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reiderwriter · 1 month

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I'm Your Fluffer!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader (best friends to lovers)

For @imagining-in-the-margins FWB Challenge!

Prompt: "I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." "Do you want the benefits?" "Yes- No... I'm your fluffer!" (Inspired by New Girl) (yes, I suggested this prompt, bo idc if that's cheating)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, choking, mentions of spanking, and butt worship, slight Dom Spencer, bratty reader, creampie. The classics, yk.

A/N: I'm back!!!! I took a break because I couldn't bring myself to even look at a word document for about a month, but there's nothing like a Pom challenge to get me writing again! I did have a lot planned for my 1 year anniversary, but because I was sick, and then busy, and then work got hectic, I had to put it off. I still am going to try to finish my kink bingo Carr, though, even though its a month late, but I had two fics left iirc, and I have both of them plotted, so I may as well! I will, however, be abandoning the final epilogue of I Can't Help Myself, because I wrote myself into a depressed corner with that one, and honestly, some people were getting very pushy about it, and it wasn't fun anymore. Anyway! This one was fun to write, so I'm going to stick to one shots for the foreseeable future, or incredibly limited series.

Masterlist

Spencer was your friend. A good friend. Your best friend, perhaps. A really good, very best friend.

Obviously, you were good friends because he always knew when you were feeling down. He bought you flowers regularly when he passed by flower shops. He came over to your place and helped you build every piece of flatpack furniture you had, which, as a single woman in your mid-twenties, was every piece of furniture that you owned.

You really looked forward to the movie nights the two of you had weekly. The popcorn, the blankets, the cuddling, his lips by your ear, in-time translating the foreign movies word for word as you watched it, the shivers down your spine as you pressed further into the heat of him.

Spencer was the best best friend you could ask for.

He was also the most frustrated.

“Kid, what are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking of hitting some clubs, you know, getting my groove on, maybe meeting A few ladies,” Morgan smirked, rubbing his hands together as he gently moved side to side, already dancing to himself as he anticipated his big weekend out. “You in, or are you in?”

“I can't. I promised Y/N I'd help her with some document digitalisation. We're going to order pizza and watch Star Trek while backing up her entire paper trail.”

The smile on Spencer's face was so stupid that Morgan had to stop himself from wiping it off of him immediately.

“Man, you are so down bad for that girl,” he mused, shaking his head.

“What? Down bad?”

“You like her. It's okay to admit it.”

“We're friends. I'm happy being friends,” Spencer said, picking up his bag and walking to the elevator desperate to escape a repeat of a conversation he'd already had three times that week.

“You know everyone thinks you're dating.”

“Well aware. Despite the number of times we've both stated to the contrary, people don't seem to accept ‘we're just friends’ when they hear it.”

“That may be because you're doing things that just friends don't do.”

“Everything we do is totally platonic.”

“You buy her flowers-

“I buy my mother flowers,” Spencer said, turning on the man and raising his hands in exasperation.

“You know that's different. Do you buy Emily flowers?”

Silence.

“What about JJ?”

“I bought JJ flowers!” He grinned triumphantly until the other man spoke again.

“When she was in the hospital. Giving birth. Okay, what about the movie nights?”

Rolling his eyes, the younger man walked on, pressing the bell for the elevator and allowing his friend to keep bothering him.

“Friends watch movies together, Morgan. We've watched movies together, are we dating?”

“One, you are not my type, pretty boy, and two, you didn't exactly have your dick pressed against my ass the entire time we watched a film now, did you?”

“Be q- be quiet. I don't have my dick against her ass ever.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, was it pressed against her stomach instead? I know she likes to lie on top of-”

“Derek!”

The elevator arrived, and the two quickly jumped in, to Spencer's relief.

“All I'm saying, kid, is-”

“Hold the elevator!” You shouted, running to it quickly with Penelope Garcia on your heels.

“Thanks, Spence!” You said, smiling at him as you entered the small space.

And continued your not too unsimilar conversation with Penelope.

“So, as I was saying Penelope,” you shot her a look that told her you were finished with the conversation. You were not dating Spencer Reid, and you were unlikely to in the future because of his total and complete lack of interest in you.

“You can set me up this weekend, right? It's been an age since I've been on a date, and I would really like to-” you glanced around the elevator and whispered the end of your sentence, suddenly mindful of your company. “You know.”

“If you're absolutely sure, I have a few men in mind that could throw you about, but-”

You squealed and squeezed the woman as the elevator landed on your floor and jumped out of the elevator quickly, cheeks burning.

“Thanks, Pen, you're the best!”

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer called out behind you, desperately holding the elevator open for a few more seconds.

“I thought we were doing your papers this weekend? Star trek, pizza, remember?”

You stared guiltily at the floor as you forced your voice to sound as casual as possible, not sure you could make any excuse that didn't sound pathetic.

“Oh, sorry, Spencer. I totally forgot. We can rain check, right? I… I really need this.”

Spencer was aware of what disappointment felt like, but it never hollowed out his chest like your lack of eye contact in that moment did.

“Yeah. Sure, of course. We can do that whenever.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Spencer. You're the best… friend.”

He smiled and let the door finally shut, aware of the two sets of eyes now watching him.

It took a surprisingly long time for the ‘I told you so’ to come, but come it did, as if Morgan were unable to help himself.

“You're telling me that you're not into her at all?”

“I'm…not into her like that at all.”

“And you're fine with me setting her up on a date with a man that'll do somewhat empowering, somewhat disgusting things with her?” Penelope piled on.

“What? That's…that's not my business,” he ground out.

“No. Of course it’s not. Because you're not her boyfriend.”

“Exactly, I'm not her boyfriend-”

“You're her fluffer.”

With a pat on the shoulder, the elevator hit its last stop, and Morgan exited, leaving Spencer scrambling after him as Penelope waved the two of them off.

“What? No, what's a fluffer?”

Morgan chuckled and waved him off, walking to his car.

“Come on, what's a fluffer, and why am I hers?”

