old happy-go-lucky captain throughout the disaster that was starting to brew inside you, turning your brain into mush. You can barely lift your head or your fingers as you asked for another shot in an incoherent voice. Luckily, Usopp was still able to understand you, tipping the whiskey bottle yet again towards your glass.

You started to raise the glass to your lips, eager to just get severely drunk and be over with it already. However, you suddenly felt strong fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from drinking; and when you caught sight of a familiar silver ring with Baratie's jolly roger inlaid upon it, you didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Sanji's voice was unnervingly calm as he questioned the crew, but the slight shake in his words lets you know otherwise. "Which one of you allowed her to drink?"

"No one. She took the glass and made the decision herself." Zoro drawled, challenging the chef, "The last time I checked, waiter, you were supposed to be the one responsible for her."

Sanji ignored him and turned his attention to you. He stole the shot glass away from you, then kneeled and held your hands comfortingly, smiling. "Come on, ange. It's time for you to rest now." He said quietly, yet loud enough for only you to hear.

You stubbornly shook your head repeatedly and whined loudly. "No! Don't touch me!" You cried, prying your hands away from his, "I don't like you...!"

Zoro huffed in amusement at your declaration. Sanji glared at him for a short second before looking at you again. This time, he stood and gently placed his arms under your shoulders to raise you up. Once you were standing on your feet, he swept you up and carried you bridal style with ease. Another whine escaped your lips.

"Put me down! I want another drink, please, just one more!" You pleaded while throwing weak punches on his chest. Sanji only smiled and began to lead you towards the sleeping quarters. You continued to thrash in his arms as he walked slowly and in small steps so he wouldn't drop you.

Sanji carefully set you down on your hammock. "No drinks for you until you actually learn how to take them." He told you, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek and rubbed it in circles, noting how fast you were heating up due to the alcohol. You pouted.

"Pretty please, Sanji...please..."

He chuckled, staring at you intensely. "Maybe some other time, ange."

You went quiet, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. Then, you crossed your arms like a child and asked, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

Sanji raised a brow. "Call you what? Ange?"

You nodded. "I don't like it."

He began to smile, the dimples on his cheeks appearing. You briefly wondered if he'd allow you to poke and feel them. "Why?"

"I don't know what it means. Is it an insult?" You wondered aloud, your eyes widening in curiosity.

A hearty and warm laugh came out from Sanji, his eyes forming half-moons as he cackled at your words like they were the biggest joke he heard in his entire life, "Oh, my dear girl, how could I possibly insult you?" He managed to speak between laughs, "It means angel. You're an angel, to me at least. My angel."

Oh.

Your lips parted in surprise. Blinking, you simply said, "You're not Sanji."

He's not Sanji. He wouldn't call you angel; you're not even sure if he found you beautiful or attractive. You wear the same old tattered dresses that Zeff bought for you a long time ago, and you didn't even bother to style your hair or put on face powder like all the other beautiful ladies do. You look nowhere near to an angel.

But Sanji only grinned. "I assure you, I am very much Sanji. The little brat who pulled your hair when we were barely eleven years old."

Your breath hitched at the thought of him remembering one of your fond memories in your childhood. "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered." He whispered, cupping your cheek one last time before he got ready to leave. He turned on his heel and was about to walk away when you spoke.

"Are you going to see her again?" You asked, and he quickly noticed how broken your voice sounded. Sanji faced you in concern and was taken aback with how deep you were frowning. He figured that you were just drunk and women tend to be different when they were intoxicated. You were no exception to that, it seemed.

"Hm?" He hummed, prompting you to elaborate further.

Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. You shakily mumbled, "Nami...you're going to Nami, aren't you?"

Sanji froze, an icy cold rush filling up his body. A knot formed in his throat, and it continued to tighten the longer he stared at your face. You looked so hurt—like he just destroyed your beloved guitar into pieces. Your lower lips were trembling, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, he couldn't find the courage to answer you, feeling like he could die at any second now if he answers your question.

But the answer was simple.

"Yes." He breathed out, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart.

And it only became worse when a teardrop finally rolled down your cheek. "Why?" You rasped, and Sanji didn't know that a single word can hurt this much.

He tried to give you a reassuring smile but awfully failed to do so. He started to explain, "We were just discussing something—"

"Why not me?"

Those three words coming out of your mouth felt like a final blow to his heart. He can feel himself bleed, drained of life and soul because of you and your words alone, and he let you. He let you kill him, he let you make him swim in his own guilt and he doesn't why, why, why.

More tears fell out of your angelic eyes, staining your cheeks with wet trails, and he tried to hold himself back from wiping them off. You choked out, "Why not me, Sanji? I have been asking myself that question for the past decade, and it eats my brain every night like some kind of plague, but I let it anyway. Because why? Why can't you just recognize me and appreciate me and see me? Why can't you go to me if you want to talk about your dreams, or what dish you're planning to create? Why do you have to seek solace in other women when you have me standing by your side everyday, me who is willing to listen to you and whatever you have to say?"

Angry, red rimmed eyes glared at him. Your hair strands stuck to your skin and framed your face as sweat began to form on your forehead. Teardrops clung to your wet eyelashes and your face was drenched like you just took a swim in the ocean. You were burning with fury and rage and want, struggling to breathe properly after your little rant, and Sanji thought you couldn't be more beautiful. You were so beautiful.

"Oh but I couldn't blame you for that. She's just so beautiful, so perfect, and so strong. She could give you anything you wanted and she could be anything that I never was." You hiccuped, smiling forcibly, "But in the end...I will still love you. I will always love you. I think."

You scooted closer to him, leaning in until your faces only had a few inches apart between them. You didn't notice how his lips were slightly parted in shock, nor his eyes that were starting to glisten with his own tears. "No matter where I flee to, or where I lay my heart on, or which skies I look at—it's always you, Sanji. It's always been you."

"I had been so selfless all these years, Sanji. So please, can you pretend to like me too, just for today, before I leave?" You whispered meekly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. Numb and completely speechless, Sanji simply gave you a single nod as a response.

You gingerly pressed your lips against his, and he immediately tasted the saltiness of your tears. But your lips were soft, as he expected from an angel like you. And so he couldn't help himself; he closed his eyes and delicately kissed you back, repeating your name in his mind like a sacred prayer and wishing to the stars above to not let the moment end.

However, you broke the kiss by losing consciousness and falling down on your hammock, knocked out and peacefully snoring.

Sanji spaced out, not moving from his position. No. It's not that he didn't want to move—he couldn't move. He couldn't feel anything except for the drumming of his heart, knocking on his chest desperately. His lips were still tingling and his ears and neck were warming up.

He gulped, loosening the collar of his shirt to cool himself down. He needed a cigarette. And a drink.

Scrambling to get up even with his trembling legs, Sanji managed to stand properly. He avoided your sleeping figure and decided to get out of the room as soon as possible. However, when he took a step forward, his foot touched a notebook lying on the floor.

Sanji bent down and took the notebook. He flipped it open, and after reading only the first page, he finally came into a conclusion.

Heartbroken, drunk, and unaware, you dozed off the rest of the afternoon. When nightfall settled on the azure horizon and dusk fell on the rough surface of the sea, you missed the chance to walk away from the crew yet again; and that was the third time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

The next morning, you woke up feeling much better with only the memory of you drinking and crying yourself to sleep and nothing else. Everything was normal, and the crew began to make plans for their next adventure during breakfast.

Everything was normal, except for Sanji, who was quiet throughout the whole discussion. And of course, just like always, you were the only one who noticed his strange behavior. You tried to catch his eyes, but he looked at everywhere except you.

When he finally met your gaze, you gave him a soft smile, hoping he would smile back and everything was fine and you were just overthinking it.

He doesn't.

⸻ • ⸻

"Are you really going to leave?"

Taking your gaze away from the heart shaped cloud you spotted on the clear blue sky, you faced the person who asked the question you were dreading for some time now. Luffy was staring curiously at you, awaiting your answer. You can't help but to smile softly at the captain, whose kindness you have yet to repay.

"I believe we already talked about this, captain." You said, recalling your short conversation last night. He kept asking you if you were really sure about your decision while his eyes darted to a certain blond haired chef every time he shoots you the question. It was strange, and you felt even more suspicious when Sanji pretended not to hear your answer and even refused to glance your way.

Luffy put his hands on his hips. "You know, you're welcome to stay and be a part of my crew."

You crossed your arms, smile growing wide. "And what, pray tell, is my role? Sing battle songs and chant your names while you swing your gummy arms at pirates?" You joked playfully.

The young captain stroked his chin in deep thought, almost like he was considering your suggestion. "That's not a bad idea."

You bursted out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief, "I'll leave first thing in the morning. I told Nami to dock at a nearby island."

"What about Sanji?" He suddenly questioned, leaving you flabbergasted for a split second. You weren't prepared to hear Sanji's name after days of not talking to him properly.

Him not speaking with you wasn't a strange occurence at all; back when you were still in the Baratie, there would be days when Sanji wouldn't bother to acknowledge your presence and would completely ignore you. This would happen whenever he was extremely busy with his cooking or he had a disagreement with Zeff.

And it seemed like this was one of those days, seeing that he had been ignoring you for about a week now. Yes, you have been keeping count. Although he doesn't appear to be angry with you, the short-lived exchanges and the abrupt cut-offs before you could say anything deeply concerned you more than it should have.

You tried to rack your brains for reasons on why he was acting like this. Maybe Nami had rejected him for the hundredth time, or Zoro kept throwing insults in his direction—or maybe his cigarette packet had ran out. Maybe his kitchen knives weren't sharp anymore and he was struggling in the kitchen.

Should you ask him? Should you go to him and demand him to tell you what's wrong?

You pressed your lips together. It sounded like the worst idea you've thought of so far. You convinced yourself that Sanji was fine and he'd be back to normal in no time; there would no need to talk to him.

"What about him?" You faltered, chuckling to ease the tension in your body.

"You care for each other." Luffy explained bluntly and matter-of-factly, "What does he think about you leaving?"

A shaky sigh made its way out of your lips. How will you tell the captain that his cook has been avoiding you like you were some kind of rotten fish these days?

"I..." You stammered, gathering the courage to lie to Luffy even if you thought it would be the gravest sin you could commit, "He...agrees. Yeah. No need to worry."

Luffy grinned, but it didn't look normal at all. You winced in embarrassment. He knew that you were lying and was totally unconvinced.

Luckily, he didn't voice it out. He only nodded and said, "Great! Oh, I have an idea! Why don't you sing for us before we part ways? Think of it as a farewell party for the crew."

Hearing the pure and genuine excitement dripping from his voice, you couldn't turn him down. It was a good idea too, and now that you thought about it, you haven't performed for them yet. "Sure." You agreed, shrugging.

He raised his fist up in the air and cheered. You smiled, watching as he shouted for his crewmates' names to come down and listen to you sing. You prepared yourself for an impromptu performance, making sure that your guitar was properly tuned and your voice was clear enough to give you the best version of your singing. Sitting on top of a barrel, you faced your audience of four, all their eager eyes watching your every move.

As you struck the first chord to your song, you tried hard not to think that Sanji wasn't there to watch you sing the song you secretly dedicate to him.

In the kitchen, Sanji busied himself by plating the food that he'll serve to his fellow crew mates for dinner. He grabbed a large plate and placed the chicken drumsticks that his captain favored, but Luffy wasn't the one in his mind when he cooked those. Looking at the food, he wondered if you would love them too.

He shook his thoughts off and took the plate with him outside. Approaching the crew, his steps slowed down when he heard a familiar singing voice and a melodic tune of a guitar.

Sanji almost dropped the plate.

It was you. Of course it was you, you were the only one he knew who had a voice like that. It was you, and you were singing with a lovely smile painted on your sweet lips, the very same lips that touched his a few days ago, resulting in him not getting a wink of sleep every night. The beam of the sunset right behind you colored your hair in the different shades of the sky as the dulcet-filled notes you made echoed throughout the vast sea. For a moment, he was worried that you were going to attract ferocious sea beasts with your angelic voice and steal you away from him.

He could hear his blood pound in his ears the longer he observed you from afar. You looked happy. Happier than you were when you stayed with him and Zeff. His chest tightened, knowing that you leaving and go on adventures on your own was probably the best decision you could make, even if that means leaving him too.

You were finishing up your song by the time you saw Sanji standing behind Usopp, silently listening. He met your gaze, and for the first time ever, you couldn't read his mind. His expression was blank as you stared at each other, and as you opened your mouth to say something, he cut you off.

"Dinner's ready." Sanji announced shortly, setting down the plate in front of Luffy and then walked away without saying another word.

That was your final straw. You immediately put down your guitar and followed him into the kitchen. You didn't care about how you felt Nami's watchful eyes on you as you went after him, nor how Luffy was scarfing down the dinner and was definitely going to finish it all before you could take a bite; you just chased the blond with determination oozing out of you.

You roughly pushed the door open and found Sanji washing the pans he used for cooking. He glanced at you briefly then quickly looked away after. This irritated you even more as you demanded, "Is there something bothering you?"

"You should eat before the food gets cold." He said with an empty voice.

"Sanji!"

He stiffened. You rarely raised your voice at anyone. Sighing in defeat, he dried off his hands and fully faced you.

Your eyes were sharper than his knives, cutting straight into his soul. "I've known you for a long time now, do you think I don't notice whenever you have a problem?" You glowered, taking a step closer to him, "You have a problem. What is it?"

It happened fast. His hand landed on the small of your back and pulled you to his chest, and the other was placed on top of your cheek, and in a single motion, Sanji captured your lips with his. You gasped in the kiss, your heart dropping to the soles of your feet when he tilted his face to deepen it. Your fingers tightly grasped the sleeves of his shirt for support as he passionately moved his lips against yours. A pleasant heat ran down your spine, your whole body tingling and warming up. You were simply drowning. There was no other way to describe it, and it was only caused by his fervent kisses.

Sanji pulled away, resting your forehead on top of yours, and you took it as an opportunity to breathe in air that you lost. "You are the problem." He murmured lowly, eyes darting down to your swollen lips. Confused and lightheaded, you didn't get the chance to retort.

"Ever since that night, ange, you occupy my thoughts. You gave me a taste of your lips and you didn't even remember the next day. Do you know how that feels, hm?" He said, pecking your lips once again. You made a noise in the back of your throat, turning your head sideways so he couldn't kiss you anymore, but he took your chin and hungrily connected both of your lips.

He spoke between kisses, "You torture me. Ever since I read those songs you wrote about me in that little notebook of yours, you torture me with your presence."

That was when you snapped out of your daze. With all the force you could muster, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away. Sanji stepped back, surprised at your reaction.

Without giving him a chance to ask you anything, you ran off and left the kitchen, slamming the door loudly so you wouldn't hear him calling your name and be tempted to go back in his arms again.

You arrived in the sleeping quarters, locking the door behind you. You were sure that the others would understand you needing your alone time. Once you made sure you were on your own, your body collapsed altogether, your back sliding down against the door as you panted heavily.

He knows, was all you could think about. He knows about the songs. He knows about your feelings.

Well, you finally got your answer to your previous question, but a more complicated one replaced it. With trembling hands, your fingers raised themselves to your lips, touching its surface. You hated the way that you still felt his warmth on top of them.

A lone tear slid down the side of your nose. He was cruel. Sanji was cruel.

You didn't come out of that room for days, refusing to talk to anyone as you gathered your scrambled throughts and pulled yourself back together, and that was the fourth time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

A stack of books, most of them being a collection of maps compiled in one, rested beside you while you flipped through the pages of the one you chose among them.

Nami has been lending you her books ever since you shut yourself out from the crew. You ignored all of them and only let Nami in, hoping that she'll be able to understand you; and she did. She was a good listener. Although you weren't particularly close with each other, you trusted her and told her everything: your dreams, your problems, your feelings, and Sanji. In return, she confided in you too.

"Here. So you can finally decide on where you will go to," You recall her saying while she handed you her collection of world map books, "and to distract yourself, of course."

"You're too kind, Nami." You said in admiration. Maybe this is why Sanji was enamored with her. She was a beauty inside and out.

Nami shrugged, yet she was smiling. "Just helping a fellow woman out."

The books did take your mind off the stubborn blond haired man that was still resting inside your heart, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You tried to search for islands that will be suitable for you to start your career, narrowing some of them down into choices, but your eyes wil always lead back to where the Baratie was stationed.

You leaned back against your chair, letting your head hit the wall with a soft thud as you released a sigh of frustration. Not only will you need to prepare yourself for a journey all alone, but you also have to talk to Sanji sooner or later, whether you like it or not. The kiss distracted you more than the books Nami gave you. You think of it in the morning and dream of it at night, and it only got worse every time you remembered that he kissed you like he loved you.

Relaxing in your seat, you closed the book and listened to the silence.

The Going Merry docked for a quick trip to a market to gather fresh ingredients for food. Sanji will be gone for the meantime and you were free to roam around the ship without his heated stare boring holes in your skin.

But the peace was ruined by rushed footsteps and Usopp breaking into the room, almost destroying the door with his brute force. You frowned, standing up on alert when you saw how nervous he looked.

"Sanji's injured!" He exclaimed, which got your brow raising, knowing that he had a long history of lying to people. However, he forcibly pulled Sanji inside, and you were greeted by the sight of a bruised man, whose lips were bleeding and cheeks were starting to yellow.

You immediately sprang into action. You took the first aid kit you packed in your bag and grabbed his arm, making him sit down on your chair.

"How did you get into a fight in just a span of ten minutes?" You asked in irritation, wetting a cloth with saltwater to wipe off the blood on his lips.

Sanji grunted, tensing up when you took a hold of his face and dabbed on his lip using the cloth. "Some petty vendor was selling overpriced onions, and they weren't even the best of quality."

You stopped for a minute, glaring at him. "So you decided to punch them instead of talking it over?"

He only huffed in reply. Pursing your lips in annoyance, you continued to treat his wounds in silence, noticing him flinching and wincing in pain whenever you compress the bruised area with ice. "Who's being petty now?" You scolded impatiently, "Stay still."

The only sound that filled the room was you hastily rummaging your kit trying to find an ointment and an awkward silence that made you want to jump into the sea and never swim back to the surface. You unscrewed the lid of the jar of ointment and scooped some with your finger, looking at Sanji as you did so. He looked back at you quietly, and you tried hard not to think about the fact that you have to touch his lips in order for you to apply it.

It seemed like he realized that too, glancing down at the dollop of ointment on top of your finger, then back to you. You just gave him a small, uneasy smile, showing him that you weren't uncomfortable even though you were, and shyly took a step forward.

As gently as you could, you spread the ointment on the wounded area on his lips, reminding yourself to not be distracted on how soft they looked.

"A busted lip because of overpriced ingredients...it almost feels like you're doing this on purpose so I wouldn't get the chance to leave you." You half-heartedly joked to lighten up the atmosphere. However, you were greeted by nothing, not even a smart comeback or a funny joke from the blond. You hesitantly observed his reaction, and saw that he was grim and serious, guilt swimming in his beryl blue eyes.

The realization began to sink in.

Oh.

You should've known from the start. Sanji was a great fighter; he wouldn't be injured in the first place. "Sanji..."

Sanji took your wrist and held on it tightly. Your breath hitched, only then realizing how much you missed his touch, his warm, gentle, and loving touch.

"Let me go." You weakly said, even though deep down, you didn't want him to.

"Tell me you're not in love with me." He said, sounding utterly desperate that it almost made you fall down to your knees, "Tell me, and I'll let you go."

When you didn't answer, he stood up and cupped your cheeks with both of his hands. He pleaded, "Look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me."

"Please don't do this." You whispered in pain as you tearfully shook your head.

"Stay. Please, stay." Sanji begged, pressing his forehead against yours, "What can I do to make you stay? Tell me. I'll do anything. Do I need to kneel? To beg for your forgiveness? Tell me what you want. I'll do anything in my power to make you the happiest woman in all of East Blue. Just please, don't leave."

"I can't." You answered, closing your eyes, a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You hate the way he was making this so hard for you.

He only continued, "Hate me, curse me, shout at me, if you must. Anything but you leaving me. Or do you want to make me yours? Then I am letting you. Whatever you want, mon ange—my heart, my soul, my attention, they're all yours. I'm all yours."

"No..."

"The crew will be incomplete without you." Sanji insisted in anguish.

"I have dreams, Sanji. Just like you and the rest of the crew." You explained softly, placing your own hands on top of his in attempt to comfort him and relieve him from his confusion.

However, he was persistent, "You can achieve your dreams without leaving. You can stay, and I will support you in everything you do. You're better off staying with me—with us."

You said firmly, "I will not spend the rest of my life doing what I don't want."

"Even with me by your side?"

A few second pass before you finally reply, "I'd be miserable."

Pain flashed on his face, making you want to take back your own words, yet you remained strong and unyielding. Sanji took a deep breath and stepped away from you, saying, "I'd rather have you miserable here than go out there and encounter ruthless pirates."

The statement quickly irritated you, frowning at him deeply. "You think I'll have problems with pirates when I've been serving them for years?"

"Oh, darling, you wouldn't be able to say that once you've encountered worse ones, with bounties higher than you could ever imagine." He snapped, voice raising with each word.

"I can manage on my own!" You bit back frustratingly, your tears evaporating into anger.

Sanji scowled at you, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. "You can't fight!" He shouted, voice breaking in the process, and with it, your heart too. It shattered like glass and the shards landed and pierced through your lungs, rendering you breathless. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in shock.

Seeing your expression, he immediately snapped back to reality, regret writing itself on his face. You shook your head in disbelief and let out a humorless laugh, "Are you telling me that I'm weak?"

"I didn't say that." Sanji quickly said in a hushed manner.

"But you're implying it!" You choked, still can't believe that he doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust you enough to accomplish your dreams on your own, and that he was not confident that you'll succeed without him by your side.

You wanted to ask him about the passionate kiss you two shared, about his loving gestures that confused the hell out of you, about his fresh bruises that he received on purpose so that he can get you to stay, and why he did all of that. You needed confirmation. But the question that left you was, "What am I to you?"

Sanji stayed quiet, and your heart broke again once more. Deciding that this was the last time he breaks it, you walked away and left him alone to tend to his own injuries.

He lit up a cigarette as he listened to your fading footsteps. A single teardrop fell down from his eye the moment he placed the cigarette between his lips, and all he could think about was that you hurt more than the bruises on his cheeks.

You packed your bags and spoke with Nami, telling her that you were ready, and that was the fifth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke—and tomorrow, you'll finally succeed.

⸻ • ⸻

The sun had just risen, and the early morning breeze smelled of the ocean, the calming sound of waves filling your ears. It was one of those days when the sky was clear and the sunlight wasn't harsh but pleasantly warm on your skin, making it the perfect day to start working on a new song and strum on your guitar for the melody.

But today was different. You were standing on the first step of the ship's staircase that leads to a docking station and a wooden walkway towards an unfamiliar island that was soon to be your new home. Your fingers clenched on the strap of your bag, finding this moment to be surreal. You have tried many times to leave, and here it was, right on the palms of your hands.

"So. This is it, huh?" Your trance broke as Nami commented beside you. She was the only one to bid you farewell and watch you leave, since the others were still asleep. You thought of Sanji and how he looked like when he was sleeping, staring at his handsome features so you can memorize them and implant it in your mind. He was your first love; you didn't want to forget him.

You smiled. "Thank you, Nami." You said earnestly, "I would've liked to spend more time with you. It's tiring to speak to men sometimes, don't you think?"

She laughed. "Yeah." Then, she caged you in her arms and hugged you tightly, surprising you for a second before you laughed too and returned the hug. "Stay safe out there."

"I will."

"So you planned to leave? Without saying goodbye?" A new voice interrupted, breaking the hug you and Nami both shared. You swiveled to look behind you, and there stood Sanji, appearing to have just woken up, with the strands of his blond hair sticking up in different directions. You observed his dejected expression, the downward tilt of the corners of his lips, and the glistening of his tired eyes. You stared at his crumpled suit and his crooked necktie. Despite how messy he looked, he will always be perfect to you.

You walked forward and looked at him fondly, with your eyes full of so much love reserved for him and him only. "Thought it would hurt less." You said, raising your hands to touch his hair and brush it down, "And I was right. How can I leave now when you're standing in front of me?"

He sighed shakily as he felt your soft fingers threading through his hair. "Then don't." He whispered. You only smiled at him. He didn't smile back, but that didn't stop you from taking both of his hands and caressing his knuckles using your thumb.

"Every night, I'll look at the moon and think of you. I'll tell my stories, sing my songs, and whisper my secrets to it. Just like what you and me would do when we were little." You told him softly and endearingly, "Would you be so kind as to look at the moon too and think of me?"

Sanji's eyebrows were scrunched together in agony, muttering, "I can't make you stay, can I?"

When you didn't answer, he just nodded his head, understanding what you wanted to stay. He forced a smile and tightly squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry."

"I'm yours." You answered, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hands. After letting your lips linger on his skin for a while, you slowly let go, and with one last glance at his face, you stepped back and made your way downstairs to the docking area, leaving before you could change your mind.

Sanji watched you go. While you walked away from the Going Merry, from the crew, and from him, not once did you look back. He just watched as you went farther away and became smaller in the distance, until you blended in with the crowd and you were just another person in a sea of people. And then you were gone.

It was the sixth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke, and this time, you finally did.

⸻ • ⸻

The red velvet curtains began to draw in front of you, gently falling back down on the stage as you said your final good-byes to your audience for tonight, a bouquet of roses cradled in your arms while you blew delicate kisses towards them. You can still hear their loud cheering and clapping even as you retreated to your personal room backstage.

A middle-aged woman greeted you inside when you stepped in the room and closed the door behind you, whistling. "There she is, our talented rising star!"

You only laughed at the silly nickname, setting the bouquet of roses that one of the people gave you in tonight's show on top of your vanity table. "You exaggerate, Madam. I have only performed two shows in your beautiful theater."

The madam, who was the owner of the theater you were currently working in, shook her head in disagreement. "And those two shows are sold out!" She informed you proudly, placing her hands on your shoulders, "Let me know if you want to add more, you are welcome to perform here anytime."

"I'll think about it." You replied, smiling. The madam patted your shoulder twice before she left you alone, humming happily to herself. You huffed in amusement, fully aware that she doesn't appreciate your talents at all, but only cared for the money.

Regardless of that, you were happy. It has been a couple of years since you left the Strawhat Pirates and pursued your dreams all on your own, and you've been traveling to different islands across the seas to perform. You never had a permanent home; being a musician meant going to many places from time to time to share and spread out your music.

Yet you can't help but miss life on the sea.

You missed washing dishes on the Baratie and the late night conversations you had with Zeff. You missed Luffy and his weird antics, Usopp and his jokes, Zoro and his blunt comments, and Nami and her kindness.

You missed Sanji and everything that he was.

You stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror on your desk. Your hair was pinned neatly, you had make-up on and you were dressed fancily for your performance. Years ago, you wouldn't look like this. It was hard to believe how much you've grown and changed, but these days, you felt like you wanted your old self back. Slowly, you took the itchy pins off your hair, and cleaned your face with warm water and a cloth. You replaced your dress in a more comfortable one and went outside.

Looking up at the night sky, you saw a bright full moon with no stars in sight. It was just the moon and its beauty, illuminating the pitch black sky with its glow. You silently watched it, a smile growing on your lips as you felt a tug on your heart.

"I wonder what you're up to, Sanji." You thought aloud, cheeks heating up at the memory of your first love and his golden hair and his contagious smiles. Then, to your surprise, a voice spoke unexpectedly.

"Well, I am fortuitous to have met such a beautiful angel."

You froze. No one referred to you as angel except for one.

Sanji.

As you turned around, he was already walking towards you. And there you both were, bathing under the moonlight, with him grinning at you mischievously and you looking at him lovingly. You didn't know how he found you, but what mattered was that he searched for you and now he was here, and he was still making your heart beat fast in your chest just like all those years ago.

How the pesky feelings stayed and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. But maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, and the way his next words made you run into his open arms and kiss him until you were both breathless,

"There you are, ange."

taglist part 1 @angel-luv3r @appalost @chexmixtrys @nimtano @sparklyphantom @natalieisfreeziing @reallysparklychaos @maydaylovex @johnnysactualgf @mochamei @kisumisumi @ttokyocat @mypurplewinee @rosaliinnn @nonniecannie @court-jester-stuff @detectivelucy07 @megumiif @untitledandrandom @erin-the-king @fangeekkk @nikolaevna-art @candesstuff @chaoticevilbakugo

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yoonia · 3 months

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A Christmas Fix — 01 (m) | kth

⟶ Summary | One-night stands are supposed to be nothing more than just. It shouldn’t have involved seeing those two red lines looking back at you weeks later without a name or a contact number linking you back to your mystery man. Nothing more but his face. The unforgettable face that would sometimes appear in your dreams at night. So unforgettable that you immediately recognise him the moment he walks into your family home at Christmas, hand-in-hand with your older stepsister.

With special collab prompt: "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."

⟶ Title | A Christmas Fix

⟶ Pairings | Taehyung x female reader

⟶ Genre | Secret Baby!au, Second Chance!au, Strangers to Lovers!au

⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; including: alcohol consumption, mentions of pregnancy, vomiting/morning sickness, surprise babies, miscommunication, profanities/swearing, minor body insecurities (implied), some family drama; involves multiple explicit sex scenes, including: sexual tension, one night stand, drunk sex (with clear consent), minor dom/sub dynamic, brat!reader, size kink, rough sex, light choking, restraint, hair pulling (M, F), protected & unprotected sex, fingering (F), oral sex (F), clit play, breast play, stripping, biting, minor hand job/groping, grinding, masturbation (M, F), dirty talk, implied pain kink, praise kink, body worship, marking, multiple orgasms (M, F), overstimulation.

⟶ Word count | 25,363 words (of 54,773 words)

⟶ Story Notes | Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration with @leahsfavefics, @kithtaehyung, @kpopfanfictrash, @cybrsan, and @sugaurora | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs) | Moodboard was done by me | Posted in: January 31st, 2024 by @yoonia

⟶ Author Notes | I know that this is so late, but December has always been a rough month for me and this time it continued until January. I hope you can still enjoy this story regardless. Happy belated holidays and happy new year, my loves!

⟶ Jingle All the Way collab masterlist | A Christmas Fix: next chapter ⇢

⟶ Main Masterlist | Taglist | Feedback | Mailbox | Ko-fi

⟶ Read on AO3

One month ago…

You already had everything perfectly planned out when you first thought of this trip some long months ago.

Everything.

From your personal bucket list full of wonderful things that you wanted to experience during your time away and the places that you wanted to see, down to the smallest details that you could possibly think of to be able to enjoy every single moment of your secret getaway.

Just like the red dress that you had chosen to wear tonight. The dress you had meticulously picked and bought to wear on the trip as you went to celebrate your newfound freedom.

In your well-thought-out plan, you were supposed to have landed on the tropical island you were headed to by sundown. The warm tropical breeze should have been embracing you at the start of your trip instead of the cold, chilly wind flowing right outside these walls.

By this evening, you should have already settled in nicely in the comfort of your hotel room right by the beachside. The calming sound of the rushing waves outside your window was the sound that you should have been listening to while resting from your long flight.

You had pictured yourself embracing your freedom in a foreign land. To feel the soft sand slipping between your toes as you were playing chase with the rushing waves, and to find calmness that you could only get far away from the treacherous city where you came from.

The trip was meant to help you mend your soul. Perfectly planned out as an escape from reality and leave all of your past hurt behind before starting a new chapter of your life.

And yet, no matter how thoroughly you had it all planned out, somehow life simply found a way to mess it all up. Just like how it had always been. So perhaps you shouldn’t have been so surprised when it happened to you again, just when you thought that you had everything under control.

You should have seen the signs long before everything started crumbling down.

The sky that kept growing darker ever since you left the city. The constant turbulences happening during your first flight that made the trip feel intense. The unsettling feeling you met the moment you landed in this place for your transit. The constant announcements echoing through the airport about flights that were getting delayed and cancelled while you were getting no news about your transit flight’s departure.

You should have been prepared to face reality, keeping in mind that life hadn’t been so nice to you lately to let you slip away that easily. Yet your stubbornness prevailed. And after your most recent predicament, you needed this trip to happen. You needed to be right.

After all, you have made it all the way here. It would have been impossible for you to return home, wouldn’t it?

So you remained in denial and were so stubbornly holding onto hope that you would soon be taken away from this place towards your dream destination. Even when the world around you seemed to be falling apart.

But after long hours of waiting, you were finally forced to accept your fate, letting go of any hope you had left to escape this place when they officially cancelled the rest of today’s flights due to unresolved weather issues. Including yours.

“I’m sorry, but we really can’t promise you anything at this moment. There will be no flights until the storm passes and our pilots are cleared to fly again. Until then, we have nothing to tell you.”

The staff’s swift response to your inquiries about getting on the first flight available to take you to your destination only left you with a dead end. Even flying back home was no longer an option, only because that would only mean that you were admitting defeat.

And that was how you ended up here tonight, stranded right between the daunting city that you called home and the paradise that you wished to be in until an unforeseeable future. Your dream of enjoying the night in the comfort of the beachside hotel room overlooking the wide, clear ocean, had been replaced with the reality where you had to spend overnight at the airport’s transit hotel that the airline staff helped book for you.

You released a sigh as you leaned back against the elevator wall. Recounting the events again only brought back all the terrible mood you were having. And it didn’t help that the last message that your roommate sent you only reminded you of your setback.

From Skye: Just checking on you on your secret getaway. I hope you’re having a blast right now. I wish you’d tell me where you’re heading so I can have a good reason to be jealous. Be safe!

Another sigh came from your lips as you wondered—

Now how am I supposed to answer her text?

Before you could find an answer, the elevator doors opened as it reached the lobby downstairs. You put away your phone as you stepped out, and immediately got lost in your thoughts. Your mind once again getting too loud as it keeps you company.

At first, you had no intention of hiding this trip from her. Yet all the circumstances leading to this weekend had made it hard for you to share anything to anyone.

You were planning to wait until you were finally there so you could surprise her with pictures from the beautiful beach or your comfortable hotel room. Showing her the pretty nighttime scene from the tropical island would have been a nice way to flaunt your secret getaway rather than boasting it when your fate had been filled with uncertainty.

But instead of having an evening walk down the beach, you were trudging across the lobby inside an airport hotel, accompanied by the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floors instead of having sand soiling your feet.

And the view outside the window that you got to see earlier had been nowhere close to the pretty beach with its white sand and rolling waves. Instead, you had a clear view of the dark night sky, painted with the raging storm and its blaring thunders so strong they almost caused the entire bedroom to shake. Neither showed any sign of calming down any time soon, leaving you with no other choice but to do what you could to enjoy your temporary stay.

And you were going to start doing so by having a quick drink to help you unwind for the night.

The red dress that you were wearing might seem a bit excessive for a nightcap, but for a short while, it helped you forget where you were. It felt almost as if you were walking in a dream as you strolled down the lower lobby in search of the hotel bar.

Entering the hotel bar, however, became another wake-up call.

The bar was quite large for a transit hotel, accommodating the patrons filling the place tonight. You had hoped that you could have a dance or two with a friendly stranger before retreating to your hotel room to rest, yet the closed-off lounge area had more space filled with box seats than the open dance floor. The seating area was the only place in the bar which was dimly lit, allowing the guests some privacy while they settled in with their drinks.

The small chandeliers glittering from the ceiling were far from the hanging lights that you pictured hanging in a beachside bar. Just like the one place you had seen pictures of while planning for your trip. The lights you were seeing here made the entire space beneath seem luxurious, spreading a soft golden glow over the wary faces trying to enjoy the night.

The pulsing bass that came out of the speakers was enough to drown the sound of the violent storm happening on the other side of these walls, further helping to create an illusion that you were in another place. That you were somewhere else instead of being stranded inside an airport hotel, together with all the strangers who seemed to be facing the same fate as you did.

You made your way towards the main bar, suddenly feeling hyperaware of your surroundings. Even without looking, you could feel people’s eyes following your movements. Yet you paid no heed to them. You were only here to quiet down the raging storm happening inside your head, after all.

A strong scent of old wood took over the bar area. Mixed in with the excessive scent of air fresheners and cleaners, it was enough to remind you that you were miles and miles away from the beautiful island where you had been so desperate to be.

Smoothing your palms down your red dress, you took one empty seat at the bar. You caught the bartender’s eyes as he walked past, and within moments, a glass of strawberry daiquiri ended up in your hand.

This feels nice, you wondered to yourself as you sat back and tried to relax.

One sip of the sweet alcoholic drink was all that it took to refresh your mind. As the warmth from your drink ran smoothly through your body, any doubt and wariness you felt began to fade.

The next sip of the drink managed to ease your thoughts down a bit more. It helped push away the reminders of your troubles to the back of your mind. Finding calmness, you took another quick look at your surroundings.

The seating lounge seemed to be filled with guests more than the main bar was. Stranded travellers like yourself. At first glance, the nicely dressed men in suits made it seem like you were in a bar downtown. As if they were nothing more than a group of businessmen seeking leisure on a Friday night with drinks.

It only took you looking a few seats away from them for the illusion to shatter. Your eyes fell on a group of men and women wearing their summer clothing who were making a toast, acting as if they were at the peak of their vacation.

Looking at the scene made you realise that you weren’t the only one feeling miserable tonight. You wondered just how badly these people here needed to forget. How many of them here might be similar to you, stranded in an unexpected situation while trying to escape reality?

You raised your glass to hide your bitter smile. The smooth liquid continued to flow through your body and you slowly began to find some peace of mind. Before you knew it, you had finished your drink, though you weren’t exactly ready to return to your cold bedroom.

“Can I order you another glass of drink?”

A deep voice invaded your senses after a long period of silence, and it was coming from your side. You had been far too deep in your reverie that you didn’t even realise that someone had taken the empty seat right beside you at the bar.

Curious to see this friendly stranger, you slowly turned around to look at him. And what you saw in him nearly took your breath away.

A tall, lean man was sitting there. His slick hair had a few curls at the end of each strands, and he had combed them back, leaving nothing more than a few stands framing his handsome face that looked almost as if it had been sculpted by the fine hands of masters in art. His sharp nose and jawline drew your attention, while his deep and soulful eyes that appeared like pools of rich mahogany drew you in, as if he was hiding a story behind his intense gaze. But it was his plump lips that formed into a smile which caught your eyes the most.

At your silence that stretched out while you were busy being captivated by him, he raised his eyebrows. It made you realise that he was waiting for your answer. An answer to a question that you had so obviously missed.

“I’m sorry?”

He tilted his chin to point at your now empty glass. “You look like you could use another glass, and I’d love to get one for you,” he said with an amused tone of voice.

Once again, his deep, velvety voice hit you deeply. It resonated through your body, and a shudder ran down your spine. You refused to believe that he was able to cause this effect on you solely through his voice or his pretty smile.

But how else would you explain the reaction that was drawn from your body?

I don’t think I’m that drunk already, you wondered.

It was probably the way he spoke to you which affected you so much. The way he was asking a question with pure confidence. As if he already knew your answer, and that it would be impossible for you to refuse his offer.

And he wasn’t completely wrong about it.

What remained from your sullen mood immediately shifted in his presence. And while you have no intention of turning him down, you decided that you were not going to make things easy for him.

“An interesting offer that seems like such a waste for me to refuse,” you sweetly said to him, smiling as your eyes fell on his empty hands. “But how would a woman feel at ease to accept such an offer from a man who isn’t even holding a glass in his hand?”

He squinted his eyes at you, which only made his gaze feel more intense. “Are you afraid that I might be planning to get you drunk?”

You softly laughed. “Not sure if I should be so worried about that. Getting drunk tonight has always been my initial plan all along,” you coyly said, hiding the fact that it was never your intention to get wild tonight. But his appearance intrigued you enough to change your mind about ending the night so soon.

The mysterious man remained oblivious to this as he laughed with you. His wide, almost boxy grin mesmerised you in an instant and you were once again left speechless.

He waved his hand to grab the bartender’s attention. It was nothing more but a simple gesture, yet you were somewhat drawn to it. To him.

While he greeted the bartender, you took the chance to have a better look at this man. You noticed that he was a bit different compared to the other men that you saw around you earlier.

Dressed in a black jacket over his plain white shirt, he didn’t seem as sophisticated as the stranded businessmen in their flashy suits sitting together at the bar’s lounge. Yet he had a different level of confidence which was enough to make your cheeks feel warm.

In your eyes, he was alluring, almost as intensely as the dark storm happening outside. And you couldn’t resist being pulled towards him.

“Another glass of the same drink for the lady and a glass of grasshopper for me,” he smoothly spoke as he ordered the drinks for you.

The bartender nodded and went to work, while you slid closer to him. His fresh-scented cologne immediately hit you, and your confidence nearly wavered that you almost slid back. But then he caught you with his gaze as he turned back to you, giving you the kind of attention which boosted every bit of ego you had.

“So you also prefer something light and sweet. How intriguing,” you teased him, bringing back his alluring grin.

“Why do you think I came here to join you? It was obviously for the fruity drinks and to have someone to drink it together with,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes at him and smiled. Before you got to say something in return, the bartender came back with his order. The man took a sip of his drink first before you took yours. Once again, the sweetness from your drink swirled through your body, chipping away at the tension that had been weighing you down ever since the day’s saga began.

“To be honest, I also thought that you were looking a bit rough.” His remark brought your attention back to him. The tease was gone from his voice. All that was left was a gentle concern that seemed genuine. “And you looked like you needed a friend. That’s why I invited myself to join you.”

It makes you feel uneasy to think that you were being so transparent. So much so that a complete stranger like himself was able to see right through you.

“You think so? Wait until you hear how rough I’m feeling inside as well,” you bitterly said to him, drawing a soft smile to his face.

“That makes the two of us then,” he said to you gently with his eyes on his glass of drink. There was a forlorn look in his eyes as he slowly twirled the glass, causing the liquid to swish around before he took another sip from it.

“Care to share?” you questioned him before you could stop yourself, only to pull yourself back. “Sorry, that sounds creepy. We just met and here I am, prying into someone else’s business,” you nervously laughed.

His gaze softened when he looked at you. Furthermore, he also seemed intrigued.

“No, not at all.” His voice was calm, and it somehow helped to calm your nerves. “I was just about to lend an ear in case you needed someone to vent to. I never expected that you would be a step ahead of me before I could make the offer.”

The comment he gave you made you feel warm inside.

“Mine’s a long story,” you bitterly said to him as you raised your glass, almost giving in to the urge to take a hefty drink and finish it off when everything started coming back to you again.

The reason behind this trip, why you were stranded here on your own, while being far, far away from home, and all the drama that had gotten in the way when you had been so desperate to get away from everything.

Unsurprisingly, the man merely shrugged. “I’ve got time to spare. My flight won’t leave until tomorrow. And that is if they’re allowed to fly out of here at all.”

You smiled at him. “Same here. I guess we’re both stranded here all night, huh?”

He leaned in just then, invading your personal space and filling it with his presence. And you didn’t even mind it as you leaned into him, meeting him halfway to welcome him into your little safety bubble.

“And I was worried that I might get stuck feeling lonely while being stranded in this place,” he gently murmured, drawing a smile to your face.

“I doubt that you would end up alone tonight,” you teased him, simply because there was no possible way that someone as attractive as he was would be returning to his hotel bedroom alone.

His smile grew, yet the deep, dark look in his eyes shifted into something else. Something naughty and sinful. It made you feel a new sensation brewing inside even without him ever having to touch you.

“Is that an invitation?” he asked with his deep voice that came grazing at your skin.

Normally, you wouldn’t know what to say in return. It had been so long since you played this kind of game with someone. With anyone. But his presence and his words were drawing something out of you. A part of you that you never thought existed. And you surprised yourself when you played along, taunting danger head-on as you challenged this handsome stranger before you—

“Would you like it to be?”

Something flashed in his eyes. It was dark and intense, and it was sucking you in. It brought a myriad of sensations that unexpectedly went straight down to your core.

In the deep silence that fell right after, the world around you faded. Even before you got to know his name, before you had the chance to share your story, you already knew the answer that he was about to give you as a response to your question.

And you also knew right then, that the sparks that came rising around you were something that you would never be able to easily forget, even if every bit of memory you had about him would fade over time.

Present…

Why do I keep thinking about that night all over again?

You can only wonder, as you keep being reminded of that eventful night.

Weeks, nearly a month have gone by ever since, yet the memories seem to have been engraved deeply in your thoughts. And today, even though you haven’t really been thinking about it since, you suddenly find yourself having no trouble recounting everything that happened then.

Well, almost everything.

Some parts may seem blurry now. All due to the passing of time and the fact that you were partly inebriated at the time. But you can still recall some parts of the night that had clearly left a strong impression on you—the first encounter and the conversation you shared before alcohol took over, the instant attraction that you felt, but most of all, his entire presence.

And they all have been coming into your thoughts while you are sitting here in the corner of your bathroom. Alone. With your arms wrapped around your folded knees and your eyes closed. As if you are waiting for a miracle to happen.

You scoff at the thought.

Right. Miracles.

Years have long passed since you stopped believing that miracles do exist. Life always has its way of blindsiding you with its twists and turns that miracles no longer seem to matter anymore.

Not for you, at least.

Your past experiences have only caused you to look at it with sceptical eyes, sometimes even with bitterness, knowing that life has never been on your side.

But here you are now, wishing, praying, holding onto hope that there would be a miracle to stop you from getting into a messy situation. One that you know you wouldn’t be able to handle on your own.

After all, the perfect season of miracles is right around the corner. So it wouldn’t be so wrong for you to have some faith in them again now, would it?