“You've seen porn before, right?” The older man asked, pausing as he opened his driver side door. “Actually don't answer that. The fluffer is the person who keeps the actors and actresses… ready between takes. Prepares them for the good stuff.”

With a bright flush across his cheeks, Spencer tried his best for an indignant look, landing somewhat closer to a petulant child.

“I am not her fluffer. We have never-”

“I know you've never. If you had, we wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation. What I'm saying is you should.”

“We're friends!”

Climbing into the car and closing the door, Morgan dismissed the younger man quickly, but he wasn't finished.

Knocking on the door, Spencer waiting a beat, then two for it to open again.

“I'm not her fluffer.”

“You build her furniture and cuddle with her. You're doing everything a boyfriend would do, without any of the boyfriend rewards.”

“What rewards?” he gasped, exasperated.

A single look was all the reply he got before Morgan out his keys into the ignition and started driving.

Spencer never made the decision to turn up at your house later that night. He just found himself all of a sudden at your front door on a Friday night, pulling out the key from the plant pot by the front door and letting himself in. Unlocking his shoes, he called out through the apartment, letting you know he was there as he slipped into the house shoes you'd bought him after the first of many movie nights.

“Spencer? We cancelled earlier, remember?” you said emerging from your bedroom, fitted in the tightest dress he'd ever seen you in. He already had no answer for your question, but seeing you like that, getting ready, he had no answer to any question at all. If you'd have asked him his name, he wouldn't have known it.

Well, he would've, but only because you'd said it only three seconds ago and had reminded him that he was, in fact, standing in your apartment when he should've been literally anywhere else.

“Um. I'm…I'm just-” he scratched the back of his neck, waiting for something to come to him.

“Spencer, I'm leaving in like an hour, so there's no time to watch a movie, and I have to get ready, so-”

“I'm… I'm angry?”

You raised an eyebrow at his questioning tone, unsure where this conversation was going.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah..yes. I'm sure. I'm angry. We, we had plans, and you gave me like an hours notice and cancelled them to go do something stupid-”

“Spencer! I'm going on a date. That's not stupid.”

“It is when you have me!”

He half shouted, half murmured the words, as if he himself were unsure of how confident he was in making that statement.

“That came out wrong-”

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“What I mean is- I mean…Morgan said that-”

You crossed your arms and sat yourself on the arm of your sofa, looking forward at him and waiting for him to get through whatever this was. You hoped the entire time that he was saying what you'd wanted him to say for the last year and a half.

“Have you ever watched porn?”

Not what you were hoping for, but a start, at least.

“Spencer!”

“That came out wrong, I- don't throw the couch cushions at me. I have a point, I swear!”

You lowered your next projectile and gestured for him to go on, not fully relinquishing it just yet.

“I'm your fluffer! I get you…in the mood for dates, and- and- I do all the boyfriend stuff without any of the boyfriend benefits!”

He stood in front of you, red-faced, and you stared him down a second or two as you collected your thoughts.

“Do you…want the boyfriend benefits?”

“Yes! No, wait - wait a second. I- I- What are the boyfriend benefits exactly?”

You threw the pillow down and turned your back on him, not entirely sure what you were expecting from the most oblivious genius on the planet.

“Y/N, wait. Wait-”

With a hand wrapped around your wrist, Spencer spun you around, and, tripping over your feet, you landed hard on your sofa. Your fall should've been relatively pain-free, but for the 6-foot man that landed directly on top of you.

“Get up.”

“What are the boyfriend benefits?”

“You should know if you're saying you want them! Now, get up!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Spencer!”

“Y/N!”

You groaned and writhed under him, but he just dropped his weight onto you, unmoving, hands pinning your wrists lazily, leg poking between your two, hips pinning yours.

It certainly wasn't the closest you'd ever been, but in those circumstances, during that conversation, you felt more flustered than you had before.

“What are the benefits.”

“You really want me to say? You're not afraid it's going to throw off our friendship, ruin whatever good thing we have going?”

“I think that if you go out tonight, and enjoy your date, and get a boyfriend, that he's going to feel weird about this good thing we have going and it's going to be over anyway. Tell me.”

You desperately searched for a way out of this situation, but a stronger part of you wanted to simply wrap your legs around him and let him take as much advantage as he could.

You settled for disturbing him.

“Fine. A boyfriend would be able to spank me.”

“Y/N, be serious.”

“I am. I like it. A boyfriend would pull my hair back and make me count as he hit my cute round ass until it turned all red, and I couldn't sit down comfortably anymore. A boyfriend would then kiss it better.”

You'd never spoken about sex with Spencer, and you hoped the vulgarity would force him back to his senses. Instead, he didn't stir, and you had no choice but to continue.

“Another boyfriend benefit would be choking me. I like that, too. Are your hands big enough to wrap around my throat, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly and do confidently, you weren't sure you actually heard it outlook until he spoke again.

“What other benefits, Y/N?”

“A… boyfriend would get to cum inside me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of hips rocking into yours slowly as his cock poked up, listening intently to the promises spilling from your lips that you likely should've regretted.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want the benefits.”

Your body was hot everywhere he touched you, but he didn't move, didn't follow through on anything just yet. But you were aware of his head moving closer and closer to yours and panicked.

“And what have you done? As my fluffer? To deserve those benefits?”

“What have I done?” He asked, pulling back an inch. Even as his chest rested, flush against yours, your breasts pushed up against him as his hands held yours over your head.

“I-I bought you flowers-”

“Emily buys me flowers, too. So does Penelope. Should I let them be my boyfriend?”

With your hands in use, you took advantage of his distraction and wrapped your legs up and around his waist, rolling your hips up into him.

“I suppose I do like flowers, though. What else?”

“I… We're always t-together?”

“We work together.”

Using the leverage of his weight against yours, you rolled up harder into his hips, grinding into him slowly as you watched his resolve melt away.

“The m-movie nights are-”

“The movie nights where you rut your cock into me while we watch a movie? Friends do that all the time. You're just translating the movie for me after all.”

“Y/N, please don't-”

“Don't say that? Okay. I'll just let someone else hump against my thighs to get off because you're too proud to admit you want to sink your dick into me and pound me?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe that's why you don't have the boyfriend privileges, Spencer. Because I'm waiting for something, you're too much of a prude to try-”

His lips meet yours before you can finish the thought, and you're not sure whether it's a triumph or a defeat.

After precisely five seconds of his lips on yours, though, you no longer cared.

Releasing your hands gently, he lifted his hips an inch, distracting you enough to force his tongue into your mouth as his hand found its way between your legs.

“Did you really mean it?” He asked between kisses as you rake your hands through his hair, getting lost in him. “About the benefits?”

You allowed yourself to imagine it for a second, Spencer's hands on your throat. His hands on your ass. His mouth buried between your legs.

You moaned into his kiss, and he laughed - actually laughed - as he pulled away.

“Spencer!”

“No, no, please, don't let me keep you from your thoughts, I'll just be down here.”

His fingers reached your clit and he wasn't surprised to find you already wet, legs spread. Snaking another hand to your neck though, he wasn't exactly as opposed to the ideas you'd flung at him as he'd acted.

You gasped as his hand closed around your neck, the prettiest necklace you'd ever worn. You grabbed a hold of his hands as he pulled your underwear off, pushing them down your legs as he gently pushed your legs open wider and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You curled up on yourself, craving your body to watch him devour your pussy as you tried your best to keep your breaths shallow, to keep breathing entirely as he squeezed your throat.

His tongue licked and flattened, his head bobbing up and down and then stilling as your hips began moving by themselves, letting you ride his face as you moaned and whined and desperately ran towards your climax.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulder, pressing down on his back to keep him in position, grabbing a handful of hair as you jerked against his face, fucking it as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, drinking down every drop of you.

His hold on your neck tightened, and you felt your body shudder as you squeaked out his name, not wanting this to end so soon, needing to feel more of this. He let you ride it out until you were whining in frustration again, hips twitching from the friction of his tongue against your cunt.

Then he pushed away.

He wasn't gone long, but you followed him up. You thought about pushing him down to the couch again, thought about sitting on his pretty boy face and doing it all over again. You thought of turning over and presenting your ass to him, letting him punish you like you'd promised. Your thoughts ceased as quickly as they came when he pulled his cock free of his pants, not even bothering to pull them off fully before pulling you into his lap, lining himself up, and pushing you down onto his hot, hard, lengthy cock.

You swear you would've screamed if his to guess hadn't already claimed your mouth. A good scream. A “holy shit holy shit holy shit” scream. Definitely a “I didn't know it was that big, and honestly I'm a little scared” scream. But overall, a “god that feels so good” scream.

From the lack of movement, you were sure that Spencer was giving you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, and you were thankful as you clung to his neck, hands balling in the material of his shirt on his back.

Although he was bigger than expected, he wasn't uncomfortably large, and you calmed quickly, giving him a quick nod as you buried yourself in his neck, hiding your face to stop yourself from drooling, mouth wide as he tipped you back against the couch pillows, lifting your legs slightly and slipping his hands underneath yous thighs, and began his steady pace of thrusts.

You were sure your world was imploding on itself, that all your senses had ceased except that of touch, and his touch was fire. But you heard the wet, slutty sounds of your pussy welcoming him, you smelt the sweat against his skin, and, opening your eyes, you saw the absolute pleasure blasted against his features as he groaned in your ear.

And before you could form another coherent thought, he'd claimed another boyfriend benefit, as, rocking his hips against yours, he slowed to a stutter as he emptied himself inside you.

“Spencer!!” you moaned, but he wasn't done, spitting on his fingers and finding your clit again as you squealed, twitching and turning and milling his cock with your movements as you found your second release.

You moaned his name again, though it sounded less like his name this time, and more like a definite noise complaint from your neighbours in the morning.

“Spencer?” you asked, still trying to regain your breath as he, once again, collapsed on top of you.

“Mhmm,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, watching the mess you'd made together drip out too, and resisting the urge to push right back into you and go again.

“Was that a friendly fuck, or a boyfriend fuck?”

His eyes snapped to yours again as you continued.

“I just want to give Penelope the correct reason for cancelling on her friend when I text her-”

“I came inside you.”

“So you did.”

“Y/N!”

“.... So that wasn't a fluffer thing, but a boyfriend thing, got i-”

With a kiss, he shut you up again, and you realized quickly that you probably wouldn't have the time to send that text anyway.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #dr spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x self insert

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cosmos-coma · 8 months

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My Sun, My Star

A/N: I'm so weak for Winter soldier Bucky. I cant wait to write more of him, I love this sad guilt ridden man.

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Reader

Words: 6756

Warnings: Breaking and entering, Minor violence, Injury and Blood, Winter soldier Bucky, GN reader but also Pregnant reader, mild language, I'm not sure if this is fluff or angst or both??

Summary: You wait up late for your boyfriend Bucky to return from his mission, but it isn't Bucky who finds you.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue | Bucky Masterlist

Like what I do? Consider buying me a Coffee!

________________

Your eyes blinked slowly, heavier with each passing second, yet you still managed to open them once again. Glancing at the bright white numbers of the digital clock you watched it change to 1:46 AM, causing a groan to pull from your lips. Bucky was supposed to be back tonight (yesterday technically) from his latest mission, but he still had yet to show up at your shared flat.

You checked your phone again, the lack of notifications mocking your tired eyes. You let out one more sigh before you turned off the mindless babbling of the TV and stood up to get ready for bed. You were sure Bucky wouldn’t want you waiting up so late in your current condition anyway, he had been harping you about getting enough sleep and water and everything in between.

“I’m only four months pregnant, Bucky. I’m fully capable of staying up late” You had said to him.

“Five months, Doll, and it’s about your cortisol levels. It’s not good for you or the baby, and it could lead to them being underweight” he said, reciting exactly what the doctor had told him during your last checkup.