Your phone starts blaring with the sound of the alarm, snapping you out of it. Slowly, you rise on your wobbly feet. It feels as if your entire body has grown numb even before you get to face reality as it comes glaring back at you.

Clutching onto the edges of your bathroom counter, you try to hold yourself together, and immediately failing, as you look at the two thin white strips lying on the cold counter and feel your entire world tilting off of its axis.

All because of the two red lines that are clearly visible on each strip.

“Oh, fuck,” you softly groan. Deep down, you had already predicted this. Yet you kept denying it, hoping that you would be wrong.

“No, no, no—” you continue murmuring to yourself while wishing that you could somehow turn back time and change everything before things started going the wrong way.

Back to this morning, when your roommate caught you—once again—throwing up last night’s dinner before handing you the unopened pregnancy test packs that she has been keeping safe in her room with the premise, “Just in case.”

Or maybe you could return to last night when she pointed out your odd cravings—like dipping apples into peanut butter and eating leftover mac and cheese straight from the fridge without warming it in the microwave first—and joked about how you have been acting like a pregnant woman with your mood swings.

Better yet, you wish you could go back to that night, back to that many weeks ago, when you allowed yourself to fall for a stranger’s charm which led you to spend the night with him.

You close your eyes, once again murmuring to yourself, “This has got to be a dream.”

But the moment you open your eyes again, nothing has changed. You are still standing there with your hands holding tightly onto the edges of the bathroom counter. And the two pregnancy test kits that you used are still lying on top of the counter for your eyes to see.

A rapid sound of knocking on the bathroom door sends you jumping back.

“Hey, ______? Is everything okay?” you hear your roommate, Skye, calling out for you. Her voice seems calm, yet when you recall hearing the sound of her footsteps moving back and forth outside of the door while you were taking the test, you know that she has been waiting just as anxiously as you were. “So—? What does it say?”

Still in shock, and quite stuck in denial, you open your mouth only to have no words coming out of you. Your brain feels a bit hazy as you walk up to the door and open it for her.

Skye takes one look at your face and her gaze softens. “What did it—” She shakes her head. “Oh, never mind, I’m dying to know. Let me see it,” she says as she brushes past you before you can say anything.

Hoping that there is a chance that reality can change within the next few seconds, you refuse to turn around and once again close your eyes while she suddenly grows quiet.

Maybe you were just imagining things. Maybe you weren’t even looking at the test properly. Maybe—

“So, uhm—” you can hear Skye’s voice trembling a little as she hesitantly asks you, “Two lines mean it’s positive, is that right?”

And just like that, every bit of hope you have in you flies out the window. “I wish I could say that it’s the other way around,” you softly murmur, feeling defeated.

And the feeling grows stronger when you hear her cursing under her breath,

“Well, fuck.”

“What are you doing?” you ask Skye as you gingerly take a seat on the sofa.

Once you both stepped away from the bathroom, she guided you to the living room while she sauntered away to the kitchen without a word. You can hear the noises she makes as she is busy rummaging through the counters. Yet you are too far away to see what she is up to.

“Hang on a minute. Stay there,” she calls out without even looking.

“Okay.”

It’s not like you have any energy to go anywhere, after all. Your head is still spinning and you can barely feel your legs. It feels as if you are stuck in a bad dream and you just can’t get out of it.

It doesn’t take long before Skye returns to your side, carrying with her two clean tall glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. It was the same bottle that you opened when you celebrated your promotion a couple of weeks ago after coming back from the trip.

Holy shit, you inwardly cry out. Your heartbeat rises as your hands find their way to your stomach.

“Okay, let’s try to calm down,” Skye says to you as she places both glasses on the table before you, although it seems to you more as if she is talking to herself instead of reassuring you while you are panicking inside.

A couple of weeks ago? Wouldn’t I have been already pregnant then?

These thoughts keep running through your head as you watch your roommate pouring wine into both glasses, just like the night she did the same when you first opened that same bottle.

Dear God, how much did I drink that night? You ask yourself with a grimace as you try to remember.

Wait, no. I didn’t drink anything, you remind yourself. Relief washes over you look back at the celebration night where you barely took a sip before Skye took the glass away from your hands.

Because you were already feeling sick that day.

You had been feeling nauseous for days, throwing up once in a while and mostly on the days when you were lacking sleep because of the workload you had to handle for the upcoming promotion. All you ever did was wet your lips with the wine after the celebratory toast. That was the only contact you made with the drink before Skye replaced it with a tall glass of alcohol-free smoothie that she made especially for your ‘upset stomach’.

Of course, how did I not see the signs? You wonder again as you remember the sickly feeling you had after vomiting each morning and feeling powerless for the rest of the day. It even got so bad that you had to skip work for a couple of days at the beginning of your ‘sickness’.

If only you knew then.

Your eyes are still on the wine glasses as Skye places them side by side and puts away the bottle.

“Uh—I believe we both just saw the two lines appearing on the test packs.”

She lets out a light scoff and waves her hand at you. “They're both for me. I’m going to need them while I process this,” she says, shaking her head as she sits down to join you on the sofa. “You get to keep that smoothie.”

You follow her gaze and look down at the glass of smoothie that you left on the table during the whole fiasco with the pregnancy test. While you pick up your drink, Skye takes a hefty drink from one of the glasses of wine and sits back.

“So—you’re pregnant,” she murmurs to herself. Her gaze flickers to your face for a brief moment and nods to herself before taking another drink.

Why does it seem like she is the one panicking?

She releases a sigh. Neither of you says anything for a moment. But you can tell when she grows more anxious by the minute. You don’t understand why, until she carefully asks you, “Are you going to tell Han?”

Confused, you look at her with your brows furrowed and ask, “Why would I tell Han that I’m pregnant?”

Skye looks genuinely confused, almost as much as you are, and you only realise the reason why when she asks you, “Isn’t Hansol the father? You guys have been dating for a long time and I can’t remember ever seeing you with anyone else while you’re on a break.”

You wince, realising too late that you have yet to tell her the truth.

“Actually—we’re not on a break,” you slowly admit with a low voice. Months have gone by, and even though it no longer hurts whenever you start thinking about your failed relationship or to mention your ex’s name, you cannot help but still feel bitter about how it ended and you hate talking about it.

That is the reason why you haven’t said anything about it to anyone. Maybe you were just too embarrassed. After all, it isn’t so easy to admit that you may have been the reason why the four-year relationship fell into pieces.

“I lied,” you say with a burst of deep sigh, “It was over, done, finished—”

“So you already broke up?” she cuts you off with a calm voice.

You bite your bottom lip as you slowly nod your head. “Yeah,” you whisper, suddenly feeling like your throat is tightening up. Not because you feel the sudden urge to cry. But only because this is all becoming too much to take at once.

“And the baby?” she carefully asks you. “It wasn’t Han—”

“The baby isn’t his,” you quickly answer before she even gets to question about it.

It’s hard enough to hear his name being mentioned after a while. It feels harder to think that you might be carrying his baby.

But the moment those words come out of your lips, reality finally sinks in. Grabbing the glass of your drink, you take a hefty drink out of it. You wish there was some alcohol in this thing. Maybe it would have helped you think more clearly.

That’s right. It couldn’t have been his.

Sighing to yourself, you begin to do the math. “We’ve been broken up for months, so if the baby is his, I’m sure I would be showing already by this time around,” you say this while gently rubbing your palm over your stomach.

Now that your suspicions have been confirmed, the gesture feels almost natural to you that your hand simply moves before you realise it, though it helps confirm that nothing much has changed with your body.

It feels odd to think that there is a life existing inside you, yet you cannot really see it with just one look. This convinces you further that the baby couldn’t have been conceived while you were still dating your ex. Looking back to it now, once you remember when exactly the sickness and craving started, it would only make sense that the baby was conceived on that specific night.

“So—if Hansol isn’t the Dad, then who was it?”

Biting your lip, you turn to look at Skye. Of course, if there is anyone in this world that you can talk to about this, it would only be her. Just like how she would come to you first whenever she is in a bind, whether it’s about her relationships, about work, or even the smallest things like having a bad day where you end up sharing a tub of ice cream to feel better.

After all, she isn’t just a roommate, but also someone you have known the longest compared to the other friends you’ve made since moving into this city. You have known each other since college, since back in freshman year when both of you were nothing more but young kids from small towns being thrust into the big city.

Being put together in the same dorm room led you to become fast friends. After years of enduring the same hardship in college, the two of you remained so close that you even moved to this city together and continued to live in the same place to keep each other company.

You have gone through everything with her, and you have always been honest with each other. It should have been easy to tell her everything. If only you could find the right words to begin sharing your story.

“I have no idea where to start.”

“Well,” Skye patiently says while twirling the glass of wine she’s holding. You squint your eyes at her when you find it almost empty. So unfair. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

“Right. From the beginning,” you say this with a nod. “Do you remember when I went away last month?”

She nods. “Your secret getaway. Still jealous of that, by the way.”

You give her a small smile. “Yeah, well—there’s a reason why I insisted on going alone on that trip. I actually planned it as a surprise vacation for me and Hansol. The original idea was for us to have a romantic getaway for our fourth anniversary.”

Skye raises her eyebrows. “Well, damn,” she mutters. “Let me guess. You broke up before it happened?”

You grimace as you recall what happened. “Close enough,” you answer with a bitter smile. “It was because of the trip that we got a huge fight in the first place.”

Skye tilts her head. “I’m not following.”

Sighing, you drink your smoothie to cool down and swallow the bitter feeling you are suddenly getting. Recounting the break-up isn’t so much fun to do. Not even after this long.

“I planned the entire thing on my own. Booked the flight and the hotel, and rearranged our schedules to fit each other so we could go on that exact date. But I never shared anything with him, except to confirm that it was a place that he also dreamt of going so we could both enjoy it together.” You let out a defeated sigh. “I wanted it to be a surprise. He used to love those in the past, so I figured it could be fun to celebrate our anniversary this way and get away from all the stress both of us had been getting.”

You stop talking for a moment to remember those days. Both you and Hansol had been so busy back then that you could barely spend time with each other.

It was the exact routine every day. Having long hours in the office and since you weren’t living together, you could only keep in contact with each other through texts and calls. By the time the two of you were able to see each other, all the stress had been piling up that you were almost always arguing and fighting instead of making up for all the time you missed while being apart.

“We were talking about moving in together but all of a sudden, we stopped discussing it and I could feel us growing further apart. I thought going away from all the stress for a while would help us get along and make up for all the fighting. Maybe we could have had a chance to talk things out and figure out what to fix.”

You stop with a soft sigh. “We were getting bored. With work, with life, and maybe we did get bored with each other but neither of us could open up about it, much less admit it. Not even to ourselves.”

Skye lets out a groan. “This is why I don’t do relationships,” she mutters before finishing her drink. The first glass. With the second one waiting on the table.

You give her a scoff, but smile at her comment before continuing, “He found out about the trip by chance. I was still logged in on his laptop after I borrowed it to check on my work email while I was staying over on the weekend. He accidentally opened the booking details when he was checking his email, thinking it was his account. He suspected me of planning to go with someone else, but even after I told him that the trip was for both of us, he wasn’t having it.”

Skye leans forward when she hears this. “Wait, he’s pissed about a secret vacation?” she asks, looking unhappy and confused at the same time. You can’t really blame her. Because that is exactly how you feel about your ex’s reaction. “Why would he be? If it had been me, I would’ve been ecstatic about going.”

“I wish I knew,” you groan, feeling just as frustrated as you had been then. “But he wasn’t just refusing to go. He started blaming me. Saying something about me holding him back or something. He said he had no time for a trip when he needed to be there and work for his promotion.”

Thinking back to that day, remembering about the fight and the things you said to each other, you are reminded of the moment the fight left your body. Because you knew then that there was nothing left to fight over.

“He never even brought up the fact that it was the date of our anniversary. I don’t think he even knew or remembered it,” you say with a bitter chuckle. “He broke it off, saying that he wanted to focus on his career and I would be keeping him behind. And I agreed because I knew that we’d wound up hurting each other if we’d stayed.”

“I can understand that,” Skye gently says. The two of you share a sad smile when your eyes meet. “And you still went on that trip,” she guesses, sounding proud. She lifts her glass to you and says, “Good girl.”

You merely shrug. “When I went to cancel the tickets for the trip, I thought it would be such a waste to throw everything away. So I decided that going solo would be a good idea and kept mine. Besides, I needed a moment to heal myself and get away from the city for a short while.”

She laughs, agreeing with you. Then, just as she is about to say something, she suddenly stops. A knowing look comes across her gaze and she slowly gasps. “Don’t tell me—” she says, “You met someone while you were there.”

You nod your head slowly and press your lips together. “Once again, you’re close. But that’s not exactly what happened.” Blowing out a deep breath, you slowly ask her, “Remember when I told you that I got held up for a day in transit?”

“Yeah, I was so jealous of you that I still remember everything you told me about that trip,” she lets out a dreamy sigh, then her gaze snaps back at you. “But, it seems to me that you haven’t told me everything about the trip.”

“No, I didn’t.” You grimace. “Anyway, that’s when I met him—”

The memories return to you again as you share with your roommate about your encounter with the beautiful stranger. You remember vividly the way he spoke, the deep and gentle voice that he spoke to you with, and his captivating smile that made you swoon. Everything about him that made it hard for you to leave and say goodbye to him.

You recount the way you enjoyed each other’s company that even after your terrible mood gradually became much better, and after you finished yet another drink, you simply couldn’t walk away and end the night with him so soon. You stayed longer, losing count of the time you spent with him and the drinks you had.

“And then, one thing led to another, it just happened.”

Skye’s eyes have grown so wide at this point, and her jaw has dropped in her surprise that she looks almost comical. “You hooked up with a stranger during your transit?” she asks you. The moment you nod your head, she switches her empty glass with the other. “I would drink to that.”

You laugh just as she takes a hefty drink as if celebrating on your behalf. “Why do you sound so proud of me?”

“Well,” she slowly starts, “We’ve known each other for so long. You have always been so put together, always followed the rules, and you are always so good at what you do. From school, to work, even the little things you have been doing on the side. But not when it comes to your sex life.”

You know that she is right about everything. But it doesn’t stop you from picking up a cushion and hitting her with it.

“Hey, you know I’m right,” she says while laughing and protecting the precious glass of wine. “Come on, you’ve never had any casual relationships or random hookups, and every chance I could have gotten to hook you up with my guy friends was gone when Hansol came into the picture.”

Pouting, you pull the cushion back and hold it tightly in your arms. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you admit with a sigh. “How do you get to know me so well?”

“That’s because I love you enough to pay attention,” she smugly says while waving her glass around, sloshing the wine everywhere. “Why do you think I’ve been so protective of you over the years?”

You roll your eyes and hit her with the cushion one last time, making her laugh, even though she is right. For as long as you have been friends with her, she has always been like an older sister to you. Not only for coming hard like a shield against the guys you ever introduced her to but also for the trivial things that not many people would pay much attention to.

Like reminding you to eat properly when you are stressed out or too busy with work and school.

You feel bad for relying on her so much over the years. But you also feel grateful about it. Just like how you’re feeling right now once you notice that you’re no longer feeling as stressed as you had earlier once you’re done dumping everything to her.

Skye’s eyes turn back to you, landing on your covered belly as she curiously asks, “Are you positively sure that Hansol wasn’t the father?”

You slowly nod your head. As much as you wish that you were wrong, you couldn’t have been mistaken about this.

“What are the odds that it was a false positive?” you suddenly question her, while she shrugs.

“It’s possible,” she says. “But we can get some more test kits and redo the test. Just in case. Or you could make an appointment with the doctor straight away to make sure.”

“Right, the doctor—” You let out a soft sigh and close your eyes briefly. It has been a while since you’ve seen your physician. The last time was before—

Oh, shit.

Your eyes snap open right then. How long ago has it been since you’ve gone to see your physician? The last time was when you went to your regular appointment for your birth control. But that felt so long ago.

Long before the trip.

After that appointment, and once the break-up happened, you simply threw yourself into work so much you completely forgot about everything else. And since you were newly single, getting your birth control was the last thing you had in mind at the time.

Fuck me, you inwardly groan without saying a thing to your roommate who is busy chattering about the doctor, making appointments, and offering to take you there herself. You know that she would lecture you about safe sex like a mother hen if you ever share this with her.

But wait…he wore a condom, right? Yes, you are quite sure he did. The details are blurry when you try to remember, but you do remember protection being involved.

Groaning to yourself, you fall back on the sofa. Your head starts spinning again when you start worrying about other things. Once you start thinking of a problem that you may have to face, another one comes to mind.

“What am I supposed to do with this baby?”

Skye once again raises her eyebrows at you. “I think the right question should be what do you want to do?” she asks, while you can only shake your head.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a small voice. The only thing you can think of right now is how you are going to get through this holiday while being pregnant. You are supposed to be home for Christmas in two weeks, and knowing just how crazy your family truly is, you cannot imagine how they would react if they found out you are with a child.

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “And my family still have no idea that I broke up with Han.”

“For once, I’m not jealous of your life,” Skye says as she sips her wine. But she is ready for it when you fling the cushion back at her and avoid it without spilling her drink. “Don’t worry. I think they’ll catch on about your failed relationship as soon as you walk into your family home without that hunk by your side.”

Huffing, you hug the cushion in your arms and lean back. “I guess if they’re going to find out either way, I might as well just tell them the moment I got home.”

Besides, it might be even harder to hide the fact that you are pregnant. You might not be showing yet, but there is no possible way you could avoid the questions that may come if you are still feeling so sick right in front of your family, or if your cravings suddenly get out of hand.

Especially if Honey is there. Despite the early signs of dementia showing on her lately, your grandmother has always been so perceptive. And there is no telling what random things she may blurt out once she has some rum in her system.

With so many different things to think about, you almost forget one important matter that you should be thinking about when it comes to the baby. And just like always, Skye is there to remind you of it.

“Do you remember his name?”

You turn to Skye with wide eyes, suddenly panicking inside. You can tell that she can see it on your face and is now sharing the same feeling when she suddenly knocks back the rest of her wine and groans, “Fuck, I’m gonna need more.”

You watch her pour more wine into her glass, hastily drinking it right after, before turning to you again. “You didn’t get his name? At least tell me that you got his number before you went separate ways.”

You bite your lips. “It’s Tae.”

“Tae—what?”

You shake your head. “That’s it,” you let out a frustrated sigh. “That was the only name he ever gave me.”

“Seriously?”

Skye is freaking out, you can tell. But you close your eyes and rest your head back, shutting everything down as she starts ranting about how she was supposed to teach you better about hooking up with strangers and keeping yourself safe.

With her voice turning into white noise at the back of your mind, your memories return to you, taking you back to the eventful night.

You can almost feel yourself being back there again—back in the cold hotel bar with the scent of old wood and liquor lingering in the air; the murmuring sounds of people chatting and laughing, accompanied by the sound of glasses clinking together resonating through the space around you; back to his presence that felt so strong and intense you could barely feel anything else other than him as long as you had your attention fully on him.

“What’s your name?” You remember him asking you with his voice that grew more gentle and deeper the more he drank.

You leaned into him and giggled in response as if he just said something funny to you. “Does it really matter?”

His soft chuckle rumbled around you. The voice was so soft, yet you could hear it clearly because of how close you were leaning into him. “I’m sure I remember being taught not to talk to strangers.”

“Are you telling me that you’ve been a good boy for listening to what your Mom taught you?” you teased him. It was obvious how tipsy you were at this point, which may have been the reason why you were growing more confident.

“Oh, I’ve always been a good boy,” he answered you while looking amused. He went silent right after. His gaze seemed far away just for a fleeting moment before he finally said, “My name is Tae.”

“Tae? That’s it?” you asked, “Is that a codename or something?” You feigned a surprise gasp before you leaned into him further to whisper, “Are you secretly a spy?”

You felt his chest rumbling when he softly laughed. “Something like that, yeah,” he said, as he played along with your joke.

But the moment you leaned away from him, you were surprised when you got to see something in him that you couldn’t see before. His guard was down, allowing you to see the vulnerability that was buried deep under his suave and smooth talking.

For a brief moment, he looked broken. Just like you did.

And from the way he was hiding himself, not only under the short nickname but also from the way he was masking his emotions, you could tell that he was looking for an escape from reality. The same way you did that night.

So you simply smiled at him, choosing not to pry further to see beyond the mask and play along. Because at the same time, you wanted to hide your broken heart and become someone else to be able to forget everything. Just for one night.

“Then you can call me Red. It’s my special codename for tonight.”

His grin widened. You could almost see the relief washing over him through his warm gaze when he looked at you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you tonight,” he said, still with his gentle voice that almost felt like sin licking on your skin when he called you, “Red.”

Two weeks later…

“Here you go,” your mother’s voice snaps you from whatever stupor you have been stuck in. When you open your eyes, a glass of ginger tea has manifested right before you.

“Drink this,” your Mom says as she points at the drink. “It should be good for your stomach.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. Furrowing your brows, you keep your eyes on the drink instead of reaching for it. Thoughts of those past mornings when you and Skye spent searching through the internet to find a way to get rid of your morning sickness come through your mind.

Does she know? Did she figure it out already? Is it really that obvious?

You clench your hands and resist the urge to rub against your stomach. It has become a habit of yours to rub around your belly as if trying to feel the baby that is hiding inside whenever you feel agitated.

After getting the positive results through the home test kits, you had gone straight to the doctor only days before you left the city to have it checked, confirming that a baby is growing inside you. It still feels unbelievable to think about it, even after you saw it yourself with your own eyes.

“It’s still really early, and we might not be seeing much yet, but that’s your baby,” the doctor’s voice echoes through your mind as you tighten your clenched hands, thinking back to the day you went to have an ultrasound and saw for the first time the growing fetus that was said to be viable to grow fully as a baby.

Just like how the baby inside you has been nothing more than a blob of mass floating inside your stomach in your mind, your belly itself has yet to change shape. Even if your full awareness of the baby’s presence has only been causing you to find small changes in your body that nobody else might be able to see.

But Mom has been pregnant before, so wouldn’t she be able to see it? Will that be possible?

“Ginger tea is good for nausea and will give you some energy boost. Your grandma always made it for me whenever I had a stomach ache. I’m sure it’ll help get rid of your nausea and your upset stomach will turn better in no time.” Your Mom stops talking and sighs. “You should’ve told me that you were sick. I wouldn’t have let you drive all the way home if I had known.”

Ah.

You breathe a sigh of relief. You should be thankful that she believed you when you told her about having an upset stomach from the long drive home from the city. It was the only thing that you could think of as an excuse when your Mom wondered why you hadn’t been eating well since you got back home and why you were feeling sick.

It makes you wonder why you have been feeling unwell since you got home. Just when you had purposely waited until you were well enough and had stopped throwing up when you planned for the drive.

It’s almost as if the baby is deliberately making you sick to let everyone know about your secret.

“Thanks, Mom,” you say to your Mom as you reach for the tea, hiding your relieved sigh as you gingerly drink in small sips.

You have lost count of how many times Skye has made you this drink specifically to stop you from vomiting in the morning before going to work. It has been helping a lot to ease your ‘sickness’, and you are feeling it calming your stomach already as the drink warms your body.

You can feel your mother’s eyes on you, making you feel uneasy to be under her watchful gaze. “I think it might be better if you get some rest and take things easy. But are you sure you’re okay?” your Mom asks again, still worrying about you.

You continue drinking the ginger tea slowly while pressing down your guilt. You hate lying to your Mom the most, and now you are starting to regret driving home on your own. If the baby hadn’t been the one responsible for your current sickness, then perhaps driving the long distance has been the reason why your nausea is now coming back with a vengeance.

So much for trying to not draw any suspicions.

“I’m fine, Mom. Really,” you sigh as you place the glass down. “The tea is helping me already. I’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

Your Mom says nothing for a moment, but the crease you see forming on her forehead says differently. “I’m not just talking about you being sick. Maybe there’s another reason why you’re feeling faint?”

You look up at her just then. The moment you catch the pitiful look she is giving you, you finally understand what she is trying to say.

Just as Skye predicted, it didn’t take long for your family to take notice of your solo arrival. In the past, Hansol would have joined you to visit your family for a day or two during the holidays before he would return to his family on Christmas day. So his absence was quite obvious from the get-go.

And with the big lie that you have to hide from everyone at home, you had to at least give them one honest truth the moment they started asking.

“We ended things a few months ago,” you admitted to your family during the first dinner you had since you got home. By that time, you had already tried to avoid the questions for long enough. Nobody has brought up about it again since then.

Until now.

“If you’re talking about the breakup, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m okay, Mom. It’s been months since it happened. I’ve been trying to move one.”

In fact, you haven’t been thinking about your ex at all for a long time. Not until you brought it up to Skye and then again when your family started questioning. The only thing you have been worrying about lately is the baby growing inside you and finding a way to search for the father of the baby.

It was the one thing that you talked about with Skye before you left. While you are capable enough to raise the baby on your own, you decided it would be the best course of action to contact the father and let him know.

In Skye’s own words, “Just in case.”

Just in case the father would care enough to know that he has a son or a daughter coming into this world and wants to be in their life.

“But if we fail to find him or he wants nothing to do with the baby, then we’ll deal with it on our own. You just got your promotion, I got my good pay. We can raise the baby together. You and me, just like old times.”

Skye’s words put a smile on your face. She always knows how to lift your spirit up whenever you feel like giving up, and those exact words have helped boost your confidence and made you believe that you could get through this.

But first, you just need to get through spending this holiday with your family.

“I know you said that. But as your Mom, I can’t help but worry. I thought you were serious and we’ll be hearing some good news about you getting married this year.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Sorry, Mom,” you tease her with a bitter chuckle. You don’t bother to mention that the two of you had never once talked about marriage throughout your relationship.

Yet another sign that you overlooked. At least you never got to waste anymore time with him.

“Things just didn’t work out between us. It happens when a couple grow into two different people in the course of their relationship. Which was exactly what happened to us. Hansol wanted to focus on his career, in return, I also got the chance to focus on mine.”

Just as you said the words, you realise that this is true for your case.

Hansol has always been career-driven, and it has been growing stronger lately for him with the constant rise he was experiencing in his current company. And breaking up with your long-time boyfriend has allowed you to turn your focus on your job. The recent promotion you gained was a testament to your hard work to show you that there might be a silver lining to everything that has happened.

“I suppose you’re right,” your Mom says with a smile. You are beginning to feel a bit relieved that she seems to understand. You are hoping that she would start talking about something else when she adds, “I just feel sad that it didn’t work out for you. And we were all expecting to have Hansol joining us again this year. I guess it’s too late now to let your sister know about this since she’s supposed to arrive today.”

Stepsister.

You lift your glass and slowly drink your tea to stop yourself from correcting her. For some reason, you feel a bit bitter having your mother mention her all so suddenly.

It isn’t that you hate your stepsister. It’s hard to feel something so extreme when you barely had any relationship with her at all. Back when you were younger, your mother did try to get you two to get along and be friends.

To make her happy, you tried your best to act friendly, or at least to be cordial whenever she was around, even when the only thing she showed you over the years had been nothing but contempt.

But things changed after a drunken fit that she had last holiday season, when she got drunk and tried to make a move and openly flirted with your then-boyfriend. Even if nothing ever came out of it except for her own embarrassment, as Hansol openly rejected her and stayed away from her for the remaining time he was here, the incident still left a bad taste that made you feel bitter.

That was when you finally decided that you would stop trying to be nice.

You put down the glass and try to remain calm. What’s done is done. All you have to do is focus on getting through this holiday before going back to the city and start with your mission to search for the baby’s father.

“What does Alia have to do with my break up?” you ask your mother, hoping that she wouldn’t bring up the drama from last year.

“Oh, it’s nothing serious, really,” your Mom answers with a soft chuckle, “It’s just that Alia called home sometime last week, asking if she could bring someone over this Christmas. She said that she’s been seeing someone new and since she was bringing him to meet her mother, she wondered if it would be okay if she could bring him along to meet us too.”

Your Mom sighs, looking a bit guilty when she adds, “We figured since you might bring Hansol with you, it would be okay if she has her new boyfriend along. Maybe the guys could get along and spend time together while you and Alia catch up.”

You try to imagine you and Alia catching up like old friends or—just like what your Mom has been wishing you to be—as sisters, and you almost shake your head.

Yeah, that seems unlikely, you bitterly wonder to yourself, yet you don’t have the heart to tell your mother that there is not much hope for you and Alia to be good friends.

“I guess it’s a shame that Hansol isn’t here,” you simply say to your mother while you inwardly wonder just what your stepsister is really up to this year.

“Yeah, it’s unfortunate,” your mother says with a sigh. “But I’m glad that at least both of you girls can make it home this year.”

“Me too, Mom,” you force a smile, silently hoping that you can start talking about something else. Something that doesn’t concern your bitter stepsister coming home or bringing up any dark thoughts about your ex. “So, what are we having for dinner? Want my help in the kitchen?”

Your question immediately puts everything into motion, drifting her attention away from your sappy story and the false hope of sisterhood that may never happen between you and your stepsister. Your Mom tries to stop you from helping out in the kitchen at first but finally gives in when you keep insisting.

At least, this way, you can keep your mind busy enough to stop it from thinking about unnecessary thoughts the way it often does when you are alone.

Things seem to be going on well enough at first, until your sickness returns and you have to give up trying.

”See, I told you that you should be resting until you feel better,” your mother complains as she watches you bending over, keeping away from the stove and what is currently cooking on top of it which seems to be making you feel dizzy and sick.

After garlic, lemon-scented air freshener, and coconut milk, seems you are going to have to add raw chicken to the list of things that may trigger your nausea.

“But then I’ll be bored like hell,” you argue, “I’m fine, Mom. Just let me take a quick break for a minute.”

Your mother looks as if she wants to say something, but the sound of a car coming into the driveway interrupts her. Both of you turn to look out towards the living room, just in time to see your stepfather, Cliff, turning in the corner of the hall and rushing towards the front door.

“Honey, they’re here!” he calls out, and you urge your mother to join him.

“Go, Mom. I’ll finish things up and make sure nothing gets burned before I join you guys.”

Once your mother is out of the kitchen, you can no longer resist pressing your palm on your stomach.

“Seriously, baby,” you whisper to the non-existent bump under your sweater, “Please take it easy, will you? I’m really struggling here, and you’re not making things easy for me. Trust me, it would be too soon for everyone to find out about you. At least wait until we can find a clue about your Dad, okay?”

As if the baby inside you is listening, even if it is still barely full-grown at this point, your body grows calmer and the nausea slowly wanes.

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper to your stomach once again before finally focusing on the stove and the oven, deliberately taking your time with what you do just so you can have a reason not to join the dramatic reunion happening right this minute.

From this side of the kitchen, the front door isn’t completely visible. But you can hear everything as the door opens and your stepfather joyfully welcomes his daughter.

Hearing his voice makes you smile. You may have had a tumultuous relationship with your stepsister, but the same cannot be said with your stepfather. Cliff has always been a great role model, and your relationship with him has always been great from the start.

It makes you feel guilty when you think about the previous encounters where you and your stepsister simply gave each other cold shoulders or when you were met with altercations just because of how different the two of you are. But there is no helping it. Nothing has changed over the years no matter how hard you tried. Not even once you have become adults.

You can’t even remember how it first started. And frankly, you no longer care. Last year’s incident was already enough to let you know that the sisterhood that your parents have been forcing you into was beyond saving.

The voices coming from the front door continue for a moment longer. This time, you get to hear your mother’s voice joining in the conversation and Alia’s soft voice answering her questions. You make no effort to listen to what they are saying and tune out their voices, until your mother’s voice calls out to you.

“______, your sister is here. Come and say hi.”

Your mother’s words make you stop. Slowly, you turn down the heat on the stove and turn to make your way towards the front door to join the family reunion.

“It’s stepsister,” you mutter under your breath as you drag your feet, taking your sweet time while you try to compose yourself before having to face the unwanted guests.

As you turn around the corner, merely moments before the front door finally comes into view, you get to hear another voice speaking. The voice that you couldn’t clearly hear from the kitchen while you were tuning their conversation out.

“I’m sorry for intruding. But thank you for having me here.”

That voice.

You immediately come to a halt. An uneasy feeling runs through your body when you realise that you recognise this voice and have grown to know it quite well.

There is no mistaking it. You may not have gotten his full name on the night you met, and his face has somewhat become a faint mirage in your dreams at night whenever you are taken back to the night of your hookup.

But you cannot say the same about his voice.

That deep and gentle voice will always be engraved in your memory. Even now, the only thing you would need to do is close your eyes and listen, and allow the voice to take you back to that specific night once more, where he used this voice to say sinful words that you could feel caressing your fragile heart while he was bringing you to the peak of pleasure.

And now you are hearing that voice here, at your home, idly chatting with your mother by the front door.

“_______, are you coming?” your mother calls again, and you know that there is no avoiding it. You have to face reality, even if that means you must come face to face with the man who is responsible for placing you in this situation.

Tamping down the rush of nerves going through your body, you slowly march ahead. Bracing yourself as you turn around the corner and enter the living room where everyone is currently gathering in.

Your eyes fall on your stepsister first.

Alia has always looked so vibrant and beautiful, drawing all kinds of attention from everyone in the room whenever she is present. Yet when you look at her now, there seems to be a new kind of light emerging from her. Even her smile seems brighter as she chats along with your stepfather.

And you soon realise the reason why she is shining brightly today as you turn your gaze to look at the person standing beside her. To finally see him.

He looks just like how you remember him. Tall and lean, with his arms and chest filling up his sweater. He has his hair falling over a part of his face, just enough of a mess that seems as if he has been running his fingers through the wavy strands. As he converses with your mother, he shows his boxy grin that seems familiar to your eyes.

Too familiar.

Because it looks just the same as the wide grin that was teasing and flirting with you on one eventful night at the transit hotel weeks ago.

No. That can’t be.

The baby’s daddy is here. The man who you were planning to look for once you return to the city.

He is here, today, appearing at the front door of your parents’ home together with your stepsister. His long fingers that had once entangled between the strands of your hair are now entwined with your stepsister’s dainty fingers. And there is no mistaking the matching couple rings that are glowing under the sunlight coming from their entwined hands.

Before you get the chance to process what is happening, you hear him introducing himself to your stepfather, “It’s good to see you, Sir. My name is Taehyung.”

No.

You stifle a gasp. It feels like you have been sucker-punched right in the chest that you can barely breathe.

Taehyung, you wonder. Tae?

All of a sudden, you feel as if the ground beneath your feet is tilting over, slowly taking you down with it. And since you seem to have lost the ability to move your feet, the only thing you can do to stop yourself from falling is to clench your hands tightly by your side. Tight enough to feel pain as your nails are sinking into your palms, convincing you that this is not a dream.

Yet you are still in denial as you watch the interaction happening right before your eyes. Because there is no way this is happening. There is no possible way that it is truly him.

Please. Please don’t let it be him.

It must have been your mind playing tricks on you. Because there is no way that he is here. Not as your stepsister’s new boyfriend.

This must be a mistake. Yes, you are probably confused and all the thoughts of finding your baby daddy are messing up with your head, forcing you to believe that your stepsister’s new boyfriend is your mysterious baby daddy. The fact that they have the same name must have been pure coincidence.

For once in your life, you don’t want to be right. You have to be wrong.

Please tell me that it’s not him.

Just then, as if life was listening to your prayers, as if life has yet to have enough of its games to play around with your heart, the man turns his gaze away from your parents. And those pretty eyes land on you.

As if there is a switch turned, the brightness in his gaze fades. His beautiful eyes are filled with recognition. It is so subtle that you are quite sure that nobody else around you notices it, but it is enough to let you know that your memories have been right all along.

Because those are the same eyes that you saw looking back at you with pure lust and sin while he was bringing you wanton pleasure, when you made love as if both of you had been under a spell, right on the very night that may have changed your fate forever.

Fuck.

Me.

At one glance, this moment would seem like any other pre-holiday family dinner. It may seem picture perfect, even—if you had been a stranger looking in.

There are still a couple of days left until Christmas Day, yet the festive mood has already filled the room. From the living room, all the way to the dining room, Christmas decorations are already plastered across the walls and hung from the ceiling. On the dining table, the delectable meal that your mother worked hard to prepare—with your poor assistance—had been perfectly laid out.

With Alia’s arrival today, the immediate family is now complete. Ever the charming daughter, Alia takes up the attention of everyone around her as she shares her story—about how she has been travelling between different states and some neighbouring countries, changing jobs, finding new hobbies, and even planning to adopt a new pet.

Sitting at the head of the table, your stepfather is soaking it all in, enjoying the time he has with his daughter whom he rarely gets to see throughout the year. Your mother sits on his right, getting the front seat of their merry reunion. She would sometimes chime in, never failing to try to get you into joining their idle chat even when you are not feeling up to it.

Other times, you would have been able to easily play along. From making cordial comments and joining with all the light jokes shared by your family, or feigning interest in anything that Alia might be sharing at the table—even when she rarely would share the same courtesy when you did the same.

Tonight, however, it feels like a struggle for you to focus on the conversation shared at the table, let alone pretend to be interested. Not when you are busy trying your best to calm your nerves.

You can't even embrace the same warm atmosphere that everyone seems to be sharing.

For you, the air around feels stifling and tense. It has been this way ever since you sat down right next to your mother for dinner. Because due to the seating arrangement, the special guest of the night is now sitting right across from you at the table.

Taehyung.

The last person that you had ever expected to see. Not here. Certainly not at your home or sharing the same space with your parents.

It seems surreal to meet him here like this. Even more so when he was introduced to your family as Alia’s new boyfriend.

Judging from the way he reacted when he first saw you, you can tell that he never expected something like this could ever happen. You know that he has questions, perhaps just as much as you do, yet the situation that you found yourself in right now isn’t allowing you to even show any sign that the two of you know each other or to have met before today.

But there is something in the way he is looking at you that doesn’t sit right with you. Aside from the lingering shock you see each time your eyes accidentally meet each other, there is a look that shows a semblance of guilt, despair, and at the same time, filled with wonder.

Was it because he never expected to see you again after that night, much less to find out that you are somehow related to the woman that he is dating? Or was there something else going through his mind?

“This is Alia’s sister, ______,” was what your mother said when she first introduced you to him. At that point, you and Taehyung were stunned to silence, and for a brief moment, neither of you reacted.

Thinking about it now, you can’t even remember how you managed to join your family in the living room. The moment you saw Taehyung standing there, your legs nearly gave out. It was a wonder how you managed to stop yourself from falling or tripping as you walked over to them in a state of distraught.

“Hi, it’s good to see you,” was all that you managed to croak out of once you snapped out of it. You didn’t even give him a chance to respond when you suddenly turned your attention to your stepsister, forcing a smile on your face when you greeted her, “Hey, Alia. It’s good to see you. You seem well.”

You can’t even remember the expression that Alia gave you when she responded to you, “Uh yeah, thanks. You too.”

“Right. Well, I’ll let you guys settle in. I left the stove on, so—”

That was the last thing you said before you turned away and quickly left the room, practically running away from him to hide back in the kitchen. The last thing you heard as you walked away was your mother’s voice saying something about you being her assistant of the day in the kitchen while you were feeling unwell, as if excusing you for your unmannerly attitude.

By the time you got back in the kitchen, your hands were shaking, your heartbeat was racing so fast you could barely breathe. It took a long time for the shock to wane, and you had spent the rest of the day staying away from both of them, avoiding him entirely until you were finally called to join dinner.

And you are still avoiding him even now, keeping your head down as much as you can and resisting the urge to look his way. As if it isn’t hard enough for you to have him sitting right in front of you, you can feel the heat of his gaze constantly following you whenever you are not looking.

He doesn’t make it so obvious, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else has noticed it yet. Perhaps you are just too hyperaware of his presence that you caught on to it so easily.

You sneak a glance at your stepsister, wondering if Alia has taken notice of her boyfriend’s wandering gaze or where he has been directing his eyes. It takes you watching the conversation between her and your parents more closely to see it.

Because it turns out that she also has her own gaze wandering to questionable places at the same time that she isn’t paying much attention to her boyfriend.

Each time Alia turns to regard your mother or speak to her, her gaze flickers away briefly, ever so subtly landing on the seat to your right. At the seat that Hansol would usually occupy whenever he joined you during these holiday visits.

It is easy to catch it when you are seeing it from your angle. And it is easy to guess what is going through her head when she keeps doing it with a curious look written all over her face. An unspoken question seems to linger, while the incident from last year keeps flashing through your head when you picture Hansol being present beside you.

Even if nobody notices her intention, you doubt that anyone would question her about it, seeing that the seat that was supposed to be left empty has been taken by someone else.

While you are busy trying to make sense out of everything, your grandmother makes a disapproval noise with her tongue, grabbing your attention. “Are you still feeling under the weather? You’ve been drinking that boring thing the whole day,” she says, referring to the glass of iced tea that you have just put down after taking a drink from it to cool down.

You turn to look at your dear grandmother, Honey, and smile at her. She probably hasn’t realised what a saving grace she has been for taking the unoccupied seat to your right the minute she came in for dinner.

And she is now helping you again by drawing your attention away from the source of your dismay. Immediately, you feel better the moment you are met with Honey’s smile.

“I’m feeling much better, actually. I’m just being careful not to drink anything that might get me sick,” you answer carefully, hoping to sound reasonable enough without making anyone question your ‘sickness’ any further.

The more you lie to your family about it, the more guilty you feel. You don’t have much choice at the moment but to hide it just a bit longer.

At first, you couldn’t share the news with your parents simply because you were still clueless about how you were going to find the father of the baby with only limited information you had of him. But then things only got even more complicated for you to ever come clean when he walked through the front door of your parents’ home.

What are the odds that the man you hooked up with turns out to be the man your stepsister is currently dating? And here you are now, stuck in the same room with them while hiding a secret which may change the course of everyone’s entire life.

Yeah, miracles don’t exist. Not for me, at least.

Honey taps at your hand on the table as you grow silent, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head. “You know what you need?” she asks, whispering in a conspiring tone that she barely keeps down so that everyone at the table can still hear her voice.

And she does it while looking at you with her wide, expecting eyes, with the barely concealed mischief written all over her face. It makes you smile, knowing where this is going. So you simply play along.

"No, Honey. What would that be?”

Her mischievous smile widens as she leans closer. “A hint of rum. With a few drops into that boring tea of yours, you’ll feel better in no time,” she says, lifting her hand and showing you a pinching gesture with her thumb and forefinger nearly touching each other, “Just a pinch. Or better yet, just trade your whole glass—”

The sound of your Mom’s frustrated sigh cuts her off. “Mom, I already told you, giving her alcohol isn’t going to make her feel better. I’ve already given her some herbal tea, that should be enough until she can get a proper rest.”

“Oh, posh,” Honey says, waving her hand at your mother. “Ignore your Mom,” Honey says just as you are about to respond. “I’m telling you. Alcohol is best to cure your heartbreak,” she adds, and you certainly have no arguments against that. Alcohol might be able to help you forget.

But, alas…

But, wait a minute. You stop and look closely at Honey. What is she talking about?

“What do you mean?” you question her while tilting your head, wondering deep down if she had noticed something. Surely, she wouldn’t be able to tell the high tension rolling between you and Taehyung through dinner.

Nobody else could. But you also know that if there is anyone in your family who might be able to catch on with the tension rolling between the two of you, it would be Honey.

Once again, Honey reaches out and taps her dainty fingers on the back of your hand. “Isn’t that why you’re feeling down, peaches? I know you’re still thinking about that good for nothing—”

Honey stops herself and bites down her smile before you can figure out what she is about to say. But you have heard enough to understand who she is referring to.

Relief washes over you when you realise that she was talking about your ex, Hansol. She must have thought that you have been stressing over the breakup and you have been feeling unwell because of it.

Honey leans in, this time lowering her voice just enough only for you to hear. “You must’ve taken it from me. I also get a stomach bug when I’m stressed out. Just like last summer when I lost a go-stop game against the ladies from the block,” she says, before she continues blabbering about how she had made bets during the game and went all-in only to lose everything.

“You might think that they’re nothing but small pennies used for gambling coins, but I spent a whole week collecting them. How am I supposed to replace all of them before the next game?” she continues to complain, while you laugh at her.

Her story takes away the tension on your shoulders for a brief moment before she adds, “And then you had to come here and watch these two being all lovey-dovey with each other.”

As Honey mentions the pair sitting across the table, waving her hand at them to make a point, your eyes are drawn towards them once more. And your gaze lands right on Alia’s hand which is now resting on top of Taehyung’s.

Seeing this makes you feel tight in the chest. Bitterness fills your mouth which you can barely hide with a tight smile. Honey may not have been entirely correct with her assumptions, yet her comment still hits the mark somehow.

Not about Hansol, obviously, as he is the one to occupy your mind the least. Yet she wasn’t too far off when she talked about the new pair of lovers before you. Seeing them does make you uncomfortable, miserable even, but for entirely different reasons.

Looking away from their joined hands, your gaze meets Alia’s. She is wearing an unreadable expression on her face as she listens in to Honey’s words. And the strange look that she is giving you now is making you feel uneasy.

Just as you start wondering if Alia has noticed something, she instead asks you, “You guys broke up?”

She throws a quick glance at Honey’s seat with a frown. For others, she might seem concerned, yet there is a look in her eyes which tells you that there is something more. “I was wondering why I haven’t seen him around. He was with us last holiday.”

Her comment rubs you in the wrong way. You have no idea why she would care when your relationship has nothing to do with her. But you try to not let it bother you. “Yes, it’s been months now since we broke up. I only told Mom and Dad yesterday when I first got home.”