“Four and a half,” you argued as you stuck your tongue out at him, “and she was talking about getting chased by a bear kind of stress, not staying up to watch Bake Off.”

You snorted at the memory of just earlier that week, a small smile coming to your face as you went through your nightly routine. You continued to check your phone here and there as you went, “Did you get back safe? How’d your mission go?” you had texted two hours ago, yet it still remained unread and unanswered.

‘Maybe one more quick text wouldn’t hurt,’ you thought to yourself as you typed out the simple message and hit send.

“Stay safe, okay? I love you.”

You sighed as you set the phone down, “it’s okay, everything is okay,” you assured yourself as you pulled one of his large hoodies over your head, enjoying the way the hem brushed against your bare thighs and the sleeves threatened to swallow your hands. “He’s a former assassin and a super soldier! Nothing is going to happen that he can’t handle,” You stated firmly to your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes remained unsure despite your voice’s conviction, but you did your best to ignore it, focusing instead on the achingly tired look they held.

“Yes, I know. It’s finally time for bed, little one,” you mumbled sleepily as you felt your baby kick against the walls of your protruding belly, being quick to climb between the layers of blankets and lonesome sheets. “Fuck, that's cold…!” you swore quietly as your bare legs hit the icy fabric- having gone unwarmed by your personal space heater and super soldier.

Thankfully sleep came easily, the thought of waking up to Bucky’s sleepy, scruffy face only further urged your body to wind down so the moment would come sooner.

----

Bucky’s phone buzzed again in his bag, lighting up with your smiling face as your text displayed on the screen, but nobody reached down to check it, as everyone found themselves in a far more urgent situation.

“Keep him busy, Rodgers! I just need one more minute!” Tony yelled as he dug through the equipment in the quinjet, “For fuck’s sake, who organized this last?”

“What do you think I’m doing…!” The blond grunted with a justified hint of frustration,” Sam? Any help??” He shouted with a pointed look, telling more than asking as he struggled to restrain his thrashing friend. A swift metal fist flew toward his already battered face, barely giving him time to duck out of the way and attempt to restrain it again.

“Honestly? Seems like you’ve got this one,” Sam said, holding up his hands.

“SAM.”

“I’m coming..! God, can’t either of you old men take a joke?”

No one knew exactly what happened, Bucky had gone off on his own in the Hydra base they were exploring. It was supposed to have been recently abandoned, something about the agents leaving in an urgent rush that left files upon files sitting out in the open. It was supposed to be a simple mission; everyone goes off in teams, gathers what they can, and makes sure there are no surprises. But Bucky assured them that he would be fine to go on his own, he hadn’t had a sign of relapse in over a year, and he would only be picking up what looked important. A simple job.

He should’ve listened.

It was when he didn’t return to the jet with the rest of them that they started to get worried.

“So, where’s the Manchurian candidate?” Tony jested, looking at his watch. They were supposed to leave maybe 10 minutes ago, not terribly late by any means, but enough to start getting worried about Bucky’s quietness over the coms.

“Man, come on.. ” Sam sighed at Tony’s joke as he crossed his arms.

“Bucky?” Steve tried calling over the coms, ignoring both of his teammates, but the line remained all too quiet.

They found him finally in the basement level of the office building, old discarded computers lining the walls along with cabinets upon cabinets of old files and other equipment. He hadn’t even realized it was a trap until he stepped right into it, triggering a switch that had the computers and hidden speakers flashing images and sounds that assaulted his senses with fragmented memories long forgotten.

He should have listened.

Sam had found him first, on his knees in the middle of the floor with hands desperately covering his ears, trying to block out the incessant noise. Hauling his teammate to his feet, he rushed back to the jet, calling everyone off from their search before anything else could be sprung.

At first, they thought he might be fine- quiet, but fine. He had given them a small smile and a wave of his hand as everyone tried to check in with him, taking a seat as the jet took off to go home. It had all seemed relatively normal until they were halfway back and the unseen battle inside him must have taken a turn.

“Got it!” Tony yelled as he pulled out the dart gun, aiming quickly as he fired two shots into Bucky’s chest, readying a third as he waited and watched for the tranquilizers to finally take effect. It was slow as Bucky continued to struggle against the drug’s drain, his body and mind turning into slow-moving molasses. Low grunts emanated from his throat as the last of his strength ebbed away, leaving nothing but forced sleep in its wake.

“Was two really necessary?” Steve asked as his shoulders finally relaxed, the strain and worry now temporarily over.

Together they dragged the drugged-up assassin into the jet’s small quarantine area for the remainder of the trip, satisfied only when they heard the mechanical locks slide into place. It wasn’t much, and they knew that and if he really wanted to there would be no stopping him from getting out, but it was something- enough to give them a few seconds of preparation if nothing else.

“I’m not giving a super soldier only a single dose, you two metabolize things like this way too fast and I’m not taking any chances with the Tin man over there.”

Bucky- no, the Winter Soldier, seemed to still be out of it when they finally landed, sat up and leaning against the wall, head slumped forward just as they had left him.

“Alright, let's just get him into one of the holding rooms for the night. We’ll work on resetting him-” Tony lifted his hands as the two men glared in his direction, “- on ‘fixing him up’ as soon as he’s been secured.”

Sam shook his head as Tony corrected himself, taking notice of the lit-up phone in Bucky’s bag, buzzing with an only recently delivered message. Sam had quickly become one of your closest friends after you were introduced to the team. He was one of the few people Bucky trusted with his life and between his sarcastic jokes, his incredibly loyal nature, and his willingness to give Bucky shit whenever he deserved it, you knew very quickly how great a friend he would be.

But now his stomach twisted as he saw your name flash across the screen, the alert quickly minimizing itself as it joined the other messages you had sent that night. How was he gonna break this to you? The last thing you needed was a bunch of unnecessary stress on your shoulders, but it’s obvious you were beginning to worry over their late return. Sliding the phone back into its rightful place Sam told himself that he’d call you once they had things more figured out.

“Heart rate still seems to be resting. With any luck, he’ll remain knocked out until we get inside,” Tony relayed as he monitored the Soldier’s vitals and pressed the button to open the heavy quarantine doors.