“I see,” she says. Her voice comes out so softly that it almost comes out as a murmur. She pulls her hand back and places it on her lap. “That’s too bad. I’m sorry,” she adds while offering a small smile. And for some reason, she also seems guilty.

Does she think it has something to do with what happened last year?

Her words remind you of something that she said to you last year, back on the morning you confronted her after her drunken blunder which happened the night before.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t mean anything, I swear. It’s just drunk talking.”

That incident shouldn’t be bothering you today. Yet it still makes you feel bitter when you think about it. The feeling only grows worse when you glance at Taehyung who is showing a sudden interest in this whole thing.

“It’s fine. Sometimes things just don’t work out,” you simply repeat the same thing you said to your mother earlier while biting back the real question that is hanging right at the tip of your tongue.

But what’s in it to you?

No matter how curious you are to know what kind of scheme that is going through her pretty little head, you know it’s not worth all the drama that it might cause. You cannot even possibly imagine the drama that would unfold once this whole baby thing comes out.

God, just thinking about it is already making your stomach churn. Your lower abdomen suddenly feels hard and heavy. As if you have a full-size lead inside instead of a small, growing blob that is about to form into an actual living baby within a few weeks from now.

Thinking about the baby, your eyes find the man who is behind all of this. He has grown oddly quiet while you were conversing with your stepsister and is now staring at his food with a frown on his face.

“So tell me,” you ask calmly while clenching your hands, doing your best to hide the trembles, “How did you two meet?”

This question immediately draws Taehyung’s attention. His eyes snap up, but the moment he looks at you, his face seems to grow pale and he becomes awfully nervous.

“We, uh—we used to work at the same company before Alia left to venture into other things,” he says, almost stuttering. He also keeps stealing glances at Alia, as if begging her to help him out.

Huh, strange.

What is it about answering your simple question which makes him so nervous?

Or perhaps…

Have they been seeing each other when the two of you hooked up?

Fuck.

The moment this thought crosses your mind, you suddenly feel sick. Your stomach grows heavier with anxiety. Meanwhile, Alia’s smile seems to beam brighter.

“We didn’t work in the same division back then, but we would frequently meet during breaks and company hours. Had it been, what, a year after we last met?” Alia turns to Taehyung, who stiffly nods his head. She grabs his hand once again and looks at him lovingly as she continues, “We met again last summer by chance while I was travelling and started talking since then.”

Last summer? But that was before—

Your head starts spinning. You grab your glass and take a couple of small sips of your tea to regain composure, yet the drink suddenly tastes bitter on your tongue.

Honey’s voice barely registers in your brain when she responds with a hum. “Travelling in the summer? That sounds like a charming way to meet a new lover,” she says, lifting her mug to her lips as she continues marvelling at your stepsister’s story. “You must have felt some sparks when you two met. I bet you’re still feeling it now, aren’t you?”

You have no idea what she has inside that ceramic mug, as she had been nursing the same drink since even before dinner started. You can bet money that she had more than a pinch of rum dropped inside that drink of hers, seeing how talkative she is becoming.

Oh, how you wish you could have a taste of it. Just a sip would have been good enough. Maybe it can also help to stop your hands from trembling.

“And the ring?” Honey asks again with a teasing tone as she points at their entwined hands. “I noticed that you two are wearing matching rings. You can’t possibly be engaged already, can you?”

Almost choking on your drink, you slowly set your glass back down and pull your hands onto your lap, hiding them from prying eyes just in time as they begin to shake.

“But it wasn’t that different back in the day,” Honey continues, “I remember that Russ—that’s my dear late husband,” she explains to Taehyung, “he bought me a cheap ring at the beginning of our relationship to show me and my parents that he was serious about courting me.”

On any other times that Honey would speak about your late grandfather, you would always enjoy listening to every word, admiring how she would always share her story with pure love in her voice and wonder glowing in her eyes.

But not this time.

Ever since she pointed out the ring and started talking about your grandfather’s old promises, you start having trouble breathing. The more she speaks, the worse it gets, and now there is a ringing sound echoing in your ear that seems to be coming from different directions.

“I still keep the ring with me, side by side with the wedding ring that doesn’t fit anymore on these wrinkly fingers of mine,” Honey keeps gushing. She raises her hands and starts wiggling her fingers to show them off, while your whole body grows tense.

Alia shares a nervous laugh with Taehyung and waves her hand at Honey. “Oh, no…it’s actually a part of a joke that we—”

You try to tune out the voices, the words that are being said, while clasping your hands tighter together on your lap, but the shaking doesn’t stop. Alia’s voice fades in and out beyond the loud ringing in your head as she continues to tell her story about how they started dating and the ring came to be. With everything that is going on, added with your awareness over Taehyung’s intense gaze that doesn’t seem to waver, it becomes too overwhelming that you feel as if you are slowly being swallowed into the ground beneath you.

With a sharp gasp, you slowly push yourself out of your seat. “Excuse me, I have to—” your voice cracks as you speak. As you stand, you notice that everyone has their eyes on you, all curious to know what is happening with you.

“_______?” you hear your mother calling you.

You can feel the blood draining from your face under all the unwanted attention, making you wish that you could just fade away right at that moment. But then your hand find its way to your stomach, and it almost feels like there is a touch of warmth forming under your palm. It helps you force a smile and gather yourself just enough to say, “I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to step out early. I hope that’s alright. You guys enjoy the rest of dinner.”

You don’t wait for anyone’s response as you turn away, finding your escape merely moments before you get into a full-blown meltdown right in front of everyone.

Your legs are wobbly as you walk down the hall, yet you still manage to slip into the guest bathroom downstairs. With trembling hands, you lock the door behind you, shutting yourself from the world outside.

And that is when you fall apart, turning into a heaving mess as everything that you have been bottling up inside comes flooding out of you.

“Breathe,” you command yourself while you fight back against your nausea. Holding onto the bathroom counter, you keep yourself and try your best to focus on controlling your breath.

Take a slow, deep breath. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Little by little, all the tension, the trembling, and the tightness in your chest begin to wane. But once everything is gone, once you begin to find calmness, your emotions seize control of you.

The next thing you know, an unstoppable flow of tears comes running down your face and you start sobbing, crying in defeat.

“Shit. Fuck. What a mess,” you curse between each sob, feeling absolutely helpless and alone. You close your eyes, hoping that you can clear your head by doing so. Yet your mind keeps going to dark places. Constantly wondering and questioning about all of this.

About him.

“Did he ever mention anything that was related to his personal life that night?” you cannot help but wonder out loud.

Only silence answers. Because you hold little to no recollection of the details from the conversation you shared with him that night. Whenever you try to remember, it always feels like there was a part of your memory that had gone missing.

You haven’t had the slightest clue of the things you shared with him at the bar once the drinks started coming more frequently. Which is a wonder, because you are completely sure that neither of you had gotten drunk enough to experience a blackout, much less lose a memory.

At least for you, the alcohol was just enough to burn through your nerves and help build your confidence to take the lead and openly show the attraction you had for him. Even if he did end up taking back control the moment the two of you finally gave in to temptation.

Your head starts pounding, aching the more you try to remember the missing details. Meanwhile, all the questions won’t stop coming, making it harder for you to regain a peaceful mind.

Did he ever mention having a girlfriend, or at least give any hint that he was taken?

Was he wearing that ring on his finger when he was touching your skin under the dim light of his bedroom suite?

You shake your head and close your eyes again when you still remember nothing. The only thing that remains in your memory is the look you saw in his gaze that night. The pitiful look that seemed to mirror yours, making you believe that he was looking for the same thing you did that night.

An escape. A way to forget even if for a moment.

But what if that was all just another lie?

Your stomach churns. A sharp pain comes shooting through your body. It starts from your lower abdomen, causing you to almost double over.

Fuck. Now what?

Your hand instantly comes down to your stomach, pressing and rubbing gently against it until the uncomfortable ache ebbs under your touch.

Right, I’m supposed to avoid any form of stress, you remind yourself as you recall what your doctor told you the last time you went to see her. Something about getting your blood tension rising when you are stressed, and that it wouldn’t be good for both you and the baby in the long run. Closing your eyes, you try to think of happy thoughts, all while keeping your palm pressed on your stomach.

To your surprise, rubbing your palm against the barely-there baby bump on your belly isn’t just helping you to soothe the pain away, but also to calm yourself down.

With a sigh, you gently wipe your tears and look down. “I’m sorry for swearing so much, baby. I promise to stop doing it once you’ve grown big enough to start hearing things so you won’t learn any of it too soon. But fuck, this is too much.”

It feels odd to speak like this to the living being growing inside you that is barely more than a piece of flesh. Yet speaking to your growing baby seems to help ease your anxiety a little.

Better yet, it helps make you feel less alone.

“Let’s not think any bad thoughts. Let’s not assume that your Dad is an asshole, okay? Not until we get to hear the full story,” you whisper to the tiny human growing inside you. The more you speak to it, the more it seems to be helping you to find some ease of mind.

But even if it turns out that he was…

“Then I can deal with it later with my head held high,” you murmur to yourself in a soft, yet reassuring tone of voice. And you repeat it again, and again, almost as if you are chanting a spell which would be able to give you a boost of confidence.

It may not immediately change the way you look at things, yet you can feel it slowly rising within you. It feels like a ray of light, the first spark of hope that you get to feel amid all the uncertainty which surrounds you.

Soon enough, the strong urge to cry no longer overcomes you. Even your hands have stopped shaking. All that you have left is exhaustion. It rolls through your body with a vengeance, and there is nothing that you want more right now other than to curl up like a ball on your bed and sleep it off.

You raise your head to look at yourself in the mirror, and instantly a bitter laugh escapes you at what you are seeing.

Because you look like a complete mess. Your life is slowly turning into shambles, and it seems to be mocking you through your own reflection that is now staring back at you.

“Just exactly what I need,” you whisper with a sigh.

I need to be stronger, if only for the sake of this little one in me, you tell yourself as you splash cold water at your face to wash away all the mess—the drying tears, your swollen eyes, and the skin on your face which has yet to regain its normal colours.

It feels therapeutic to be washing everything off, leaving nothing more but your swollen eyes which you can explain as a part of your sickness. You may not be strong enough to take on the world, but at least now, you are prepared to face the reality that is waiting for you right outside of this door.

No matter how fucking messy it is.

Having this new revelation should be giving you a newfound credence that could push you forward. And yet there is none of that here. The only thing you are feeling now is the new bout of anxiety rolling up through your body, starting from your stomach as it churns painfully.

“Yeah, now I feel sick,” you groan as you rush to the toilet bowl, seconds away before you start dumping the small amount of food you had during dinner into waste.

It takes a bit longer than expected before you finally find the courage to step out of the bathroom.

Soft murmurs filter into the bathroom the moment you open the door. You can tell that the voices are coming from the living room, which means that the family has gathered there after dinner. It allows you to breathe a sigh of relief. At least this way you wouldn’t have to hide or make excuses if you have to bump into someone on your way to your bedroom.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you are relieved that nobody is around. Everyone should be in the living room, so you make haste, hoping to be able to escape before anyone notices.

But as you turn to the next hallway, someone is standing in your way. The light is dim, yet you can easily recognise him before you get any closer. Standing with his back leaning against the wall, he has his hands tucked into his pockets and his eyes looking absently into the distance.

As though he has been waiting for you.

Taehyung turns when he notices you coming. Before you can start to wonder what he is doing here, a smile grows on his face.

“Hey, is everything okay? Everyone was worried,” he asks you, sounding genuinely concerned.

The calm tone of his voice might be a bit deceiving if only you are not looking into his eyes. His gaze keeps wavering as he speaks, as if he is unable to look at you for too long. The same guilt you saw earlier is still present in his eyes. And you hate seeing it there.

It only tells you that he has a secret that he is keeping from you. You have no idea how to feel about it. But if it has to do with his relationship with Alia, then—

“I’m fine, it’s just—”

Your cheeks grow warm the moment you speak, feeling embarrassed at how dry your voice sounds. “It’s nothing. You heard my Mom, I’ll be better in no time.”

You have so many things to say to him. So many questions that you would like to give him. But you are too tired to do anything. Much less to talk. As much as you can convince yourself that you are ready to face anything, now is not the right time to do it.

So you keep your mouth shut and try to walk past him instead. Only that he isn’t letting you go that easily.

“You know, it really is nice to see you again, Red.”

His voice sounds so subdued that you almost miss it. You come to a halt. Your heartbeat starts picking up again. If you ever needed confirmation that the sinful night you shared with him truly happened, and that he remembered any part of it, then this is it.

His comment which instantly brings you back to that fateful night. The nickname that he used to call you then.

You close your eyes, refusing to remember the way he managed to draw out a myriad of sensations with his voice alone. You refuse to be brought back there again. Not now, when your mind isn’t clear enough to be dealing with this. Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself just enough to face him.

Only to be met with his amused smile as he looks at you.

“I was surprised to see you. I never would have thought that you could somehow be related to Alia.” He lets out a chuckle. It sounds empty and a bit bitter, mirroring exactly how you are feeling right now.

Your chest feels tight, hating the way he is saying her name. Nor do you enjoy seeing the way his gaze changes when he does it. Annoyance fills your chest that you can barely speak, while he remains in his blissful ignorance as he continues talking,

“Funny how life works, doesn’t it? I kept thinking about you after we met and wondered if we would ever see each other again. I regretted that I didn’t ask for your number before we parted ways. I didn’t even get to ask for your real name.”

The tightness in your chest grows tenfold.

You never admitted it before—not to yourself, and not even to Skye, when you first talked about him—yet there was some point between that night and the day you found out about the pregnancy that you spent your nights wondering if you would ever see him again.

If there had been one thing that you regretted about that night, it would be the decision you made to leave the next morning without asking for his real name or leaving any means of contact.

A night to escape from reality.

That was all it meant for you at the time. So when the morning came, it was time for you to return to reality. Your reality. Your real life. And you were too busy preparing yourself to face all the hurt, the bad memories, and the stressful life that had nothing to do with the desirable woman that he brought into his bed the night before to even consider exchanging contacts with him.

It didn’t matter if you were still riding the high of that night’s self-gratification and wanton pleasure through the rest of your trip. The moment everything ended, you simply moved on from it. Putting everything about that night to the back of your mind as you returned to your normal life and quickly fell back into your normal routine.

Until weeks later, when life decided to fuck you over and you ended up with a baby growing inside you, and you had no way to find or contact him to inform him about it.

“I guess it can’t be helped, given the circumstances.” Your conviction quickly melts into dread once you are reminded of the current circumstances. “It’s kinda too late now to talk about it and regret what didn’t happen, don’t you think? Seeing that you’re now dating my stepsister.”

Taehyung winces. For a brief moment, you almost believe you can see a glimpse of hurt flickering through his gaze. And for some reason, it only pisses you off.

So he doesn’t like being reminded of the fact that he is here for someone else?

“Look, about Alia. I was hoping that we could talk. Maybe when all of this is done, or maybe after the holidays we can—”

He continues talking, but you aren’t hearing anything. The questions that flooded your brain earlier come flashing back. The ringing that pained you returns. Everything lasts for a few more seconds before your mind clears out, and only one question remains.

“Were the two of you already dating when we slept together?”

He falls silent, taken aback.

“No!” he immediately says, almost shouting. But he quickly reins himself before his voice would reach where everyone is and draw their attention. “Fuck, no. Is that why you’ve been sulking all through dinner?” he asks you with a hiss. He seems offended and hurt at the same time. “I’m not that kind of guy. Trust me.”

“Sulking?” you let out an incredulous laugh. Is that how he saw it? When you were coming close to breaking apart right in front of everyone because of him?

“How am I supposed to trust you when I barely know you? How am I supposed to know that you’re telling the truth?” you snap back at him with a hiss. “Just because we fucked it doesn’t mean that I’d magically know everything about you.”

Again, he winces at your question. As if your words come to him like a slap on his face. He takes a deep breath and speaks more calmly in response, “Look, we should talk. Soon. I can explain everything. But not now, okay?”

As much as you hate to admit it, or to agree with him, you decide that he is right. There are a lot of things that you need to discuss with him, and now is not the right time to do it. Not when your emotions are all over the place and when he has his girlfriend keeping him in close sight most of the time.

“I agree. We do need to talk,” you finally agree, even though you know that both of you have different things in mind.

You have no idea what he intends to discuss with you. The only thing that matters to you is to talk about the baby that you conceived together. And hopefully, decide what will happen next.

“I should go,” you sigh, feeling exhausted and drained. “I need to lie down. This is too much for me to process.”

You try to walk around him so you can continue on your way. Your head is pounding, and you have the dire need to rest in your comfortable bed, where you would be able to feel safe and hide away from all of this.

“Wait,” Taehyung stops you before you can go too far.

“What?” you ask him, feeling exasperated—both from the stress and from the way your body still tingles each time you hear his voice. You really need to get away from him.

“Nothing, it’s just…” he starts, suddenly looking nervous with what he is about to say. The sound of laughter echoes from the living room, making him glance over his shoulder briefly before speaking to you with a lowered voice, “Can you do me a favour?”

You frown at him. “What is it?”

He looks wary, and it makes you feel uneasy in the stomach as you wait for him to speak.

But what he says next makes you feel even worse. “Please don’t tell Alia that we’ve met before, more importantly that we hooked up that night.”

You say nothing at first. Even if you are well aware of the situation and where Alia’s position in all of this, it still doesn’t stop the sharp pain you feel in your chest as he mentions her name, or to express his request.

Taehyung steps closer when you remain quiet. His voice comes as a desperate whisper when he pleads with you, “Please? Can you do this for me?”

You grit your teeth. “Fine, I won’t,” you finally say to him. But you refuse to give in that easily.

Taking a step closer to him, you point at him and demand him, “But you need to tell her.”

He clenches his jaw as he listens to your demands, but you ignore it and continue to talk. “She needs to know—” your voice nearly wavers, because you know what would happen once everything is revealed.

Telling your stepsister that you had slept with her boyfriend would not only be hard, but it would be ugly.

But it would be better than keeping it a secret for much longer. Because secrets don’t always remain hidden, no matter how hard you try to keep them in the shadows. And things would even get messier once the baby comes while she is still being kept in the dark.

It’s better to bite the bullet as soon as possible, rather than waiting and living your life in uncertainty until the day comes.

“If you don’t, and we keep this a secret much longer, things might get messier if she somehow finds out on her own. The last thing I’d ever want is to get into any drama. Not with her,” you try to convince Taehyung, despite him looking like he would rather bolt and have nothing to do with any of this.

After all the drama that happened last year, the last thing you need is to get involved in another.

“I’ll tell her myself if necessary.” There is a bite in your voice when you are telling him all of this. To his credit, Taehyung—despite looking shell-shocked and cornered—seems to respect and understand your request.

He lowers his head and nods. “Give me time. I’ll—”

You are surprised to see him looking defeated. It makes you wonder if there is something more about their relationship that you need to know before going further.

As Taehyung raises his head again, he seems more resolved. He looks straight into your eyes as he promises, “I’ll tell her myself once I get the chance to. I promise. But we’re going to have that talk first, and soon.”

“It’s a promise.” You bite back the ache that suddenly pierces through your heart, seeing how he is so adamant about protecting his relationship with your stepsister. Trying not to look too deep into it and get yourself hurt further, you avoid looking into his gaze and start walking away from him.

“Goodnight then—” you whisper to him as you turn away from him, biting back the sound of your defeat when you call his name, “Tae.”

The moment you are within the safety of your bedroom, your knees buckle. Thankfully, you still manage to close the door and lock it behind you, once again shutting yourself from everyone to give you some moment of peace.

Although it doesn’t stop him from entering your mind in the silence that follows.

As you lie down in your bed, curled up in a fetal position with your arms wrapped around yourself, your mind wanders back to the conversation you just had with Taehyung in the hallway.

You can’t help it. His words keep coming back to you, and you keep finding yourself dissecting everything he said. You close your eyes, and keep telling yourself to stop. The situation that you are dealing with right now already seems absurd enough for you to waste your energy trying to understand him.

You begin to wonder if things would have been better if you hadn’t come across each other again. Things would probably turn out differently. You may have to keep the baby’s existence a secret from him, and the truth about the father a secret from your family.

You may have to deal with everything yourself.

The possibility seems petrifying, but it still sounds a lot better than having to go against your stepsister. Better than causing your frail relationship to become even worse. This time, you know that this would be big enough to ruin any chance for you and your stepsister to have any kind of relationship at all.

He was right. It’s funny how life works. If only it doesn’t have to be this hard to laugh it off.

Stop it.

Keeping your eyes closed, you let out a deep sigh and force yourself to think about something else. Anything. As long as you are not thinking about him. His face, his voice, the scent of his cologne, everything that belongs to him.

Your head starts swimming. No, everything about him now belongs to someone else.

Once again, you force yourself to start thinking of less stressful things. Like Skye’s text message from this afternoon suggesting that you could run away with her to a secluded place somewhere in Europe so that the two of you could raise the baby together. Or the little stories that Honey shared about the cute new gardener now working at her apartment complex—the complex specifically built for elders like herself—that she wanted to introduce to you the next time you come by to visit.

You regret forgetting to pick up the smoothie that your mother made for you while you were throwing up in the bathroom, all due to Taehyung’s distraction. You wonder if having the smoothie would be able to help you feel better. Picturing the drink being left attended in the kitchen, you can picture your grandmother—the sweet little mischievous angel that she is—sneaking in a few drops of rum into the smoothie when your mother isn’t looking.

This thought makes you smile. It replaces every ugly thoughts that keep circling inside your mind and calms you down.

Your heartbeat is no longer beating like crazy. The more you fill your head with wonderful thoughts, the sooner the uneasy feeling in your stomach begins to wane.

And soon enough, you start drifting away to a restless sleep.

But just like how he invaded your home with his sudden appearance, Taehyung invades your sleep once your mind is left unguarded.

Speaking to him, albeit briefly, brings you back to that night. The moment you close your eyes, you start seeing everything from back then that you couldn’t remember in your waking hours. Even the smallest details that your conscious mind has forgotten. Everything comes crashing down on you as you toss and turn in your bed, unable to give in completely to a peaceful slumber as memories continue to flood your dreams.

Six weeks ago…

You opened your eyes and squinted.

The overhead lamp above your head was bright, and it was hurting your eyes. You could barely see a thing through your bleary eyes, until your gaze drifted further, looking into the dimly lit bedroom far across the foyer.

The room looked more spacious than yours, albeit a bit messy. The massive bed looked comfortable, and there were two lounge seats set up near the windows that looked more luxurious than the ones you had in your room.

“Your bedroom seems a lot more cozy than mine.”

The words came out of your lips with a moan. The sound seemed foreign. Barely recognisable through your hazy mind. But there was a familiar sensation slowly rising in your body that hadn’t at all come from the alcoholic drinks you were having tonight.

“Hmmm…You think so?”

A deep, sultry voice spoke as a pair of hot lips made their way down the side of your neck, tracing your skin with delicate kisses that made it even harder for you to think straight.

Shivers ran down your body. Heat rolled through your chest. And it almost seemed to you that your skin was becoming even more sensitive to the touch when even the most subtle caress of his fingers was able to light up your senses.

Right after the voice spoke to you, he suddenly switched and started kissing his way up. You blinked, and his face came into view just as he looked down at you. The beautiful face that captivated you when you first met him at the bar was presented right before your eyes.

So close. So tempting. And his eyes were so intense that you nearly lost your breath. He smiled and leaned down, capturing your lips with a kiss.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he murmured against your lips, drawing another moan out of you which snapped you from your daze.

You sighed as you gave in to the chaste kiss he was giving you. “It’s kind of hard to look around and see anything when you have me pinned to the door.”

He let out a soft chuckle and once again pressed his lips on yours. As if he was both pleased and amused that he got to put you in this position. When he pulled back, the look in his eyes softened.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. It’s all your fault for teasing me all the way here while I couldn’t allow myself to touch you with so many eyes paying attention,” he said without any hint of regret in his voice.

“Well, forgive me because I wasn’t aware,” you taunted him back, knowing fully well what you had done to tease him until he was on the verge of breaking apart even before you reached his hotel suite.

As much as you wanted to hold back, you were quite sure that you hadn’t gotten things wrong. You couldn’t have possibly mistaken the chemistry that kept sparking between you. And the way he kept openly staring at your body was enough to make his intention clear, as his eyes seemed more honest than the words he gave you.

But back at the bar, you had let him be the first one to make the move.

With his sturdy hands, he was the one who pulled your seat closer. By placing his arm on your backrest, it may have seemed as if he was marking his territory for anyone else at the hotel bar to see. Normally, something like this would’ve put you off. But there was something in the way he did it that made you feel otherwise, allowing you to give in and lean more into his warmth instead of pushing him away.

That was when you reciprocated his actions with your own. The light and subtle touches of your fingers on his arm drew soft shudders through his body. The accidental brushes that happened when you moved against his body pushed him into wrapping his arm around you, keeping you close before he finally pulled you out of the bar.

When you leaned close enough to whisper softly against his ear, you could feel goosebumps rising on his skin, his heartbeat escalating under your palm, and he could barely hold himself back from devouring your lips right there at the hotel lobby. Right where everyone could see you falling into pieces under your sinful desire.

By the time you were alone with him in the elevator, the tension between you just kept escalating until he finally snapped.

He nearly dragged you across the hallway leading to his bedroom suite in his rush to get you alone. The moment he pulled you in through the door, every bit of his composure simply left him. He barely gave you a chance to catch a single glance of the suite, as he immediately pushed your body against the door and kept you there.

Until this moment.

His eyes grew dark after listening to your answer. His breath is still ragged after the hot kiss that he gave you once he got you pinned between his hard body and the locked door behind you.

With his broad chest locking you in place, his hips pressing against your lower body, he left you with nowhere else to go. But this didn’t seem to be enough for him. Looking into his eyes, you could tell that he needed to see you become even more vulnerable. Almost as if he wanted to punish you for putting him on the edge.

And he did exactly that as he slipped one hand around your neck and pulled your hair, tilting your head back so that he could continue exploring the column of your throat with his sinful lips. Instead of resisting it, you simply gave in. Arching your back to him further as he trailed kisses on your skin, your hands clutching on his jacket to hold on.

He used his other hand to explore the rest of your body. Starting from your waist, he continued to move further down to your hips. Tracing every curve, every dent along your body with his firm fingers pressing through your thin dress.

Just as he was about to reach the hem of your dress, he suddenly stopped and pulled back.

“Tell me again. Are you sure this is what you want?” His voice was quiet when he asked you this. It sounded as though he was caught between convincing himself that this was happening while giving you an out for one last time before getting too deep.

But you had gone deep.

And you knew then that the moment you let everything happen, there was no going back from it. Everything about this was new to you; hooking up with a complete stranger while you were in the middle of nowhere, and knowing that once the night was over, both of you were going to move on with your lives.

It felt thrilling to think about it, and the liquid courage should help you in letting go of your inhibitions. Yet you couldn’t deny the fact that you are feeling slightly nervous about jumping fully into this.

When you failed to answer him, Tae leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss right below your ear and whispered, “Well? Talk to me. Because there is no going back from this once we begin, and I won’t let you go until you tell me what you want.”

The way his breath tickled your ear and caressed your skin broke you out of the walls you put up. Every flicker of doubt you felt immediately melted. You brushed against him, allowing him to feel every bit of heat coursing through your body before you answered with a whisper, “Yes. I’ve never been so sure in my whole life.”

You could feel the way his breath was caught as you pressed your palm on his chest. Pressing against him, you raised yourself up and nipped his chin with your teeth.

“This is what I want.”

You weren’t completely sure if you ever got to finish your sentence when all of a sudden, his lips came crashing into yours, pressing firmly as he kissed you, barely concealing his desire for more.

The kiss unleashed your own desire. You opened your mouth for him in return, allowing him to devour you, to have a taste of your demands as he thoroughly kissed you until you were left breathless in his arms.

His hand began to move again just then. Tracing down your hips, he pressed the tips of his fingers harder into your flesh. He made it seem as if your dress had melted into your skin with the heat of his touch that you felt completely exposed to him. And he didn’t stop until he finally found the exposed skin of your thigh.

Your body quivered upon contact, and you could tell that he felt it too. He began stroking your skin, moving at a slow, agonising pace just to put you on the edge.

And he easily succeeded. Already, you could barely breathe, even when he was still far from touching any part of your body that needed him the most.

Overcame with need, your body started moving on instinct. As if his touches were controlling you as you lifted your thigh for him. His grip on your thigh tightened, helping you to keep your leg up and open yourself to him while his kiss became sloppy yet gentle as he released his hold on your hair.

He moved his other hand down, brushing against your covered breast with a brief contact and continued trailing down. You felt him pressing at your hips, before pulling the hem of your dress upward until your lower region was completely exposed. His hand continued its travel as it climbed up your inner thigh. So you opened your legs to give him better access. A move which he appreciated with a deep hum, before you felt his thumb brushing up just an inch away from your throbbing core.

“Should we move this someplace else? Somewhere that would be more comfortable for us?” he asked you with his lips hovering close to yours.

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Too lost in the sensation that you were made to feel, you felt as if you were drunk and high, not from the alcohol that was no longer running wildly through your veins, but from his entire presence alone.

All thoughts faded further as his thumb grazed across the front of your panties, finding your folds through the fabric before he pressed down, enough to give pressure on your covered clit. Sparks flew through your half-lidded eyes as pleasure came rushing through you in waves. You couldn’t stop the moan slipping out of your lips, nor the way your hips rocked into his touch to feel more.

“So responsive,” he murmured against your neck before he planted a light kiss on your skin. “I would have loved to watch and enjoy every reaction that you would give me, every sound you make, while I have you lie down on my bed and fuck you senseless.”

Your breath hitched and caught in your chest. Not only because of his words, but also from the way his thumb continued to rub against your covered clit. It felt sinful, yet so delectable the way he kept drawing more and more sparks and shuddering pleasure through your body.

After being deprived of such attention for quite some time, your body became more sensitive to every friction, every treatment he was giving you, and you simply wanted more.

“Then take me there. Take me to your bed.”

As if you had flicked a switch in his brain, his expression changed. His gaze darkened as he captured your lips with unrestrained need, yet he was careful when he picked you up, pressing you against his chest when he turned and moved to take you away from the door.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him for balance, while your lips remained locked in a deep kiss. You could feel his long stride as he began carrying you across the room. His kiss and his firm hold on your bottom cheeks were enough to draw your attention away from his clumsy footsteps, but not enough to deny you from sensing the changes happening around you.

The scent of his cologne grew thicker as he went deeper into the room, and you were getting more and more lost in him. Drowned in his heat, his kiss, and the traces that he had left behind all over his bedroom, you felt him everywhere all at once that you felt like you were being put under a spell.

All so suddenly, you were pulled out of it when he broke away from the kiss. He laid you gently over the cold white sheets of his partly-made bed. Instead of joining you right away, he chose to pull back. His eyes seemed to glint in the dimly lit room as he took this moment to take you in.

“Beautiful,” he murmured softly, drawing heat back to your face.

He kept his eyes on you as he shrugged off his jacket and began peeling his shirt from his chest. Desire pulsed through your body as you watched every move he was making without ever drawing his attention away from you.

The more you watched him, the stronger the pull that you felt towards him. Once the need to touch him took over, you reached up and tugged on his pants, hoping that you could quickly shred them off of his body.

You barely grazed against his covered hard-on when he stopped you by catching your wrists. Like a disappointed teacher, he made a disapproval sound with his tongue.

“Patience, Red,” he teasingly said to you as he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it off of you with one swift move. You fell back to the bed with a gasp, shocked to see how easy it was for him to take over until you were left with nothing more but your lacy underthings.

The intensity you felt from his gaze made you want to wrap your arms around yourself and hide. But being half inebriated was making you slow in thoughts and movement that you couldn’t do anything but lay still. At the same time, you enjoyed the way he was looking at you, loving how he was losing himself to you the same way you did to him.

But it was the words that he said next that further brought out your wanton needs.

“Be a good girl and stay still. I want you to stay just like this,” he said with a murmur while his eyes ran down your body, “I want you to lie on your back while you are screaming out my name.”

If only you hadn’t been so lost for words, perhaps you would have challenged him in return. Instead, by the time every piece of his clothing was gone, you felt like you had melted further into the sheets. The raw passion you saw in his gaze and the way he was tracing his fingertips on your skin had locked you completely in place, leaving you with no other option but to surrender as he took control.

He bent down, his lips came down to your neck. Planting his kisses on your skin, he kept your attention away from his hands as he snapped off your bra and went down to pull your panties down your hips. As he dragged your panties down your bare legs, he continued his kisses further down, not stopping until he reached your heaving chest.

You couldn’t even remember what happened to that flimsy piece of fabric that he took from you. Everything else faded as his tongue grazed across your chest, drawing a gasp out of your lips. His firm hands returned to your hips right then, holding you down while he captured your taut nipple between his teeth.

The feeling that coursed through you was heavenly. A shooting pain came with a flare as he bit down, yet it was quickly replaced with an overwhelming feeling of pleasure when he lapped the pain away with his sinful tongue.

“Tae—”

His body quivered against yours at the sound of your voice. He pulled away with a grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched you arching your chest as if you were chasing him.

He ran his gaze down your body. Perusing you while silently admiring what he was seeing while he licked his lips. As if he was picturing the way you would taste.

“Tell me how badly you want this, Red,” he taunted you with his hand reaching out to the nightstand. You vaguely saw him grabbing a condom while you were struggling to breathe. Your eyes fell on his exposed, throbbing cock, and words simply left you.

Seeing its impressive size and girth, your entire body erupted with a pulse. It started from deep inside your core, right where you wanted to feel him the most. Astonished, you failed to remember that he was still waiting for your answer with his eyes locked on your face.

And he made you struggle further to find words when he reached down, wrapping his long fingers around his cock and started giving himself slow, lazy strokes. You could see the bead of his pre-cum glistening under the dim lighting. It took everything in you to stop yourself from leaning forward and lapping him dry. To have a taste, before you let him devour every drop of your essence.

“Red? Talk to me,” he spoke to you again with a curious tone in his voice.

He knew that he wasn’t getting any attention, as your eyes were locked only at one place that was not his face, and he seemed to be curious to know what was making you so lost in thoughts.

Instead of answering him, you continued to watch, completely transfixed by his actions, as he slowly spread his pre-cum along the length of his cock. You licked your lips, almost as if you could taste him. A barely concealed whimper slipped out of your lips when you watched him slowly roll the condom to cover himself from the tip of his cock and down to the base.

Seeing him covered with protection seemed to snap you back to the present. Even if your pulsing need still refused to tame down.

Resting back against the pillows, you dragged your eyes away from his impressive cock to his beautiful face.

“I want you here. Inside me,” you finally responded to his question. Placing your palms on the underside of your thighs, you parted your legs open, making him see the mess that had been building up right between your legs while you were enjoying the show he was giving you.

Now it was your turn to give him a show.

Reaching between your legs, you moved your fingers to find your folds. You bit back a gasp once the tips of your fingers were met with your wet arousal. It felt slick as you moved your fingers around, parting your nether lips so he could see your swollen clit, before you moved your fingers in circles, pressing at yourself the exact same way you wished he would.

“Please, fuck me, Tae. Fuck me good.”

His pupils dilated at the sound of your voice, at the pleading words you were giving him. You loved the way he was reacting to you just as much as he did with you, yet you decided to push his buttons further by adding, “And then I want to hear you scream my name while you cum inside me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What a little brat,” he said, chuckling. “So you like to play games, hmmm?”

You bit your bottom lip, holding back a moan that was threatening to come out when your touch inadvertently pushed against the source of your heat. “Oh, I do. Games are always fun.”

While he continued stroking his cock at a lazy pace, he used the other hand to grab your neck. His palm fit perfectly as he wrapped it around the column of your throat, putting pressure that was not enough to choke you, yet enough to show you who was in control.

“Then let’s play,” he groaned while he pressed you back down on the bed. “But this time, I make the rules.”

You felt the electrifying pleasure surging through your body as he brushed your hand away and lined himself against your entrance, shutting down the circuits inside your brain for a moment and stopping you from wiggling too much beneath him just to feel more friction.

A sharp moan was drawn from your lips as Tae slammed his full length deep inside you. The sensation that you felt from being filled by his width was so feral and explosive that you were sure you immediately experienced your orgasm right then and there.

Your body must have been shaking, which was a response that you failed to notice as you had your senses filled with the steady pulse of pleasure pressing across the girth of his cock. He must have noticed it when he came to a halt, giving you a chance to process everything and adjust to his presence inside you.

Nothing made sense to you beyond the pulsing pleasure that you felt from your hot pussy. Your senses were filled with the sound of your racing heartbeat, the soothing touch of his fingers on your skin, and the whispers of his voice calling you back to him.

He only managed to bring you back to the present by pressing gentle kisses on your lips, nose, and then on the rest of your face, stopping only after he kissed your lips again to draw your attention back to him.

Your legs were quivering when you opened your eyes to see him, yet you could already tell from the way the pulses that came right where you were joined started to settle, that your body had adjusted perfectly to his size.

But it didn’t mean that you would simply take it without sharing your thoughts.

“You’re—big,” you complained with a soft moan when you felt him growing harder inside you. It didn’t stop you from rocking your hips, trying to feel more friction, while he merely chuckled at your words.

“And it’s perfect for your tight pussy.”

His words drew a gasp from you. But he didn’t pay much attention to it, as he slowly began to move. He started with a slow pace, which was torturous and agonising, forcing you to feel the delectable way his girth was brushing against your pulsing walls.

Back and forth he went, going so deep you could almost feel him pressing up your stomach before pulling out until only the tip was buried inside you. He kept moving at the same pace, until you began to feel more desperate. Even your body was shaking with the need to feel more.

“More—!” you whispered with a strangled moan, “go faster.”

Hearing this, instead of doing what you were begging him to, Tae denied your plea by doing the opposite. With a wicked grin on his face, the fucker slowed down, bringing the pleasure that had been rising back down a notch.

You opened your mouth to protest against it, and he moved his hands down your hips, stopping at your thighs where he gave you a tight grip.

“You want more?” he asked you, his voice almost seemed to grow deeper, and you could feel a tinge of danger when he spoke. The same danger you saw coming through his gaze as he slowly brought your legs up.

You expected him to stop once he got your legs up his shoulders. But he just kept going. And going. Until you were nearly folded with your legs almost pressed to your chest.

“Tae—!”

It made you feel vulnerable, with nothing but your hands to use to hold on while he had full control of your body. He was still buried inside you, and this position allowed you to feel him more. As though you had grown tighter around him and he was growing bigger. His entire length and width made you feel full, as his cock was pressing tightly against your hot walls.

“You wanted more,” he murmured as he began moving, rocking his hips slowly back and forth, going in and out of you, drawing more and more of that shuddering pleasure out of your body as he continued fucking you gently. “I’m giving you more.”

He began increasing his pace. Going faster the more he heard you moaning in pleasure. “Lift your arms, Red. Bring them up and hold the pillows.”

It took a moment for his words to register in your head. Your hands had been clutching tightly on his forearms and it was a struggle to let go. And he waited, tormenting you by keeping his pace much too slow to your liking until you followed his command.

Your hands trembled as you unlatched them from his skin. You could barely feel your fingers as you dragged your hands up, as every part of your body grew more sensitive the more you opened your entire self to him. Keeping your eyes on him, you got lost in his intense gaze.

It was then when you finally came in contact with the soft pillows above your head, and your fingers easily sank into them, latching onto them as you did when you were holding onto his arms.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he murmured gently, and you were pleasantly surprised to realise how much you loved hearing his praise. Warmth bloomed in your chest, and it easily made its way down right to your core. “Now hold on tightly and don’t let go.”

And you did just that. Holding on tightly the way he wanted you to.

Only once he gained complete control of your body, once you fully submitted to him, he finally fulfilled your wish. He held firmly on your thighs to keep them folded and open for him, and he began ramming his cock deep inside you.

He was doing it faster. Harder. Sending you high in pleasure while all you could do was take his constant pounding. The only leverage you had to hold on was the tight hold you had on the pillows and the weight of his body that was pressing you down each time he pushed deeply inside you.

The anomalous sounds coming out of both of your lips kept bouncing off the walls. Followed by the sound of flesh clashing against flesh, the slick sounds that came from right where you were joined, and the creaking sound of the bed beneath you.

He kept going, relentless in his rough thrusts and his need to push you over the edge, until you could feel the rise of your orgasm coming in waves. The wanton pleasure that was hot and intense came rising inside you, growing rapidly with his deep thrusts until you finally succumbed to it, coming into your climax with a scream.

“Tae, I’m coming,” you cried out to him as you fell over the edge, though you weren’t completely sure if the words coming out of your lips were as coherent as you thought they would have been.

The sound of your pounding heartbeat seemed to drown everything away. Except that you could still hear the sound of his breathless grunts as they grew clearer, and the strangled moan that came out of him when he shouted, “That’s it, Red. Fuck, I’m coming!”

With a sharp intake of breath, he came to his climax. You felt every pulse of his release as he came inside you, and the tremble in his chest that surged through him with his deep groan as he relished the pleasure. Even after his release, he kept moving, rocking slowly and steadily until the spasms of your orgasm slowly began to wane down.

He remained buried inside you when he gently released you from his hold. You could barely feel his lips pressing on your quivering thighs before he lowered them back on the mattress, yet his gentle fingers remained hot on your skin when he brushed up against you.

He reached up and gently pried your fingers away from the pillows before slipping his fingers between yours. The way your fingers were entwined together felt so intimate. So unlike anything that you had ever thought about what a one-night stand would entail.

Your body felt hot, and your muscles were lax, but there was a series of small spasms still going strong from deep inside you, coaxed by his incessant rocking. You should have been pushing him off of you, instead of embracing his weight as he lowered himself, covering your body with his own.

“Tae—” you whimpered against his lips as he kissed you. Holding your hands in his, he continued to rock his hips.

How he managed to remain so hard and stiff even after his climax was beyond you. He still felt thick as he moved. His cock brushed against your pulsing walls as he went in and out, awakening all sparks of pleasure that were supposed to have dwindled.

And with how sensitive your body was, it rose and peaked so quickly and you had no power to stop it.

“Too…much…” you cried between the strangled moans coming out of your lips, right before he swallowed them with another kiss.

“One more,” he groaned as he picked up his pace. “Just do it one more time for me, Red.”

You were so sensitive it was beginning to hurt, but the pleasure was also maddening that you didn’t want to stop. This time, he wasn’t holding you down so strongly, allowing you to move beneath him. So you rocked back against him, pushing up each time he was thrusting into you. It only took a couple of more strokes before the coil in your core snapped, and you were sent to another climax.

And he joined you in your release, falling into a smaller climax of his own as you clenched tightly around him.

He came with a deep groan. His whole body quaked against you before he finally fell on top of you. While you were trying to control your breath, his lips came brushing your neck, kissing you gently to help soothe down the shudders running through your body.

“Fuck…so perfect,” he sighed between his kisses, his voice came in and out through your senses, and the sparks you felt rushing through your body started waning as you were slowly drifting away into the night, with his words echoing in your dreams,

“You are perfect.”

Author’s Note 2.0 | Thank you for reading so far. Any likes, kudos, comments, and feedbacks will be appreciated. The story continues in part 2.

#k-vanity #bangtanwhq #taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts angst #bts x reader

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tigertales9 · 1 month

Text

Hard Reset XII

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+

Description: This flashback fic covers Joe & Reader's first Valentine's Day together back at LSU. There's also another flashback nestled within this flashback (Joeception) of when they first met at LSU.

Time/Place: Thursday, Feb. 14, 2019 (Valentine's Day) / Baton Rouge, Louisiana (with a flashback to June 2018)

A/N: This is the twelfth fic in the Hard Reset series.

This flashback got too long so I'm posting it in two parts. The smut is in the second part, but I'm rating this 18+ because it's smut adjacent. I'm hoping to have the next chapter up before this week-end. The smut has been finished for awhile, but I'm just trying to put the finishing touches on the ending. Nothing is coming easy right now, but I refuse to give up. 😋

I've had a few messages asking me if LSU Joe has long or short hair in this flashback. In my mind, he has short hair with the forehead curls (see gif below). I've tried to keep the descriptions ambiguous just in case y'all wanna imagine him with the longer hair.

Since I posted the first part of this as a sneak peek, I put a substantial (bold) cut so you can scroll down and start reading the new content w/o re-reading the sneak peek if you don't want to.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thursday, Feb. 14, 2019 (Valentine's Day) / Baton Rouge, Louisiana

You exit the cool interior of the grocery store, squinting at the mid-afternoon sun as you quickly make your way to your car, popping the trunk and loading a few bags of groceries inside before hopping into the driver's seat; you slide your sunglasses on and head for the exit, looking both ways before easing out into the traffic on River Road, rolling your windows down and throwing a quick glance at the Mississippi River as it runs parallel to the street, its earthy, fertile scent bringing a smile to your face.

"70 degrees in mid-February!" you mimic in Joe's voice, laughing at the accuracy of your impersonation. "He's def gonna bitch about it," you continue, flicking your turn signal on a few minutes later before making the turn that will take you away from the river and toward your apartment complex.

~ ~ ~

An hour later, you're whipping up some homemade frosting when your bestie/roommate Gina walks in, sniffing the air dramatically.

"Smells like heaven," she groans, eyeing the fluffy pink concoction as you finish beating it with a mixer. "What is it?"

"Raspberry buttercream frosting," you answer, grabbing two spoons and scooping some frosting on each before handing her one. "How's it taste?" you ask, laughing when she makes loud, appreciative noises.

"Delish! I can't believe you made homemade frosting," she marvels. "What ya gonna put it on?"

"Chocolate cupcakes." You step back and wave a hand at the plump cupcakes sitting pretty on a cooling rack beside the oven. "I made these from a triple chocolate cake mix, so they're just semi-homemade."

"Oh, just semi-homemade? I better call the food police," she teases, walking over and leaning down to sniff the cupcakes before throwing you a look. "I hope Joe realizes how lucky he is to have a woman who loves to cook."

"He's very appreciative," you mutter, blushing when she cackles at the look on your face.

"Seven months in and you're still blushing over this man? He's def doing something right."

"Not gonna argue with that," you giggle, peeling the wrapper off one of the still-warm cupcakes before cutting it in half; you smear a generous amount of frosting on both halves before handing one to Gina. "Happy V Day," you state, bumping your cupcake half against hers before taking a big bite. "Happy V Day," she parrots, making num-num noises as she polishes off the confection.

"What are you and Trey doing tonight?" you ask, licking a dollop of frosting off your finger as she rolls her eyes.

"He's bringing take-out over because he waited too long to make a reservation, so literally everywhere decent is booked up. I told him if he brings wings or pizza, he can forget about getting any pussy."

You laugh along with her for a bit before quieting down. "So what did y'all decide on since wings and pizza is clearly a no go?"

"Nothing," she shrugs. "I'm tired of having to ask for things I want. After almost a year and a half together, he should know without me telling him. He's just gotten lazy and expects me to do all the work and make all the decisions. He mostly just sits and scrolls his phone when we're together unless I tell him what to do."

"I hear you. -- So what do you actually want for dinner tonight?"

She thinks for several seconds before answering. "I know it's basic as hell, but I'd love some lasagna and breadsticks from Olive Garden."

"Might be basic but still delicious." You give her a wink as you cover the bowl of frosting with plastic wrap and place it in the fridge. "I made enough cupcakes to share with you and Trey," you continue. "Once they cool completely, I'll frost them for you."

"Thanks, but I might hoard 'em for myself if he shows up with McDonald's or some shit."

You walk out of the kitchen and head toward your bedroom, beckoning Gina to follow. "He's not gonna show up with McDonald's," you scoff, pulling the top drawer of your dresser open to grab two pair of panties, one pink and one red, both with tags still attached.

"What are these?" she asks, eyebrows rising when you hand her the red pair.

"I ordered them a couple of weeks ago. I was starting to think they wouldn't arrive in time, but they got here yesterday. Happy V Day!"

"Thanks, girl!" She holds the flimsy mesh thong up to her face, grinning at you through the gossamer fabric. "These are totally see-through," she giggles, "and that center seam on the crotch is gonna give major camel toe."

"Exactly," you purr, wiggling your blush-pink thong that's identical to hers except for the color. "Next best thing to crotchless without being crotchless."

"Oh shit, that reminds me of the crotchless panties I gave you as a gift!" she chirps. "You wore them for Halloween, right?"

"Yep, Joe totally wrecked them."

"That ain't the only thing he wrecked," she chortles. "You were def walking funny the next day."

You join in the laughter for a sec before speaking. "I mean, yeah, he beat it up for real, but the limp I had was mostly because I tweaked my groin from doing the splits on his face without stretching first. Didn't even realize it until the next day."

"No way!" she hollers, falling onto your bed and kicking her feet in the air while cackling. "Hold up," she gasps after several seconds, pointing at your yoga mat that's rolled up and leaning against the wall in the corner of your room. "Wasn't it just after Halloween when you got majorly into yoga?"

"Maybe," you shrug, grinning ear-to-ear as she mentally connects the dots.

"I thought you were just trying something new since you already do cardio and strength training, but you've actually been getting more limber for sex?"

"Yep, don't wanna pull a muscle."

"You lucky bitch! I can't even get Trey to pull my hair during sex much less pull a damn muscle!"

The look on her face causes you to throw yourself on the bed beside her, both of you roaring with laughter until your phone rings.

"Oh shit, it's Joe," you wheeze as you check the display, gasping for breath to try and get yourself under control before answering. "Hey babe," you manage before immediately dissolving into another fit of giggles.

"Hey," he answers, his voice slightly bemused. "You okay?"

"Y … yeah," you pant, biting your lip hard enough to hurt before cutting a side-eye at Gina, her ridic, bug-eyed expression causing you to snort loudly before howling with laughter.

"Are you laughing or crying?" Joe asks.

"Laugh … ing," you wheeze, taking in copious gulps of air as Gina grabs a pillow and rolls off the bed and onto the floor, using the pillow to muffle her laughter.

"What the hell, babe?" he asks, sounding slightly worried. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." You take a few deep breaths before continuing. "Gina said something funny right before you called."

"Are y'all drunk?"

"No, daddy, we haven't been underage drinking."

"I don't give a shit about underage drinking and you know it. I mean, you'll be 21 in less than three months."

"You sound kinda pissed," you pout, smiling at his heavy sigh.

"I'm not pissed, and I don't care if you've been drinking. Matter of fact, I've got two bottles of your fav blush wine chilling in my fridge for tonight, I just don't want you drinking and driving. Let me know if I need to come get you."

"I haven't been drinking," you reiterate. "I'm putting you on speaker," you continue. "Gina? Have we been drinking?"

"We have not been drinking!" she states loudly from the floor.

"Told ya, daddy," you gloat in your brattiest voice.

"If you call me daddy one more time, we're gonna have a problem."

"You gonna punish me?" you purr. "Maybe ground me for a week?"

"Maybe bend you over, pull your panties down and spank your sweet ass before burying my tongue in your …"

"You're on speaker!" you yelp, laughing as Gina hops up and sprints for the door, throwing you a naughty smirk on the way out.

"Sorry. Got a little carried away," Joe mutters.

"It's fine. Gina ran like hell, but you didn't say anything super raunchy."

"Only because you interrupted me."

"I mean … we were talking about sex when you called."

"Ummm, do I even wanna know the deets since you were laughing so hard you could barely breathe?"

"Just that I got into yoga so I could be super limber for sex with you. You frequently get me in positions where my knees are pushed up by my ears or I'm basically doing the splits."

"What's funny about that?"

"Nothing. I'll tell you more later."

"You like it when I manhandle you a little, right?"

You smile at his uncertain tone. "I love it. You know I love it. The funny part was her reaction. Apparently, Trey doesn't get down like that so she was expressing her, ummm, frustration. The look on her face was what set me off."

"Does Trey know he's a boring lay?"

"Probably not," you giggle, "and don't you dare tell him."

"I hardly ever talk to him. He's been aggravated at me ever since Gina told him I pay for your monthly bikini wax, and now he feels like he has to do the same for her. I told him it's only fair since getting your pubes ripped out is no fun, and it's at least partially being done for his pleasure."

"He can be a little self-centered."

"A little?" Joe snorts.

"Okay, a lot. Gina loves him, though, so hopefully he grows out of it eventually."

"Wouldn't put money on it, but anyway … how's your day going?"

"Good. My classes were boring, as usual, but I have zero homework so that's good. Also, I picked up all the groceries I need to cook dinner for us tonight."

"Did you have any trouble using my credit card?"

You chew on your lip for a second before answering. "I didn't use it."

"Why not?"

"Because I wanted to treat you for once; you always pay for stuff."

"Listen … you go to the store, bring stuff to my place and cook delicious food for us. The least I can do is pay for the groceries."

"Just let me treat you this one time. It's part of my Valentine's Day gift to you."

"We'll see," he mumbles. "Do you need any help getting everything to my place?"

"Nah, I think I can manage the grueling five minute drive by myself," you snark.

"You gonna be a little shit all night, or is this just an appetizer?"

"Just an appetizer," you giggle. "I intend to be way worse later."

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

"It's a promise not a threat," you purr.

"Woman, I need to go work-out, and I don't wanna hit the gym with a hard-on. Can we save the sexy banter for later?"

"Yes, sir," you drawl, putting as much implied sex in the two syllables as possible.

"Keep that same energy for later tonight," he orders, his voice dropping an octave like it always does when he's aroused.

"Yes, sirrrr," you repeat, giggling at his exasperated groan.

"One more 'daddy' or 'sir' out of your pretty mouth, and I'm gonna skip the gym and drive straight to your place."

"No, you won't," you tease. "You're religious about getting your work-outs in."

"Listen, I'm gonna hit the gym, come home, eat dinner with you, then fuck you 'til you can't think straight. Then I'm gonna reload and fuck you again."

"Sounds good," you whisper, a sizzle of anticipation racing down your spine.

"What time are you coming over?" he asks, his voice still thick with arousal.

"Probably about 5:00."

"I'll be back from the gym by 5:30."

"Okay."

"And, babe?"

"Yeah?"

"I intend to go hard so make sure to take your vitamins and stretch."

"Yes, sir," you whimper, ending the call before he can say anything else. "He's def gonna make me pay for that later," you giggle to yourself, hopping off the bed to go find Gina.

* * * end of sneak peek * * *

You find Gina sitting on the sofa when you walk into the living area. "Hey," you grin, plopping down beside her. "Hope we didn't gross you out."

"Not a bit," she laughs, handing you a small gift bag. "It's your fav bath bomb and some chocolate-covered almonds," she continues as you peek into the bag.

"Thank you! That's so sweet." You give her a hug before setting the bag on the coffee table.

"You're welcome. So, you and Joe are staying in tonight, right?"

"Yeah, we don't like going out on holiday nights because of the big crowds."

"Y'all are always on the same wavelength," she smiles. "What are you cooking for him? Besides the cupcakes?"

"His fav spicy Cajun pasta plus garlic bread and salad."

"Is that the pasta that has blackened chicken, shrimp and andouille sausage in it?"

"Yep."

"Yum! That's what I want you to make for my 21st birthday dinner. I've been craving it for a while."

"I mean, I can make it for you sooner than that if you're jonesing. We don't have to wait a whole month until your birthday."

She gives you a smile as she shakes her head. "It'll be worth the wait. Besides, I'm prob gonna be eating a fucking Big Mac and fries for dinner tonight, so I need to let my digestive system recover before I gobble down that delish pasta."

"You're not eating a fucking Big Mac and fries," you laugh, grabbing your phone and hitting a number before putting it on speaker.

"Hey Y/n," Trey drawls. "What's up?"

"Hey." You smile at Gina's surprised expression before continuing. "Listen, lasagna and breadsticks from Olive Garden."

"Ummm, what?"

"You're bringing dinner to Gina for Valentine's, right?"

"Yeah."

"Lasagna and breadsticks from Olive Garden."

"For real?"

"Yep."

"Okay, cool. -- Anything else?"

"Just … remember that Valentine's Day is about romance." You grin at Gina as she bugs her eyes out at you. "Turn your damn phone off and seduce your woman."

"Did she tell you to say that?"

"No, but I've heard her grumble at you a few times lately about constantly being on your phone when y'all are together."

"That's true," he mumbles. "I def need to be better about that."

"Tonight is the perfect time to start."

"Okaaay, so lasagna, breadsticks, seduction and stay off the phone?"

"Yep."

"Got it."

"Cool. Have a nice night." You end the call and level a no-nonsense look at Gina. "Okay, girl, I did my part. You gotta take the reins once he gets here."

"What do you mean?"

"You got a fresh coochie wax and some naughty panties. Put him on his back and sit on his face."

"For real?"

"Yes! I think he's too shy to initiate that kind of action, but I bet he'll be totally into it if you take control."

"I … don't know."

"He goes down on you, right?"

"Yeah, but not like that."

"Not yet," you purr, wiggling your eyebrows.

She gives you a look before taking a deep breath. "I'm gonna try it."

"Yes!" you chirp. "Just make sure you stretch first."

"I will," she giggles, her eyes going wide when the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it," you state, quickly heading to the front door and checking the peephole before opening it. "Wow!" you gush, smiling at the sight of a vase full of blush-pink roses; a head pops out from behind the beautiful arrangement. "Delivery for Y/n," the delivery driver says, giving you a cheerful smile as you reach for the vase.

"That's me."

"I got one more delivery for this address," she says. "Be right back."

You're grinning ear-to-ear when you walk back into the living room.

"Those are gorgeous!" Gina gushes.

"For real! Listen, you need to go to the door; the delivery driver is bringing another arrangement." She gives you a 'say what?' look before heading to the front door.

You set the glass vase on the kitchen island and open the card, reading it out loud. "Happy first Valentine's Day! Can't wait to celebrate many more together. Love, Joe."

You're still smiling when Gina walks in with a vase full of red roses. "Gurrrrl," she chuckles. "I know you told Trey to send these to me."

"I didn't! Swear to God!"

"Really? 'Cause it's kinda cray that Joe and Trey sent the same flowers -- just a diff color -- from the same florist."

You nod your head for a bit before a thought hits you. "I wonder if Joe said something to Trey? If he did, he didn't tell me."

"Call him and ask him."

"Okay," you grin, heading for your bedroom. "Be right back." You close your bedroom door and hit Joe's number, hoping he isn't already working out.

"Hey," he answers almost immediately.

"Hey," you echo. "Thanks for the roses. I love them."

"You're welcome."

"Can you talk for a sec?"

"Yeah. I just got to the gym, but I haven't started working out yet."

"Did you tell Trey to send Gina flowers?"

"Uhhh, no. He called me a few days ago and asked if I was sending you flowers. I said yes and told him what I was sending and the name of the florist. Why?"

"She got the same arrangement you sent me but with red roses instead of pink."

"Well, good for Trey. Maybe there's hope for him after all."

"Maybe so," you grin, dropping your voice a bit. "I really love the roses. Can't wait to thank you for them later. They're gorgeous."

"You're gorgeous," he murmurs.

"You better go get your work-out done so you can hurry up and get home."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't expend all of your energy, okay? Save some for me."

"Don't worry about that. I got plenty," he boasts, his cocky tone bringing a smile to your face.

You end the call and walk back into the living area, giving Gina a huge grin as she waits for the deets. "Joe didn't tell Trey to send the roses."

"Really?"

"Really." You explain the situation while she shakes her head.

"Damn, I guess he was afraid Joe would show him up," she giggles.

"A little healthy competition can be a good thing," you state, laughing along with her for several seconds before y'all quiet down. "I should've got Joe a couple more things for V Day," you mumble.

"Whaaaat?" she chirps. "You're cooking him dinner and dessert, plus you're supplying the naughty panties and the contents of said panties."

"That's true," you chuckle, "plus I got him a jigsaw puzzle to remind him of the first … well ... actually the second time he asked me out."

"You mean the second time you shot him down?"

"Yeah," you grin, letting your mind rewind back to June 2018.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Early June 2018 - Baton Rouge, Louisiana (in a small bookstore just off LSU campus)

You take a sip of your iced coffee and scowl at your computer screen, hitting your delete key several times while barely registering the sound of the bell that alerts you to a customer entering the bookstore. "Let me know if you need any help," you automatically say, never taking your eyes off of your screen.

Several minutes later, you catch some movement in your peripheral vision and quickly turn your head, making eye contact with a tall, blonde man for a few seconds before he disappears behind the bookshelves. Haven't seen him here before, you think to yourself, taking another sip of your drink as you continue to look in his direction.

He eventually reappears, and you smile at him. "Need help finding something?" you ask, swallowing hard as he walks toward you, his long-legged stride making you feel a little funny.

"Just looking," he says, the sound of his voice hitting you like a roundhouse kick to the face.

"Oh … okay," you mutter, your pulse picking up as he walks directly up to the large L-shaped desk that serves as a check-out counter and sticks a hand out toward you, his impressive height and broad shoulders completely blocking out the late-afternoon sun streaming in the windows behind him.

"I'm Joe," he announces, giving you a devastating smile when you stand up from your desk chair and grasp his hand.

You try not to react to the electric shock you feel when you nestle your hand in his much bigger one. "I'm Y/n," you mumble.

"Nice to meet you, Y/n. I'm new here. Just recently transferred over from OSU."

"Oklahoma State?" you ask, grinning when he rolls his pretty blue eyes.

"Ohio State," he answers.

"You're a midwestern boy, huh?"

He raises one eyebrow before answering. "A midwestern man."

"My bad," you giggle, biting your lip as a blush rises in your face; his gaze drops down to your mouth and you feel something stir deep inside you, a rush of heat and a steady throb between your legs that makes you react by pressing your thighs together.

"No problem," he states, his already deep voice dropping a full octave lower; he quickly flicks his gaze down to your denim-clad thighs, lingering there briefly before recapturing your gaze.

Got damn, you think to yourself, trying to act normal as your body continues to react to him. I prob need to buy some new batteries for my vibrator, you muse, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans when his sinful lips curl up in a wicked grin, like he's reading your mind and really liking what he sees.

The entrance bell ringing breaks the porny spell, and you turn your head toward the door, smiling at one of your regular customers. "Hi, Mrs. Peavy. The book you ordered came in today's mail."

"That's great news!" she chirps. "I'm just gonna browse for a bit before I check out."

She disappears back behind the tall bookshelves, and you return your attention to Joe, catching his gaze sliding down your body again before he clears his throat and checks his watch. "I gotta get to the gym," he mutters, raking a hand through his hair while backing away from you. "It was really nice meeting you."

"You too," you grin, shamelessly ogling his ass in his slinky shorts as he heads out the door.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

One week later

You're sipping another iced coffee and staring into space when the entrance bell jingles, pulling your attention to the tall, blonde man striding toward you. "Hey," you grin, standing up as he walks directly up to your desk.

"Hey," he echoes, waggling his large styrofoam cup. "Am I allowed to have this in here?"

"Is it a drive-thru daiquiri? And if it is, are you at least 21?"

"I'm 21, but it's a smoothie not a daiquiri," he chuckles. "I just didn't know if y'all allow drinks in the store."

"It's fine," you state, pointing at your iced coffee. "Drinks are def allowed."

"What is that?" he asks.

"It's an iced mocha latte. I have one every workday to give me a little caffeine boost."

"What days do you work?"

"Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday 3:00 - 7:00."

"That explains why you weren't here when I popped in last Friday afternoon."

"Yep, that explains it," you say inanely, your pulse picking up at the thought that he came in hoping to see you. He takes a sip of his smoothie, and your gaze is drawn to his throat, his prominent Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows the frosty beverage.

He licks his lips before giving you a lethal grin. "Did you know that you get a greater energy boost from eating an apple instead of drinking a caffeinated beverage?"

"No way," you grin, taking a big slurp of your iced coffee while he gives a vigorous nod, causing a dirty-blonde curl to bounce against his forehead.

"Seriously," he states. "There are studies that show eating an apple gives you a longer energy boost than a cup of coffee. Honeycrisp apples are my fav," he continues. "Have you ever tried one?"

"Maybe baked in a pie or dunked in caramel," you tease, "but be for real. Apples don't have caffeine."

"True," he nods. "It's the natural sugars and the fiber in the skin that give you the sustained energy boost."

"Are you a registered dietician?" you ask with a hint of playful snark.

"No, but I'm an athlete, so I've consulted with lots of dieticians and sports nutritionists."

"I see," you grin, half-convinced he's bullshitting even though he's built like an athlete. "Think I'll stick with my trusty caffeine."

"Cool," he quips, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while raking a hand through his hair. "Sooo, you go to LSU?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm in my junior year."

"Cool," he repeats. "You taking any summer classes?"

"Just one; it's an online course in business ethics. Super easy."

"What's your major?"

"I'm doing a double major in graphic design and digital advertising."

"That sounds interesting and also a little intense."

"It's really not bad," you admit. "I rarely have homework since I get most everything done in class plus the 12 hours a week I spend here at the bookstore."

"How long have you worked here?"

"Since about midway through freshman year. My parents were against it at first, but they came around once they realized how ideal it is. It's nice to make a little extra money instead of expecting them to pay for everything. Between my partial scholarship and the college fund they started when I was born, I'm gonna graduate with zero student loan debt, which is basically like winning the lottery these days."

"Damn right," he enthuses. "I did my undergrad in finance, and starting a college fund as soon as possible is one of the best things a parent can do for their child."

"Undergrad?" you ask. "Do you already have a degree?"

"Yeah, I got a bachelor's from OSU in consumer and family financial services. I'm a graduate transfer doing a master's in liberal arts."

You raise your eyebrows. "That's quite a move from Ohio to Louisiana. Do you have family here?"

"No … well, not yet. Eventually my teammates will be as close as family."

"Teammates?"

"Yeah, football teammates."

You feel your heart sink at the implication. "You play football?"

"Yeah."

"For the university?"

"Uhhh, yeah. I was a back-up quarterback for three years at OSU, so I transferred here to get a chance to start."

"A fucking quarterback," you mumble under your breath.

"What was that? I didn't hear you."

"Nothing." You give him a bland smile before taking another hearty gulp of your 'caffeinated beverage'.

He watches you closely for a few seconds before speaking. "I take it you don't like football."

"What makes you say that?" you ask, a bit disconcerted that he read you so easily.

"Your whole demeanor changed when I mentioned it."

"I like it fine," you scoff. "I mean, except for the fact that it's violent as fuck, and I'm always worried I might witness a horrific injury. Other than that, I think it's just peachy."

He hits you with that panty-dropping grin, and you're more than a little annoyed when your body reacts. Simmer down, you think to yourself. Nothing dumber than getting sprung over a fuck boy quarterback.

"How many games have you been to here at LSU?" he asks.

"Several," you lie.

"Several, huh? Like at least ten?"

"Like three," you mumble. "The last game I went to kind of ruined it for me."

"What happened? Horrific injury?"

"No. There was a drunk dude sitting beside me who kept sloshing beer on my boots, literally burped in my face, and then had the audacity to get mad when I refused to give him my number."

"Yikes. Not cool."

"Indeed," you grumble.

"Well, if you come watch me play this fall, maybe I can give you a few tips to avoid the drunk assholes."

"As if," you snort, rolling your eyes when he hits you with a pouty expression. That shit's not working on me, pretty boy, you think to yourself, squaring your shoulders as he shifts his weight again and hits you with another smile.

"Well, anyway … would you like to maybe grab lunch or something this week-end?" he asks.

"Ummm, I'm actually hosting a 21st birthday slumber party for a friend this week-end."

"All week-end? Friday through Sunday?"

"Kind of," you mutter, hoping he doesn't ask you to elaborate.

"Cool," he says, "hope y'all have fun."

"Thanks," you mumble, your gaze darting to the door as the bell jingles, signaling a new customer.

"I better get going," he says, giving you a lingering look before striding toward the door.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two weeks later

You hear the entrance bell jingle and quickly cut a glance at the door, eyes going wide when Joe walks in. Holy shit, take a hint, you think to yourself, giving him a bland look as he walks up to your desk.

"Hey," he smiles.

"Hey," you echo, trying hard not to return his smile.

"How was your slumber party?"

"Good."

The silence stretches out between you for a bit before he speaks up.

"Did I do something to upset you?"

"Nope."

"Okaaay," he mutters, running a hand through his hair while clearing his throat. "Look, I know you don't love football, but I can talk about a lot more than that. I was hoping we could maybe get to know each other better? Maybe just go out for ice cream or lunch sometime?"

"When?" you deadpan.

"Ummm, maybe Friday? I have some team activities Saturday and Sunday."

You give him a tight smile before answering. "Friday's not good for me. I have a 3000 piece jigsaw puzzle that I'm jonesing to finish, and I have it on my schedule for this Friday."

"A jigsaw puzzle?" he asks, his tone bordering on incredulous.

"Yep," you chirp, your expression daring him to question you further.

The silence stretches out for an uncomfortable amount of time before he finally breaks it.

"I get it," he mutters, slowly backing away. "Sorry for bothering you." He spins around and heads for the exit, stopping just before opening the door to look back at you; his gaze lingers on you for several seconds before he pulls the door open and walks out.

You release the breath you didn't realize you were holding and slump back in your desk chair, wondering why you feel so empty when you should really feel amazing for curving an obvious fuck boy.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two weeks later

You finish the last bite of your shrimp po' boy and dab your mouth with your napkin, quickly turning your head toward the street behind you as a car backfire causes everyone to flinch.

"Got damn!" Gina snaps, grabbing her glass of sweet tea and taking several gulps. "Damn near choked," she wheezes, both of you giggling.

Y'all are sitting at one of many picnic tables at an outdoor food court that's flanked by several food trucks; you take a sip of your sweet tea and turn your head again, scanning the lunchtime crowd until your gaze comes to rest on a familiar figure sitting at a table with a few other guys.

"Oh shit!" you gasp.

"What is it?" Gina asks, her head on a swivel to see what upset you.

"Don't look!" you hiss. "It's Joe."

"Who?"

"That guy who came into the bookstore a few times and asked me out."

"The quarterback?"

"Yes," you whisper, turning your head slowly to find him staring directly at you. "Oh shit, fuck, dammit to hell," you breathe, plastering on a fake smile and waving when he waves at you.

"He's headed this way," Gina warns.

"Should I run?"

"Hell no," she laughs. "Just smile and act unaffected."

"Fuck my life," you mutter, smiling as he walks up to your table. "Hey," you greet, annoyed at the breathless tone of your voice.

"Hey," he echoes.

"Ummm, Joe this is Gina," you say, gesturing toward her, "my roommate and bestie. Gina this is Joe," you continue, gesturing toward him.

"Nice to meet you," Gina says.

"You too," Joe grins, looking back and forth between you before Gina speaks up.

"I'm gonna throw out our trash and head to the car," she announces. "Y'all take your time talking."

"Thanks," you grimace, gesturing at the seat opposite you once Gina vacates it. "Have a seat."

"Thanks," Joe says, dropping his big frame down and resting his ridiculously sexy hands and forearms on the table.

Asshole, you think to yourself, hating the fact that you're incredibly attracted to him. "Sooo, how's your football stuff going?" you ask.

"Good. How's your jigsaw puzzle stuff going?" he asks, not even trying to hide his smirk.

"Good," you state, your cunty expression daring him to call you out.

He stares at you for several seconds before speaking. "Look … I just wanna tell you that the jigsaw puzzle thing is the worst brush off I've ever heard."

"What makes you think it was a brush off?" you ask.

"Because it's ridic. You could've finished the puzzle any other time."

"I could have," you agree. "But I was really looking forward to doing it that specific night."

He tilts his head and gives you a look. "I don't think the puzzle actually exists."

"Oh really?" you mumble, grabbing your phone and scrolling through your pics until you find what you're looking for. "This is it," you say, studying the pic while continuing. "It's a shot from the Hubble telescope." You flip your phone around so he can see it. "It's the …"

"Crab nebula," he finishes your sentence, taking your phone and setting it on the table in front of him. "Damn," he whispers, leaning down for a better look. "This is a beautiful shot." He quickly flicks his gaze up at you before looking back down at your phone. "Most colorized shots of the Crab nebula are depicted in cool colors, but this heat signature is very hot," he murmurs.

Very fucking hot, you think to yourself, studying his face as he continues to look at the pic, his long eyelashes fanned out against his slightly-sunburned cheeks.

He eventually slides your phone across the table toward you and gives you a sheepish grin. "I owe you an apology for not believing you. I'm sorry."

You feel a hot blush rise in your cheeks, more from shame than attraction, and you heave a sigh before responding. "Listen … I did finish the puzzle Friday, but you were right when you said I could've done it another time, so it basically was a brush off."

"Thanks for being honest," he states. "Why don't you simplify this by just saying you aren't interested in me."

"Because that would be a lie," you blurt, surprising yourself just as much as him with your admission.

"Okay, now I'm confused," he grins. "If you're interested then why the brush off?"

You have an answer ready because that's pretty much all you've been thinking about lately. "I just feel like we wouldn't be very compatible."

"What are you basing that on?"

You shrug. "I'm an introverted bookworm who doesn't really like to party. I enjoy cooking for my friends and hanging out at home."

"That perfectly describes me minus the cooking part," he grins, laughing softly when you narrow your eyes at him.

"Boy please," you scoff. "Most college athletes are huge partiers and total manwhores."

"What are you basing that on?" he repeats.

"I'm basing it on my experience, and also things I've seen and heard from friends."

"So you've dated some college athletes?"

"Kind of," you mumble. "He was actually my high school boyfriend, a year older than me. We dated for just over a year before he graduated and went to college. He wasn't talented enough to get a Division 1 football scholarship, but he did get a D2. The school was about a four hour drive from our hometown. He promised me we'd make the distance work, then he proceeded to fuck everything in a skirt the second he hit campus. Luckily I had several other friends at the same school who dropped a dime on his fuck boy ways."

"Was he a quarterback?"

"No, but the quarterback on his college team was even worse. One of those gross dudes who brags about getting more ass than a barstool."

"I see," he mutters, taking a deep breath before continuing. "So now you think all football players are like that? Like 100% of us?"

You shrug. "Maybe not 100% but why chance it? I know that not all snakes are poisonous, but I still avoid 'em. You're a man, though, so you wouldn't understand."

"I understand. And yes, there are plenty of fuck boy athletes, but I'm not one of them."

You bite your bottom lip to quell a skeptical smirk, noting that his gaze drops down to your mouth for several seconds before he continues speaking.

"Can I tell you a little bit about myself?" he asks, finally dragging his gaze back up to your eyes.

"Sure."

"I'm an introverted bookworm who doesn't really like to party," he states, echoing your earlier words. "I spend most of my time at football practice, working out, watching game film, and studying the playbook. Once my classes start, I'll be studying for those, as well. You can usually find me at my apartment or the football facility, which is a five minute drive from my apartment. Occasionally I do something wild like eat at a restaurant, browse a bookstore, or play blackjack at a casino."

You raise an eyebrow, and he chuckles before responding.

"I'm not a gambling addict or anything like that. I don't play very often, but when I do, I win more than I lose." You can't help but smile at his cocky tone as he continues. "I also enjoy playing chess, collecting graphic t-shirts, and reading about plus watching pretty much anything related to how the universe works, hence me nerding out over your Crab nebula puzzle. Physics is my fav subject." He gives you a big grin. "Am I boring you yet?"

"Not yet," you mutter.

"I also enjoy building LEGO sets which are basically just 3D versions of jigsaw puzzles." You stare at each other for several seconds before he speaks up again. "If you get to know me, you'll realize I'm not a stereotypical jock."

Holy shit, he's smooth, you think to yourself, wondering if his earnest expression is real or fake. Prob fake as fuck, you seethe; time to set him straight. "Listen, I'm not gonna jump in bed with you, okay?" you snap. "There are plenty of other women on this campus who'd be DTF if you flash that smile at 'em. Why waste time with me?"

"Because I'm not looking for a quick fuck. I'm looking for someone I can vibe with."

"Running game on me is not gonna work, sweetie," you snort. "You're good at it, don't get me wrong, but I see right through that shit."

"Look, I know you've had some bad experiences, but I swear I'm not running game. Don't punish me for some other guys' sins."

You stare at him without speaking, trying not to show any emotion as he continues.

"Plus, you're the one who keeps mentioning sex," he states matter-of-factly. "I'd just like to get to know you."

"You're right," you mumble, caught somewhere between admiration and aggravation that he's managed to get the upper hand in the conversation; time to put him on the back foot. "That was very presumptuous of me. You're clearly not attracted to me, so I apologize for jumping to that conclusion."

"Okay, that's not true and you know it," he mutters.

"Meaning?"

He runs a hand through his hair before answering. "Meaning … I'm very attracted to you, but I'm not just looking for sex. Does that make sense?"

"No."

His laugh caresses you like a physical touch, and you squirm in your seat, exasperated at the effect he has on you.

"You're really not making this easy," he grins.

"I don't owe you easy," you scoff, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from returning his grin.

"You're absolutely right," he states as he stands up, throwing a quick glance at the table where his friends are sitting before returning his gaze to you. "You don't owe me anything," he continues, smiling as he plucks his sunglasses from the neckline of his t-shirt and slides them on; he waits several seconds -- like he's waiting for you to say something -- before spinning around and heading back to his bros.

He takes three steps before you call his name, your pulse hammering when he turns around and removes his sunglasses before locking eyes with you; you stand up and take a small step in his direction, every pleasure point in your body throbbing in unison when he quickly closes the distance with two long strides, looking down into your upturned face. A thrill shoots through you at how much taller he is than you. Focus! you think to yourself, swallowing hard and licking your lips before speaking.

"Ummm, do you have any plans for this Friday?"

"Not yet," he grins. "What do you have in mind?"

"I have no idea," you admit. "Maybe just grab ice cream or lunch or something?"

"Why don't we exchange numbers then we can decide later?"

"Okay," you mutter, feeling a little lightheaded as y'all exchange numbers.

He eventually slides his phone back in the pocket of his shorts and gives you a cheeky grin. "Just so you know, I don't have sex on the first date," he says, gracing you with another deep laugh that sizzles your nerve endings as your mouth drops open in shock. "Just kidding," he chuckles.

"You better be kidding," you warn in a playful voice. "This is just a friendly hang-out, right? Not a date."

"Of course, very presumptuous of me to call it a date." He gives you a wink before sliding his sunglasses back on.

His wink hits you in all the right places, and you quickly slide your sunglasses on to mask your reaction. "Totally presumptuous," you grumble, matching his grin before spinning around and heading toward the parking lot; you take about a dozen steps before throwing a look over your shoulder, a jolt of heat rushing through you when you see him still watching you. "Fuck," you mutter under your breath, picking up your pace as you head toward your car. "What have I got myself into?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Y/n?"

Gina's voice snaps you out of your flashback. "Yeah?"

"Girl, you must've been having a spicy daydream because you were damn near drooling!" she chortles.

"Just thinking about when Joe and I first met," you grin, heading to the fridge to pull the frosting out. "Let me get these cupcakes frosted then I'll help you set up a little tablescape for your V Day dinner."

"Martha Stewart ain't got nothing on you," she giggles.

"Damn right," you laugh, grabbing your piping bag and dropping a star tip in before letting your mind wander, a sizzle of anticipation running through you as you think about the night to come.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

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dreamofbetterthings · 12 days

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No Regrets Noah Sebastian x Reader

Prompt: "The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

VIP: Noah Sebastian

Band: Ban Omens

Summary: There's no such thing as a "calm" Halloween night, especially when hidden feelings are involved.

Warnings: It's gonna be a little spicy, but not full-on smut. Still, this is 18+ due to descriptive language and some curse words scattered about, so minors, please DNI.

A/N

Hello everybody! I'm sorry that I dropped off the face of the Earth. I have an abundance of things going on in my personal life and I am trying my hardest to get through it all. I know in the last post I said chapter 3 of It's Been A Long, Long Time was coming soon. That wasn't a lie. It is still in the process of being edited. I'm working on a new uploading schedule for you guys, and a page redesign as well so if everything pans out the way I'm hoping, it will be put into effect starting next week. In the meantime, I have a couple of stories I'm planning on getting out before Chapter 3 gets released. This turned out a lot longer than I thought it was going to be, but I had an idea and ran with it. I've never written for Bad Omens before, so let me know what you think. Enjoy!

This is a fictional story about real-life people. Nothing that is mentioned in the story below represents who said individuals are, or how they act in real life.

Halloween night was always your favorite time to be around certain people, specifically the friends you called Motionless in White and Bad Omens. There was always something up their sleeve to turn the normal night into one that you weren't sure you wanted to remember in the morning. Luckily, tonight was the annual hangout at Chris' house this year, and you couldn't be more excited. Every year you all would get together at someone's house and pass out candy to the kids, then watch a couple of movies after the last stragglers came through. After that, came your favorite part of the night, Hide and Seek. It might seem childish, but watching a bunch of tipsy/drunk people try to stay quiet in a hiding spot was always hilarious.

You were making another batch of popcorn when Chris walked into the kitchen. "Hey, we just put on The Lost Boys, just thought I'd let you know." You smile. "I'm not surprised. That's almost everybody's favorite." He laughs and grabs another bowl from the cabinet. "I know, that's why we put it on first, so nobody can complain about it later." The timer on the microwave went off signaling that the popcorn was finished, and you carefully took the bag out. You gave Chris the cooling-down bag and picked back up the one you set on the counter before he walked in. After emptying them and grabbing extra napkins, Chris brought the popcorn out to your friends who were talking through muffled and hushed whispers. Before you walked back into the room, he pulled you back for a second to whisper something in your ear. "I pulled the seeker for tonight. Unfortunately, it wasn't you. Maybe next year." You pout and then smile "Fuck, I'm never going to get picked." He laughs as you glanced around at everybody scattered in the room.

Ryan sat with Justin on the loveseat. Folio was a drama queen and insisted he get his own seat. Nicholas, Vinny, and a few other of your friends, Florence, Nicole, Victoria, and Robert who were invited sat around the coffee table on the floor. Ricky, Jolly, and Noah were on the couch. Then, you and Chris got the two giant bean bags in the corner. The lights were changed to red and the TV just started the opening credits to The Lost Boys. You and Chris give the popcorn to Ricky and Nicholas respectively, everybody else having their own mostly full bowls, and grab your drinks before plopping back down on the bean bags. Folio rubs his hands together and smiles. "Now that our final two goofballs are here, who's ready to watch one of the best horror movies ever made?" Everybody gives some form of yes or a holler, and he immediately turns the volume up. As the movie plays, there is a small conversation here and there, and occasionally someone has to get up for a new drink, but you are relaxed and having fun.

At about the halfway point of the movie, Noah gets up to get another drink from the fridge. On his way back, Jolly scares him, causing his wine to spill all over the floor and your sweatpants. "Jesus man!" The movie is paused and everyone's attention is on you guys. Jolly laughs and puts his hands up in defense. "Sorry dude, I had to scare you at least once today." He turns to look at you. "Didn't mean to ruin your sweatpants though, my bad." You wave him off. "It's no big deal, these were old anyway. You guys can keep the movie playing. I'm just gonna change into different pants real quick." You take a sip of your drink and get up from your spot to go upstairs.

After finding your weekend bag, you huff as the extra sweatpants are nowhere to be found. Instead, you pull out a pair of spandex volleyball shorts and go to the bathroom. Noah hears the sink running upstairs as he's cleaning up the accidental mess he made by your spot. He throws the paper towels away and before he gets to the stairs, Chris quietly asks "You good?" He nods, telling the other singer he's going to make sure you're okay, and heads to your bathroom. He knocks a few times and after a couple of seconds, the sink cuts off and you open the door. You were expecting one of your girlfriends to be standing there, but instead, it's Noah. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I'm sorry about spilling on your sweats. I hope I didn't ruin them." Holding up the pants, you show him where the stain had previously been. "If these sweats can make it through one of your tours, they can certainly handle a little bit of wine. I just didn't want them to stain, since you drink the darker stuff." He chuckles and follows you back into the bedroom.

You grab your shorts and get ready to put them on, but Noah points to your leg. "I didn't know you had a thigh tattoo." You glance at it and glance at him confused. "Really? I got it a while ago. I could've sworn I showed you when I got it done. Then again, I'm always in longer shorts, so it's not exactly easy to see." Setting them down, you turn to the side and pull part of your underwear band up, showing the last covered part of the tattoo. Looking up at Noah, you can see he's staring, but there's something else behind his eyes. Just not sure what it is though. You don't flinch when he reaches his hand out, but your skin gets goosebumps as his fingers ever so lightly trace over the ink on your leg. Everybody that came over tonight had seen each other in their undergarments or even completely nude before, whether by accident or on purpose. Hell, you've walked in on him changing plenty of times.

So why did the room suddenly feel hot?

It could be that you've had a crush on the man since you were kids. There wasn't anything not to like. His personality just made you want to be around him all the time. He's sweet and kind, and has a terrible sense of humor that only you two get. You could go on and on. He was just an all-around amazing person. You were so caught up in your thoughts, that you missed the hand that was snapping in front of your face. "Hello? Are you there?" Coming back to reality, you saw Noah looking down at you with curiosity. You quickly apologized and asked him to repeat what he said. "I said it looks amazing on you. The placement is perfect and it works great with the curves of your leg." You thank him and can't help but notice just how close he's standing to you. There's a tense silence for a couple of moments, and neither of you moves from your spot. You glanced at his eyes, then his lips, but immediately looked away.

It felt like you were a school girl again, talking to the guy you've had a crush on for ages. You heard him mumble a "Fuck it" before he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. They were soft and tasted like wine, courtesy of the drink that led you here in the first place. You felt his hand move to rest against your cheek. His lips were gentle, almost as if he was savoring the moment, afraid it would never happen again. When the two of you finally pulled away for air, your eyes remained closed for a moment, before slowly opening them and meeting Noah's. The two of you looked at each other in pure awe before you let out a small "Woah" He laughed, and you looked down, feeling your cheeks become hot.

The thought of you being so flustered made him blush too. How was it possible for someone to be this cute? Your heart was pounding out of your chest, and you almost couldn't comprehend what just happened. "You know, for someone that always complained he was a terrible kisser, that was uh, really impressive." He could feel you now completely relaxed against him and he laughed a little, slightly embarrassed. "I'd say that I've had practice, but you already know my teddy bear in fifth grade doesn't count." The two of you laugh. Remembering his hand resting on your cheek, you look away and take a small step back. "I think we should get back to the movie. It's gotta be almost over by now, and I don't want them to yell at us for taking too long." He let out an uncomfortable laugh and muttered a "Yeah."

You never noticed but Noah frowned slightly when you pulled away from him. He felt so comfortable being that close to you. As you turned to the door he realized something. He really liked you and didn't want this to be just a one-time thing, especially if it was going to make things weird between you afterward. He picks himself out of his thoughts just as you open the door. He walks across the room, taking your hand and silently closing the door. Standing there surprised, you ask him, "Are you okay?" It was now or never he told himself. "I'm sorry, I just..." He takes a breath before continuing. "I really want to kiss you again." You stand there just as surprised but decide to see just how far this could possibly go. "What's the problem then?" He lets go of your hand and brings his own up to hold your face. Pressing his forehead against yours, he whispers.

"The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

He obviously likes you, right? But this is your best friend. You've known each other for years. If he did like you this much, he would've told you by now, right? You two have been affectionate towards each other before, but there's a line neither of you dared to cross. If you crossed it now, you would rather do it with no regrets. It was better than wondering what could have been. "What if I don't want you to stop?" Noah tilts your head so you're looking him in the eyes.

"Then I won't."

He pushes his lips against you again, this time with newfound hunger. His hands fall and grab at your waist while yours go around his neck. Your feet follow his backward and you hit the edge of the bed. He pulls you down to sit on his lap, completely forgetting your lack of pants while he pushes himself further back on the bed. His tongue runs across your bottom lip and you open your mouth allowing him in. Your hands gently tug at the now-cut-short hair on the back of his neck and he grabs at your hip hard enough to leave bruises before pulling you even closer to him. Shifting your weight a little, your lower half sits directly on his hardening cock and he groans into your mouth. He pulls his lips away only for them to move down your neck. You tug at his hair a little harder and he sucks at the tender skin that connects your neck and shoulder. A moan leaves your lips and you mindlessly grind down against him. There was nothing that could prepare you for how right this felt. Like you were seeing a whole different side of him, hidden from the outside world, and for your eyes only.

Noah moved to whisper in your ear. "Quiet baby, wouldn't want everybody to hear us, hmm?" You shake your head no, but it doesn't matter as he kisses you again. "Hey, are you guys-OH MY GOD!" The bedroom door opens to see a shocked Chris looking at the two of you. Noah pulls away from your mouth, and the two of you look like deer in headlights. "I'm going to go... quickly." Chris walks away, before coming back and closing the door. You and Noah make eye contact for a split second, before the two of you look away, slightly embarrassed that you were caught. "Maybe we should go back before someone comes in again." He clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, that's a good idea." Carefully getting off of him, you stand up and let him off the bed. You both straighten out your respective clothes, and you finally put on those shorts.

"Are you alright?" He nods and you get ready to walk toward the door. Noah runs his fingers through his hair. "Um, Before we go, I just wanted to ask...You don't regret any of what just happened, right?" You immediately shake your head no, slightly frowning. Maybe this was all a big mistake. "Not at all. Why? Do you?" He smiles and also shakes his head no before taking your hand in his. "Nope. No regrets." A smile replaces the frown on your face. You ask "Are you ready for them to never let us live this down?" He laughs and glances at the door. "That doesn't sound like such a bad thing to me." Giving him a nod, he opens the door and the two of you walk back into the living room where the rest of your friend group is talking amongst themselves. When they hear you guys walk in, it gets silent. Noah lets go of your hand so you can sit down first, and then goes to his spot on the couch.

Nobody said anything for the first couple of moments before Chris broke the silence. "You guys fucked in my spare bedroom..." Instantly you and Noah sat up and shook your heads. Your voice and his overlapped and both of you tried to tell your friends that technically nothing happened. Once the two of you were finished explaining, the room was silent for another couple of moments before anyone spoke. The silence was starting to make you uncomfortable, but before you could say or do anything, Ryan threw his hands up and yelled. "Fucking finally!" This breaks the tension in the room and everybody starts laughing and giving you and Noah happy looks. You even saw a couple of people passing money around. Those fuckers bet on you and Noah getting together. When the commotion has died down, another movie has started, and everybody turns their attention to the TV. As you focus your attention on the screen, your phone buzzes, and you pick it up.

Noah

"I was thinking later we could finish what we started in the spare bedroom?"

You smile at your phone and quickly respond before setting it down.

"Well, we're still playing Hide and Seek after the movie. I'm once again not the seeker, lol. If it happens to be you, don't go easy on me. Depending on how the rest of the night plays out, you might get your wish ;)"

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Noah readjust himself in his seat. He sends back a text almost instantly, and goosebumps litter your skin again as you read his last text.

Noah

"Oh, I won't. I like the hunt."