The doors slid into their resting positions with a soft click.

As soon as that click landed on sensitive ears, vibrant blue eyes shot open. Sparing not even a second, the Winter Soldier surged forward from his seat, not nearly as far gone as he left them to believe. With the element of surprise, the Soldier easily knocked past his teammates, throwing his body weight against them and knocking Sam and Steve off balance, leaving him a good headstart as he dashed out the jet’s open door.

“Fuck, Bucky- Wait!,” Steve swore as he stumbled out behind him, having to use his super soldier speed just to keep pace. But between the settled darkness of the night, and the winding alleyways the brunette stuck to, Steve was left falling behind in no time. “Shit,” Steve swore as he slowed to a stop, looking around for any sign of his compromised friend.

However, the streets lay barren, the fluttering of moths in the streetlights the only sign of life on the entire block.

---

The heavy thud of his boots echoed against the alleyway’s pavement. He wasn't sure where exactly he was headed as his silhouette slunk between the warm light of the streetlamps, but part of him- a currently repressed part of him- knew that safety was bound to be just ahead.

His heart beat smoothly as he kept his pace, every other step falling in time as he rounded the corner. Blindly, he let himself be led by instinct and his feet maneuvered the city’s countless paths with a mind of their own. They slowed before a little apartment building and as those emotionless eyes looked up, he knew this was it.

The lateness of the hour had almost assured that no one was around as he slipped inside, footsteps padding up the stairs before stopping at the third floor. His heavy boots left nothing but wet prints in their wake as he wandered down the hall, impossibly silent, as even the notoriously creaky boards dared not announce his presence.

The closer he got, the more the back of his mind itched, as if something- someone- was begging him not to go any further, but he refused to listen; he knew this was where he was meant to be and where he would find what his body was so inexplicably drawn to.

With each step his head turned on a swivel, looking for the sense of safety and familiarity that the other half of him seemed to find here- and desperately wished he wouldn’t discover. Just as his foot was about to take another step he stopped. ‘No. Here.’ His gut told him, turning to the door.

His door.

Your door.

The former assassin bypassed the lock with ease, quickly slipping in before shutting the door behind him. A dim light illuminated the living room, the little lamp you left on for him casting its orange glow over his surroundings as he surveyed them.

A few mugs stand beside the sink, framed photos dot the wall and side tables, and a veritable nest of blankets lay across the couch. It was obvious someone had been here, and recently. A deep breath pulled into his lungs, causing his head to tilt to the side in contemplation as an unfamiliar scent hit his nose, something just as earthy as it was sweet and speckled with distant notes of… him?

“Hmmph”

His sensitive ears picked up the soft grunt from down the hall immediately. His shoulders squared and tensed as his body leaned into a defensive position. Cautious fingers pulled the knife from his boot, ready for whatever may come at him as he approached.

The sounds of soft breaths lead him to a door left ajar. Light just slipped past the curtains into the darkened room. Badum… Badum… Badum… a heartbeat pulsed in his ears as he took a step closer, leaving the door open and letting further light fall onto the source of the noise.

His wolfish gaze ran down your form as you lay there on your back, swallowed in the extra fabric of the old sweatshirt. Your hand rested casually over your stomach as your other one squished gently against your cheek. Your legs lay bare to the world after having kicked the overbearing sheets away, leaving just a glance of your underwear for him to take in.

“Mmph” You grunted again as you shifted, your face now turned to him as that earthy scent of yours gripped him like a vice and refused to let go.

Your sweet sleep became interrupted though- much to his dismay- as the phone on your nightstand began to light up and buzz incessantly. Still, as a statue he watched as you groaned, propping yourself up on your elbows as you went to check what your device could possibly want at this ungodly hour.

With one loose fist, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes away, blinking consciousness back into them until you saw Bucky’s illuminated figure before you, standing tall and quiet as he watched you intently.

“Bucky..?” You couldn’t hide the grin that spread across your face as you saw the familiar face of your lover lit up by the bright light of your phone screen. But the longer you looked the more you noticed.

His eyes were all wrong, his gaze was devoid, that’s the only way you could put it. Devoid of meaning and humanity, it seemed every gaze- every movement- was a means to an end. Empty… save for a flicker of fear; It was probably the only thing in those eyes right now that registered as human. The fear of someone who was lost, unknowing of their purpose, and confused as to why your gaze was made his cold heart falter.

His expression was flat and stoic, save for the knit of confusion that pulled his brows together. His stance was tense and prepared, the discrete knife still glittering in his hands as he took another step forward, his head slowly shaking in response to your question.

A gasp caught in your throat as you finally understood. Glancing at your phone you saw it was Sam who was calling, undoubtedly trying to tell you what you now already knew.

“Soldat…” You whispered, trying to hide the way his name sent shivers across your skin. Your phone went black then, as you didn’t pick up in time and you were left blind by the sudden darkness.

You and Bucky had talked about what to do if you found him like this, “You call Sam and Steve, Okay? You find a place to hide and you stay far away, no matter what you hear. There’s no reasoning with him,” He had told you.

So much for that

Your phone lit up again with Sam’s urgent call, its revealing light sending ice down your spine as you saw the man nearly standing over you now, just a hair’s breadth away.

Your hand rose slowly, shaking as you tested a reach for your phone, stopping dead in your tracks as he let out a disapproving grunt. Your head nodded slowly as you gulped, returning your hand to your stomach as you watched his gaze finally shift away.

With unbothered calmness, he looked toward your phone to see Sam’s face and name scrawled across your screen. Wordlessly he reached over and pressed the ‘decline call’ button, cutting the call short and leaving you two in perfect silence once more.

Panic began to rise in your throat as his gaze turned back toward you, darkened now only by the lack of light. With slow movements the Winter Soldier reached out, putting the knife away as he crouched down, as if trying to attract a skittish animal.

Your whole body tensed as his reach came closer, eyes screwing shut as you waited for the worst, “Please… Just don’t hurt her…” You whispered, fear and desperation rattling your voice, just as it did your anxiety-filled body.

But the pain never came. Instead, the cool touch of metal fingers ran down your cheek, barely denting your flesh as he relished in its softness. Your eyes peeked open cautiously, as his fingers moved along the slope of your jaw, tilting your head up as he came to your chin.

His eyes had changed, you noticed, instead of being a harsh blizzard, they had now settled into something more human, something warmer and… yearning?

“Soldat..?” You questioned as you watched his lips part, his senses focused only on the way your body reacted to his touch. You were sure he could hear the rapid pattering of your heart beneath your ribs, its pace only increasing as his fingers moved down your neck and to the exposed collarbone in your loose neckline.

“Красивый [Beautiful]...,” was all he could reply. It came out so soft you weren’t sure you heard it at first, it’s quiet reverence meant for your ears and your ears only. “Из-за тебя он чувствует себя здесь в безопасности...? Замки дерьмовые, видимость слишком высокая, но ты… [Are you why he feels safe here…? The locks are shit, the visibility is too high, but you…]” He continued, quiet and unbothered as if he assumed you couldn’t understand him.

“He’s been bugging me to get better locks all week…” you replied with a huff, quickly shutting up as his stare found your eyes again. Between Bucky’s ramblings in the night and Natasha’s tendency to only gossip in Russian, you had made an effort to learn it; You were still learning, and your pronunciation was shit, but your understanding had gotten far better.

“And you have a good ear…” He spoke in English this time, the vague hint of an amused smile pulling at the assassin’s stern lips. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever done that before. If that odd little smile had been seen by anyone else- anyone still living that is.

A breath of relief left you as your lips stretched to mimic his, the tension easing out of your body a little by little.

His metallic touch continued to linger, running down your covered chest until it settled on the waistband of your underwear, the cool metal trailing across your ticklish skin.

“Ah, wait, Sol-” You jumped at his touch, grabbing his wrist, despite knowing you wouldn’t have the strength to stop him if it’s what he wanted.

But instead of dipping his fingers lower, he simply tugged the oversized hoodie up, gathering it over your chest and exposing the firm baby bump concealed below. His head tilted to the side as he listened to the tiny heartbeat that fluttered in your belly as well as the thuds of its little movements against your skin. Slowly, still with that inkling of a smile, he turned to look at you, his hand hovering just above your vulnerable midsection as if awaiting permission.

Heat rose to your cheeks as you hesitated. On one hand, you felt a surprising amount of calm under the assassin's touch, his need for your approval only increasing your sense of security. But on the other hand, Bucky would never be able to live with himself if something happened to you or the baby, accident or not.

“Oh. I-”

CRASH.

You nearly jumped out of your skin as were cut short by the loud noise. The door to your apartment slammed open, surely breaking the hinges with the sheer force of it. Over a dozen heavy boots stormed into your apartment as the lights turned on, flooding your senses and forcing the Soldier’s attention elsewhere.

Your hand found his instantly, the heat of his calloused skin a comfort to you just the way Bucky’s was, especially as it squeezed around yours just the same. Sitting up properly now your sweatshirt swallowed your pregnant form once again and you peeked out to see just what was going on.

Through The Winter Soldier’s defensive stance in front of you, his knife is now drawn once more, you watched a small armed group, covered in black tactical gear raid your home, all guns pointing towards you- or more accurately- the former assassin attempting to shield you. You recognized the symbols on their vests as the team’s secondary security force, having even met a few of them over the years. But where was the rest of the team? Where was Sam, and Steve, and Tony?

“Step away from the civilian!” “Put your hands in the air!” “Sir, drop the knife!” They all shouted, overlapping with each other as each of them rushed out their demands.

“Don't shoot! It’s okay! It’s okay!” You rushed.

You tried to slip your hand from his, but he only held fast, “Soldat, please… It’s okay, just do what they say… They don’t want to hurt us. Please,” You urged, giving his hand a gentle squeeze,

His defenses faltered as he listened to you beg him to stand down. It wasn’t the usual begging he heard in his line of work, and coming from your lips had his walls cracking in an unprecedented way.

He shouldn’t have looked back at your eyes, wide and pleading, as they shook his walls further. Moving slowly he turned, kneeling before you despite the way the armed group yelled at him not to. You just held up your hand to them, pleading for them to be as gentle with him as he was with you.

“Мое солнце [My Sun]...” The warm flesh of his hand came up easily to cradle your face and a small smile pulled at him again as you leaned into his large palm. “Я только что нашел тебя. Я не потеряю тебя снова так быстро[I’ve only just found you. I will not lose you again so quickly]. ”

Your heart both swelled and pained for your Soldier. You looked into his eyes and saw a sense of certainty, a sense of knowing, you hadn’t seen from him earlier. “Oh… my soldier, my star,” Your fingers entwined with the hand holding your cheek, ”You can not lose me in any way that would last…” You whispered to him past the shouts, the commotion, and the tension, like you were the only two in the room.

“Sir, put the knife down!” A young squad member called again, his voice far more concerned than his superiors. You didn’t recognize him or his number and you figured he must’ve been new. His gun trembled in his hands as he shouted again, but as the Soldier failed to move and the kid’s finger unexpectedly twitched, there came a sudden-

BANG.

“Ah-!” Your face twisted with pain as you pulled away, “Fuck…!” Your hands instinctively grabbed your leg, clamping over the shooting pain in your calf that hit you- well- like a bullet.

You winced again as you pulled one of your hands back, the raw skin of your leg angrily letting you know that it did not like being brushed against. Warm, wet crimson covered your fingers as you looked down, becoming slightly dizzy at how much had already covered your palm. You were thankful it only seemed to be a graze, but the burn you already felt and knowing you were losing blood had your stomach lurching in uncomfortable ways.

Concern painted the assassin’s expression as you recoiled away from his doting touch, but as the unmistakable warm, metallic smell curled into his nose, his expression darkened dramatically. What was once kind, curious blue eyes now saw nothing but red as he caught sight of the wound slashing across your skin. His jaw set firmly, almost audibly grinding his teeth as he stood and turned to the young kid.