Nope, no regrets.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens #bad omens band #jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio #bad omens x reader

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burntheedges · 14 days

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Maintenance Request Chapter 19

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 7.6k

chapter summary: you and Joel have your third date, a bit of a discussion, and try something new together when Joel stays at your place for the first time. 👀

a/n: thank you as always to @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta 💕 fun fact, I wrote the second half of this chapter in a sort of fugue state, late one night during NaNo last year. I swear this just poured out of me. Joel knew what he wanted. 😂 happy chapter 19 on the 19th!

chapter tags/warnings: flirting, banter, fluff, cursing, food and drink mention, pet names (honey, gorgeous, darlin’, baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, good girl, handsome, cowboy), kink negotiation, some discussion of past relationships, somnophilia (kissing, fondling, p-in-v sex), mention of breasts, dream sex, dirty talk, a bit of crying while being fucked (in a good way)

Chapter 19

Saturday, November 9 Eleventh week of the semester

The rest of the week was a whirlwind – you saw Joel for at least a few minutes every day, and you talked on the phone most nights. By Thursday, you had your next date planned. Sarah had a sleepover on Saturday, so Joel was going to stay the night at your apartment. For the first time.

On Saturday, you caught Beth and Ellie up with your new relationship status – Beth had been pestering you about it since you’d told her about it over text (tell me everything!!) – and they immediately started complaining about how they hadn’t met him yet.

“I know! I know,” you wanted to wave your hands in front of their faces to get them to chill out. “I was thinking I could invite him to brunch next week.” You took a big gulp of coffee and watched their reactions.

Ellie narrowed her eyes and stared at you. Beth looked thoughtful.

“You sure you want him to meet both of us at once?” Beth asked, and Ellie snorted. “Throw him in the deep end?”

You shrugged. “I mean, he can handle it or he can’t. But I’m pretty sure he can.”

Beth smiled. “Fine with me. What about you, Hell’s Bells?”

Ellie glared at Beth for the nickname, as always, but you knew she secretly loved it.

“I guess that’s fine.” She furrowed her brow and stabbed a piece of egg with her fork. “If he does anything weird or fucked up I’m not gonna ignore it.”

You nodded. “I wouldn’t ask you to. But he’s not an asshole.” She squinted at you. “I know, Ells. But you know I trust you, right? If you did notice something, I’d want you to tell me. And I’d listen.” You knew you weren’t really talking about Joel, at this point, but you wanted her to know that anyway. She nodded and sighed.

“Yeah I mean I do want to meet him. He can come to brunch.” Ellie shrugged.

“Thank you. I’ll ask him tonight.”

Beth nudged Ellie with her shoulder. “Maybe I can meet him this week for lunch, first, give you a full report.” Ellie laughed, but you could see the idea relaxed her a little bit.

“Oh!” Ellie sat up straight. “What are you cooking for him?”

Beth pointed at you with a forkful of pancake. “Do not make soup.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was one time!”

Ellie smirked. “Even if you don’t create Soup Geyser: The Sequel, it’s probably not a good date food. What if you spill it all over yourself?”

Beth laughed. “I dunno, maybe that’s a good thing. Then you can take your clothes off.”

Ellie dramatically gagged and covered her ears. “I don’t want to know about that!”

You and Beth both laughed as she started in on a monologue about how men, and hearing about her aunt dating them, were gross.

…

Later that afternoon, you’d just finished cleaning up and making sure the food was almost ready when you realized you needed to change before Joel arrived. You stepped into your bedroom and stripped off your shirt at the exact moment you heard a knock at your door. Shit.

You froze, not sure what to do, when he knocked again. “Shit,” you said out loud. You were standing in your bedroom in a lounge bra and sweatpants. How did you lose track of time so badly? You ran to the front door.

You hesitated once you got there but reasoned that Joel had already seen you naked, so you’d just open it and then run back to change. You nodded to yourself, and then opened the door, shielding your body behind it.

“Hey, darlin’, everything alright?” He looked like he’d been about to knock again. He eyed your bare shoulder.

“Sorry, Joel, wasn’t quite ready yet. You can come in and I’ll go change.”

He smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Guess I am a little early.”

You laughed and invited him in, and watched as his eyes swept down your body. “You sure you need to change? I like this look.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Joel, go sit on the couch. I’ll be back in a minute.” He did as you said while you ran back to your room and changed into the outfit you’d picked out earlier (complete with some green lingerie underneath – it was his favorite color, after all).

When you arrived back in the living room, you found Joel looking at the pictures lining your fireplace mantle. “I recognize Ellie and Beth,” he said. “Is this your sister?”

You stepped up next to him and nodded. “Yep. And our parents.” You continued on your photo tour for a few minutes, introducing Joel to your family as you went. He snaked an arm around your waist and leaned in behind you.

“This shirt’s pretty on you, baby.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

You smirked at him over your shoulder. “Thought you liked the other look?”

Joel grinned, unrepentant. “I can like both, can’t I?” You laughed and led him into your kitchen.

“Sure you can. Have a seat, dinner will be ready in just a sec.”

He sat, and soon enough you joined him and placed the food in the middle of the table, which you’d set earlier, before he arrived. You poured him a drink and dug in. He complimented the food, sincerely, which made you smile.

“So, you’re officially invited to brunch next weekend.” Joel snapped his head up to meet your gaze. He looked surprised, and pleased.

“I am?”

You smiled. “Sure are. Got the Ellie-and-Beth stamp of approval.”

He grinned. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

“We might do lunch with Beth during the week, first.”

He nodded. “Whatever they want, darlin’. I want Ellie to be comfortable.” He reached over to squeeze your hand. “That’s the most important thing.”

“Thanks, Joel. I know she’s not actually my kid, but in some ways she is.” He tilted his head at you, considering your words. “Yeah, I know it’s confusing. Well, you know Ellie’s 14. My sister had her right out of high school.”

“Not too different from when I had Sarah.” You nodded.

“Yeah, she had a rough time. Ellie used to come stay with me a lot, even when she was really little. And then, um. Right after I finally broke up with Matt, Ellie actually lived with me and Beth for about…” you looked up at the ceiling, counting back in time. “About 2 years? Almost. When she was 9.”

Joel nodded, taking that in. “It makes sense that you’re so close.”

You smiled. “Yeah, hard not to be. And Beth helped a lot, so they’re pretty close, too. But my sister is doing a lot better now. She used to, um…” You trailed off, thinking through what you wanted to say. “Well, part of the reason Ellie is more wary of people I might date is that my sister dated, um, more than a few men, and they were in and out of their house all the time. That’s part of the reason she lived with me. Not all of it.” Joel nodded, face solemn. He squeezed your hand between his own. “But yeah, she’s doing a lot better. She’s a nurse, works a lot of weekends and nights. Ellie has her own room here and sort of comes and goes as she pleases. Their relationship is a lot better than it used to be, too.”

“That sounds like it was hard, to send her back.” You sighed. He was so good at seeing right to the heart of what you were thinking. And feeling.

“It was, and it wasn’t. I’m so glad they’re doing better, you know? But I do miss having her here all the time, even now. And now she’s a teenager and wants to be with her friends anyway.”

He laughed a little. “I’m familiar with that change.”

You laughed, too. “Yeah, I bet. But she’s doing well in school and she actually talks to her mom about her life, so I feel like it’s going pretty well. And I sort of have my sister back.”

Joel scooted his chair a bit closer to yours and put his arm around the back. “Sort of?”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “Our relationship took a hit during all of that. But it’s getting better. We talk more now. She’s been teasing me about you.”

For a moment you both sat quietly as he considered what you shared and you leaned in to him, head on his shoulder.

“Everything I learn about you impresses me more, sweetheart.” He murmured his words into your hair, and it made you shiver.

“What? Joel–”

“It’s true.” he squeezed you against him. “Not everyone would do that, you know. Even for family. It’s…” he sighed. “I love watching you get to know Sarah. I know I’m going to love seeing you with your niece. It’s just something special. Getting to know you in every way I can.” You leaned up to press a kiss to his chin and felt him smile in response.

You were quiet again until you felt Joel shift underneath you. “Joel? What is it?” You leaned back to look at his face, and caught him staring at your cabinets with a frown on his face. “Joel.”

“Hmm?”

“Joel Miller, are you looking at my broken cabinet door and thinking about how you want to fix it?”

You watched as a flush took over his cheeks. “Maybe I am.” He sounded sheepish and you grinned.

“I don’t think I even have the tools you’d need. Sorry.”

He shook his head, frowning at you playfully. “What, not even a hammer?”

“Ok, I probably have a hammer. And maybe, like, a couple of screwdrivers.”

He laughed. “Alright, alright. I’ll fix it another time.”

“You don’t have to–”

“Darlin’,” he cut you off. “I’ll fix it.” He smiled at you, amused by your protest. “You know it won’t take me even five minutes.”

You laughed, loving his confidence. “Oh yeah? Well, who am I to argue with my Hot Maintenance Guy?”

He bit back on a smile and tilted his head. “Thought I was Hot Construction Guy?”

You grinned. “You are. And Hot Maintenance Guy, and Hot Gardening Guy. Whatever I’d seen you doing that day.”

Joel laughed and pulled you into a short kiss. “Well, I’m definitely your maintenance guy. So I’m definitely gonna fix those cabinets.” You sighed, giving in.

“Not right now, though. We have better things to do.”

He perked up. “Oh? Like what?”

“Let’s clean up and then you’ll find out.” You winked as you stood to gather your plate.

Between the two of you, you made quick work of the dishes and leftovers. It was nice, doing something so domestic with Joel. You fit together by the sink and moved around each other in the kitchen like you’d done it before, like it was comfortable. You’d never smiled so much while doing dishes in your life.

“There is something I wanted to ask you about, honey.” You turned to look at him where he was washing a pot as you dried your plates.

“Oh? About what?” You saw a tiny smirk in the corner of his mouth and narrowed your eyes.

“Just about what you said, when we were in bed after our first date.” You flushed, feeling the heat enter your cheeks. But you also appreciated that Joel was bringing this up while you were doing something so totally unrelated to sex. So you could focus. Or try to, anyway.

“Yeah, I remember.” You bit your lip.

He cleared his throat. “Ah, well, did you, um. Can you tell me more about what you like? And don’t like? I like the sound of it, you know that, but I’d never want to get it wrong.”

“Um, yes. I, well. I like waking up and already…” You took a deep breath and told yourself to act like a freaking adult. “I like to already be having sex, basically. To wake up with your mouth on– on my pussy. Or your fingers inside of me. Or your cock.” You felt more than saw Joel’s sharp intake of breath and smiled. “It’s difficult to do that last one without waking me up, but it’s my favorite.”

Joel coughed. “I, um, I really want that, too.” You finally met his gaze with your own and you could see how much he wanted it. You held your breath. “Shit, sweetheart, that sounds so fucking good. I just… since you’d be asleep, I want to make sure I’m doing the right thing. Since I can’t check in with you.”

You put down the plate you’d finished drying five minutes ago and turned towards him, taking his hands in yours and drying them off with the towel. “I trust you, Joel. I know you’d do it how I wanted – make sure I’m ready, and all that.” You finished drying his hands and put the towel down on the counter before lacing your fingers through his. You considered your next words. “I don’t… we can use a safe word. We don’t have to talk about all of that right now.” He squeezed your hands in response. “But I do have one. We can use it, so you know when my reactions are good and if they’re not. I know I can’t use it while I’m asleep, but it could help.” He disentangled and lifted one hand to place it under your chin and guide your eyes back up to meet his.

“I’d like that, honey. And I’d like to talk about that more later, what other things you might like. That we might like together. But we can take it slow.” You nodded, smiling. “And, um. Well. Remember when I told you there were issues with Sarah’s mom that she didn’t know about?”

You nodded. “I do, but Joel, you don’t have to explain now–”

“No, I mean,” he interrupted you but then took a deep breath. “I just wanted to say, part of it was that we weren’t really compatible. At all. She thought, well. That some of the things I like are…” He trailed off and you tilted your chin to press a kiss to the hand still cupping your face, encouraging him. “She thought I was strange for wantin’ ‘em. Like all the sweet things I like to call you, honey, and how I like to call you mine. To her it was too much, not what she wanted. We can talk about it more but like I said, we can take it slow. Figure it out together.”

You felt the shiver run up your spine at the idea of learning what more he might like to try with you. “I just asked you to fuck me while I’m asleep, I think we can be honest with each other.” He grinned.

“So, tomorrow morning? Want me to try it?” You nodded. “I need to hear your words, sweetheart.” As he asked he slipped his right hand around the back of your neck and pulled you closer. His lips brushed yours and you shivered.

“Yes, Joel,” you felt your pulse pick up at the idea and heard the hitch in your breath.

“Yeah, baby? You’d want to wake up with me already inside you?” Your eyes fell closed and you nodded. He pressed a kiss to your jaw, just in front of your ear. “Maybe my fingers? Maybe my tongue?” He licked the shell of your ear. You shivered and your hips squirmed as you pressed your thighs together. “You want to wake up to find my cock already deep inside this pretty pussy?”

“Yes, Joel,” you breathed again. “I love it. Yes, please —” you cut off as he gripped your chin in his hand.

“Shhh, honey. Shit, what a good girl you are, letting me slip inside you while you’re asleep, huh? Take whatever I want? Give you what I want?” You sighed. “Can’t believe it. So fucking perfect for me.” He kissed your neck again as his thumb covered your lips, holding your mouth closed. He took a deep breath and relaxed again.

“Well, honey, I told you before. I’ll give you whatever you want. So I guess we’ll see in the morning, hmm?” You grinned under his finger and nodded. “But maybe we can get started right now.”

...

Sunday, November 10 Eleventh week of the semester

In the morning, Joel woke up first. Before he even opened his eyes, he felt the warmth — the warmth of the sun through the window, the bed beneath him, and the soft wonder of your body against his. You’d moved in the night, but not much. He was still wrapped around you, just with more space between your bodies, his right arm thrown across your waist. He blinked his eyes open slowly, careful not to move as he took in a deep breath and just looked at you.

You were on your side, turned away from him, but he could see the outline of your profile over your shoulder. You were peaceful in your sleep, mouth slightly open, eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks. He stared, almost stunned to find you with him in bed again. How did I get so fucking lucky?

As he looked at you, careful not to move his arm, your discussion from last night came back to him and suddenly he was hard. He was so fucking hard, his cock filling so fast it took his breath away as the blood rushed south.

You wanted him to be inside of you when you woke up. It was a fucking dream even thinking about it. He wanted it, fuck, he wanted it so fucking bad, but he wasn’t sure how to do it. How could he manage it, without waking you?

He kept his breathing even, despite his cock urging him forward, and considered what to do. It was still early, and you’d told him you liked to sleep in on weekends. So maybe he had time on his side. (He always woke up early, because of Sarah.) The first thing he needed to do was get rid of his briefs.

Joel slowly, gently, pulled his arm up from around you. You shifted in your sleep, but he moved slowly and successfully snuck it away. You settled back into your pillow and remained deeply asleep. He sighed in victory.

Slowly, cautiously, careful not to shake the bed, he reached down to slide his briefs off, kicking them somewhere in the sheets. He watched you the whole time, but you breathed evenly, slowly. Still asleep. He smiled. Maybe he could do this.

He rolled back onto his side and considered you. You were a few inches from him. Maybe if he slowly came up behind you you’d snuggle into him in your sleep, making it easier to touch. He nodded to himself. That was probably the best way to start.

Slowly, trying to move like he was asleep himself, he scooted towards you on the bed until his chest came back into contact with your back. He slowed even more there, gently pressing against you until you responded in your sleep — your body titled back against his, moving unconsciously together until he had you spooned in front of him again. He was careful to angle his cock down, not to get it stuck against your ass. (Even though the thought of pressing in between your cheeks almost had him thrusting forward, overcome with want.)

Joel took a moment to breathe in his success. He had you wrapped in his arms again, and he could feel your naked ass pressed against his pelvis. It was so fucking good already. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He was close to what he wanted, but he didn’t want to fuck this up.

He carefully curled his body so his hips moved forwards, and his breath caught as his cock almost arrived right where he wanted it. The tip poked at the join of your thighs, and he sighed. Now what? How would he get any closer? He paused to consider his options again.

But you, it turned out, were on board, even in your sleep. Suddenly you let out a tiny, breathless moan, and he stilled. Peering over your shoulder, he saw that you were still asleep. A dream? He grinned. He could work with that.

Leaving his hips where they were for now, he lightly ran his fingertips up your torso until he was cupping your breast. He tried to use the lightest touch, to encourage your dream without waking you up. He teased the very tip of one finger over your nipple and your body relaxed against him, like you were a puppet and your strings were cut. He stilled again, but you were still asleep. He was on the right track.

He watched your face intently as he lightly teased your nipple with his fingertip. In your sleep, your mouth opened wider, and you sighed. He was mesmerized, watching as your tongue peeked out of your mouth, the tip just touching your bottom lip. He realized his own mouth was hanging open, the desire to lick inside yours almost palpable in the air around him. He suppressed a shiver.

Suddenly, you tilted your head to the side and whispered something. He leaned closer, not quite hearing you. To his great joy, you did it again, and he realized you had whispered his name. “Joel…” he grinned. He had to have you, just like this. Had to give you exactly what you wanted. He just had to figure out what to do about your legs.

He looked down and saw that your feet were twisting in the sheets. He wondered if this was his chance. Lightly slipping from your breast, he slowly moved his hand down to your thigh. You muttered something, but a quick check showed him you were still very much asleep. He only needed an inch, at most.

Ever so lightly, he gripped your thigh and pressed to ease it upwards. You were so fucking responsive, even in your sleep — you followed his instructions perfectly and your thighs shifted just enough for his cock to slip between them. He gasped, and then stilled as his eyes quickly sought your face again. Still asleep. He moved back to his previous position, hand on your breast, before thrusting slowly forward. His cock lined up perfect against your slit, and his eyes almost rolled back when he realized how fucking wet you were. Again. Fuck. His cock glided smoothly against you and he had to fight to keep from letting himself thrust inside, from filling you up right then and there.

Joel teased lightly at your nipple as he gently pulled back again before thrusting his hips forward once more. This time his cock nestled inside your folds and he heard a breathy little moan punch itself out of you when the tip of his cock nudged your clit. He grinned. Yes.

He kept that up for a few more thrusts — gentle movement, he told himself, slow and steady, so fucking wet, sliding so easily against you, fuck — watching your face like a hawk for any trace of wakefulness.

On the next pass, his cock almost caught against your entrance, and he stifled a deep moan of his own. Fuck me. That was the final hurdle, he knew. How could he slip inside you without waking you up? He’d have to go slow, ease into you, so slow and smooth you’d never notice.

He forced himself to keep his hands light, not to grip or pull or tug. At the same time his hips moved with almost terrifying precision. He knew you were wet enough, and still ready from last night. He just had to take the final step.

Joel took a deep breath and, eyes still locked on your face, let himself nudge at your entrance on the next thrust. He stopped there, just there, with the tip of his cock nestled right at the place he most wanted to be.

His heartbeat was racing and he felt winded. He wondered if his pounding heart would wake you before his cock did.

Gently, so gently it almost knocked him out, he pushed forward with his hips. The head of his cock pushed against you before sliding past your entrance, stopping just inside. Joel realized his mouth was hanging open as he stared at you. He felt torn. He wanted to look down, to see, but he was afraid if he looked away even for a moment you’d wake up. He gritted his teeth and kept his eyes on your face.

He pushed forward again, and he felt his cock sink deeper inside you. Fuck. Your cunt was fucking perfect. He had no idea how you could be so fucking wet all the time. Were you always like this? You’d said it was just for him, but did that mean you were always like this around him? Shit. Hold it together.

He was panting. He tried to keep it quiet, but it was so much. So fucking much. He blinked to keep his eyes from closing.

Joel took a deep breath, still focused on you, and took one more gentle thrust to slide himself all the way home. He bit down so hard on his lip to fight back a moan he was worried he drew blood. He realized he’d let go of your breast to clutch at the comforter beneath you and was in danger of leaning his weight forward to fall on top of you. He stilled. He panted. He stared at your face.

You were somehow still asleep. How?

He took the gift he was offered and moved. His hips pulled gently back, and he felt every inch of your cunt squeeze tight around his cock as he pulled out, until only the head of his cock was left stretching your entrance open. He breathed in through his nose, and then breathed out steadily while thrusting back in at that same slow, infuriating pace. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me.

He managed three or four more agonizing thrusts, doing everything he could to be silent and gentle, to keep you sleeping while he fucked you. He realized now the goal was for you to wake up, but he wasn’t sure how to do it. He paused inside you after his next thrust, taking a deep breath, looking over your slumbering face. He started to smile.

Slowly, gently, he leaned down towards your neck as he pulled almost all the way out of you again. As he slid home this time, just a tiny bit faster, he pressed a kiss to your neck, right under your ear. You moaned. His smile turned feral.

He continued like that, thrusting inwards and pressing kisses to your neck and your shoulder, getting wetter and sloppier each time. Your breaths started to come faster and faster, and then he noticed your hips were starting to push back against his.

His eyes flew back to your face. He had to see it. He wanted to see the exact moment you woke up and realized he was doing as you asked, he was doing what you wanted. He was giving it to you just right.

He wanted to push you over the edge. On his next thrust he cupped your breast again, and your voice was clearer this time, calling out to him in your sleep. “Yes, Joel, yes,” he teased your nipple and thrust forward. “Joel,” you called out, brow furrowing. He knew it was coming. He stared at you, and on the next thrust, he pinched your nipple at the same moment his cock bottomed out inside of you.

It was fucking heaven. Fucking transcendent. Your eyes flew open as you gasped, throwing your head back onto his shoulder. Your hands grasped at nothing until they found his arm, and you clutched at him. He pulled out again and thrust back inside you, hard, and you cried out. He smiled.

…

You were having the most amazing dream. Everything was warmth and pleasure and there was a man holding you and you knew it was Joel. Joel, wrapped around you. You were floating together, somehow, twisting together as he spooned you from behind, but somehow also kissed you and touched you, everywhere. You sighed.

His embrace tightened and you hitched your leg over his. “Mm, that’s my good girl,” you heard him say, and it melted through you like hot chocolate. “That’s it, baby. Show me.” You weren’t sure what he wanted you to show him, so you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue. “Fuck yeah, baby. Let me see that tongue.”

Dream Joel, somehow spooning you and making out with you at the same time, licked your tongue as you stuck it out for him. The slide of your tongues together made you press your thighs tight. “You’re so goddamn hot baby,” he muttered in your ear while making out with you. You moaned back, somehow still kissing him, “Joel.” He grinned at you, wicked and intent. He bent down suddenly to lick at your nipples and you gasped. “Joel!” He smiled and you hummed at the feeling of him worshiping your tits.

In your dream the two of you were floating upwards, towards something — there was light above you, and warmth below you. Everything felt amazing.

Dream Joel ran his hands down your body, grasping at your hips and your legs. You smiled. “Love the way you look, honey,” he murmured, and you told him you loved the way he looked, too. He smiled. “Open up for me, then, sweet thing. Let me inside.” You did as he asked and opened your legs. Dream Joel, talented man that he was, managed to kiss you and eat you out at the same time, and you sighed into it, mouth opening for him again. And then you felt something warm and hard and gorgeous slide against your pussy. You sighed and pushed back onto it.

“Inside, Joel,” you tried to demand, your voice weak and breathy. He chuckled, darkly. “Not yet baby, wanna feel you.” He slid his cock back and forth against your soaking wet pussy and you moaned. “You feel so good on my cock, honey. You hear that?” You listened, and you heard him panting behind you, heard the slick glide of his cock as it nestled in your folds. “Shit, sweetheart. You’re so wet for me.”

“Always,” you sighed out.

“I know you are, baby. Can’t stop thinking about it, about sneaking my fingers inside your underwear everywhere we go, see if you’re ready for me. Ready for me to slip inside you, no matter where we are.”

You nodded. “Always ready for you, Joel. Always want you inside me. Want you inside me right now.”

“Honey I told you, I’ll give you everything you want. Don’t you worry.” Dream Joel slid back again, and on his next thrust his cock notched right at your entrance, and you sighed. “Yes, please, Joel.”

“Shhh, honey. Just let me give it to you. I’ll give you whatever you want, you know that. All you have to do is lie there and take it.” You moaned as he pressed the head of his cock inside of you. It felt huge and perfect and warm and like you never wanted to be without it.

Dream Joel rubbed his hands up your torso as he fucked into you from behind. “That’s it, honey. Take me inside you. Let me fill you up. Let me stuff my cum so deep inside of you it’ll be dripping out for hours.” Your breath caught at the idea and you started to breathe harder and faster. He pinched your nipples and thrust into you, hard. “Feel it, honey? Feel how perfectly my cock fits inside this cunt?”

“Yes, Joel, yes,” you cried, almost crying for real. “I need it.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he crooned, softly. “You’re such a good girl, you know that? Such a good fucking girl for me. Letting me put my cock inside you whenever I want, letting me fill you up. Sitting on my cock like an angel. Like you were meant to be right here, in my lap.” Dream Joel thrust inside of you again, and you cried out.

“Joel, please,” you sighed as your brows pinched together. The dream suddenly felt so real, so physical, you couldn’t figure out which way was up or down. You were spinning, falling, and when you crash landed back into your body you gasped.

Your eyes flew open and all you could feel was Joel. He was fucking everywhere. His body was pressed all along your back, his fingers pinched your nipple, his mouth was on your jaw.

And his cock was hard, and it was deep, deep inside of you.

Your head flew back as you gasped for air, staring up at the ceiling without seeing. Your hands grasped for purchase on something, anything that would hold you there, keep you from flying apart and spiraling into the air, until they found his arm and you held on for dear life. Suddenly Joel pulled his hips back and then thrust inside of you, hard. You cried out, maybe his name, maybe no words at all. Fuck. You needed to catch your breath. Your hips were pinned under his, your pussy wet and dripping and tightening around his cock. You could feel a tear slip from your eye to land on the pillow under your head. Fuck me.

Before you could even try to make sense of your surroundings, to catch your breath, Joel’s lips found your ear.

“Good morning, honey.” His voice was deep and rumbling and fucking vicious. He thrust inside you again, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Your next breath came out like a sob. “How’d you sleep?” You felt a tear form at the edge of your eye again, and he curled forward to kiss it away. “Shh, baby, you’re ok. You’re so fucking good, honey, my good fucking girl.” He thrust inside of you again, and his cock slid against you so easily, so wonderfully, that you breathed through another sob. “Honey?”

You realized, distantly, that he was starting to worry about you. You squeezed his arm. You had to say something.

“Y— yes, Joel. Yes.” You felt him grin against your shoulder.

“Yeah, honey? That feel good?” You nodded, frantically, reaching one hand back to grasp at his hip. “You want it bad, don’t you? Want this cock to split you open?” Your breath hitched, again. “Want me to push deep inside you, don’t you, sweet thing? Fill you up? Leave you fucking dripping?”

Real Joel echoing Dream Joel spun you upwards again, disorienting you in your pleasure. You whined, and thrust your hips backwards towards him. He pulled out and slammed his cock back into you, pulling back on your hip to urge you onto him. “Fuck, honey, you need it, don’t you? You need it so bad.” You could only grasp at him and nod, feeling another tear run down the side of your face. He kissed that one away, too.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. You can have this cock whenever you want.” He thrust forward again, pinning you to the bed. Your right knee bent in front of you and he followed, curving his body into the same position, somehow driving his cock deeper. “It’s yours. Yours to use, honey. Yours to touch, to lick, to sit on whenever you want.” He started up a steady pace, pushing his cock inside of you so deeply, so right on every thrust. Your face was turned, left side on the pillow, profile still open to him. He pressed kisses everywhere he could reach.

“I’m going to make you come, honey. And I want to see it.” He curved his right hand over your hip, seeking out your clit with his fingers. “I want you to come on my cock. I want to feel you squeeze me, baby, squeeze me so fucking tight.” You sighed into the pillow. “Can you do that for me? Yeah, ‘course you can. Be a good girl, honey, and come for me.”

His fingers started circling your clit, and you felt it building inside of you like a tidal wave. It was almost too much, so much, more than you could handle. You were actually crying now, tears running down your face that he kissed away. “J— Joel,” you whined, and he twisted to press a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“That’s right, honey. Let me have it. It’s mine.”

Something about the way he claimed it, claimed you, sent you over the edge. You flew over it, into the air, twisting, falling, electrified. The orgasm erupted through you, and you felt more wet gush out of you, absolutely soaking his cock. He groaned.

“Holy fucking shit, honey. Yes. Fucking give it to me.” He talked you through it, pressing kisses anywhere he could reach. It shuddered through you and you clamped down on him as your orgasm crested. You sobbed one more time, and he bit down on your shoulder to ground you.

As you came down, you realized his hips were speeding up. You whined and thrust your hips backwards again. You wanted it. You wanted him, inside of you, dripping out of you, like he promised. He nodded, seeming to understand.

“That’s right, honey. I’m going to give it to you. That’s what good girls get, right? And you were perfect, honey. My good fucking girl.” You clutched at the pillow as you pushed your hips back, trying to tilt them to give him the best angle. He sank deeper, somehow, and moaned. “I’m going to give it to you so deep, baby, so fucking deep.” He sighed, dreamily. “Fuck.”

His thrusts picked up, and you let yourself drift, feeling perfectly used as Joel pumped his hips into yours. His thrusts caught, uneven, and you heard him groan from deep in his chest. He clutched at you, with one final, devastating thrust, and came. His mouth was hot on your ear as he said your name in a voice that made it sound like a prayer.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You were both breathing hard, and you were a fucking mess — wet, everywhere — cum all over, sweaty, and tears that had dripped down your face and soaked your pillow.

Joel sucked in a deep breath and carefully, gently, pulled out of you. You still gasped — you were sensitive from the night before, still, and he’d just fucked you so hard you’d cried, for god’s sake — but he was so soft and gentle with you that it barely hurt.

He flopped to your left on the bed, and with a groan, you heaved yourself onto your right side so you could look at him. You fell in the wet spot, but honestly, the entire bed was probably a wet spot at that point.

He turned his head, and for a minute you just looked at each other. You’d thought you’d seen him wrecked before, but that was nothing. You could see, now, what it actually looked like. And he was wrecked. You imagined you were the same. His hair was wild, his face was awestruck. He was red and sweaty and fucking beautiful.

Slowly, he started to smile, and you returned it. Then he laughed, and you laughed back. Soon you were both giggling into your pillows, curled towards each other, linking fingers in the damp sheets.

Joel took a deep breath, and managed to stop giggling long enough to say, “I think you might have killed me, honey. Can’t move my legs.” You giggled and buried your face in the pillow. “No, I’m serious. First you knock me over with the idea of fucking you awake, much less telling me to do it? Jesus, I almost came before I ever got inside of you, trying to figure out how to do it without waking you up. Best fucking idea I’ve ever heard, honey, shit. Holy fucking shit.” He sounded winded, and awestruck. Like he couldn’t believe that just happened. “You were so beautiful, baby, taking it so well, even in your sleep. Couldn’t tear my eyes away from you.” He sighed, grinning. “Jesus, when can we do it again? I wanna do it again. How’s every goddamn morning sound to you?” You laughed outright. He cleared his throat. “Was it, um. Was it what you wanted?” He looked hopeful, and a tiny bit worried. You didn’t know how he could be, not after you came harder than you ever had in your life. So you told him that.

“Joel. I just came harder than I ever have in my entire life.” You figured he needed to hear it, and his answering grin told you he appreciated it. “I can’t feel my legs, either.” He laughed, and you tracked it across his face. Beautiful. “It was so fucking perfect. I was having the best dream about you, I guess because of what you were doing to me for real, and then suddenly the dream and reality came together and I— fuck.” You closed your eyes against the memory of that moment. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

“It was fucking beautiful to watch,” he murmured, eyes traveling over your face and chest. “Never seen anything like that, either.”

You smiled. “In my dream you were fucking me from behind, and it just… melted into real life. I felt like I fell back into myself and couldn’t tell up from down in the best fucking way.” You bit your lip. “Every morning, huh?” He winked at you. “I dunno, if you make me come like that every day I might not make it to work.” He laughed, and finally reached for you again. You went easily as he pulled you into his chest, pressing your bodies together. You sighed, sinking into him happily.

“You fit so well in my arms, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to your hairline. “Let’s just stay right here, for a while.”

You hummed, agreeing, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. You were both quiet for a moment, just letting the moment wash over you, when you felt him tense.

“Joel?” You questioned lightly, wondering what he was thinking.

“I, um,” he cleared his throat. “Just want to make sure of something, honey. You were, well, the crying. Was that… ok?” He sounded so careful, so worried, it made your heart clench.

“Yes, Joel. That wasn’t just ok.” You tilted your head back to meet his eye so he could see the sincerity on your face. “It was exactly what I wanted. It was perfect.” He relaxed, and his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Sometimes I cry during sex. Not all the time, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing when it happens. Like just now, it was a really, really good thing.”

“That’s what I thought,” he nodded, “but I wanted to make sure I was reading you right. Would be a pretty upsetting thing to get wrong.”

The two of you nestled back into each other, holding tight, breathing in deep together as you came down from the intensity of the sex you’d just had. It had been beautiful, and rough, and exactly what you wanted, and now you were worn out. In his arms was exactly where you wanted to be.

After a while you started to doze off again, but you didn’t want to sleep the morning away, so you shook yourself back awake. You stretched, idly, and you felt Joel’s gaze on you. You looked up to find him admiring your legs as you stretched them along the bed.

“See something you like, cowboy?”

He smiled. “You know I do, gorgeous.”

“Want to get up, grab some breakfast, maybe?” Joel smiled and nodded, but pulled you in rather than letting you get up.

“Maybe in a few minutes.”

You smiled.

…

Joel drove you to a diner about halfway between your apartment and his house. You’d never been there, but had driven past it many times, and told him so.

“This is a favorite of ours,” he told you as you both climbed out of his truck. “Sarah usually demands it at least once a month. We have family breakfast with Tommy.” You smiled at the thought.

Breakfast was easy, full of easy conversation and light teasing. Joel snuck some of your food and you retaliated by drinking some of his coffee. His feet nudged yours under the table as he grinned at you, and you rested your chin in your hand to watch him watch you across the table. It really drove home for you how much you liked being around Joel. The sex had been mind-blowing, obviously, like always, but you’d also spent weeks circling each other before finally starting to get to know each other over lunches and coffees and now dates. Every moment you spent with him showed you there was something more, here. It was in the way he couldn’t look away from you, the way he listened so carefully, like he always did, as you told him silly stories about the diner in your hometown. The way he remembered tiny details from everything you’d ever told him. You felt yourself falling, just like you’d told Beth.

It was scary, but it was also pretty wonderful.

...

a/n: 😏

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undercoverpena · 8 months

Text

xi. hold her, and tell her everything's gonna be fine

javier peña x f!reader | chapter eleven of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: sad!reader, talks of jobloss, comforting!javi, two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love ✨ wordcount: 3.3k. an: i know, when will jo stop changing the banner, but I love this so much and feel it encompasses everything for these two.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

I have one last thing to research and then I’m all yours.

have you eaten

There is a piece of fruit in my hand, as I research.

you said you were gonna order

In my defence, I’m not super hungry.

if I was there id hide your notebook and make you eat tamales my mama taught me to make

Make me, ay?

oh baby normally i would be so down to talk dirty with you and make you blush but only when youve eaten

I really want this job, baby.

i know but i really want you to not be ill

Because you really really really like me?

i heard that in your voice and yes because I really like you

In the last few days, the two of you have managed to complete three crosswords. Something he’s impressed with and you’re disappointed in.

“So, another one—I’m still unsure what this even means.”

Laughing, he hears you crunch another piece of fruit—thankful to hear you eating. “What’s the clue, baby?”

He’ll never tire of it, hearing you call him that. A sweet sound, all wrapped in kindness—floating down the phone line all the way to his ear.

“‘Not a company man’, six letters,” he says, fingers rolling the bridge of his nose.

“Hermit,” you say, calm, casual. “Or, you know, me if I don’t get the job.”

“Baby,” he warns, pen scratching the paper as you try to laugh.

Then you asked to change the conversation. Something he was more than happy to oblige, capping the pen, shoving the book away, leaning on the counter as you tell him about a new recipe you like. Talking fast, busy—almost far too energetic, but he knows why.

It’s all because of today.

The interview—the things he’s heard you jump through hoops for—arriving sooner than he could have relaxed you for.

You’d practised elements of your presentation and called him more than you usually would. Something he liked, enjoyed. The feeling of being needed. That his opinion mattered. It all weaving within him, stitching the parts of him that had weakened since the goodbye, since the drive home—alone and without you.

After a quick text in the morning, Javi had known not to expect to hear from you for a while. Likely not even immediately post your interview, probably needing a coffee—a breather.

If he lived there, where you were, you’d likely need him. Meet him outside, coffee in hand to give to you, a comforting hug, your breath on his neck as you let the tension out.

But he wasn’t there.

And he had thought he might have heard from you an hour later.

let me know how it’s gone baby

Javi tries not to be needy.

A battle he finds easy to lose when it comes to you. Digging his phone out the back pocket of his jeans periodically, ignoring the animals nuzzling their noses at him for food as he checks his battery, texts, calls…

Then the hour bled into two. Your interview was two-hundred and thirty-nine minutes ago, to be precise.

By now, he’s expected to have heard something, anything.

you still want me to call tonight

He tries not to worry. Even as his tasks dwindled, the sun beating down, his stomach growling and sweat building in parts of him that he should shower off.

But a part of him thinks if he goes inside, it’ll layer on top of him: the loneliness. The thing he feels, but pretends isn’t there.

Because normally, he’d have heard from you at lunch—if not more frequently throughout your day. The silence expected, very out of character. Which turns some cogs in him that twist and tighten, forcing his throat to burn and his stomach to flutter with a nervousness he can’t explain, except that:

Javi wants you.

Not just in the sense that he wants to run his fingers up and down your side, to crush his lips over yours, to bury himself inside of you as he feels himself falling, freely, and happily. But more that he wants to wake next to you, see you smile and laugh amongst the field, show you the water’s edge—feel some contentment there rather than boiling anger at the boats.

You could wear your jacket as the weather cools, and spread your warmth from the photo strip to the rest of the ranch.

youre doing that thing where you make me worry, baby

Eventually, after much internal fighting, he heads in and showers.

Hands washing the day as he hopes the water will take away his worries too. Pressing his palm flat to the tiles, he allows the water to beat down on him—eyes occasionally glancing to the phone on the windowsill, willing it to light up.

He suspects it’s why he stays in a bit longer.

Allows the soap suds to have long since vanished down the plug hole, letting the water begin to go cold as he uses all of the water up.

It’s only when he’s dried off, thrown some comfier clothes on—sunk into his usual chair, does he rotate the phone in his hand. His fingers slid along the underside of his chin, eyes fixated on a photo of him and his parents—their faces beaming, smiling, his hands in theirs.

even got me using punctuation and everything

Please, he whispers.

To no one. Not his Pop in the next room, some show bleeding into the air. Just to himself, as he works the spot on his forehead.

You don’t text him back, but you do call bang on time.

He’s spent the last half an hour pretending he wasn’t loitering, while his pop pretended he wasn’t coming in to make drinks to check on him. Giving him that look, the one Javi had seen so often when he’d first come back from Cali.

All concern, all deep lines embedded with worries as he ticks, tick, ticked.

This was different. Something in his gut telling him that you weren’t okay, a need inside of him to get to you—pack a bag, head to the airport and hope there was a flight or something.

He only hadn’t because a part of him, small—but loud—hummed that it could be him. He could be the reason, the cause. It all too good to be true. His fingers pressing keys to read back his texts, see if he can find the cause—the moment it all began to spoil and undo.

The last hour of investigation led him to nothing. Irritation threading into his muscles until he heard the phone ring—loud, punching holes with its noise into his unravelling.

Smirking, he wipes his hands on his jeans, cocking his head around the doorway—checking for the flickering television and no lurking pop, before he unhooks the ringing phone from its place.

“Took you long enough, was about to ring you and ruin—”

“J—Javi?”

Sniffle. A sob. The beginnings of you splitting in two.

That’s what he hears—clear as anything. It cuts straight through his attempt at teasing and slices through him as though the sound was laced with the edge of a knife.

It’s instant, barely explainable, the way his stomach falls to his feet. His smile vanishes, stolen and robbed, as another sob expands in the space of your two’s silence, making his throat dry, and the phone crunches a little under his grip.

“Baby. Talk to me, what’s happened?”

You swallow, all thick, as though it's a struggle. “I… I—I didn’t g-get the job-b.”

Slowly, his eyes close. Hearing you cry again, louder, less restrained and more freely, them rolling and rolling from you like a wave. The depth of it travels freely down the phone, in the same way, he usually craves when it’s your voice, noise, or presence.

“I’m… cariño, I’m so—”

“—I’m s-sorry, Javi. I’m so sorry…”

Frowning, he slides the fingers down his nose as you continue to apologise—them merging with your hiccups and tears.

“Cariño, wait. Stop.”

And you do. Your sniffles all of a sudden ceasing, more restrained—practically swallowing another one back. Trying to keep it on your tongue, rather than let it escape.

“Why are you apologising to me?”

You’re quiet for a moment, a second. Then you seem to let out a strange noise, before clearing your throat. “The job… I… we’d have been seeing each other more, and I’ve ruined it—I ruined-d it all.”

Frowning, he opens his mouth. Confusion there, all evident and brimming. Because he hasn’t got a fucking clue what you’re talking about. His brain runs, dashing through the notes it’s been making, the snippets here and there you’d spill about your day and your work.

“It was-s in Houston. I’d have been able t-to move. We’d have been c-closer.”

And then it lands.

The realisation. What it would have meant.

It appears in front of him before it slams straight into him. Forced his head to drop, sight lowering to a mark on the wall as his chest tightens. His eyes fixated, unable to tear his eye from the stain on the off-yellow wall—one likely made from him sitting on a stool or chair, maybe even his knee when he’s stretched, when minutes have quickly tumbled into an hour.

Even if he’s reeling, your ramblings have continued. They’re all in various pitches, spluttered and painted in painful cries and strangled sniffs.

“—I—I didn’t want to tell you at first, in case we didn’t, you know, get on.” You continue, some words slamming into the next as you try to level out your cries. “Then I didn’t want to tell you in case you got excited, and I fucked it up—and I did, didn’t I? I fucked it up. And now we won’t live closer, and—“

“Baby—“

But you’re tumbling, rolling right off the emotional cliff you’d been on the edge of. Thick, horrid sobs that shake his foundation and dart cracks through all of him continue to travel from you.

And it hurts. Makes him feel both horrid and weak—helpless. Unsure what he can say, do.

So he offers, “They’ll be other jobs.”

And as soon as it unfurls from his tongue, he wants to drag it back. Swallow each syllable, and letter, and never let you hear them again.

Because he’s sure you cry harder, louder. Even if it appears like you pull the phone away so he can’t hear how deep they go.

And you keep trying to spill out his name, a sentence here and there, trying to form as he pushes the phone against his ear, palm flattening against the wall—balling his fingers up—

“There won’t be…”

Sighing, he lets you take a breath. “Baby, of course, there will be. You’re good, I can tell, alright? And you’re brilliant and just cause those fuckin’ idiots can’t see—“

“I quit, Javi.”

The words he’d been about to say, fizz out on his tongue, die, fade. And it seems to only make you cry harder. His mind trying to catch up, to follow on with what is happening as you explain, in broken sobs, how your entire life seems to crumble apart all around you.

“I… I couldn’t take it. The reason, the explanation. How they gave it to the new guy, the one who doesn’t even know how Houston operates—and I just saw red, Javi. And I quit. Me? I… I just packed my desk up, left….”

He bites the inside of his cheek, listening as you take a breath—it sounds so much like defeat has replaced your sorrow.

“Then I just wandered. A box under my arm… and… I wanted to reply, but I didn’t know where to start. Like, ‘I miss you so much, but by the way, I didn’t get that promotion, and I snapped because they treat me like shit, so I quit. That my best friend is so excited because they’re paying for her to move this month for her new job, and my lease on my apartment is coming up’ and…”

“And what?”

It’s your turn to sigh, it more shaky and still embezzled with sniffles—fluttering down to his ear. “And…” you pause, his pulse suddenly quickening, waiting, mouth opening and then closing. “And, the person who would make me feel better isn’t even in the same State as me—because, I know this sounds crazy, but as soon as I heard why I didn’t get that job, all I wanted… well, all I wanted was you.”

Me?

His lips curl, sliding up into his cheek. His eyes look up, dancing around the marks on the wall as he straightens his spine, and swallows back whatever lump had been forming.

“I just…” you continue, “wanted to be back in that hotel room. Curled up in your arms.”

“You….” Clearing his throat, he tries again. “You know how we could solve that? You could come here—clear your head… just for a minute. Get all the hugs you want.”

You let out a noise, low, shifting it from it to a breath in record time. “Well, I wouldn’t be much fun. I’d just spend it in your bed.”

“That doesn’t sound all that bad, baby.”

“Sleeping and crying, do it for you, charmer?”

He grins, before rolling his lips. “Not if it’s not from how good I make you feel, no. But. I just—want you to have options.”

You go silent, far too quiet for his liking, until he hears the sound of movement, shuffling. His ears honing in, trying to work out what it is you’re doing, could be doing.

“What am I actually gonna do, Javi?”

Fuck. It suddenly dawning on him how unequipped he is for this. For comfort—for being there for another person. He barely looked after himself before, never mind since he came home. He hasn’t got a fucking clue what to say to even begin to make someone feel better, never mind someone who means as much to him as you.