You looked back at the newcomer as you tried to breathe through the pain, the horrified look on his face telling you that he knew he was a dead man walking. His face went ghost white as the super soldier stalked toward him and through even worse trembling hands he raised his gun to shoot again.

“No…!”

A sickening thud rang out as the bullet hit the assassin square in his good shoulder, getting lodged in the muscly flesh. His shoulder jerked back at the force, but it wouldn’t stop his stride as he closed the gap. Another shot rang out, but with the solid vibranium arm now covering the barrel it did little to help this poor dumb kid. Snatching him by the neck, you watched as your assassin held him up until his feet kicked uselessly in the air.

Every gun immediately trained on him and with their proximity you knew they wouldn’t miss a fatal shot if it came to it.

“Stop! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! Soldier, put him down!” You yelled as you maneuvered towards the edge of the bed. “Please, don't shoot, I can fix this!” you continued, trying to convince yourself as much as you convinced them. Familiar voices joined in on your plea as Sam and Steve finally entered the picture, urgently trying to talk down both the Winter Soldier and the secondary security team.

“Bucky, It’s okay... Just put the kid down, alright?” Steve tried to reason with him, “He’s new, he doesn’t know what he’s doing yet.” Steve tried his best to stay calm and patient, but the young man was beginning to change colors now. “Bucky, put him down before you do something you can’t come back from.” But Bucky’s ears were deaf to the outside pleas and the Winter soldier refused to listen.

“Ah..!” You whimpered as you tried to stand and approach the commotion. The pain in your leg reached new heights as you tried to put weight on it, causing you to tumble to your knees almost immediately. You clutched your belly, hoping the sudden jostle wouldn’t upset the baby too much as you tried to get up again.

“Hold on, Y/n. Stay down for a minute so we can wrap your leg…” Sam asked of you, moving over to help as soon as he saw the blood on your hands, “You’re losing plenty already.”

“No, I have to…. I can’t let him get hurt,” you argued, pushing away his helpful hands as you tried to stand again. You heard the crashing thud and rushed voices as you shakily got to your feet, leaning all your weight on your good leg. As you looked up again you came eye to eye with worry-filled icy blues.

“Sol-”

“Мое солнце [My Sun]...” He interrupted, his metal arm snaking around your waist to pull you in possessively and away from those who threatened your safety. On the other side of the room, the nervous kid now coughed and wheezed for breath, but you were just happy to see he was still alive.

“Please just listen to them. You’re already hurt, don’t get yourself killed…” you pleaded, your hand barely brushing over his bleeding wound before pulling his hand to your rounded belly. He tried to keep his expression steady, but you saw the way his eyes widened slightly as he looked down. “She needs someone looking out for her and I can’t do this on my own. I can’t keep away all the dangers of the world…” Your forehead rested against his as you tried to shift your weight, whining as you gave up and moved back. You couldn’t deny that this part of Bucky was her father too, even if he had been hidden away for ages, she was still his too. Whether Bucky would see it the same way you weren’t sure, but right now you were just concerned with making sure he got out of this alive.

“I can’t do this without you…”

The silence felt deafening as he considered. He never had to think about other people relying on him, not like this. His orders had always been to leave no threats, to finish his job and move on, no matter the cost to him. But the pain in his soft, fleshy shoulder was getting harder to ignore. The way his blood-soaked shirt clung to his arm now climbed to the forefront of his mind as he watched your big eyes stare back at him, desperate to understand. He was between a rock and a hard place.

“I’ll be right beside you the whole time..” You assured him, “We both will, but please let everyone get us some help.”

A gentle nudge pushed against his palm as his thoughts swirled around him, snapping him back to a single line of thought and he knew then. Defeat laid heavy on his shoulders as they slumped, accepting what must be done., “Мое солнц [My Sun] …”, He said, “Если вы так хотите, то я не буду жаловаться [If it is what you wish, then I will not complain].”

You couldn’t tell just how long you had been holding the breath you let out, your muscles relaxing as he finally held his hands up. The security squad began coming forward with an array of cuffs, but it was Sam who stopped them this time, glancing back at you for confirmation as he assured them that they could take it from here. Despite the arguing and the hesitation, they seemed to relent, shifting their focus now to their injured colleague.

Both Sam and Steve looked tired but relieved as they turned to the two of you, bloody and pained in your current state. Though they weren’t quite better; both of them looked like they had been the unfortunate punching bag of a certain super soldier mere hours before. Sam had bruises lining his arms from where he was surely blocking blow after blow and Steve smiled a bit with his busted lip, dried blood still stuck in the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s get you two to the tower…”

----

The journey to the tower was quiet, your soldier never letting you out of arms reach as you all boarded the armored truck, and made your way up the tower and to the lab.

Doctors tried to treat the both of you, but as soon as anyone dared to come close your assassin was right there to growl them back. They’d hardly be able to get past his possessive hands even if they could manage to get close, his touch keeping you pulled beside him at all times.

“Soldat…” you warned him, but he was too preoccupied gathering the medical bag they had been dropped. Coming over to you, there was no warning as he scooped you up from the ground and set you on a table to get to work.

“Oh-!” You exclaimed as you held onto his strong shoulder, quickly getting plopped back down on the corner of the cold metal table. A shiver ran down your skin as you shifted against the sleek table, watching as practiced hands scoured through the medical bag, producing everything he needed as he went about fixing up your leg wordlessly.

You were beyond thankful for the haze of the (baby-safe) painkillers as his fingers slid over the raw flesh. Despite the gentle numbing of the painkiller your fingers still lay tangled in his hair as he worked, only tugging in discomfort as the gauze wrapped tightly around your leg.

"Thank you..” You said when he finally finished, moving back to appreciate his work before giving it a satisfactory nod. His eyes had grown distant again, bits of confusion and uncertainty swirling in the storm of his eyes, and you reached out to stroke your thumb across his cheek. His stony cool expression remained as you touched him, his mouth staying a firm line as he instinctively leaned into your palm. You watched him for a moment before you continued, knowing that his thoughts must be far away.