“I… I quit my job. Without even finding another one—that’s… that’s crazy, insane—I don’t do these things and-and—“

Rolling his head on his neck, he ran a hand over his face. Trying to buy a second or two, digging deep for an answer—something comforting that would help.

“You, baby, are gonna get some sleep, and tomorrow we’re gonna sort it.”

He hears you swallow. Loud, followed shortly after by a sigh.

“We?”

You say it quietly, full of disbelief.

Because only you still wouldn’t realise how deep he is in with you. If he could, if he could risk hijacking the moment to explain, he’d tell you how worried he’s been, how he’s been obsessively checking and clicking, to the point he’s pretty sure he’s taken some life of his phone battery for it.

Swallowing, he bites his lip, nodding to himself. “It’s you and me, ain’t it, cariño? You’re not… you don’t have to figure this out alone, is all I mean.”

It’s soft—the way you reply, okay. Delicate. He’s hopeful it’s accompanied by a smile, one with a nose scrunch.

“Javi?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“Can you… can you stay on the phone with me?”

Pulling a stool over, he sits himself down on it. The ache in his chest widened, a lump in his throat forming. “Sure, baby. You want me to talk about anything in particular?”

“Not sure…”

“What would you do if I was there?”

He swears he hears you smirk.

“I would cook you almond saffron chicken.”

Shifting on the stool, he adjusts the phone in his hand. “Yeah? How come?”

“It’s the first dish Aish taught me to make, and I think you’d like it. And, I’m quite hungry, I… I didn’t really feel up to food before. But maybe, y’know, if I came to see you, had the chance to cook, maybe over a long weekend?”

Smirking, he lets out a content breath. “I like the sound of it already…”

“Because of me cooking in your kitchen?”

Laughing, he rolls his lips. “No, because it would mean you were here, cariño.

Morning baby, hope the cows aren’t trying to eat your shirt.

morning hermosa why are you up so early

Well, I thought of having a lie in but decided to grab a coffee, print off some CVs and not look as desperate as I feel.

if it makes you feel better im pretty sure my pop would hire you in a heartbeat

Bet I’d look real good in dungarees.

fuck baby

Could even wear your shirt, tie it so it’s a crop.

youre killing me

I’ll leave you with that, I have a list of places to beg to give me a chance.

wouldnt need to beg me

Stop, baby. Save it for later.

He’d barely dried himself off before your text came through.

Javi had found that the one upside to you being unemployed was the amount of time you had to reply or call—something he wasn’t complaining about in the slightest.

In a way (a small, acceptable way), it felt like a taste of what it would be like if the two of you lived closer. If there weren’t towns, cities and states between the two of you. If you lived close by, or better yet, on the ranch with him.

Across the last few days, while you’d seemed upbeat through text—just as you were when the two of you were in Houston—he quickly realised how much of a mask that was when he had you on the phone.

If not for the fact that when you ended the call, you seemed more yourself than when it started, Javi would have already begged someone from a ranch or two over to help, and book a flight out to surprise you.

“Hello, charmer.”

Grinning, he runs his hand over his chin. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Well, I have good news.”

“What’s that then?”

“Remember when I said I had to meet with someone in Houston, from imports? Well, apparently, they’ve been trying to get hold of me at work—one of the few nice people there let me know, even passed my details on.”

It begins—right in his stomach. A nervousness, a bubble—it rising and rising, sliding into his heart as it makes it beat just that much quicker.

“He wants to meet with me… apparently, I impressed him?”

“That’s—fuck, that’s amazing, baby.”

Javi can almost hear your grin as you laugh—can even picture you hiding your face in your hand at his happiness.

“Yeah,” you say, more in a sigh than anything else. “It’s obviously just an interview—maybe even a chat, but it’s something.”

Tracing the back of the phone with his finger, he runs his fingers up his neck, up his chin—

Pulse thumping in his neck. “I could… Could always drive up, see you after?”

“Oh… um?”

Oh? He thinks. The noise suddenly on repeat. It’s all he can hear—that little surprised noise rips from your throat and punctures his ear. His own fingers scratching at his cheek.

And then you clear your throat, and he grits his jaw. “Well, if you wanted, once I’ve had my meeting with him, I was going to ask if I could come to Laredo, see the ranch… and you?”

Just as quickly as it came, the earlier shame from your ‘oh’ vanishes. It bursts, erupts into a thousand pieces of nothing as the edges of his lips begin to curl up.

“For a second, didn’t think you wanted to see me.”

You don’t laugh, don’t ridicule his confession, and if you were here, he’d imagine you’d have tilted your head in that way you do.

“Javi, of course, I want to see you. I…” you take a long pause as though battling with yourself. “Baby, I’ve been trying to find my way back to you since the moment I left you. There’s nothing I want more than to see you. I promise.”

His shoulders descend from his ears, a smile spreading across his face so large—he’s not sure anything could take it. Something inside of him shifted, sliding back together.

“So, do you mind if I come to see you on your ranch? Bother your animals, let me admire your fence work?”

If he hadn’t been sure before, he’s sure now he would have kissed you. Grip you by your cheeks and crash his mouth to yours, stealing that question mark from the air and using his lips to remind you that with him, you never need it.

But, since he can’t, he finds words. One’s that are more eloquent than ‘fuck, yes’, but are close in family to it.

Because, of course, he wants to see you. He never wanted to let you go in the first place.

an: we have next weeks and then an epilogue, and LNT 'main story' will be done. honestly, thank you for all the love as we've gone on this journey. i never expected this for one second, and i'm so emotional right now at how well loved/supported this story has been. i'm gonna miss it, so much.

#javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #mm: late night texts #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

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albertasunrise · 4 months

Text

Hope - Hope I See You Again

Masterlist

Summary: After Joel loses his wife and your best friend during childbirth. You support him as he takes on parenthood on his own at 22. But when feelings start to develop, you battle with the guilt you feel for falling for your best friend’s husband.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+… this is to avoid spoilers! (So a longer chapter...Another angst fest but I hope you enjoy. Had most of this written out already hence posting it so quickly after chapter 4, can't wait to heart what y'all think ♥️)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

10 years later...

"Sarah!" Joel calls up the stairs as he munches on his toast "Hunny you're going to be late."

"COMING!" She replied as thumping steps erupted on the landing.

Joel chuckled as he listened to his daughter clamber down the stairs, smiling when she planted a kiss on his cheek and skipped to the plate of toast he left on the side for her.

"You're a good father." She said as she ravaged the breakfast he made her.

"I try to be."

"You make some for Uncle Tommy?" She asked as her ears perked up at the sound of his truck parking on the drive.

"Yeah, yeah..." Joel waved her off "Although he's gonna eat me outa house n' home at this rate."

"Who is?" Tommy asked as he walked into the kitchen, giving his brother a friendly slap on the arm as he passed.

"You asshole." Joel grumbled, eliciting a snigger from Sarah.

"Sarah baby... you're gonna miss the bus if you don't leave." Joel said as he eyed the clock.

"Ah... crap... Okay, gotta go. See ya later Uncle Tommy." She said sweetly as she kissed his cheek before skipping to her father to do the same thing "Still on for tacos tonight?"

"Wouldn't be Tuesday without them." Joel winked before waving at his daughter as she sprinted out the door.

"Ready?" Tommy asked as he unceremoniously shoved the last of his toast into his mouth.

"One of these days, you're gonna choke." He snorted as he pushed himself to his feet "I'm driving today." He said as he snatched up the keys and headed to the garage.

...

Joel was just finishing up laying the table when Sarah came screaming in. He couldn't understand how she had so much energy despite being at school all day and then soccer practice afterwards.

"HEY!" She shouted, practically skipping into the kitchen.

"Hey baby girl, how was your day?" He asked as he grabbed and placed the serving spoon into the bowl of chorizo and potatoes that he'd just finished frying off.

"Great, do you mind if a friend joins us?" She asked sheepishly, smiling sweetly at him as he turned to see a tall boy beside her.

He seemed familiar. His dark hair and piercing blue eyes reminded him of someone he used to know.

"Dad this is Noah." She said sweetly "He's new and his mum wasn't able to get him from school so I said he could come here for dinner and then you could drop him home later?"

The boy's name made Joel's stomach twist. There was no way this was the boy that had been practically glued to Sarah's side as a toddler. There are plenty of kids with that name.

"Baby I-"

"I know I should have asked first but Dad... you always make extra so there will be plenty for all of us." She pleaded with her big brown eyes, knowing that it would win him over.

"I don't wanna impose Mr Miller, sir." Noah said, his head dropping "I can probably walk home from here."

"Sit down." Joel grumbled as he motioned to the table with his head, smiling when Sarah kissed his cheek and whispered thanks in his ear.

He watched as Sarah eagerly dug into the food on the table before noting Noah's hesitance.

"Dig in son." Joel encouraged and Noah gave him a nervous nod before doing as he was bid.

Dinner then passed fairly easily. Sarah talked about school and practice as Noah smiled at her enthusiasm.

"So where are you from Noah?" Joel asked as he wiped his hands on his napkin and grabbed his beer to take a swig.

"I was actually born here." Noah confessed and Joel's heart sped up a little "My parents moved when I was little. Dad wasn't well and so we moved closer to my grandma."

"You don't say." Joel replied, his heart in his throat as Noah continued.

"We moved back here 'cus mum got a job in Austin. Thought it would be good to get a new start after dad..." He trailed off, his eyes growing sad.

"Perhaps next taco Tuesday you can bring Ali?" Sarah suggested as she gave Noah's arm a friendly squeeze.

"Ali?" Joel asked and Noah smiled sweetly "Ali's my little sister. Short for Alison." He replied sweetly "Well little ish... She's a few years younger than me."

"Joel thought he was going to be sick. There was no way this wasn't the Noah he knew as a boy."

"Dad..." Sarah called but Joel felt like he was drowning, her calls for him muffled like his head was underwater.

"DAD!" She shouted and he leapt from his skin as he returned his attention to both of them "You okay?"

"What?" Joel asked as his eyes flitted between the two kids "Oh... Yeah, sorry just uh... Just a long day."

Noah's cell phone ringing filled the awkward silence that had blanketed the room and when he pulled it out to see who it was, he excused himself to take it.

"You sure you're okay dad?" Sarah asked as she grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Yeah, baby." He replied sweetly, trying his hardest to be convincing "I'm fine."

10 years earlier...

"Joel, you need to take it easy man." Tommy pleaded as he pushed his brother back onto the bed "They cut into your fucking skull man."

"What I need... is to get out of here." Joel grumbled as he let out a frustrated huff.

"Sarah and I nearly lost you." Tommy choked, his eyes growing glossy as he remembered the last few weeks "We've watched you crash twice... Been told to prepare for the worst more times than I wanna remember... So please, just rest."

"How are they?" He asked and Tommy sighed "They're doing as well as can be expected." Tommy sighed and Joel nodded "I think the kids have been a great distraction though."

Joel smiled at that.

"When do you ship out?" Joel asked, changing the subject and Tommy signed "Sunday. Now you're not knocking on death's door, they've decided it's time for me to leave."

"I'll be okay." Joel promised but Tommy didn't look convinced "I promise."

...

2 weeks later...

Joel watched as you puttered around the house, looking anything but relaxed as you finished clearing up after lunch. He gingerly pushed himself to his feet, wincing when his stitches pulled.

"Need some help?" He asked as he limped into the kitchen.

"No." You replied plainly and Joel sighed.

"Please, let me help." Joel pleaded and you growled in frustration.

"You can help me by sitting the fuck down so you don't pull a stitch." You growled and Joel shrunk back.

You'd been cold towards him since he got out and Joel couldn't say he blamed you. You were now stuck babysitting him as he recovered from three major surgeries on top of his daughter whom you'd been caring for for almost a month.

"Please... I just... I want to help."

"You've done enough Joel." That statement had him shrinking away from you as he nodded.

"I'm going to check on Sarah." He said quietly as he limped from the kitchen.

"She's sleeping."

Joel didn't reply. Just left you to finish your frantic cleaning as he limped away with his tail between his legs.

Present day...

"Sorry." Noah said as he stepped back into the room "Was my mum."

"Everything okay? Sarah asked and Noah nodded.

"Yeah, just a broken arm."

"What happened?" Joel asked, his confusion obvious from his expression.

"Oh, my sister hurt herself during gym." Noah replied "Why mum couldn't grab me... Was up the hospital with her."

"What about you dad?" Joel asked and Noah grew quiet again.

"Noah's dad died a few months ago." Sarah pipped up and Joel's eyes almost bugged out of his skull.

"Shit... I'm... Shit I'm so sorry son I-"

"It's fine." Noah assured him as he gave Joel a weak smile "Not like you knew."

"Do you need me to drop you home?" Joel asked and Noah nodded.

"If you don't mind."

Joel gave him a friendly smile before grabbing his truck keys off the side.

"Come on."

...

Sarah sat in the back as Noah directed Joel home. He couldn't help but think about the little boy he'd known a decade ago and how he'd grown into this polite young man. Part of him wanted to confess that he and Sarah had been inseparable as kids but until he was sure that he was who he thought he was, Joel needed to keep that information to himself.

"This is me." Piped up Noah as he pointed at a house with a Large Volvo parked in the drive.

It was nice. Exactly the sort of house he'd pictured you living in. Pulling up, the porch light flicked on and the door opened, revealing a face that Joel had thought he'd never see again. Time had been kind to you. Your hard was cut to just below the shoulders and wavy and your features had matured but it was unmistakeably you.

"Thanks, Mr Miller, sir." Noah said as he unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed his pack "Thanks for letting me crash Taco Tuesday."

"Call me Joel, please."

Noah gave the older man a shy smile before turning to say goodbye to Sarah. Hopping out the truck, Joel watched as Noah jogged up to you and he smiled as he watched to greet the boy with a hug. He'd known you'd be a natural mum.

You glanced up at him and his heart stopped. Your eyes locked and he wondered if you'd recognise him too but when you squinted before raising your hand in thanks, Joel realised it was too dark in the cab for you to see him.

Sarah clambering from the back to the front pulled Joel's attention away from the spot you'd been standing and he chuckled at the inelegant way the 12-year-old dumped herself in the passenger seat.

"So what do you think of Noah?" She asked as she tried to act casual and Joel snorted.

"He's a good kid." Joel replied as he pulled away from the curb "How did you guys meet anyway?"

"He had to redo a year." Sarah replied "Not his fault. His dad was in and out of hospital so he missed a lot of school. When they moved here the school suggested that it would be good for him to redo 5th grade."

"Do you know what happened to his dad?" Joel asked, trying to sound as inconspicuous as possible.

"Apparently his dad was in an accident when he was little. Complications from that had him in and out of hospital but a year ago he got real sick and his immune system just couldn't cope."

Joel once again felt like he was going to be sick.

He'd had suffered a few long things from the crash. Back pain and headaches being the key ones but nothing following the surgery he'd had. So to learn that Alec had continued to suffer in the 10 years that followed the accident had him wanting to pull over and vomit up the tacos they'd eaten for dinner.

You must hate him.

...

"How was your evening hunny?" You asked as you finished unstacking the dishwasher.

"Was great." He replied with a smile "Made a friend. Sarah Miller." He continued as he placed the plate you handed him in the cupboard "She invited me to join her and her dad Joel for taco Tuesday."

"Joel Miller?" You asked, your heart hammering against your ribs as your eyes widened.

"Yeah... You know him?" Noah asked as he turned to face you "Mum?..."

"Um... Uh, yeah I..."

Noah's eye caught a glimpse of a photo on the wall that until now he'd never looked at twice. It was of you and his dad with two guys you'd told him were friends from when you'd lived here. He looked more closely and noted how he was gripping the jeans of a man who looked a lot like Joel and then his eyes flitted to the little girl in the man's arms. His eyes widened as he studied her face.

"This is them... isn't it?" Noah asked as he turned to look at you, pointing at the photo he'd been studying just a moment ago.

"I was best friends with Joel's late wife." You answered as you sat down at the kitchen table "You and Sarah were inseparable as kids." You chuckled as you remembered how fond of Sarah Noah had been.

"Why have you never mentioned them before?"

"Because we fell out of touch." You confessed, "After your dad's accident, things got tense between us."

"Tense?" Noah pushed "How?"

"Joel was driving the car that night." You told him "He almost died but when he left the hospital, I blamed him for your dad's condition and so our friendship kinda fell apart."

"But Dad's car was t-bone by a drunk truck driver." Noah pushed and you sighed.

"I know."

"So it wasn't Joel's fault."

"No." You choked as you remembered how bad things had gotten "But I blamed him anyway.

10 years earlier...

Joel's head was pounding.

Headaches had been a constant complication from the surgery on his head. Limping into the kitchen, he found you leaning against the counter sipping a cup of coffee as you started out the window across from you.

If you heard him enter you didn't show it. It had been a week since you'd snapped at him and Joel had done his best to give you space. Even if that meant suffering his increasingly painful headaches but this one was unbearable.

"Have you seen my pain pills?" He asked as he limped towards you and you shook your head.

"No."

"Any idea where they could be?" He asked as he tried to rummage through the cupboard for them.

"No."

"Please... my head is pounding." He pleaded and that seemed to snap you out of your trance.

"Oh... You have a headache do you?" You growled condescendingly "Poor Joel's head hurts."

"Please." Joel pleaded but you were having none of it.

"Alec is paralysed from the waist down and you want me to keep track of where you put year headache tablets?" You growled and Joel immediately stopped searching.

"I-"

"The man I love... the father of my unborn child is never going to walk again." You snarled as you slammed down your mug, making Joel flinch from the sound "He's never going to walk again... meanwhile, you get to walk away with no long-term consequences. How is that fair?"

"I'm so sorry."

"I don't want your apologies, Joel." You growled, "I just want you out of my life."

Joel didn't care that you could see his tears. He stood there openly sobbing as you scoffed and turned your back from him.

"I think it's time you left." You said as your hand closed around something in front of you, turning to toss his pain pills at him.

Joel didn't reply he just nodded. Limping from the kitchen to pack his things.

He left an hour later.

Present day...

Noah had been off with you since the evening he'd learned his history with Sarah and Joel. You felt guilty about how you'd treated Joel all those years ago but you'd been pregnant and lost. You'd hated the fact that your husband had been crippled for life and needed someone to blame.

You'd blamed Joel.

You were standing in line waiting for your morning coffee when a familiar voice caught your attention. Looking over your shoulder you saw an older Tommy Miller walking towards the bar.

He ordered his coffee, paid then walked towards you. Only to stop in his tracks when he spotted you and his smile disappeared.

"Long time no see." You said when he took a few more tentative steps towards you.

"Yeah. Been a while." He replied plainly and you flinched at his tone.

"How have you been?" You asked and he shrugged.

"Left the army. Working for Joel now." He replied and you nodded.

"How is Joel?" You asked as you accepted your coffee from the barista and thanked them.

"Do you care?" He growled and your brows pulled together.

"Oh course... I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

"He's fine." Tommy grumbled as he poured a few sugars into his coffee before turning to you "He wasn't the night you kicked him out."

"Tommy I-"

"He collapsed after getting out of the taxi that had taken him and Sarah home." He interrupted, his tone ice cold as he turned to face you and leaned in closer "He'd developed another brain bleed and almost died. Ali's parents had to fly out from Canada to take care of Sarah whilst Joel fought for his life for a second time."

"I didn't know." You choked as your hand flew up to your mouth.

"No..." Tommy trailed off as he scoffed at you "You were just too caught up in your own problems to notice how he'd started to go downhill."

You didn't get a chance to reply.

Tommy was out of the door before you could utter a syllable. He just left you standing there feeling terrible about the fact that you had neglected him. You had blamed him for your misfortune and you had pushed him away when he needed you.

You had to fix this.

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seeingivy · 2 months

Text

style

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

previous part linked here

an: this is 10k. I decided to leave the what am I to you scene for the next chapter bc of it...apologies....also I jsut wanted to post it bc I promised this at the beginning of the week and yday and now its been a long time coming

songs mentioned: style by taylor swift and glimpse of us by joji (minor mention of peace by taylor swift too)

“Wait, so. I don’t get it. You’re basically…acting like a couple on purpose?” Zeke asks.

Eren spares a weary glance to his parents, matching apprehensive looks in their eyes, as he slides the salt and pepper shakers towards Zeke.

Leave it to him to bring up the elephant in the room.

One mention of attending an award show or a red-carpet event had the three of them dropping everything to come to New York at the drop of the hat. Especially when Scott Clarkson was going to be attending.

Levi was more than happy to oblige them at the hotel they were all staying at, much to Eren’s dismay, which left him in his current predicament.

That unlike his friends, who were secretly letting him indulge in something he probably shouldn’t and turning a blind eye, the three of them were never going to let it go.

Eren knew that part of what he was doing was wrong. That he was walking a very fragile line and that their concerns, in some sense, were very valid.

He had promised you a show. The problem was that it wasn’t just a show for him. It wasn’t even the slightest bit difficult for him to give the public exactly what they wanted to see – to go above and beyond to prove that the two of you were better than ever.

He wanted that deeply – for it to be true. Fervently, desperately. It wasn’t hard to pretend when Eren had spent a majority of his life thinking about you, about what this would be like, anyways.

It started out simple. Eren offered to accompany you on your first walk out in public that morning – after watching you stare at the people through the window the entire morning. There was a big crowd lingering outdoors, supplied by rumors that the group of them were staying in the hotel, and he was positive that some part of it was making you feel green.

That and the fact that as much as you could front, some part of this had to be some level of nerve wracking to you. You had put on a brave face very well, but Eren’s deep rooted fear is that this’ll just send you deeper into that cave you retreated into last time – and that you’ll leave him waiting outside again.

So he offered to do your first paparazzi walk with you. Cited that it would have been the perfect thing to build up more publicity, give them a greater chance of stealing the morning headlines about how today was Hyla’s birthday and the buzz around what she was going to wear tonight.

It gave him an excuse to make sure you didn’t run off this time – that he’d be able to catch you if something happened.

Except Eren took it too far. He had given you the permission to pump the brakes whenever you felt like it was too much and the fact that you almost never did made it impossible for him to stop. So he pulled you close whenever the paparazzi were near, brushing his nose against yours as the two of you smiled sunshine into each other’s faces.

It was a disaster waiting to happen. Though from Eren’s expert point of view, he couldn’t fall any more than he already had.

The problem would come later – when it would just become another memory that he cherished, had to relive after he was finally denied the promise of your company and friendship for good.

When the show ended in two months and when you would have no reason to talk to each other again.

Eren shakes the thought from his head as he looks back up at them.

“Yeah. But trust me, it’s actually working. The record label dropped Ricky James and now that Y/N promised them her new album, they’re going to sever ties all together.” Eren states.

“I just don’t see what that has to do with pretending to date. You know, especially when you’re still in love with the girl.” Carla states.

“It’s sadistic. Even for you.” Zeke states.

Eren shoves him in the side. With his parents' eyes averted, he takes the chance to knee Zeke this time to catch his attention.

Could you just back me up? Eren mouths.

Zeke rolls his eyes, before quietly mouthing his response back.

Okay, fine! Just relax.

Eren turns back to the two of them, mustering his best smile. And hoped that deep down, that fleeting flare of hope that’s been burning in his chest won’t go to waste this time – that there are real grounds behind actually bringing Scott Clarkson down.

“There’s a certain publicity that you can’t buy with people who have…such a drama filled history like us. We’re aiming for a solidified deal with Ethan Cole by the end of the Met Gala.” Eren states.

He flinches when his dad drops the fork against the ceramic of the plate.

“Ethan Cole? Are you crazy, Eren? He’s never going to agree to a deal with you guys.”

“Maybe a little. But I think that we could do it. I spent years being played by idiots like Scott Clarkson – it’s not hard to tell that’s how he keeps people around. And…we have an idea of exactly how to do it.” Eren states.

“I don’t know, Eren. I don’t exactly like this idea. I wouldn’t exactly put your hopes on this.” Carla murmurs.

Eren gives her a smile, reaching to tangle his ankle with hers under the table.

He gets it. Deep down, he does. Because the last time Eren did this – with the court case and Connie and Lana at his side – Eren was downtrodden when Scott Clarkson’s life virtually stayed the same. Almost everyone knew, or had some semblance of an idea, that Eren had sued him, that Scott had terribly wronged him.

He had gone through the lengths of an entire court case, just for it to amount to nothing.

He still had his career. He still had the movies, a beloved producing company, and the godawful tabloids that ruined Eren’s life. People continued to work with him despite everything that had happened.

“I won’t be like last time. It…it almost feels better this time around. I have everyone around me and I don’t feel alone, so.” Eren adds.

“Well, you weren’t exactly alone the last time.” Carla states.

“You know what he meant. It’s different.” Grisha murmurs.”

“I do think she can do it. These people only care about what makes them money or…or moves their business forward. No one can do that for them like her. And even besides that, she’s really earnest in the way she moves. I feel like people could even become more aware of this type of thing if she spoke out about it.” Eren finishes.

Eren looks over, looking to his mom’s brown eyes hoping for her approval. He doesn’t exactly find it, but there’s a nod. He understands it all the same – that he’s the one who gets to make the calls here, regardless.

“Oh, let’s all relax! If Eren wants to kiss her and run around doing god knows what, that’s his business! He’s a grown man.” Zeke adds, sliding one hand around his shoulder and using his free one to pinch his cheek.

Eren seethes, stomping hard on his foot under the table.

“I don’t kiss her.” Eren defends.

“Not yet, you don’t. That’s for next month, right?” Zeke responds, with a wink.

Is this what Zeke thought backing him up was?

Eren can feel his cheeks burn. Leave for the empty spots in the script – that Levi had stated he had some special plan for – the last part of the show was almost finished. And much to Eren’s dismay, Hange and Levi overrode his opinion in the writers room and included a kiss in the script.

He’s just hoping for his own sake that they end up cutting it before the day comes like they did the first time. There were only so many things that he could stomach.

“That’s filming, Zeke. That’s different.”

Zeke rolls his eyes.

“Right.”

Eren’s thrown out of the loop when the door swings open, with Connie and Mikasa barging in with you at their heels. The three of you look particularly disheveled – sopping wet from the rain outside, giggly smiles on your faces – as Connie and Mikasa shake their hands at the group of them.

“We ran out of toothpaste over there, Eren. We’re just gonna take some.” Mikasa states.

“You needed three people to get one tube of toothpaste?” Eren asks.

“Well, I was going to come. Then, Connie decided he wanted to accompany me. And then Y/N realized we were going to get it from your room, then decided to come.” Mikasa responds, dragging Connie off to the little bathroom at the side.

Eren lifts his head to find you standing at the door, with…an almost awkward look on your face. The big smile that he saw seconds ago was virtually gone.

“You know what! I think Falco’s actually calling me…so I’m just going to…”

“You should sit. Eat breakfast with us.” Carla states, gesturing to the empty seat at her side.

That’s when Eren realizes it – and it sends an overwhelming amount of relief through him. That you didn’t feel awkward around him but around his family instead.

Eren racks his mind trying to remember it – when you were with them last. And if his memory isn’t deceiving him, it was the last Thanksgiving that you guys were together, a snowy November years ago.

And he gets it, the immediate nervousness. God knows he felt the same way around Falco and Colt when they arrived – after Levi hadn’t listened to his advice to not cast the two of them in the show. Just to spare him some torture.

Levi, obviously, refused to listen.

You always had your guard up around Zeke and if he knew you half as well as he thought he did, he knows for a fact that you must feel embarrassed to show your face around his parents now after everything that happened.

“Mom, it’s okay. You can go see if Falco’s good, Y/N.” Eren affirms.

Eren watches as your eyes meet his, slightly faltering before you shake your head and drag yourself to the table. From his peripheral, he can see that Zeke’s already too delighted for his own good as Zeke quickly offers you the seat at Eren’s side and sits directly across from the two of you.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jaeger. I appreciate it.” you respond, smoothing the little cloth over your lap as you knit your fingers into knots.

Eren busies himself with filling your plate, carefully sectioning small amounts of each dish, before he puts his hand in between yours. You welcome the touch, linking your fingers in with Eren’s under the table, as you shoot them all a smile. And Zeke’s godawful delighted smile back almost makes you sweat.

“Eren. You should go check on Falco, since he was calling Y/N.” Carla states.

“Huh? Oh, I-I’m sure he’s fine. Colt’s here and Gabi too, you know.” you mumble.

There’s no way you’re sitting alone with his family.

“I think Eren should check on him. That way, it won’t be in the back of your head while we talk.” Carla responds.

Eren shoots you a questioning look at your side, as you release his hand, and give him a nod. You can tell that he’s hesitating, his movements painstakingly slow as he exits the room and closes the door behind him, leaving you with the three of them.

“I apologize for that. He wasn’t going to leave unless you gave your approval.” Carla murmurs, as the three of them relax with his presence missing.

Zeke takes the opportunity to take the seat at your side, filling the empty space Eren left. He leans closer, voice quiet as he whispers and nearly makes your heart drop in your chest.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got your back. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to hold your hand under the table like he did.”

You fight the urge to spit the water in your mouth straight into the glass – but swallow the shock and battery acid sensation down as you spare the two of them a glance ahead of you.

There’s a twinge of regret – that at one point, you used to be like their chosen family and now it feels like you’ve allocated a lifetime of hurt to their son.

“I want to start by apologizing.” you state.

The two of them look up at you confused.

“For?” Grisha asks.

“Everything I did to Eren. I…I care for your son an awful lot, though it may not seem like that at times. And I hope that you know that even causing the smallest bit of pain is something that I have to carry with me everyday. Something I’ll spend a lifetime trying to rectify.” you state.

Carla sighs, setting her fork down in her plate and crossing her arms against her forearms. You can tell that Zeke’s priming some sort of response against her just from the almost enraged look in his face and you make it a point to spare him a warning glance not to.

Whatever wrath she had prepared for you was what you deserved. And just like Eren and Mikasa, you’d spend your entire life fixing it till it was better with her too.

“I’m not going to pretend to understand what it was that happened between you and Eren. I can read news articles and watch interviews and documentaries but…it doesn’t exactly make sense to me. I can admit that. I don’t know why you broke up with him and…and I surely don’t know why Eren thought it was okay to say everything that he did to you.”

“Oh. That’s nothing, really-”

“I don’t understand how you guys can make these big, love confessions without even confronting each other in the first place. Because…you’re not together, right?” Carla asks.

You bite down on your cheek.

“That’s right. It’s just for the paparazzi, trying to build up the hype around-”

“No, I get that part. But the interview, the documentary. You guys did that for each other, on some level. So I’ll ask again. You’re really not together?” Carla asks.

You sigh.

“No. I’m sorry. I…I haven’t thought much about that because I want everything settled before I even consider it. Being careless ruined everything last time…and I can’t afford to do that again. I want to be careful with his feelings this time around.” you state.

Carla pauses, before standing up and joining you at your side. And you’re caught completely off guard when she wraps her arms around you, pulling you up until you’re nestled in her arms and she’s rubbing at the sides of your biceps.

You forgot – she used to do this to you all the time.

“You…you’re a good girl. We’ve always loved you, always loved how Eren was around you, but…just be careful with our son, okay? I don’t want him to be hurt again and he’s sensitive, if that much wasn’t obvious at this point.”

“I appreciate that. Really, I…I don’t think you guys understand what it means to me. And I won’t, I’m making my sincerest promise that I’ll try not to. He’s….he means the world to me. He’s been my best friend as long as I can remember and…no one is going to be who Eren is to me.”

And for the first time, the two of them spare you a glimmering smile.

“He feels the same way.” Grisha states.

You sigh, offering the two of them a smile. And right on cue, Eren barges right through the door, the worry on his face melting as the two of you offer him a smile. You can tell that he’s a little confused – as he settles back into his seat and gives a questioning look to Zeke.

The two of them return to eating, as you dig your own fork into the food and push it around. That’s when Zeke slides his arm around the back of your chair, leaning forward as he gives you a smirk.

You can’t help but feel annoyed. Not in the genuine, hatred way, but in the same way you did when Colt used to tease you when you were a kid.

“So…family that I chose now that I see your brother as my brother? That is about me, right?”

You roll your eyes, sparing him a laugh, as you elbow him in the side.

“I’m so sorry to break your heart here, Zeke, but that line in peace was about Eren and Falco. Not about you and me.” you state.

“Yeah, dumbass. She doesn’t even like you.” Eren mutters.

Zeke feigns hurt as he clutches his right hand to his chest and groans. You watch as Grisha rolls his eyes in front of you and Carla fights the urge to smile at his theatrics.

“You’re a bitch.”

“Language, Zeke! God.” the two of them cry, rolling their eyes at Zeke. Eren rolls his eyes as he stands up, stacking all the plates and placing them at the island as you turn back to look at the group of them.

You shake your head, laughing, as you thank your lucky stars at how comfortable it is, that you’ve floated right back into the ease that you always seemed to be in when you were around them. And Zeke too, for the first time.

Zeke spares you a genuine smile this time, as he gets closer to you.

“I think that you and I could be really good friends. We both love Eren and…and maybe we haven’t always done right by him but…”

You can tell that he’s getting tripped up by the words, that the sentiment that’s underlying is something the two of you have never really shared before. A closeness that brings you together. Because for you, Zeke was always something you needed to protect Eren from and for him, you were positive now, knowing what you did now, that maybe Zeke felt robbed of some part of that.

Getting to meet his little brother’s first girlfriend. Tease him about it, give him some brotherly advice – the way Colt did with you. That maybe he wanted the relationship that Eren and Falco had with each other with you, if things were different.

“Yeah. But…we’re going to do right by him this time. We’ll make sure of it.” you whisper back, averting your eyes to where he’s standing.

Zeke breaks out into a smile, extending his closed fist out to you as you push your own against his.

“One thing?” Zeke states.

“What’s that?”

Zeke has a nearly murderous glint in his eye when he says it. And it fills you up with a searing feeling of warmth.

“You give that asshole Scott Clarkson hell. For all of our sake.”

You give him a smile back.

“That’s a promise, Zeke.”

Eren can feel himself sweating on the opposite side of the red carpet. The stickiness of the hairspray is sitting heavy in his hair, the collar digging into his neck, and palms embarrassingly sweaty as he stares at the group of people around him.

Lana and Sukuna are fussing over fixing Connie’s outfit, Jean and Mikasa are taking shots at his side, and you can tell that Suguru Getou is truly cutting his losses at this point.

Satoru’s wearing an outfit with literal, raw meat on it.

“It’s camp!” Satoru whines.

“That was the theme last year, dumbass. And it’s not camp, you’re just a nuisance.” Megumi grumbles, pinching his nose as he joins Eren at his side.

Eren gives him a nod in acknowledgement, as he watches Yuuji at Satoru’s side, snapping excited pictures of Satoru’s meat hat and pokes his fingers into the red flesh.

“Can you believe you’re dating that guy?” Eren asks.

“Everyday I question my sanity.” Megumi mumbles.

“Could be worse. You could be married to Satoru.”

“Don’t remind me.” Suguru groans at his side, the two of them sparing a laugh.

Megumi chooses to keep the comment to himself. He swallows, pointing out that you had said the same thing to the pair of them when Satoru dressed up like that godawful cat years prior. Megumi figures that he’ll keep this thread of your invisible string to himself, for the time being – that it might not exactly be productive for right now.

Eren catches Levi’s head shifting towards him in the peripheral, as he looks over and tries to follow Levi’s line of vision. And feels his throat constrict as Ricky and Hyla walk past, the two of them sparing him and Lana a sickly sweet smile, and take their spots at the end of the line.

Eren notes that despite the fact that you had side-swept all of her designers to work with you, naturally she still put together an outfit. He was hoping that it would be worse than it actually ended up being. Though he supposed the birthday girl would always get what she wanted in the end.

“I’m ready to wipe that smug smile off of their fucking faces and I’m so serious.”

Eren nearly jumps as he realizes you’re now standing at his side, your eye nearly twitching as you watch the two of them. But all he can feel now is his own throat itching, Ricky and Hyla the least of his problems as his skin ignites at the sight of you so close to him. Your flowery perfume is invading his senses, as he fights the urge to ogle your dress full on.

“Y/N.” he whispers.

“Do I look stupid? The underslip they had for the dress didn’t fit me because Hyla’s so much taller that they just…told me to wear this matching set. I feel like I’m going to be flashing everyone.” you mumble.

“Better for you. You look fucking hot. And apparently, Hyla stole her dress from a piece that was already in the museum. I’m sure she’ll ruin it by the end of the night.” Lana states, as Sukuna joins her at the side and links his arm through hers.

The two of them have matching stitching on their outfits, wedding rings sparkling on their fingers. Eren clears his throat, your eyes expectant as you wait for a response, and his head nearly spinning from the overstimulation.

“She’s right. You’re beautiful.”

“You can say she's hot, Eren. It won’t kill you.” Sukuna complains.

Eren watches as your eyes widen, a soft pink blush running up your neck, as you avert your eyes. And Sukuna, naturally, ruins the moment by making gagging noises only to get smacked by Lana after the fact.

The two of them shuffle off, giving you a thumbs up behind their backs, as you turn to each other. Eren links his hands in with yours, giving you three squeezes, as he looks down at the dark makeup smeared around your eyes, making your eyes appear even bigger and brighter.

Eren gestures his head to the left, snaking his hand around your bare skin in the dress, and lines up directly behind Ricky and Hyla. And the two of you wait for them to walk out and follow directly after.

It goes exactly how it thought you would. You haven’t walked a red carpet since the last awards show – and from what Eren told you – it had been years since he had too.

It was simple.

Seeing Hyla and Ricky at a carpet together was almost a given, almost too predictable. It would hardly spare a headline in comparison to you two – together. Years after the fact, with Eren’s documentary behind you.

The clicking and the flashing immediately throws you off your guard, coupled with the screaming of your name, that you almost fall off the stiletto of your heels. But Eren’s quick with it, hands looped around your waist as he held you up against him.

“Thanks. I-”

“Don’t look at them. Just look at me.” Eren whispers, voice almost gravelly.

“What?”

“It’s better that way. Just act like you’re above them. Like you and I are the only people in the room.” Eren murmurs.

You give him a nod, catching his drift as you follow his lead. And it almost works too well – easing your red carpet nerves when you literally don’t have to acknowledge them and just have to hold hands with Eren all the way down the carpet.

Eren stops dead center, right before the steps, as you spare a glance over your shoulder. The group of them are following – Satoru’s raw meat causing a commotion at the start – and you turn back to him.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“I know you just asked me to get you a necklace for the Ricky thing, but I actually did ask them to design a custom one for you.”

You smile. You had made it a point – that you were going to stick it to Ricky for that stupid night that he left you drenched in the rain – but you failed to consider that this would happen. Though in hindsight, you should have expected it.

Eren was always thoughtful when it came to things like this.

“Really?” you ask.

Eren nods, as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the little charm necklace. You take it in his hands, admiring the little charm at the center, of the planet Saturn. You frown, turning it over in your fingers.

“Does Saturn have some connection to Uranus that I don’t know about? I thought that I was supposed to be the moon.” you mumble.

Eren laughs, as he shakes his head and gestures for you to spin around. You oblige, moving your hair to the side and feeling your cheeks heat up as the paparazzi snap what feels like hundreds of pictures – of Eren clasping the necklace and then pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. His voice comes out as a whisper on your skin as he pulls you closer to him, the two of you posing for the picture.

“I mean, Marco was always a big fan of immature jokes. So I guess it does?” Eren states.

You widen your eyes as you press your fingers to the charm, realizing what it means.

Your braids like a pattern, love you to the moon and to Saturn.

The last time that you were at the Met Gala was when you performed with Marco. You can feel warm tears accumulating in your eyes as Eren cups the side of your cheek, a soft smile on his face. He taps the little pin on the lapel of his jacket, a matching little saturn charm as you bite down on your cheeks and smile back.

“He’s here with us. Haunting us from his grave like he promised.” Eren jokes.

You give Eren a teary laugh.

“Yeah. I think he is too.”

You lean your head against Eren’s shoulder, as the two of you walk straight up the stairs into the venue. There’s a glimmering chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the stage decorated a sparkling silver.

“Do you have a Maya Angelou quote for me? She always was Marco’s favorite.”

Eren smiles.

“I can be changed by what happens to me. But I refused to be reduced by it.” Eren states.

Falco and Colt are the ones by your side backstage. You can feel your hands shaking, throwing the mic from one hand to the other, as the two of them lean their heads against yours.

You’re performing for the first time in years. Since you performed the grudge, at that godawful awards show years ago.

You choose to use the wall of pictures as a distraction. One of your favorite things about performing at the Met was that they took pictures of each of the performers and pasted them to the big walls behind the curtains. People would sign the walls, the pictures themselves – to mark that they had performed here, to immortalize themselves on the wall.

And it takes a few seconds, but you find the picture dead center. Of you and Marco. The two of you are hugging each other, cheeks pressed together with pink, teary eyes, with your names scribbled in Marco’s loopy handwriting underneath.

seven by y/n l/n ft marco bodt

And directly next to it, is a picture you’ve never seen before. Of Eren and Marco – their hands clasped together – and the same loopy handwriting underneath with the song.

“He didn’t want to take that picture. He…he made me do it. Said he should still remember the moment, even if he wasn’t at his best.” Armin states.

“Oh. Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Just checking you’re okay. First time performing and all that. And I was back here with you the last time this happened too.” Armin murmurs.

You smile, lacing your hand through his as you both stare at the pictures of Marco and you wrap your arms around Armin at the first sound of his sniffling.

“Well, this is hardly about me performing, Armin.” you mumble.

Armin gives you a watery laugh, before pulling back and wiping the wetness on his face away.

You frown as you lightly dig your elbow into his side, trying to gesture him into talking.

You were a little harsh when you talked to him last – when you had to convince him to finally forgive Eren. You regretted it after, being so rigid and forcing him into it, but you figured direction was what Armin needed at the time.

“Marco said that even though that moment was bad for Eren, that even though he felt like he was never going to recover, there would be a day that he looked back on it and would relish in the fact that it was never going to be like that again. I hate the fact that Eren’s probably having that moment right now and shit is still so awkward between us that I can’t even tell him that I’m happy for him.” Armin murmurs.

You stare at the pictures.

“I didn’t realize you were…with Eren that day.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I was. I called him a lot after the whole Girlfriend thing, he was kind of convinced that we all hated him. And I did the same when the whole Satellite Port thing happened too.”

Armin pauses.

“I was always there for him, until I wasn’t. And I feel like I’m fucking groveling but things still won’t be the same between us.”

“Well, don’t lose hope about that. Mikasa and I-”

“You and Mikasa are different. You’re…you overlook things easier than we do. Mikasa wanted you to be her maid of honor again after you said you wanted to sleep in her room – just because she realized you still loved her. Even if Eren knew I loved him, I doubt that would fix what happened with us.”

You lean your head against your shoulder.

“Did you finish the script yet, Armin?” you whisper.

“What?”

“Did you finish it?”

“Yeah.”

You look over at him and smile.

“That last conversation? Between your character and his? He wrote that all on his own. It’s obviously a little bit more dramatic than he intends it but…the premise is still there. You and him, still best friends at the end of it.”

Armin looks back at the pictures, running his hands through his hair, and ruining any semblance of styling in his golden locks.

“You think Marco would be pissed at us? All of us?” Armin mumbles.

“No. I know he would have loved to seen us all reconcile. That he would have been really happy for us.”

Falco and Colt give you a gesture over your shoulder, as you shoo Armin back to his seat, and readjust the feathers on the sleeves of your dress. You give Colt a smile as he hands you the last piece of the outfit, the glittery garter belt that you wrap over your thigh as you take your cue.

Eren gives you props for hundreds of things, but this one specifically. It was hard to find something that you were bad at, since it felt that you were naturally skilled at everything, but when he watched you, like this, he couldn’t help but feel like you were born for it.

You really knew how to put on a performance.

It’s pitch black, leave for your purple silhouette against the back of the stage. Of your fingers running across the neck of the guitar, playing the opening notes to the song Maki requested days prior – that you named Style.

Midnight You come and pick me up, no headlights Long drive Could end in burning flames or paradise Fade into view, oh It's been a while since I have even heard from you (heard from you)

And I should just tell you to leave 'cause I Know exactly where it leads, but I Watch us go 'round and 'round each time

Eren watches as you pause, the entire backtrack and music stopping, as the entire crowd jumps to his feet and starts hollering for you when they finally shine the lights on you. Eren watches as you give everyone a little wave, pressing your hands to your cheeks unable to contain your smile before you gesture for everyone to be quiet so you can keep singing.

And feels his chest fill with immense pride as you walk all the way down the stage, fingers fast and smiling from ear to ear as you sing again. He can’t help but feel embarrassed as the group of them – Connie, Reiner, and Jean – start smacking him on the back, screaming about how crazy his girl was.

You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye And I got that red lip classic thing that you like And when we go crashing down, we come back every time 'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style You got that long hair, slicked back, white T-shirt And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt And when we go crashing down, we come back every time 'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

When you reach the end of the stage, Eren watches as you slightly trip on your steps, before averting your eyes down to your leg. In the mess of walking and the notches on the guitar, a part of your stockings had ripped.

Eren was impressed that you were still singing, as you reached down and took the halves of the garter belt in your hands, before you started looking out in the audience. And Eren can’t help but feel like in that moment, that some divine power might actually be real.

Because three years ago, it was Hyla’s birthday and he was stuck at a dinner table thinking about you. About how he’d never feel that rush, that thrilling electricity that seemed to thrum in his veins whenever you looked at him.

And he knows for a fact that really, it almost has to be real – a higher power that was looking out for him the entire time. Because years after the fact, he’s sitting here, blushing profusely as you throw the garter belt to him to catch, before you like down on the stage and scream your heart out.

To a song that you wrote about him.

Take me home Just take me home Yeah, just take me home Oh, whoa, oh (Out of style)

Oh, you got that James Dean daydream look in your eye And I got that red lip classic thing that you like And when we go crashing down (now we go), we come back every time 'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

“Ethan Cole! You’re just the person I wanted to see.” you state.

Fresh off of the performance, with the little note card tucked in your hand, he’s the first person that you beeline towards.

On first impression, he’s younger than Scott Clarkson by a landslide – beachy, golden hair as he stands from his share to take your extended hand.

“Y/N L/N! Quite the performance up there, my daughter is a huge fan. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Ethan asks.

You give the girl at his side a warm smile, the girl barely above the age of fifteen, as you turn back to him.

“You know, I’ve really missed doing romantic comedies. I’ve heard that’s your forté,” you state.

“Is that right?”

“As fun as Attack on Titan can be, the drama can…be a little draining. I would love to get behind you if you produced a romantic comedy that I could star in.”

You watch as he pinches his smile, eyes strained as he looks around the room.

“I’m not sure how keen…some people at the company would be about that.” Ethan murmurs.

“Who said you had to do it with them?” you state.

“Huh?”

You give him the best, most sickly sweet smile that you muster. “Who said…you have to do it with him?”

You pull the little note card out of your backpocket, with your phone number scribbled over the top, and hand it to him.

“You could easily produce it on your own. And if it was a star studded movie, you could avoid the risks of being associated as a start-up all together.” you state.

Ethan pauses, for a while.

“My own company?”

“That’s right. You’re young, younger than your competition, and with how things have been going lately…I’m doubt they’ll stay afloat longer. If I were you, I’d capitalize on the fact that your own competition is about to be eliminated.” you state.

You can tell that he almost doesn’t believe you.

“I’ll have to think about it.” Ethan states.

“Sure thing, Ethan. If the situation was right, I could even be persuaded to get some of my….friends to join. And I know you’re a smart guy – there’s some publicity that other people couldn’t even dream of buying.”

You spare a glance over your shoulder to Eren at the stage with Lana, as she takes her seat at the piano and Eren begins adjusting the microphone at the stand.

“I look forward to talking to you, Ethan.”

And you give him a sickly sweet smile before you walk away. You settle back into your seat next to Levi and Connie – who had decided to take Eren’s open seat while he performed.

“How did it go?” Levi asks.

“He didn’t buy it.” you state.

Levi gives you a terse nod, as you shake your head and readjust your seat to face the stage. Connie pulls his seat up right next to yours, the two of you giving each other a smile as you link your arms together and lean your head against his shoulder.

“It’s your song!” you whisper.

Connie leans his head on top of yours, voice quiet as Lana starts playing the piano.

“It’s actually not. It’s even worse.”

“Huh?”

You lift your head off of his shoulder to eye him, and he only smiles, deviously, in return.

“Let’s just say if it was my birthday today, I’d commit a murder after this.”

You turn back to the stage, eyeing the little star decals hanging from the little ceiling, and watch as Eren nervously shakes his hands, before placing them on the mic stand. He turns to his left, giving the group of you a smile, before he starts.

“I wrote this song exactly five years ago today when I was twenty. I was stuck at a birthday party, with a bunch of people I hated, and all I could think about was how I just wished that I was somewhere else. And really, I was hoping that the person that I really wanted beside me, had some semblance of that feeling about me too. This is my new song, it’s called Glimpse of Us.”

When you're out of sight In my mind

'Cause sometimes I look in her eyes And that's where I find a glimpse of us And I try to fall for her touch But I'm thinking of the way it was Said I'm fine and said I moved on I'm only here passing time in her arms Hoping I'll find A glimpse of us

Eren always claimed that singing was never his forté and even from the way he moved – you could tell that he clearly felt more comfortable when he was acting. That he most definitely believed that his talents lied on a set rather than on a stage.

And for maybe the hundredth time, it’s clear that Eren’s own visions of himself have clearly limited him.

Because he’s beautiful.

The stage design makes it look like he’s suspended in the sky, in between the moon and the stars, and the lack of production to the song – the fact that it’s just his voice and Lana’s fingers on the piano is chilling.

It reminds you of that song that he wrote for you on the beach.

Eren dislodges the microphone from the stand, tossing Lana a smile over his shoulder, before he walks directly to the edge of the stage that’s closest to you and Connie. And uses his hand to gesture for you to come closer, as he takes a seat and dangles his legs off the edge of the stage.

You can feel the butterflies erupting in your stomach as you pull your chair closer to the stage, right until you’re looking up at Eren from your little seat and he’s looking down at you. And as he sings, he reaches down and places one of his hands on your cheek – the biting cold of the rings on his fingers cooling the warmth on your cheek – but doing nothing to help the burning in your chest from his dark green eyes, filled with such warmth and sincerity that it makes your heart race.

You bring your own hand up to where his is on your cheek and he gives you a dimpled smile in return.

When he finishes, you press a kiss to the top of his knuckles and try to memorize the way the smile spreads across his face.

Your last chance to convince this cowardly idiot Ethan Cole to agree with you guys is at the afterparty for the Met Gala, which coincidentally, you’ve never attended.

The last time you were here, the entire ordeal was so draining – considering it was the first time that you had seen Eren since you broke up and you were here with Ricky – that you just skipped the party afterwards and went home. And you would have done the same thing now, since your hair was feeling sticky and your legs felt like lead from the heels, but you had to give it one last shot before you left.

You had taken Mikasa and Jean’s lead, and decided to take four shots with them, by the time the party was in full swing. And right before the fifth, Eren suddenly materialized after being missing for the first half of the party and slipped it away from your nimble fingers and downed it himself.

“Are you drinking?” he asks, shaking his head from the burn, before handing the glass back to Jean.

“Well, obviously not if you’re taking my glass.”

Eren reaches forward, fingers on the little ribbon around your neck, before you smack his hand off.

“I like the outfit. It’s like the scarf from the show.”

“That’s the point.” you state.

Eren rolls his eyes as you both lean back against the wall, eyeing the crowd of people in front of you.

“You should have told me. I would have matched.” Eren states.

“How are you supposed to match? Your costume on set doesn’t have something as…obvious like the scarf.”

“I would have just done the titan marks and called it a day.” Eren mumbles back.

You nod, mulling over the idea, as you reach for the back hanging around your shoulder. And luckily for you, your lipstick is still in the bag – though most of the time, the bags that you have on red carpets have literally nothing on them – and instruct him to crouch so you can reach. He obliges, flashing you a smile, as you intently focus on drawing the lines under his eyes.

Eren takes the distraction – the focus that you have from drawing on his face – and uses it to observe you.

“Did you like my song?” Eren asks.

“You’re insane. Did you really write that five years ago or did you make that up?” you whisper.

“Nope. I wrote it after the last Met Gala, I think Hyla’s birthday was like a week or two after that.” he mumbles back.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, what you were hoping was actually true. When I was at that Met Gala, I really just wished that I was with you, sitting with the rest of the cast.”

Eren laughs.

“Who said the song was about you?” Eren jokes.

You pause, only to look up to glare at him, before you lightly shove him. And you can tell that he’s joking but it’s still irritating.

“You’re such a dick, sometimes.”

“You were thinking about me?” Eren responds, closing his hand around yours and snatching the little tube of lipstick from your hand.

He lifts his phone up, looking at the reflection from the screen of his phone, as he messily finishes off the marks on the other side, more messy and jagged. And as annoying as he is, it’s extremely attractive when he does it – capping the lipstick and curling it back into the palm of your hand.

“You wish.” you respond.

Eren leans against the wall and you join him at his side, the two of you eyeing Ethan Cole at the end of the hall, with Ricky and Hyla posted up on the other side. You can’t help but seethe with anger as you watch the two of them together, curling your hands into little fists at your side.

“I saw that video that was going around on Twitter a little while ago. Of you and Ricky, last time you were here.” Eren responds.

“What video?”

“It was on the red carpet. He like…grabbed your arm and shoved you.” Eren clarifies.

“Oh! That’s right. He was trying to introduce me to John and I said some crap about him to Historia. Then, he got all pissed saying that I had to be nice to him or whatever since he was nice to you guys.” you respond.

Levi and Hange walk up to the pair of you, arms linked together, as you straighten up. The two of them had weary eyes, focused on Eren, as they look around.

“Eren. He’s here.”

“Who’s here?” you ask.

“Scott Clarkson. He just walked in – guess he’s not deciding to skip after all.” Hange responds.

Eren leans forward, angling his head over the crowd of the people, towards the opening at the front of the hallway and feels his throat turn to sandpaper. Eren clenching his fists so hard that he’s sure he’s drawing blood, the entirety of the conversation almost lost to him as he feels himself nearly losing balance on his legs.

“You’re free to leave, Eren. We have a car ready for you. If you want to stay, we’re here with you.” Hange states.

You look around to the other side of the room to find Connie talking to a group of people, none of which you knew. Mikasa and Jean are a few feet away – but clearly drunk out of their mind – and you can’t seem to find anyone else who could stay with him. You jerk your head back, to the two of them.

“Listen. I’ve got Eren. Could you guys check that Connie’s going to be fine?”

Hange and Levi turn their heads to the side, giving you a nod, as they speed walk to the other side of the room and you link your arm in with Eren’s. He’s still staring at the other side of the room and you lightly tug on his arm to catch his attention, his eyes almost dazed when he looks at you.

“Sorry. Did Hange and Levi say something?”

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay. We can leave if you want to, there’s a car and everything.”

“No…no, we didn’t talk to Ethan Cole yet. And, it’s fine.” Eren responds, shaking his head.

It’s not that Eren’s exactly scared of Scott Clarkson, though there was a point in time that he most certainly would be. It’s more that he’s intimidated by what could go down, because while Eren knows that he isn’t exactly being swayed by him anymore, it’s a debilitating reminder every time he makes a comment that sends Eren tumbling back down.

“Lana and Sukuna are together. I sent Hange and Levi to check on Connie. And I’m here with you, so…so all the bases are covered.” you respond.

Eren smiles.

“You’re here with me? What are you going to do?”

“Punch him in the face.” you respond.

Eren laughs.

“Are you crazy?”

“Do I look like a comedian to you?” you ask Eren.

“You look more like a clown to me.”

You feel your eyes widen, as you turn to your side and find Hyla and Ricky standing right to the left of you and Eren. You’re not sure what it is, but Eren suddenly squared his shoulders back, muscles tense at the sight of them.

“Do you need something?” Eren asks.

Hyla rolls her eyes as she looks at Eren, before turning back to you. And her eyes flicker to the necklace around your neck, before she looks back up at you and smiles.

“Cute necklace!”

Eren grins at your side. They took the bait.

“Do you like it, Ricky? It’s custom Tiffany. I had it made special for Y/N myself.” Eren asks.

You watch as Ricky furrows his brow, slightly clenching his jaw and nearly pink in the face, as he rolls his eyes in response – very clearly understanding the reference.

“I don’t know where the fuck you think you get off, Eren. Need I remind you, that while I was at the top of my fucking career you were cleaning up a baby’s diapers.”

You watch as Eren’s eye twitches, knuckles white at his side as he doesn’t respond. And it only gets more agitating since Ricky clearly gets off on the fact that Eren refuses to fight back, and takes it as an invitation to keep going.

“Seriously, dude. You started at the fucking top of the food chain – your parents are literally Grisha and Carla Jaeger – and yet you’re slumming it with Lana and Sukuna. Lana’s quite literally the biggest bitch I’ve ever met in my life. Don’t pretend like you’re both not trying to get your five minutes of fame by talking about me. And don’t even get me started on how pathetic Sukuna is for what he said in that dumbass documentary the two of you made. Donating to sexual assault victims won’t fix a lack of talent.”

“Where do you get-”

“Y/N.” Eren states, silencing you all together.

“That’s right, Eren. You better keep my sloppy seconds-”

Ricky doesn’t get to finish the statement, because Eren’s punched him in the face. Not once, not twice, but three times to the point where he’s tackled him onto the floor, a bright red decorating his knuckles.

“Y/N. What the fuck? Get him to stop!”

You know that it’s petty. That maybe if you were a little bit of a better person, you actually would have asked Eren to stop. But Ricky James was quite literally the worst person you had ever met and deep down, there wasn’t even a single part of him that didn’t deserve what he was getting right now.

You crouch down on your knees, Eren momentarily stopping to look at you, before you shake your head and look down at him.

“I’m so sorry, Ricky. I don’t think I can do that right now.”

Eren smiles, as he lands one more punch, before a very drunk Jean and Reiner are able to pull him off – Maki and Pieck at your sides as they rub into the softness of your arms. You shake your head, signaling to them that you were fine, as Eren looks over at you over the accumulating crowd of people, and gives you a gesture. You nod, as Eren extends his hand out to you, and the two of you walk to the other side of the room. You eye the blood on Eren’s hand, all Ricky’s you’re sure, as Eren stops at the table and starts filling the cups with the lemonade.

“We need a drink.” Eren states.

“That’s what got you pissed off, Eren? When he started talking bad on my name?” you mumble.

“I love your name.” Eren defends.

You smile.

“Though, I always felt like it’s missing something.” Eren adds.

You roll your eyes.

“And what’s that, huh?”

“My last name.” Eren responds.

Eren watches as a blush creeps over your cheeks and try not to laugh when you mutter something that sounds an awful lot like fuck you under your breath as he passes you one of the glasses of lemonade. Which is right when Lana comes up and snatches the glass from his hand and slams it down on the table.

“Are you a fucking idiot, Eren?” Lana seethes.

“What?” Eren responds, giving her an annoyed shrug back as he takes the glass back and hands you one.

“You promised, Eren.” Sukuna responds.

“You two can get your panties out of a twist. I didn’t break any promises.”

“Do you think I’m blind, Eren?” Lana asks.

Eren rolls his eyes, as he leans down, bringing his face closer to Lana’s. It’s the same thing that Colt does to you – on the rare occasions that he’s able to prove you wrong.

“You made me promise that if Ricky said anything about Teddy or you, I wouldn’t say anything. And Sukuna made me promise that if Ricky said anything about him, I wouldn’t do anything, because it would upset you.” Eren states.

That’s why he didn’t say anything.

“Our princess over here didn’t force me to make any promises like that. So the second he called her sloppy seconds, I did what I had to do.” Eren responds.

Lana’s eyes widen, as she turns her head to you.

“What a dick. Are you okay?” Lana asks.

“I’m fine. He said worse about you guys, I wanted to punch him myself.”

Eren smiles, as he leans down to look at you.

“Too bad. He’s getting escorted out on his ass now, so you lost your chance.” Eren responds, pointing towards the door.

And surely enough, the security are taking him out with his hands secured behind his back – no thanks to the obscene screaming he’s doing – while Hyla looks maybe the most irritated you’ve ever seen before. She spares you one last glance, to which you and Eren respond with glimmering smiles, before she walks out.

Lana gestures towards the bathrooms as Eren follows, presumably to wash his hands, leaving you and Sukuna by the table, nursing the little glasses of lemonade in your hands. And wordlessly, you extend your glass out to Sukuna – and thank your lucky stars that he understands – as he pulls the little flask from the pocket and pours it into your drink and then his.

“Eren’s been waiting for that one.” Sukuna states.

“I’m shocked you haven’t.” you respond.

“Maybe before. But you know, with the kid, you have to be a good role model and all that. Plus, I hate when Lana lectures me because she gets really mean.”

You snort.

“I’d be scared of her too.” you respond.

“Speaking of scared, how many drinks until he falls off?” Sukuna asks, pointing to the left.

You follow his line of vision to find Yuuji standing on top of the bar, tie loosely hanging around his neck and pink in the face with Satoru, as he sings along to the music playing from the speakers.

“Which one are you talking about? I think they’re both well past that point.” you respond.

“Yuuji, obviously. I’m going to stop him before he ends up on a headline.” Sukuna responds.

“You have fun with that. I’ll watch from over here.” you respond, as Sukuna walks away.

When you scan the room for Ethan Cole, you find that he’s already looking at you. You give him a polite wave, positive that whatever Eren just did with Ricky James must have swayed him some type of way, as you lean back against the edge of the table. And the table dips slightly under you, nearly making you spill the glass of lemonade, when you find Scott Clarkson leaning against at your side, his beady eyes fixed on you.

“Y/N. It’s nice to see you.”

“I’m so glad you were finally able to learn my name.” you respond.

Scott clicks his tongue in his cheek, before extending his hand out to shake it at you. You begrudgingly oblige, skin curling with disgust as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, and leans back.

“I’ll admit, I had you pegged all wrong in the beginning. But I’m sure that you can understand, it can be so hard to trust new and upcoming talent like that when you run a big company.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” you deadpan.

“I think we should let bygones be bygones. I even think that we could be useful to one another. If you really wanted full ownership of your albums back, I could get it for you. Just a few movies, here and there, and they’d be back in your hands.”

You feel your throat dry.

“What did you just say to me?”

“I’m sure you know I am well acquainted with Danny and Sareen. I’m sure I could persuade them, after a little give and take.”

You thank the heavens that the stylists had stacked each of your fingers with a perfect set of silver rings. You sure it made it hurt even more when you slapped him across the face.

“You have some nerve, you asshole. Don’t even think about-”

You feel a set of arms on your biceps, squeezing hard, as you turn your head to find Levi at your side. You shake your head, turning back to Scott, who no whas a group of people around him, inspecting the red mark you’ve left on his cheek.

“Levi. Fucking, get off.”

“This is not the time for this. You and Eren are leaving, you’ve had too much to drink.” Levi responds, pushing you out into the cold air outside the hall and near the taxi.

Eren’s leaning against the car door and he quickly jumps up at the sound of your voice, meeting Levi at your side.

“Did you hit him, Y/N? They’re saying that you hit him.”

“I slapped him.”

Eren pinches his mouth into a line.

“Did he hit back?” Eren asks.

“What? No. Levi started yanking me off of him before I could get another one in.”

Eren passes Levi a thankful smile, before ducking your head into the taxi, and tuning back into your rambling.

“He’s such a dick. He fucking had that coming, trying to offer me a career like I don’t know who he is and what he fucking does. Like really, even down to being an opportunist, does he really think I care about my album that was already stolen from me over all of my friends? Over you? I think he’s a psychopath and we didn’t even get to solidify the deal with Ethan Cole or-”

“Okay, Y/N. Relax. It’s-”

“We have to do something to get his attention. Something crazy. I have an idea but…you have to follow my lead, okay?”

Eren’s slightly hesitant. Only because he can tell that you really are tipsy from the light pink tint in your cheeks and the way that you’re shaking your legs. But he hates to tell you no, especially when you’re staring at him so expectantly, waiting for an answer.

And when you drag Eren into a sweaty tattoo parlor, Eren realizes that maybe you’re well past tipsy.

“I technically picked what we did last time, Eren. So it’s your turn. Just make sure it’s something like…fucking crazy. Like iconic.”

Eren has an idea. But he can’t say it. Because you can’t possibly get that tattooed. And he’s sure that it’s showing on his face, because now you’re giving him an excited smile, jumping up and down on your feet waiting for him to tell.

“Oh my god. What is it? Tell me right now.”

“Uh. The moon and the ocean.” Eren responds.

You frown.

“We already basically have that as a tattoo, Eren. With the fish? And I can tell that’s not what you were going to say.” you respond.

Eren sighs.

“Y/N. It’s too much.”

“Nothing’s too much! Come on, it’s you and me that we’re talking about. We got fucking matching tattoos when we were like eighteen and released songs about quite literally fucking each other on the same day! We can get a crazy tattoo!”

“You’re so crass when you’re drunk, Y/N.”

“The word Levi used was homicidal.” you respond.

Eren sighs, as he tells you his idea, and watches your face light up. And after the fact, Eren can’t help but feel like he’s on top of the world.

Because for a second time now – the two of you are running down the streets, bathed in the dim lamplight and laughing into the night. Matching tattoos of each other’s names on the inside of your lips, a confession on the tips of your tongues like you were two soulmates destined to be together.

That’s the moment you’re able to coin it.

You’re head over heels in love with Eren Jaeger. Again. Maybe even worse, more desperately than the first time.

And as the perfect cherry on top, Ethan Cole sends you a message confirming the deal the following morning.

next part linked here

an: are you catching my hint for the songs in our next chapter.....which is an AWARDS SHOW CHAPTER ARE WE READY. and don't worry....scott clarkson and danny/sareen welcome to your tape...this next chapter is for you

(pls tell me someone gets the pussy joke that megumi made and that im not just horrendously chronically online)

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636

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nonclassyparty · 6 months

Text

pretty on the outside [masterlist + preview]

summary:

just take off that disguise, everyone knows that you're only pretty on the outside

It's not a secret that you like to get around despite the trail of broken hearts you leave behind. Jeong Yunho, the sweetest prudish frat boy in the history of frat boys, is supposed to be just another guy you'd discard after you grew bored of him. Very soon, you realize you bit off more than you can chew and that Jeong Yunho might not be so easy to handle.

pairing: jeong yunho x reader, choi san x reader, mentions of past jung wooyoung x reader

status: work in progress

notes: *evil giggles* hello! enjoy the little preview of my new series that i'm working on (i will be using this post as a masterlist for it) and it won't be posted until i'm done with soot. it will have nine parts, if you'd like to be added to the taglist for it just reply below <3

my main masterlist // playlist // moodboard // click to donate to Palestine

first chapter preview;

In his earliest surviving work of dramatic theory Poetics, Aristotle wrote, “A whole story is what has a beginning and middle and end.” This is not only fundamental to storytelling, it’s the closest reflection of an entire life cycle. It can be applied to anything in this life. Everything has a beginning, middle and end.

Which is why when San introduces you to his new girlfriend, you try not to be too bothered. Not only because it's his seventh new girlfriend this year but because, as all relationships, just like it had it's beginning and middle - it will have an end too.

Her name is Mijoo, her bleached hair is curled and looks slightly fried and the only thing that you've learned since she sat down with you is that her interests include pilates and taking care of her Instagram feed. They met at a frat party two weekends ago and hooked up in a stuffy room on the second floor, as romantic as it sounds.

San eats his lunch next to her while she scrolls through her phone and plays with her water bottle, looking absolutely unbothered that he barely knows his new girlfriend and seems like he has no intention of getting to know her better either. Hongjoong and you share a knowing look.

You can already tell that this is one of San's relationships where he calls it a relationship just so neither one of the parties participating feel like whores.

Still, the fact that he'd be in a relationship with just about anyone manages to leave a bitter taste in your mouth as you swallow down the last bite of your sandwich and clean your hands with a napkin.

You clear your throat, "I have to go. Have class in ten minutes."

San's head lifts up from the screen of his phone that he held in one hand as he ate, "You didn't answer if you're going to Vortex with us tonight?"

By 'us' he probably means him and his girlfriend and some of his other sleazy friends that he managed to make ever since he started going to the gym freshman year. It's definitely not Hongjoong because Hongjoong wouldn't be caught dead in a nightclub for college students that could only be classified as a dump.

You deadpanned, "It's a Wednesday."

San stares at you like he's not seeing the problem as Hongjoong snorts from next to you, "Like that's stopped you before."

You roll your eyes at him before looking back at San, trying not to dwell on the way his soft hair falls over his forehead. "I have my first midterm on Friday, so no."

"Ah, sucks." He says with a scrunched up nose and you look away quickly as you plaster on a smile that definitely looks sarcastic and a little sour.

"Well, see you guys later." You say, standing up and throwing your bag over your shoulder, "Bye."

San's new girlfriend gives you a sweet smile that makes you hate her.

You think about her and your own hypocrisy as you make your way to class. You barely spoke to her, she's done nothing to you and it's unfair to dislike her simply because she temporarily has...maybe the only person that you ever truly wanted but will never have.

You sigh as you pass through the door of the classroom that's already fairly filled out. The board stationed in the front filled out with a list of students attending the class, stops you in your tracks.

Partners assigned for Lab Exercise 1-3. is written in big bold letters at the top of the board.

You refrain yourself from rolling your eyes as you curse your professor who suggested this as an elective class. He said this class was a breeze to go through. Anything that has lab exercises is not a breeze.

Your eyes sweep over the list before they land on your own name. Y/L Y/N - Jeong Yunho, table 6.

Never heard of him, you think to yourself which isn't much of a surprise. The campus is huge, you'll always meet someone new.

Alas, you make your way to your designated table and are satisfied to find it empty which means you can slide to the seat near the window and hopefully make it know that it's your spot from now on.

You sit for the next ten minutes, scrolling down your phone and checking for your partner because almost all of the seats in the classroom are occupied by now and class is supposed to begin in two minutes. You'll be pissed if you have to do the first lab exercise alone.

Soon enough, a tall guy walking through the door a minute before the professor is supposed to show up catches your attention. He walks to the board, eyes roaming over it, he turns around and skims the classroom before his eyes stop on table labeled with a big number six and he makes eye contact with you.

You immediately look away through the window, trying to hide your grimace.

The guy, Jeong Yunho, even without ever meeting him before, looks undoubtedly like a frat boy.

A dark blue cap turned backwards sits on his head and his backpack hangs off of one shoulder. He's handsome in a boy-next-door type of way and tall. Definitely plays a sport of some sort (maybe soccer) judging by his broad shoulders and fit build. Frat boy and a jock. How boring.

"Hi." He greets you with a small smile that you return quietly with a squeamish smile as he sits down next to you. The smell of his cologne is instantly overwhelming. It's a smell that you can't describe as anything else except male and you feel like this is about to be the longest three weeks of your life. "I'm Yunho."

"Y/N." You say politely, again making eye contact with him that he tries his hardest to hold as he leans on the table by his elbows and his mouth quirks up. Oh God, here we go.

"I don't think I've ever seen you around, are you a Chemistry major as well and just new or is this your elective?" You blink at the question.

"Ah, yeah, this is an elective." You respond, glancing at the door again to see if the professor will show up soon.

He hums, "The Chem branch is a really small circle here so everybody knows everybody by now, that's why I asked."

"Right." You blink at him again, observing this Jeong Yunho as he starts pulling out a notebook, calculator and a wide array of pens out of his backpack. The last frat boy you knew, Bangchan or Chris as they like to call him because his real name isn't sleazy enough, came to class with a pen and a folded piece of paper tucked in his back pocket.

So, maybe you're a little judgmental. Who isn't these days?

The class starts and Jeong Yunho continues to make you hide your surprise at him as he actively participates in the discussions. From what you can tell, he's very articulate and smart.

That does absolutely nothing for you but still, it's a little surprising.

Not because you think all frat boys and jocks are stupid or something (even though most are, you know from experience) but because the way he speaks and carries himself is nothing but respectful and nice and it just does not fit the stereotype. An hour in, you expected at least a crude joke during the presentation but it never came. Hm.

Since you were extremely competitive, you wanted nothing more than to beat him to answering the professor's questions but you knew jackshit about polymer chemistry so all you could do is sit, faintly annoyed, watching someone be better than you.

After class is done and you're packing your stuff while texting Yeosang, Yunho gently touches your elbow with his fingers to get your attention. You turn to him and he quickly withdraws his hand.

"Would you like to...uh, go work on the exercise at a coffee shop nearby? I think it would be good to get a head start since we're not yet busy with out other, actually important, classes." He chuckles before checking the watch around his wrist, "I have free time now."

You bite your lip, thinking it would probably be the smart thing to do but you were texting Yeosang. Making plans to see him. Scratch that, making plans to fuck him.

"Uh, how long would it take exactly? Just so I can organize the rest of my day-"

"Oh, well, I have practice at six-thirty so I was thinking until six." He shrugs, his backpack hanging over one shoulder and making him look like a poster for golden college boys. "Does that work for you?"

It works better than having to work on the exercises on other days of the week. It just means seeing Jeong Yunho more than necessary, one day a week is perfectly enough in his presence.

You bite your lip again, glancing at your screen one last time before texting Yeosang that you'll see him at seven. "Yeah, let's go."

Yunho leads you to a coffee shop near campus that you've never heard of. Hidden deep between buildings and almost entirely empty, there's no regular customers let alone anyone from campus.

"I study here sometimes if the library is full. Nobody comes here." He chuckles, holding the door open for you and motioning for you to go in. He almost seems shy to let you know that he goes to the library. It's, unfortunately, kind of cute.

After you both order and make yourself comfortable in the small booth you've picked out, you start to work on the assignment. Yunho leads the way, as a Chemistry major, he's much more well versed in this subject. You, a future engineer, are completely lost so you just scribble down whatever he does and keep quiet.

He likes to talk a lot, you notice, after every done question, he makes sure to ask about you, your interests, hobbies, whatever and you shut it down every time with a dry response.

It's not that you dislike him, really it's not. It's not even that he's a frat boy and a jock that bothers you anymore because it's obvious that he's a little bit of a nerd as well. It's that, in the hour and a half that you've spent sitting here with him, you realized just how much he reminds you of San.

And that's enough to make you keep your distance from him. You don't want him, you don't want anyone like San.

The corny jokes, shy smiles, a blush that spreads all the way to his ears when he gets flustered, attempts to be cocky but then growing absolutely embarrassed by it that it ends up being endearing - it's all very San-like. And it's a version of San that not many people know.

Once it starts nearing six and you both start packing up your things, Yunho clears his throat next to you.

"So, uh, would you be interested in getting a cup of coffee sometime, like, in a non polymer chemistry related way?" He nervously stutters out, ears already burning red. You slow down the action of pulling your jacket on as your phone is in one hand, the chat with Yeosang opened.

Maybe you should've seen this coming.

He wasn't shy about the fact that he found you attractive since the moment he sat down next to you. You just didn't expect for this to happen so soon. Geez, how awkward will the next three weeks be after today.

You sigh, pulling your dark red hair from under your jacket. "No offense Yunho, you seem nice and all but you're not my type."

He seems almost offended by that as he chuckles, "You barely even know me?"

You give him a once over.

The matter of fact was that you did not, under any circumstance, date anyone or get into relationships. You had hook-ups, one night stands and no strings attached agreements.

If there was any way to describe your mindset it would be pretty simple - men, women, people you were attracted to - you treat them like horderves served in front of you. You'll take a bite (might save some for later) but that's about it, you make sure not to get full because there's way too many flavors, too many of them to try, taste, pick apart...

And if someone really managed to impress you, maybe you'd pick another plate up.

But that didn't happen often and when it did, it usually didn't last.

Jeong Yunho, in every single way, reeked of romance and good intentions.

The typical boy next door type. He seemed like a momma's boy that wanted a proper and traditional relationship, brought flowers and texted you 'good night' and 'good morning' religiously and had extremely romantic but bland missionary sex. The type to want you to wear his jersey to his games so he could take cheesy photos with you in it and, if he was religious, maybe he'd want you to go to church with him on Sundays. He was the last thing you needed.

If Hongjoong and Seonghwa found you with someone like him, they'd never let you live it down.

You open your mouth to respond to him but your phone rings and you look at it - a photo of Yeosang lighting up the screen. He's always so impatient. You told him at seven, why is he calling already?

You wave your phone in front of Yunho's face, pointing out Yeosang's photo that you took one drunken night while the two of you were messing around after leaving the club and that you've been using as his contact photo ever since where he's in all black, long hair tucked behind his ear as he lights up a cigarette, "My type."

Yunho blinks at the photo before looking at you again resembling a kicked puppy, you sigh feeling only slightly bad but still you have to say something more out of courtesy. "I have to go, I'm sorry if I seemed rude or something, it wasn't intentional and nothing against you but I'm not interested. I hope we do well on the lab exercise though."

He opens his mouth to say something else but you're already standing up and walking towards the entrance of the small, dingy coffee shop.

The discomfort you feel is only temporary because, once again, everything has its beginning, middle and end. This 'partnership' with Yunho will end soon so why bother yourself by feeling guilty.

#jeong yunho x reader #yunho x reader #choi san x reader #san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez smut

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bunnysbrainrot · 8 months

Text

No Vacancy - Day Two

Characters: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader, Dean, Castiel

Content: Majorly plot building. Romantic/sexual tension.

Summary: In day two of your one-on-one case with Sam, you gather intel together. Once things settle down for the second night, Dean reveals some news. Sam realizes he’s made a huge mistake involving a lust spell.

*A/N: This chapter was getting a bit long, and I haven’t posted in a couple days, so this chapter is out early! Honestly I like the pacing of this a bit better so I don’t burn out. Y’all better be ready for the next chapter 👀

————

“Mrs. O’Connor, would you say that your daughter had any enemies? Anyone who would want to cause her harm?” Sam’s tone was filled with compassion as the woman explained the situation.

Her lips wobbled, “I-I don’t know. Casey was a sweet girl, she just got caught up in the wrong crowd, that’s all.”

“Did you see any changes in her behavior in these past few weeks?” You piped up, matching the softness of Sam’s voice.

Casey’s mother shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. You reached into the inner pocket of your suit jacket, handing her a pack of tissues. She gives you thanks and takes a moment before she speaks again.

“Not much. She was quieter, sure, but I thought, y’know, maybe she was depressed - she spent almost all of her time in her room. We were so close, and she just… distanced herself.”

“How so?” Sam asked.

Through tears, her voice broke, “Her whole demeanor changed, got… darker. She wouldn’t let me into her room anymore. That was where we had our movie nights…”

You nodded as you listened, glancing to Sam for a sign of a breakthrough, but his expression was muddled. A few moments later you were handing your personal number to Casey’s mother, and wishing her a good day.

Sam asked, “So, what do you think?”

“I think we should check her room, but we need to give her mom some time,” you replied, mulling over what could have caused Casey’s murder.

Your phone buzzed against your hand in your pocket. To your relief you saw a text from Casey’s mother: Thank you for your help. I’m glad Casey has people who care like you do.

You showed Sam the message. His eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“What do I say back?”

“Well, we need to mention looking at Casey’s room,” Sam detailed, “and that we’re happy to help further.”

Your fingers fiddled with your phone as you issued a reply.

Of course. I’m sure the police have done so already, but we were given instruction to inspect Casey’s room. Would you mind letting us look around later today?

The reply was swift: Yes, that's fine. I'll be home later this evening, 7 p.m. would be the best time.

Stuffing your phone back into your pocket, you updated Sam.

"She says we can come back at 7 tonight. Until then, we should probably look over the police report and see who might know what happened to her."

Sam nodded, "We'll head back to the motel and look into it."

The motel. The goddamn motel where you and Sam blurred the lines of your friendship. With any luck, he wouldn't mention anything of last night, or this morning.

It was the way it felt so normal to wake up with him, to be enveloped in his arms, his scent, his soft breathing before he woke. It was a one-time thing that wouldn't, and couldn't, happen again. It was a vow - a guarantee to yourself that you wouldn't slip up like before. You reminded yourself on loop until you reached the motel again.

—

Twenty minutes later, and you were still staring at your computer screen. The thoughts couldn't flow like they normally did with your research. Vague searches covered the screen, but nothing constructive.

'Casey O'Connor family' 'Casey O'Connor facebook' 'Casey O'Connor instagram' 'Casey O'Connor death’

The tension you held in the pit of your stomach turned over itself when Sam cleared his throat.

"Find anything yet?"

Your breath hitched in your throat. Maybe Sam hadn't given things much thought after all. His tone was his usual curious self, but those bright hazel eyes swallowed you whole.

"Uh- no, not yet," you stammered, "I was, um, gonna take a pause and go to the lobby. About the... room situation."

Sam's lips thinned into a terse smile. For him, he didn't care one bit if there was another room available. He watched you leave the room, cursing himself all the while you were gone. You returned with a nervous smile, sparking a hidden hope in Sam's chest.

"Still no other rooms. And no cots, either."

It was Sam's turn to remind himself that last night crossed a boundary. All he'd thought about today was you, regardless of how hard he tried to reroute his thoughts. The way you'd buried your head into his chest, how you murmured in your sleep, how delicate your body felt in his hands...

He snapped himself out of it again, muttering to himself.

"What'd you say?" You raised an eyebrow at him.

He shook his head, "Nothing, I'm just mumbling to myself."

You let out a soft laugh, taking a seat on the bed. The ache in your shoulders reminded you of the consequences of sitting hunched over on the floor.

"The least they could've done was give us a desk or something."

"That's what you get in a small town, remember?" Sam quipped, that goofy grin back in action. You rolled your eyes at him and settled into your side of the bed, laptop open across your lap again.

Sam leaned over to you, staring at your screen. Well, you weren't lying when you said things on your end weren't interesting. You turned your head, watching him scour the Google search you haphazardly thought up.

"I... didn't really know what to look up," you admitted flatly.

He let out a breathy laugh, glancing sidelong at you. Those damn eyes. Part of you dared to close the inches between you, to brush your lips against his as if it were nothing. One wrong move, and you could risk everything you'd made with him. You surveyed his parted lips, suddenly pulled back up to his gaze when he cleared his throat. You shook yourself out of your trance and gave him a muttered apology before he took your laptop.

Within seconds he found something substantial - report cards from school, Facebook posts, tagged photos on Instagram.

"How'd you do that?" You asked.

Sam pushed himself beside you to give you a better angle at the screen, "First thing you gotta do is have the full name. Otherwise, you're flooding your search with 'Casey O'Connor's' from all over the country."

His arm brushed against yours, but he didn't pull away. Instead he rested fully against you as his fingers flew over the keys, opening page after page of information. You chose to let go and ease into him, head dropped to his shoulder as you watched. Sam's fingers stalled more than usual with you now relaxed against him. It was his turn for his thoughts to escape him.

"So, um," you piped up, "what are we looking for?"

He cleared his throat, "Changes in behavior, maybe in stuff that she posted, grades dropping, anything that seems like a red flag."

Casey's most recent posts to Instagram caught your eye. After explaining your gut feeling to Sam, the both of you kept mental note that perhaps Casey did get involved with something sinister.

—

The two of you had gotten lunch, lazed about town, and stoped by Casey’s school by the time 7 pm rolled around. At the O’Connor house, you kept downstairs to talk with the family, while Sam searched Casey’s bedroom. It took about 30 minutes, and you two were on your way.

“What’d you find?”

Sam handed you his phone, the photos organized into a neat folder. You inspected each image, taking stock in each sign - herbs scattered around, countless candles, and bottles of dark liquid.

“Is that..?”

“Blood, yeah. Almost didn’t see them; one rolled out of the closet. And if you see here,” he trailed on, scrolling to another photo, “seems like a pretty intricate altar in there.”

“Figures why she wouldn’t want her mom in the room,” you added.

You handed the phone back to Sam, fighting back a shiver when his hand grazed yours.

Perhaps he noticed, too, judging by the way his cheeks blushed. In the evening sun, it was barely noticeable but you were almost certain of it. You packed yourselves into the car and drove back to the motel. You rummaged through your duffel bag the moment you stepped in the door, picking out a new outfit for bed. Sam kicked off his dress shoes and shrugged off his suit jacket.

“Bedtime already, huh?” Sam teased. You turned to him and smiled.

“Just wanna get cozy. Makes doing research much easier.”

Sam shrugged, “Not a bad idea, I’ll probably do the same when you’re done. Need to get out of this damn suit.”

—

The time on your computer screen read 11:43 p.m., meaning you and Sam had been continuing your research for at least two hours. It had taken a toll of you both, with eyes dry and shoulders aching. You rested your tired eyes and felt the pull of exhaustion start to take over.

Until Sam’s phone rang - it was Dean. Sam immediately placed his brother on speakerphone.

“How’s the lovely couple?” Dean asked. He wasn’t in the room, but you could tell he was smiling - a shit eating grin that irritated you as much as his brother.

“Very funny, Dean,” Sam replied smoothly, a twitch in his eyebrow showed his annoyance. “How are things going on your end?”

Castiel muttered in the background of the phone call. Dean stuttered over his words as he told Cas to stop interfering.

“Okay, so we did a little searching on Casey. I mean, well, Cas did most of it. Turns out, our lovely Miss O’Connor had gotten involved with magic.”

Sam’s eyes snapped to yours, then to his laptop where he had stored photos of Casey’s bedroom. As you two listened to Dean the dots connected to make a full picture.

It was Castiel’s voice that piped up next, “We have reason to believe that Casey was involved with something dark. It doesn’t look like your average witchcraft. We’re talking about more forceful magic - breaking and creating soulmate contracts.”

He continued, “Those kind of bonds, soulmates, are meant to take time. It seems that Casey’s spells were focused on peoples driving emotions. Feelings like fear, insecurity, lust, and mania. Anything that could make people act out, it’s been happening in her social circle.”

“So, basically she’s playing Cupid?” you offered.

“Exactly,” Dean confirmed, interrupting Cas, “we broke some of the spells, but it seems like Casey did all of her little projects at home. Hell, she sent the spells to her friends in the mail. Who knew you could Amazon Prime some witchcraft.”

You chuckled at the joke, rolling your eyes. Sam smiled at you with relief that this whole situation had blown over.

“So, what’s next?” you prodded.

“If you two didn’t see any weird hoodoo at Casey’s house, then everything should be all settled.”

Sam furrowed his brows, “But Casey was murdered, how did she die, then?”

Dean replied, “That’s the karma of it. Casey planted a sachet on her boyfriend - love spell gone haywire. He eventually went a little too love-crazy, and ended up killing her. Jealousy was the source of it.” His tone has grown sullen with the final piece of news.

Now with the extra details, you didn’t know how to feel. What happened to Casey had been horrible, and it had worked itself out in the end. It was the part of hunting that never settled well with you. Sometimes, you simply couldn’t save everyone.

“Got it. So we’ll head back out tomorrow to meet you at the bunker, yeah?” Sam confirmed.

Dean’s tone changed to playfulness again, “Actually, I need y’all to check out a case the next town over. Mind camping out a couple more nights?”

It seemed Dean’s request was a final verdict based on the way Sam pursed his lips.

“Yeah, no problem, talk to you later,” Sam ended the call. He threw his phone onto the bed and closed his laptop.

“You alright?” You asked him. Sam let out a soft sigh and looked toward his suit jacket by the door.

“I think I might’ve screwed up.”

You did a double take, “What do you mean? Dean and Cas figured it out.”

He raced over to the jacket, fishing through the pockets until he plucked a small bundle. Your expression dropped completely at the sachet in his palm. Sam returned to your side and let you examine it - a small brown sack you assumed held herbs, oils, and then some. The sigils across the fabric stumped you; they were nothing like you’d ever seen before.

“What is this, Sam?”

“One of her spells,” he said, defeated, “I wanted to examine it, to see if someone planted something on her. That was before we knew that Casey was the witch.”

“Okay, so, what kind of spell is it?” you asked further.

Sam reopened his laptop, silent as he furiously typed away. Image after image splayed onto the screen - the realization came over the two of you at once.

“Lust.”

He coughed at the word, unable to choose his next move. Sam leaned back and let his head thump against the wall.

“Can’t we just…. burn it? Toss it out?”

With bated breath you waited for Sam to say something, anything. Instead he just shook his head.

“By now I’ve had it on me for hours. We’re kind of past the point of burning it.”

“Okay, but the spells only work on feelings that are already there, right? It wouldn’t work unless you’re with someone you wanted to, um… you know.”

Sam’s breathing quickened with each passing second. His words came out with an overwhelming shakiness.

“It’s a little late for that.”

Hi again! Thanks so much for supporting my work, the next chapter will be out in the next couple of days!

- Bunny

#spnfandom #spn #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester

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vilsoo · 6 months

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prize counter girl ☆ ten

➥ michael afton x camgirl!reader

you've been a camgirl for only a few months and everyone loves the content you post. when michael afton porn surfs to relieve his stress, he comes across your videos. the more he jerks off to your content, the more he's addicted. but it wasn't until, a few months later, he sees your familiar face as the new employee working at the prize counter.

chapter warnings. sex work mentions, so much flirting

notes. we’re backkkk 😋😏😫😍‼️ i hope y’all enjoy this adorable, lovely chapter that i KNOW yall have been dying for. here’s some yummy food @ihrtlert

pcg materlist • previous • chapter eleven

As much as you wanted to keep making out with Michael in the dimly lit hallways of the pizzaplex and escalate things further, he had a few things to do before locking up the place. First things first, cleaning up the supply closet and then finish organizing the boxes of new prizes and supplies for the arcade. It was his fault for getting himself distracted like this, staying much longer than he was supposed to that you decided to offer some help.

But that didn't mean the end of your night together.

"So. What made you wanna stay during closing tonight, hm?" he teased as he was closing the closet door. "And where were you hiding this whole time, anyway?"

You were leaning against the checker-patterned wall as you fixate on him, smirking in a subtle snarky manner. "Upstairs where the bar and lounge are at. I wanted to check out for myself what was upstairs and then... that's when I found you.

"Oh? Roaming around where you're not supposed to, I see..." Michael mirrored your smirk, dipping his head lower and inhaling your sweet scent that drives him insane. Just like before, the gap between you two is now inevitably thin, feeling his body heat transmitting onto your chest as you arched your back against the wall.

"Aw, am I in trouble?" you bantered, settling your gaze on him with the right kind of heat and ardor pooling in your flaunting eyes. It was the same look you gave him in the break room today. The same look when you cleaned his cum off his cock. Your fucking "fuck me" eyes. The look you give him as if you're undressing him without even touching him that drives every fiber of his being to just... ravage you.

"We'll both be in trouble if you keep fucking looking at me like that," he murmured in your ear with his tone falling sharper and stricter, a shiver coursing down your spine. He was frustrated. A little enraged, even. And that turned you the fuck on that even Michael could tell.

In such close proximity and prolonged silence, you gaze intensely into each other's eyes one last time, surrendering to this imbalance of power and unfair seduction, that he immediately had to pull away before he got carried away again. In just a fleeting moment, the both of you snapped back into reality.

"I— I, uh, have to lock up," he sputters. "You can go through the regular exit to the back parking lot since there's no cameras. I'll go through the main exit where I parked."

You sighed deeply as if your heart sank, pushing yourself off the wall with your gaze attached on the floor. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Michael...."

"You too," he beams, slightly agitated, but involuntarily raising his arms out as a gesture for a hug. He wanted to feel the warmth of your body melting onto him one last time, an inhale of your scent to linger in his nose, to at least hold you as if he wanted to protect you. His heart then palpitated when you wrap your arms around his neck and laid the side of your head on his chest, your lips stretching to a smile at how fast his heart was beating.

Michael never wanted to let go.

This embrace felt like the longest he's ever hugged a woman. But after glancing at the clock on the wall and noticing it was almost 12AM, you had to separate. He was here closing the pizzaplex for an hour, way past the time he was supposed to leave. But for some reason tonight, he wasn't feeling all sleepy or tired from work. As if he felt that same rush of energy he got from kissing you last night...

When you already left to the parking lot with your stuff, Michael was lingering in his thoughts. An ongoing battle in his mind, his leg bouncing up and down from this sudden burst of energy as he sat alone in his car. Thinking of you. Thinking of the confession. Every thought of his was consumed by you, and only you, like a triggered springlock clawing into the depths of flesh and bones, unable to escape.

Tomorrow is another day with her. Just ask her out in the morning.

A nice, innocent date where she can dress up and look pretty while I treat her and spoil her.

But tomorrow is too long from now, man.

I'd rather lose hours of sleep than lose a simple last minute date night with her I've been wanting for so long.

He was the only car parked in this lot while yours was on the south side of the building where all the employees are supposed to park. Throwing away his inhibitions like he always does, he speeds around to the corner of your designated parking spot, hoping that you didn't leave yet. To Michael's luck, you were still there turning your engine on.

Your heart fluttered when you suddenly see his car in your peripheral vision pull up beside you on your left, facing the opposite direction so he could be closer to you in the driver's seat. His window was already down with his elbow resting on its ledge, an exhilarated smile on his face as if he just couldn't wait to see you again.

You couldn't help but laugh as you rolled down your window, shaking your head. "I knew you were gonna come around."

"Well, you said it yourself. I enjoy your company as much as you enjoy mine," he teases, his heart still thundering in his chest in agitation even after he motivated himself just awhile ago.

"Shouldn't you be catching up with your hours on sleep? I know I made you stay a little late..."

"You don't have to worry about me. I've actually been sleeping pretty good recently," he smiles, dismissing the fact that you really were at fault for his lack of sleep the past couple of months— but he allowed it.

"That's good to hear," you bantered. "Did you drive all the way here to be my passenger prince again?"

Michael chortled, finding his laughter and the way his eyes crinkle adorable to you. He then inhaled sharply with his teeth clenched, mentally preparing himself and ruminated on his thoughts before speaking.

"Ah, well... After what just happened back there, I— I didn't want our sudden late night together to end just like that..."

"Oh? Is my manager... asking me out on a Sunday night?"

“Not your manager," he corrected. "Your biggest fan."

When you drift your gaze onto Michael, a warm, bonny sensation dissolves onto his skin from the way your eyes glimmered at him. A surging tide of ardor and infatuation blossoming in your stomach— this man would never fail to surprise you, to be the cause of your body surrendering to the charming side of his personality. He could tell you were robbed of speech and so was he— but then again, time was limited.

"And yeah— I know it's really last minute," he continues with a slight stammer, "believe me, if I had the time to take you out, I would've planned ahead. You know, so you can have enough time to dress up and get ready and not have to show up in your daily attire or even your work uniform—"

"Michael, it's fine. I would love to go out with you," you reassured to him sweetly. The way he rambled, the way you can tell he's still nervous and stumbling over his words urged you to just shut him up with another kiss. Good thing he wasn't your passenger prince for tonight or you might've recreated what happened last night... perhaps escalate things more than just a heated, intense make-out session.

Michael blinked rapidly like he just had a double-take. "Oh. Then, uh... you'll just have to follow me and we'll meet there."

"Do you know where we're going?" you asked, grabbing the clutch of your stick shift from park position to drive.

"It's only, like, fifteen minutes from here. Definitely a nice, relaxing getaway place from work. I think you'd love it."

You never thought that you'd experience these kind of late nights with Michael; stargazing together, admiring the stunning cityscape, and indulging in the nightly, tranquil ambiance of this perfect night. There was a place in downtown that he knew, a secluded hilltop that shows the breathtaking view of the twinkling city and midnight sky. As you sat on the hood of his car and relaxed under the stars, it was also a perfect time to ruminate on life and have more than just "small talk" outside of work.

"...To be honest, sex work has always been physically and mentally exhausting," you confided to him. "I don't even know why girls who just turned 18 all of a sudden wanna be in the porn industry. There's so many fucked up people online that can exploit these young and impressionable girls— believe me, I've seen everything in less than 5 months I started. There's a dark side to this industry that's never talked about or even forewarned before you do sex work."

Michael had his arm around you, rubbing your shoulder in comfort. "I always thought that shit was weird... It's always social media that pressures those young girls to do sex work for 'empowerment' when in reality... it'll just destroy them, right?"

"Yeah. That's why I never take sex work too seriously and didn't want this to be my career. I mean, yeah there will be times when I do it for fun and earn good money from my viewers, but... that's only the glamorized part of it all. In the end, sex workers shouldn't be demonized, but the industry shouldn't be glorified, either. I will always support women who do this because of their financial situation, as long as they're cautious and understand their reality."

"You're absolutely right," he says. "I'll always be supporting you too, you know. It's just— I still can't get my head wrapped around the fact that we actually work together. My first time seeing you, I literally didn't know how to function. I was just like... holy shit."

The two of you chuckled as your mind replayed the way Michael seized up after seeing you for the first time that day. "I've never seen a man fold like that ever," you teased. "You were so awkward in real life compared to when we chatted online. That's why I had my doubts, but— it was kinda hot seeing you all shy and nervous around me."

I won't be the one shy and nervous next time...

Michael scoffs, grinning down at the ground. "I mean, could you blame me? I didn't expect the camgirl I masturbate to working here with me."

"Oh my god, shutup," you bantered, lightly tapping him with your knuckles.

Michael couldn't believe that after so much time had passed until a few days ago when he fist met you, you were starting to be comfortable with each other. Aside from just flirting and intense sexual tension, there was something else existing between you two that just felt... surreal.

This beautiful balance of having flirty banter, sarcasm, and humor that would go to being sweet and genuine with each other, and then being able to empathize together, opening up to each other about serious things in life... This kind of connection for him was not only what he's been craving, but what he cherishes, something so special that he would never want to lose.

"...What's your schedule looking like the next couple weeks?" Michael asks, slanting his head closer to yours just to take in your scent again.

"Hm. I think I might be off next Friday..."

“Oh really? I'm also off that Friday too," he replied sardonically, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"What about your dad?" you piqued. "Do you think he's gonna get suspicious of us at work?"

Michael's hummed, slightly perturbed as he thought about the times where his dad pestered him just from seeing you two together. "It's kinda hard to tell, you know? Him suspecting his employees having something going on is the least of his priorities. Like, he won't be watching us all the time, especially on the cameras. But if we make things way too obvious... he's not that dumb. We'll definitely get in trouble."

"I get it. I think it's best to keep our distance just in case," you suggested, settling your gaze onto his face as you leaned on his shoulder. There goes that look again, beguiling him wholeheartedly. Your riveting, doe eyes with the moonshine reflecting off the lens has never looked so beautiful. But whether this was intentional or not, he can sense that you love making him feel this way.

She is the only one that does this to me.

She drives me crazy. She makes me act out of control until I'm not longer myself.

And she takes sick fucking pleasure while doing it.

She knows what she does to me.

"You and I both know that's fucking impossible," he coaxed, turning himself to stand in front of you while caressing your waist. "I can't stand not being around you. Talking to you on break or even after work isn't enough for me."

You find yourself leaning against the hood of Michael's Audi as he inches closer. Your breath nearly faltered from the way his fingertips glides against your skin, drizzling you with goosebumps. A sweet sensation interwoven, burning every molecule of desire in your bodies. He's been aching to caress you, to hold you safe in his arms, to touch you in places that sends you right over the edge... Nothing could help the fact that the both of you were touch-starved deep down.

"The supply closet and a few other places downstairs," he mutters into your ear, "there's no cameras. I know you love showing off in front of cameras, but... a private show wouldn't hurt, hm? That is— of course, whenever you're down for it. Not like I'm gonna randomly snatch you and then we have a quickie. That's insane."

You bursted out laughing from his sudden tone shift, him being all flirty and then back to his sarcastic self. "You're funny, Michael."

"Well, in all seriousness... That Friday I'll also be requesting time off. We'll have the whole day to ourselves— and I'll definitely have a perfect first date planned for us."

Your arms slither around his neck, lips just mere inches away from his as both of your hearts pound in excitement. "I can't wait," you murmured fondly.

Michael presses his lips against yours, melting onto each other passionately right under the pale moonlight. This beautiful feeling, this beautiful sense, this basking of pleasure knowing that he's all yours— not only admitting his dirty little secrets and the lustful pining had brought you two closer than ever, but also the intimate, ardent feelings you both had for each other was mutual.

Now that he can be himself without acting so painfully awkward around you, so much burden had finally lifted off his shoulders. No more secrets, nothing else to hide from each other anymore. But there were still a few more problems the both of you had to inevitably face at work— one of them being William Afton if he ever suspected that his employees are officially dating each other.

Fuck the fraternization policy.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐎 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access.

#( ♥︎ ) — prize counter girl.#michael afton #michael afton x reader #michael afton x you #mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt smut #michael afton smut #mike schmidt x you #fnaf smut #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you

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pipsipey17 · 4 months

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love and literature | chapter 3: bad kind of butterflies.

professor!natasha romanoff x college student!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist

summary: some unexpected news from your sister.

contains: just some tension ig

previous chapter | next chapter

It has already been a month since you have been living with Natasha on the same roof and a lot of adjustments have been made, not only at home but also at school. Some of them were fine but the rest of them annoyed the hell out of you.

You hate her that was certain, but you have been feeling things for her whenever the two of you had interactions with each other. Whether they were good or bad. You knew it was wrong and weird but you fantasized about kissing her

“You coming Y/N?” Wanda asked as you were walking to your next class along with Pietro, Peter and Carol.

Pietro is Wanda’s twin brother and you have the same classes with him in almost every single subject except for Russian Literature that’s why you have been friends with him too.

Well for Peter, you and him have been lab partners since freshman year and he has been a huge help for you when it came to Science. He is definitely a Science geek but he means well.

As for Carol, apparently has had a thing for you since you started playing for the volleyball team of the university. She’s a beautiful blonde, has a bold yet great personality and is even the captain of the cheerleading team.

You decided to give it a shot, even though you already told her that you don’t take relationships that seriously. She agreed saying that she’s willing to risk it and that she might even change that for you. And now, you have just been letting the relationship take its course and see where it will take you.

“You know I can’t Wanda, ever since Natasha moved in I haven’t been able to go out after school because I apparently have to ride home with her.” You replied with a hint of disappointment and annoyance in your voice.

This was one of the adjustments that annoyed you, since Natasha brings her car to school everyday, your sister told you that you can just ride home with her. Except for the days that you have student council work to do or you have volleyball training cause you go home later than usual. You couldn’t even stay in one room together without you feeling a bit angry or annoyed at her, let alone a car ride home with her even though it’s only a 30 minute car ride.

“Oh come on baby, it’s the weekend tomorrow, why don’t you text your sister that you’re going out later and see how that goes.” Carol said as she placed her arm around your waist.

Wanda rubbed her temple and said, “I swear, Professor Romanoff isn’t even your sister and yet she acts like one more than Maria.”

“She’s more like a babysitter in my opinion.” Pietro snickered, making Wanda roll her eyes at her twin brother.

You started typing your text message to Maria and a few seconds later you hit send. Your sister immediately read the text message and replied with, “Alright, just don’t be home too late.”

“So?” Wanda asked as she heard the sound from your phone.

“She said yes.” You replied, making Wanda squeal with joy.

“Hell yeah! We’re getting drunk tonight.” Peter cheered.

~~~

You were now at the parking lot of the school on your way to find Natasha, a few moments later you finally saw Natasha and she was leaning against her car with a cigarette in hand, she was also already looking in your direction.

“Isn’t this a non-smoking area?” You asked with your arms crossed.

Natasha hummed, “Yes, but I am not a student like you.” She quipped.

You wanted to roll your eyes so badly at her response but you stopped yourself, “I’m not riding home with you today, I’ve got plans.” You said as you looked directly at her emerald green eyes.

“And by plans you mean?” She asked with her brow raised and a drag from her cigarette.

“I’m just going out with my friends.” You simply replied.

Natasha looked behind you and saw that Carol was waiting by the light post a few meters away from the both of you. “Right, friends.” she said with obvious sarcasm in her voice. She clicked her tongue and asked, “Does Maria know about this?”

“She does,” You replied and showed her your conversation with Maria earlier.

It wasn’t what she meant, she wanted to know if Maria knew about you dating the cheerleader but she would just ask you about that some other time.

“Fine, I’ll see you later.” She lastly said before she dropped her cigarette onto the ground and stepped on it, she then went into her car and drove off.

“Shall we go?” You suddenly heard Carol ask as she held your hand.

You nodded and said, “Yeah, let’s go and have some fun.”

~~~

A few drinks later, you decided to call it a night, it was getting late and you didn’t want an earful from your sister at an ungodly hour.

But what you didn’t expect was seeing a very familiar car waiting by the entrance. The window rolled down and you saw the very least person you wanted to see, Natasha.

“I didn’t ask for a chauffeur.” You said with annoyance.

“Your sister asked me to pick you up. She has an emergency at work if that's why you're wondering I'm the one picking you up instead of your sister.” Natasha plainly said to you with her piercing eyes almost as if she's going to eat you whole.

You were a bit scared with how she's looking at you but your anger and annoyance were dominating, “I'm not riding with you, I'm clearly not drunk so I don't need someone to bring me home. Plus, I'm going to walk Carol to her dorm.”

If Natasha was keeping her composure earlier, she’s sure as hell isn't now after you mentioned that girl.

What she did next is something you didn't expect at all, she got out of her car and grabbed both of your arms, placed them on your back then pushed you onto the wall and twisted one of your arms making you hiss and curse in pain.

“Ow! S-stop that!” you yelped.

Natasha leaned on your ear and whispered, “I'm going to stop once you step inside the car. So, I'll tell you this one more time, get. in.”

The way her voice husked in your ear definitely made you feel something but you still weren't going to easily fold, “Like hell I will.” you said making Natasha twisting your arm more making you scream in pain this time. After a few moments you finally gave up, “A-Alright, I-I'll get in.” you said, making Natasha chuckle and let go of your wrist, “Good, thought we're going to be here all night.”

Natasha then strutted back to her car as you continued to rub your wrist in pain later seeing a slight bruise forming as you entered the car.

“That's gonna teach you to listen to me, Y/N. I may be living rent free in your household but that doesn't mean you're allowed to disrespect me once we're outside campus.” Natasha said as she started to drive away.

You rolled your eyes and sat silent in your seat, until your phone rang, the caller ID revealing that your girlfriend was calling. "Hey babe. Yeah sorry, apparently, my sister told Natasha to pick me up." you heard Natasha click her tongue.

"I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise. Alright. Bye." you said then ended the call.

"Didn't say the 'L' word?" Natasha suddenly asked.

You scoffed, "No, we're not seriously dating. There's no need for that."

"Ah, so it's more on just sex then?" Natasha asked with a smirk on her face.

"What? N-no I mean… kind of, I mean…" you groan in frustration, "You know what, it's none of your business."

"Fine, I already got a clue anyway just from the answer alone." Natasha replied, her smirk not leaving her face.

"Whatever." you said while rolling your eyes.

Natasha suddenly grabbed your thigh and dug her nails into it making you hiss in pain, "Roll your eyes at me one more time, you're going to get it." she said as she continued driving and digging her nails into your thigh.

What she said and did made you remain still and silent in your seat, thankfully, you were already near your home.

Once you arrived, you immediately left the car and went inside to your bedroom, laying face planted onto the mattress and finally succumbed to sleep.

~~~

"I'm going on a business trip for a few weeks," Maria said as you ate breakfast.

"What? You're leaving me here?" You said in shock and disbelief.

"I wish you could come with me but you have school and plus, you have Natasha to stay here with you."

That was the issue, you didn't want to be left alone together with the woman you certainly despised with your whole being.

"When are you leaving?" Natasha asked as she got up from her seat and placed her dishes on the sink.

"Tonight, so that's why I won't be here once you guys get back." Maria replied as she also got up and placed her dishes on the sink.

You lastly got up and gathered all your dishes and placed them in the dishwasher. After that, you hugged your sister and said, "Take care big sis."

She hugged you back and replied, "Of course I will. I love you little sis."

You said I love you back and Natasha was just watching the whole scene unfold in front of her, it always made her smile when she would see you let all your guard down around your sister, it just meant that you really felt safe around her.

It reminded her of her sister, Yelena. Who is busy traveling the world and living her best life, making up for the lost time she had before because of their past.

Maria released her embrace. “Go wait for Natasha in her car, I have to talk to her about something first.” she said and you nodded in response then left the room with Natasha's car keys in hand.

Once they heard the door close, Maria took a deep breath and spoke, “You can… take care of her for me right? She tends to be reckless sometimes and I just want to make sure she's not going to be in some trouble while I'm gone.”

“You can count on me Maria, I mean, I already got a taste of that when I picked her up last night.”

What Natasha said made Maria raise a brow at her, “Really? What did she do?”

“She refused to get in the car with me, but it's fine, I managed.” Natasha replied with a slight smirk on her face.

“I see, well… I hope you won't experience more of that in the next few days. Well, anyway, you guys got to go, it's getting a bit late.” Maria lastly said before they hugged and Natasha left the kitchen.

Starting tonight, you'll be left with the woman you hate but at the same time feel certain things for. You're nervous but excited even to see what will happen the next few days of the two of you living together without your sister.

Natasha got in her car and started the engine. But before she starts to drive she looked you in the eyes and said, “Look, I know you don't like me and I can't blame you for that but we'll be living together for a few weeks and I want us to be friends even just for the time being for the sake of your sister.”

A smirk formed on your face, “Alright, if that's what you want then let's be friends.” you simply replied and Natasha did a simple nod in respone and started to drive you both to school.

Let the games begin.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x yn #black widow #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow x yn #marvel #avengers #avengers imagines #marvel imagines #black widow fanfiction #black widow x reader

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aflame4goinghome · 1 month

Text

Bad Reputation

s.f.k. x reader

chapter one

Series Summary: As a local jazz pianist in Nashville, you never fear being in the spotlight. Living in the same city, you’ve become very familiar with Sam Kiszka, a young musician who’s managed to gain a bad reputation in the city and throughout the country within his band’s fanbase. You’ve always just ignored Sam’s promiscuous and impulsive ways, but when you’re approached by the band to help repair his image, you’re given an offer you can’t refuse.

Word Count: 6k

Chapter Warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of sex, mentions of smoking (tobacco & marijuana), flirting, arguing, sexual tension… you get it ;) (no smut… yet)

A/N: Hi guys! I’m so excited to share this series with you all. The idea came to me and I think it really ended up so good, I can’t wait for you to read it. Let me know in the comments or in my messages if you want to be added to the taglist for this series! See you soon :)

Listen to the playlist here :)

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

The club was dark and crowded as you entered through the front door and made your way backstage to begin setting up. Your shoulders brushed past other people in the crowd, making it difficult for you to get to the back. On your way there, you paused for a moment, deciding to stop at the bar first for a much-needed drink.

“Hey, Sebastian!” you said, leaning over the bar as you greeted the bartender. You’ve been playing here for so many years, these guys were some of the closest friends you’ll ever have.

“Y/N, hey! Need a pick-me-up?” he said, turning his attention to you fully for a moment as the bar was bustling with other customers. Better make this quick.

“Can I just get a double rum and coke? Only a little bit of ice in it,” you asked, smiling politely as he nodded and began making your drink.

You take a second to look around the club as you wait, feeling a bit nervous as you take in how many people are actually there. You’ve played big crowds before, sure, but tonight felt extra intimidating for some reason.

You had sensed for a few months now that your big break might be coming soon, at least that’s what you’d hoped. You’ve grown to be quite popular in the greater Nashville area, but your reach hasn’t gone much further than that. You hope to branch off and move to New York one day, to play there professionally full-time.

For now, though, you make your living by playing gigs weekly, posting your music online, and taking a few brand deals here and there. It’s working well, and you make enough money to get by, but you’re not entirely fulfilled.

“Double rum and coke for the lovely lady,” Sebastian said, sliding your drink across the bar toward you with a smile. You return his smile and take it in your hand, tipping it toward him as a thank you.

“Thanks, Seb. I’ll be back later, you know I’m gonna need it,” you muttered, taking a long swig of your drink before squeezing your way through the rest of the crowd and finally making it to the backstage door.

Pushing the door open, you turned the corner toward your usual dressing room and started to set yourself up. You take your coat off, place it on the small couch with your tote bag, and then turn to the mirror to touch up your makeup before you take the stage in 15 minutes. You hear the door crack open, so you turn your head to look and see who it is.

“There you are, Lucy!” you exclaimed, moving to the door to greet her with a hug. “Where the hell have you been? I didn’t see you at the bar before.”

“Sorry, babe, Seb had me refilling the kegs downstairs for him… lazy bastard,” she scoffed, moving past you to plop down on the couch. “That’s a man’s job! That shit is so heavy!” You chuckle at her, finishing off your drink and then turning back to the mirror to finish applying your lipstick.

“He’s building up your strength, Luce! What happened to equal rights?” you laughed, making eye contact with her in the mirror as she rolled her eyes at you.

“Whatever, Y/N. I don’t see you lifting any heavy things,” she mutters, crossing her arms and throwing her head back.

Lucy was probably your best friend in the whole city. You met her in high school, being in the same jazz band class together, and immediately clicked. She works at Seb’s jazz club part-time as a bartender and server, which is how you started playing there. You play plenty of gigs at other places too, but this place became your regular haunt, thanks to Lucy’s help. She asked Sebastian to give you a chance to audition 4 years ago, and you’ve been playing there ever since.

The two of you live together in a little apartment in Midtown, only a couple blocks away from the club. After graduating high school, Lucy decided to go to Belmont for journalism while you ended up just starting to work on your music full-time. You made ends meet and helped pay rent while Lucy went to school, and she’s worked to make it up to you ever since.

She’s in her last semester of graduate school now at Vanderbilt, getting a business degree with hopes of founding a newspaper of her own one day. At 24, she seems like she’s finally getting her life together, but for you, it feels like you’re only just getting started. You try not to compare yourself to her or anyone else, which was something your mother always nagged you about. You knew she was right, but you can’t help it.

Despite all of that, you’re sure that you’ll break into the industry soon. Seb had planned to hook you up with his buddy who works in one of the recording studios downtown to get you in and record your own stuff. He’s just waiting on your word to tell him that the album is ready, but you haven’t been able to finish it for the life of you. You’re not sure if it’s fear or perfectionism, but it just doesn’t feel finished to you yet. For now, you’re filling your time with gig after gig, hoping to find inspiration.

“Stop sulking in here and get back to work, I have to be out there in 5,” you say, turning around to give her a stern look. She scoffs at you and then stands up, walking out the door.

“Break a leg!” she shouts as she rounds the corner, leaving you alone once more.

You have to admit that you’re feeling nervous. You compiled a few originals to test out tonight with the crowd, hoping to get some excited reactions to some stuff that you planned to include in your record. You had a few classics in the setlist too, including your favorite arrangements of Misty and Lullaby of Birdland, to make sure that the crowd doesn’t get too lost. But you hope that you’re new stuff will keep them captivated.

You take a deep breath, brushing your hands down your dress a few times to straighten it out and taking one last look in the mirror before exiting the dressing room and heading toward the stage. You hear Seb announce your name as you turn the corner and stride onto the stage, flashing a quick smile at the crowd before sitting down at the piano.

The crowd hushed as your fingers plinked out the first few notes, and then you started your first piece. Your hands glided across the keys with ease as you closed your eyes, getting lost in the music. Your first original piece went off without a hitch, the crowd cheering loudly at your extensive solo. They were enraptured by the covers you chose and your confidence was truly shining brightly off of you.

The set ended as quickly as it began and the club erupts in applause as you played the last note and stood up to take a bow. You look out into the crowd and see your friends back at the bar, flashing them a wide smile. Your eyes pan across the rest of the room, seeing all of the people cheering for you. This was what you were made for, you were sure of it. This is what you’re meant to do.

As your eyes stop at the back corner of the room, your expression quickly drops when you see the group at the large booth. It was a group of men from a band that you were very familiar with, bumping elbows at all the music venues in Nashville. It wasn’t the band specifically that you had a problem with, but just one specific man who always gave you trouble. Sam Kiszka.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, flashing one more smile at the crowd before rushing backstage to your dressing room. You were so not in the mood for his antics tonight, not after putting on such a good show. The rest of his brothers, you could deal with, but not him. You refuse to let him tear down the confidence in yourself that you only just built up.

You grabbed your things in your dressing room and then hurried back out to the bar, needing to get a refill on your drink before even attempting to socialize with anybody.

“Seb– another, please. Pour it heavy,” you lament, resting your elbows on the bar and putting your head in your hands. You hear him chuckle as he starts your drink and you let out a low groan.

“I take it you saw them, then?” Lucy said, leaning against the bar next to you. You nodded as your head still sat in your hands, not bothering to look up at her. “Y/N, they’re really not that bad, I don’t understand what your problem is.” Your head shot up and you glared at her frustratedly.

“Not that bad? Sam takes every opportunity he can to belittle my music and talent every time I see him,” you scoffed, taking your drink from Seb and taking a long sip. “And when he’s not berating me, he’s trying to get in my pants.” Lucy rolls her eyes, stepping behind the bar to grab some drinks and put them on her tray.

“As if I’d ever stoop that low. That man’s been in bed with every single woman in Nashville. Probably even taken women, too!” you ranted, crossing your arms and taking another sip.

“Just ignore him, babe. I know the rest of them would like to see you,” Lucy said, lifting the tray to rest on her shoulder. “These are their drinks. Just come with me.”

She walks away with the tray toward the other side of the club to find their table. You linger for a moment and then let out an annoyed groan, throwing back another sip before reluctantly following behind her.

You followed Lucy with your head down, trying not to look too eager or willing to go with her. As you approached the table, Josh was the first one to catch a glimpse of you, a toothy smile growing across his face.

“There she is, the woman of the hour,” Josh remarks, opening his arms wide to pull you in for a hug. You accept, squeezing him tightly before pulling away. You smiled shyly as the others greeted you as well, except Sam, of course. He was distracted, seemingly complimenting the top Lucy had on. Barf.

She’d already been there, done that, which isn’t exactly surprising. Your best friend always had an affinity for one-night stands, never really wanting to settle down or get too serious. You never cared at all, until she told you one morning that she went home with Sam after a show one night. She promised that she didn’t plan to do it again, claiming she used him just as much as he used her, and you left it at that.

She kept her word, never going home with him again, but that didn’t stop him from flirting with her every time he came in here. You rolled your eyes as you watched him glance down at her cleavage subtly, but not subtle enough for you not to notice. He finally notices you standing there, turning toward you with a smirk. Here we go.

“Y/N… that was quite the set,” Sam said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall next to their booth. Josh and Jake excuse themselves to go outside for a smoke, and Danny takes a seat back in the booth, scrolling on his phone. Alone, great.

“Thanks, I think,” you say sarcastically, taking a sip of your drink as you look up at him suspiciously. You didn’t trust that look on his face one bit, and you were determined to find out what he was up to.

“Oh, that wasn’t a compliment,” he said smugly. “If you’re gonna arrange music, at least write a song where the chord progressions actually make sense together.” He raises his beer bottle to his lips and tips his head back to take a sip. You scoff at him, trying to take a deep breath before you blow this entire thing out of proportion.

“Samuel, you wouldn’t know a good arrangement even if it hit you in your smug face,” you bit out, still doing your best to hold yourself back. You swing back the rest of your drink, letting the cold ice hit your lips before slamming it down on the table next to you. “It was a B flat and E flat blues. Who crowned you the king of jazz composition?”

His smirk grew wider across his face as his back left the wall and he began to tower over you. You sucked in a deep breath, wondering if you should've just kept your mouth shut, but frankly you didn’t care. His long hair frames his face as he looks down on you, his eyes dark and cold.

“I did,” he answered, his face growing uncomfortably close to yours. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.” His tongue skims his bottom lip as his eyes bore into yours. No. No. He is not gonna win this round.

“Is that why you enjoy bothering me so much?” you asked, keeping your eyes locked on his, insistent on not backing down. His lips turn upward into a smug smile as he leans back away from you, placing his back on the wall once more.

“Maybe. Or maybe I just think it’s fun,” he answers, smirking down at you.

“You’re such a fucking freak,” you scoff, crossing your arms. You notice a change in his eyes at your words, and you start to wonder if you took it too far.

“You’ve got no idea, sweetheart,” Sam says, stepping forward again to stand over you.

“Gross,” you mutter under your breath, looking up at him, trying to keep a straight face.

“Now, I don’t think you mean that,” Sam whispered, leaning down further to speak into your ear. “I think you like it, actually.”

“You wish,” you state, still maintaining eye contact. His mouth twitches and turns up into a smirk as one of his arms snakes around your waist.

“All that blushing you’re doing says otherwise, doll. Even in this dark club, you can’t hide it,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. Fuck.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirked. You watch silently as Sam puts his beer bottle down on the table and then reaches into the front pocket of his shirt, pulling out a lighter and a blunt. “C’mon Daniel, let’s go outside.”

Sam shoots you a wink before nodding his head in Danny’s direction and the two of them walk toward the front entrance. They pass the twins on their way out, who both turn to look at you with puzzled expressions as they sit down at the booth. You sit down next to Josh as you try to adjust the annoyed look that is so clearly plastered across your face.

“What the hell was that all about?” Jake asked, raising his eyebrow at you and taking a sip from his glass of whiskey sitting on the table. You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes, not even having an answer to give.

“The usual, of course. Can’t seem to leave me alone,” you muttered. The two of them let out a breathy laugh as Josh reaches over to put his arm around you.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about him, darling,” he offers, smoothing his fingers along your shoulder. “It’s all just show.”

“For it just being show, it sure does feel pretty insulting,” you say, fiddling with your fingers atop the table.

“You’ll adjust eventually,” Jake says. “We like havin’ you around, so don’t run off just yet.” A smile grows across your face at Jake’s subtle attempt at an olive branch.

“I’ll tough it out, I promise,” you answer. You suppose you can adjust to Sam’s antics to spend time with them. You could use all the friends in the industry as you could get.

“How long have you been playing piano?” Josh asks, taking a sip of his tequila soda.

“Oh, I started lessons when I was 6,” you answered with a smile.

“That’s sick, I started pretty young too,” Jake replies, resting his arms on the table. Bonding with successful musicians has been your dream and the fact that you’re getting along so well made you really happy.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard! Believe it or not, I am actually a bit of a fan of your band. Casually, of course,” you smile, trying to be chill about it. It wasn’t entirely a lie, you are just a casual fan, but you’ve definitely watched an interview or two as well, leading to you knowing more about them than you intended to.

“Oh, yeah? Which one of us is your favorite, huh?” Josh asks smugly, raising an eyebrow at you hopefully. God, the amount of testosterone in this room could be cut with a knife.

“Hmmm… Danny,” you jest, elbowing Josh softly. The three of you break out into laughter before you check your phone to see the time. 12:32 am. Yikes, it’s late.

“Well, I gotta head out, unfortunately,” you say, standing up from the booth. Before you had the chance to walk off, Josh stopped you.

“Hey, uh, we’re gonna be in the studio on Monday for a few hours to work on some new music… would you wanna stop by?” Josh asked, looking up at you hopefully. “It could be a cool way for you to get exposed to how the recording process works.”

“Oh, wow, that would be incredible!” you smiled. “That’s such a kind offer, thank you so much! I’ll definitely be there.”

“Perfect! I’ll text you the details,” he says with a smile, and you wave goodbye to them both and walk over to the bar to find Lucy.

“Ready to head out?” you ask, leaning over the bar toward her.

“Sure, let’s go!” she answers, turning around to grab her jacket and bag.

“God, I have so much to fill you in on…” you say as you walk out the door toward your apartment. You told her all about your brief run-in with Sam, and then Josh’s invitation to the studio as you walk down the street. She quite literally squeals when she hears the news.

“OH MY GOD, Y/N this could be it! This could be your big break!” she exclaimed as you turned the corner to the path to your building. “If you get in with their producers, this could really get you started! You have to make a good impression.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m freaking out! I really can’t screw this up,” you said as you turn the key in the door.

“You could never screw it up, babe. They’re gonna love you, I promise,” Lucy reassured you, hugging you tightly before branching off to her own bedroom.

All you had to do was get through the weekend, and then the day of your dreams will be all yours. Fuck, you don’t have anything prepared! As you shut the door to your bedroom, you rushed to sit down at your keyboard, turning it on. You pulled out your phone and opened the voice memos app, pressing start and then setting it down. You have to get a good demo down if you want to impress the producers at the studio and book a session there.

You spent all of Saturday and Sunday recording a few of your originals on your phone, taking dozens of takes to make sure each of them was perfect. This is it, it’s your moment.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

Your alarm goes off at 8 am, giving you two hours until you’re meant to meet Greta Van Fleet at the studio. Josh texted you yesterday with the time and address, emphasizing that you shouldn’t overthink it. He knew that you’d be freaking out, and he was right.

You’re hoping that a cool shower will wake you up and help you shake the nerves off. You get up out of bed, rub your eyes, and then grab your towel and walk out of your bedroom to the bathroom.

As the cold water hits your back, you start to think over the day that you have ahead of you. If everything goes the way you planned, then you might leave today with a record deal, or plans to meet up to make a deal. You appreciated Josh’s help so greatly, you really weren’t expecting it. He’s always been so kind to you, more so than the rest, but you figured that it was just the way he was. Now, it feels like he really has your back.

All you had to do was make it through today without any incidents with Sam. You hope that the other guys have already briefed him and told him to be on his best behavior, but you doubt that he’ll abide by that. You can hold your own, though, and you doubt that he’d pull something too obscene while working.

After drying off and getting ready to go, you find that you still have about 20 minutes until you need to leave. To pass the time, you sat down in your bed and opened up Instagram to scroll mindlessly for a little while until you had to drive downtown.

As you scroll down, your eye is caught by a post by The Nashville Fiddle, which is a local magazine. The Fiddle posts mostly about drama and celebrities, and you usually ignore everything they post, since you try not to give gossip the time of day. But this time, your eyes were stuck on their post, with a video of Sam Kiszka, belligerent and wasted outside of a club downtown Saturday night.

In the video, you can see Sam flirting with a girl outside of the club when a big, burly man comes up to him angrily. Clearly, this girl was taken, and her boyfriend was not happy. You can see Sam hollering back at him, getting in his face as he slurs his words before the man takes a large swing at him. Then, you see Danny show up behind him and pull him back, dragging him down the street, far away from the scene.

How could he be so stupid? Flirting with girls with boyfriends is bad enough, but it’s even worse to get into an argument and get caught on camera. He should know that he’s a public figure and that people can spread this kind of stuff around. What was he thinking?

You check the time and see that it’s about time to go, so you grab your tote, pick up your keys, and then head out the door. As you drive downtown, you take a few deep breaths. It’s not a big deal, you tell yourself. Everything will be fine.

Soon enough, you pull into a parking spot in front of the studio and put your car in park. 9:59 am. Just on time. You get out of the car, throw your keys into your bag, and then head toward the front door. After opening the door, you walked in and told the person at the front desk that you were meeting the band, and they directed you to the right studio.

As you enter the studio, you walk in to only find Danny sitting there. He looks up from his drum set and waves, standing up to greet you.

“Hey, Danny… where are the others?” you asked, hugging him and then taking a seat on a chair nearby. Danny lets out a long laugh, trying to compose himself before answering.

“Oh, they are never here on time. This is considered early,” he answers, smiling widely as he goes to sit back down at his set. “I wouldn’t expect any of them for at least another thirty minutes, if not longer.” You laugh along with him, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Ah, Josh should have told me! Now I feel embarrassed for being so early,” you say, looking down at your phone for the time. 10:11 am.

“Nah, he just can’t admit that he’s always chronically late. He’s in denial,” Danny jokes. “Do you want anything while we wait? There’s coffee and tea over there.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice actually,” you answered, standing up to walk over to the coffee cart. “I’ll be honest, I’m not much of a morning person.” Daniel laughs, standing up to walk over with you.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever met a jazz player that was,” he says with a smile. “I think it’s just part of your DNA.” You laugh, nodding your head in agreement.

“You might be right. It’s not our fault, we play at night!” you say, pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

“Sam’s the same way, y’know. Stays up ‘til ungodly hours of the night, and then doesn’t roll out of bed until after noon,” he notes, laughing to himself. You laugh awkwardly as you add cream to your cup, cringing at the possibility of having anything in common with Sam Kiszka.

Almost as if he read your mind, Sam walked through the door, sunglasses blocking the dark bags under his eyes. He’s clearly hungover, rubbing his temples as he waltzes over to the cart and grabs the pot of coffee, pouring it into his own cup.

“Rough weekend, Samuel?” you asked teasingly, having already read about his escapades from this weekend. You can see his eyes roll behind the tint of the sunglasses as he takes a sip of his black coffee.

“Don’t start with me today, sweetheart,” he mumbled, pouring more coffee into his cup to make up for what he already drank, and then walking over to the corner to sit down on the sofa. He puts his feet up on the cushions as he takes a sip and then lays his head back against the armrest.

“See what I mean?” Danny asks, laughing as he walks over to his set and starts playing on his own, seemingly practicing. The idea sends a shiver down your spine. Could you and Sam be more similar than you thought? No, no way, you thought to yourself.

Not long after, Josh and Jake walk through the door and things can finally start moving. Josh walks over to make a cup of tea and then takes a seat on a stool, taking a slow sip. You walk over to him, hoping that his usual cheery disposition would calm your nerves.

“Good morning, lovely,” Josh smiled, patting your shoulder softly. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” you answered nonchalantly with a shy smile.

“Good. We’re still waiting for our manager, Jodie, to arrive, so just hang tight,” he says, taking another sip of his tea.

“Hey, you know what? How about you play us something?” he asks excitedly, his eyes lighting up. “Could be a good way to wake us up, huh?”

Your eyes shoot open, looking around the room at the rest of the guys. Danny is nodding excitedly and Jake walks over to his guitar stand, picking up his Gibson SG and slinging it over his head. Sam isn’t paying attention, his sunglasses have come off and his eyes are shut as he reclines on the couch.

“Well, okay… I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you answered, walking over to Sam’s keyboard next to the drumset. You turn it on and adjust the settings, giving it a funkier sound before taking a deep breath and starting to play.

You decide to play Higher Ground, by Stevie Wonder, falling into the groove of the intro of the song as your fingers move across the keys. Danny’s face lights up as he listens closely to what you’re playing, then starts playing along. Jake follows suit, adding his guitar into the mix, and playing along with you. Of course, everyone knows Stevie Wonder, but being able to play with a band was just so cool to you.

People keep on learnin’

Soldiers keep on warnin’

World keep on turnin’

‘Cause it won’t be too long

Josh sings along, his voice fitting perfectly in the range of the song. The four of you are really grooving now, and it is so fun for you. It’s been years since you’ve played with others, and you loved it.

You watch as Sam lifts his head from the couch, opening his tired eyes to look over at you all. For a moment there, you almost think that he might be smiling, but you shake it off. You’re surprised to see him rise from the couch and walk over, grabbing his Rickenbacker off the stand and putting the strap over his head. Oh, he’s gonna play along…

Sam starts plucking his bass, along with the rest of the song. You knew that they’d all played in jazz bands before, and this song was a staple, but it surprised you how easy it was to join together and play. It was almost like you belonged there.

As you start a short piano solo, their manager walks through the door and sits down on the couch. She seems to nod at you to keep going, so you finish your solo and then end the song. You’re suddenly caught by surprise as Josh starts applauding, smiling widely as he walks over to you. He stands behind you, putting his hands firmly on your shoulders, squeezing them.

“You’re an incredible talent, Y/N, truly,” Josh remarked, smiling from ear to ear as he left your side and went to sit back down. You smile shyly and get up from the bench behind the piano to go sit down on the couch with Jodie. The rest of the guys start talking cacophonously as you start your conversation privately with her.

“It’s true, you’re really good,” she says honestly, reaching out to shake yours. “I’m Jodie, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Oh, you have? Thank you so much, it’s great to meet you. I assume it was Josh who told you about me, he’s the one who invited me today,” you answer, smiling shyly at the compliment.

“I first heard about you from Sam actually… he had a lot to say about your talent on the keys,” she says, catching you completely by surprise. Sam? Is she being serious right now?

“Did he now?... Interesting,” you replied, your tone feigning confidence. “Well, I’m honored to be here today. I’ve been meaning to finally get into a studio here in Nashville.”

“Yes, I heard from Josh that you plan on recording an album of original songs,” Jodie remarks. “I’m happy to have you here! Hopefully, we can get you to work a bit! Not to mention, it’s quite nice to have a bit more of a gender balance.” You laugh together for a moment before she gets up to greet the guys, going over the agenda for the session.

They go through a few new songs, trying to get it all down perfectly. You just sit and watch, absolutely mesmerized by watching the professionals work. You even escaped to the booth for a while to see the mechanics of the equipment, talking to some of the sound techs that work there. It was a really rewarding learning experience for you.

“Okay, that’s a wrap, guys! Good work today, we’ll be back here at the same time on Friday,” Jodie says. “Sam, can you hang back for a sec?” She walks back over to sit next to you on the couch, nodding her head to motion for Sam to join you. Once she’s certain that everyone else has left the studio, she starts talking.

“So, I’ve had an idea. Just hear me out,” she started, somewhat apprehensively. “Y/N, I was thinking about how highly the guys speak about you, and how much untapped talent you have.” Okay… this is getting weird.

“And Sam, I’ve been thinking about ways to improve your public image and get you out of your rut,” she finished, trailing off as she saw Sam’s annoyed expression.

“Okay, first of all, I am not in a rut,” he said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms as he leaned back on the couch.

“That’s not the point,” she snapped back. “My point is that I think I might have thought of a way to solve all of our problems.” You raise your eyebrow at her, still not really understanding what she’s getting at.

“What could possibly solve both of our problems?” you ask suspiciously.

“Like I said, just hear me out…” she says, but Sam interrupts her.

“Jodie, just spit it out already,” he groaned, growing frustrated.

“I think you guys should pretend to date!” she finally spat out, looking nervously at your reactions. Your jaw dropped as she finished her sentence, unsure that you even heard her right. Sam, however, already shot up out of his seat and stood angrily above you both.

“No, fuck no, absolutely not. This is ridiculous,” he starts ranting, but she cuts him off.

“Just listen to me, Sam. You’d improve your reputation by having a charismatic and talented girlfriend, the fans would love her! And Y/N, you’d gain followers and fans for your music career, and our label can get you started in our studio. Boom, both problems are fixed.”

“No! How could I even pretend to be interested in him? It’s impossible,” you complained.

“Woah, okay, try not to sound too disgusted,” Sam said, crossing his arms with a scoff.

“Don’t act like you didn’t react the exact same way, you asshole,” you scoff, staring daggers into him.

“Whatever, it’s not the same thing,” he spits back.

“Whatever, this isn’t productive,” you admit, crossing your arms in your seat.

“Exactly. It won’t even be that bad. Besides, you’re both benefiting here! It’s perfect,” Jodie says proudly.

“Well, I don’t know about perfect, but I guess it does kind of make sense…” you muttered, looking up at Sam nervously. He raised an eyebrow at you, walking toward you.

“You want to be my fake girlfriend, Y/N?” he teased. You roll your eyes and stand up to be more level with him, hating him towering over you.

“Shut up, Sam,” you replied, a hint of pink tinting your cheeks as your eyes locked on his.

“So? You guys are in?” Jodie asked hopefully. You and Sam exchange a look, then look back at her and nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re in,” Sam answered, looking over at you with a smirk before walking toward the door. “Now, are we done here? I’ve got places to be.” You roll your eyes and reach down to grab your bag.

“We’re done here, go,” you mutter, slinging your bag over your arm. Sam walks out the door as quickly as he had came in, and you follow soon after him.

As you drive back home from the studio, you think about all of the day’s events. You almost can’t even believe that you agreed to be Sam’s girlfriend, fake or not. But you have to admit that it’s going to be great for your career, this is exactly the big break you need. You feel confident that her choice to ask you was based on your talent, so the unconventional means of gaining popularity didn’t bother you.

It kind of excited you to be included with such a famous rock band like theirs– going on tour, going to the studio, seeing the magic happen. Having to spend time with Sam was just the price you had to pay to jumpstart your music career and get into the music industry. You’re not sure what type of a commitment this arrangement is going to entail for you, but you’re honestly kind of looking forward to it. You have to admit that “Rockstar’s Girlfriend” kind of has a ring to it.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

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