“It's your turn now, big guy.... your shoulder is still seeping and you can’t keep losing blood like this," You urged him just as you had on the ride to the tower. He had refused to listen then, letting nothing else occupy his mind until he knew you were fully taken care of. But now as you sit safely before him, the only looming threats being Sam and Steve who seem to haunt the hallway outside, he finally relented.

You moved to stand, needing the angle to effectively dig out the bullet still lodged in his muscles, but he held you still with a single large hand on your shoulder, "Stay," he urged you with that low rumble of his. His eyes lingered on yours, ensuring you would do as he asked before he began to move again, gathering the supplies you would need.

He slid his bloody shirt off, revealing the weeping wound beneath and the scars of many wounds past. You expected him to stand in front of you, maybe sit so you could take care of him, but that didn’t seem to be the important thing right now.

He climbed up onto the cold table where you sat, curling onto his side with his back facing the door so his wounded shoulder sat closest to you. His head lay in your lap with a look of unmatched serenity as he pressed his forehead against your rounded belly. And there he rested, quiet and unmoving as he took his quiet moment. But he was far too exposed like this, far too trusting of “threats” lurking outside, and he almost reminded you of Bucky again. Was Bucky fighting to come back…? Was the Winter Soldier trusting you to watch his back? … or was he accepting of something you weren't sure he knew yet?

"Are you sure? It's going to be harder to take the bullet out this way. I don’t want to hurt you more than I have to," you tried to explain as you pulled out the forceps.

But he simply shook his head, "I know my time here is short, my Sun..." he said with an even tone, no semblance of fear to shake his voice, "Please let me enjoy it like this…."

Your voice caught in your throat as he answered, his blunt acceptance and knowing catching you off guard. You wished beyond anything that you could soothe him, to tell him no one was going to hurt him or take him away again. But you wouldn’t lie to him, so instead you said nothing, Your words rasping as you replied, "Of course, My star…."

The room was quiet as you worked, the only noise the sweet mumblings from your boyfriend's lips as he filled your baby’s ears with loving promises. His body let out a grunt and a soft squelch as you finally tugged the crushed bullet out. Pain creased his brow but his words never faltered and neither did the nudges or kicks he got in reply.

Carefully you cleaned up the blood, packing the wound as best you could, but you were sure Tony and his team would be redoing it soon nonetheless.

A sigh escaped him as he heard you putting away your tools, "My Sun?" he asked.

"Yes?"

“Is it time…?”

You cast your eyes downward, looking into those confused and swirling blues as they watched you with unbridled hope.

You nodded, wiping away the tears that welled in your eyes, “It’s time…” you whispered.

He nodded, thinking quietly as he looked down at your belly again, his hand smoothing over the skin he’s exposed, “Will I see you two again…?”

Your heart broke at the slight waver in his voice, “Oh, my star…” you said, resting your palm against his cheek, “It’s just like I said, ‘you can not lose me in any way that would last’. I’ll see you again and again, in this life and the next,” you assured as you leaned down to kiss his temple, a small smile forming at the corners of his lips. Tears blinked from your eyes as you continued, “I don’t know when, or for how long, but you will see us again. You can always come home to me, and I will always be there to welcome you.” You leaned, slow as not to scare him, and kissed him gently as he turned again to look at you.

It was awkward at first, but you didn’t mind, you couldn’t imagine the last time the Winter Soldier had felt such gentleness, let alone a kiss.

But the moment was ripped away as the door opened, Steve, Sam, and Tony all standing in the doorway. “We’re ready for him,” Tony said simply, “Let's get this started so my lab techs can go home….”

-----

You watched behind thick glass as Tony and his team of technicians attached various wires and machinery to Bucky’s body. Sam and Steve’s hands lie on your shoulders, trying to comfort you as you watch them finish tuning and placing everything. You watched as his blue eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling, as still as a statue as he let them do their work.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to watch this…” Steve tried to comfort you, but you only shook your head.

“No… I promised I’d see him off,” you replied, then thought with a pause, “Despite all the warnings Bucky gave me I’m happy I got to see him face to face…”

“Well, it helps that he wasn’t trying to beat the shit out of you…” Sam mumbled, getting an immediate nudge from you right in one of his bruises, “ Ow…okay, point taken.”

You smiled and shook your head. It was true though; despite the fear, blood, and death that dripped from his moniker, despite the pain you endured in his presence, you would do it all again. Bucky had hidden this part of him from you for so long, only ever showing you half of his face. And though you know he wouldn’t like it, you’re happy to finally see him in full light- to know and love him completely as he’s meant to be.

Tony says something that’s hard to make out through the glass, but you see him give a thumbs up to you all so he must have been ready. He moved to the switch, hesitating for a moment to let you say a quick goodbye.

Your Soldier’s eyes found yours right away, but there was no trace of sorrow for you to see, no discomfort or fear. In fact, he seemed almost excited; excited and hopeful that when he saw you next he’d have a bundle of joy to look forward to as well.

“Мое солнце [My Sun]...” you watched him say beyond the glass.

“I’ll see you again, My stars. I’m sure of it…” You replied with a soft smile.

He had just enough time to smile softly back at you, an image now pleasantly etched in your brain before Tony flipped the switch and the reset procedure began.

You covered your eyes quickly as Bucky’s body began to convulse, his strained grunts and shouts breaching containment despite the way he tried to hold it all back. The sounds of pain continued for minutes, but it felt far longer. Though, it wasn’t until it got quiet that you began to worry.

“Is it done? Is it over...?” You asked the men on either side of you, afraid to peek past your hands for fear of the worst.

“Doll…?” you heard the familiar voice call, gritty and rough from its recent use but still carrying that same soft tone he used with you.

Your heart swelled, “Bucky...?”

_____________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @simpxinnie (sorry I forgot to tag!)

It's been a while since I've written for our favorite sad man, so if I've missed you/you want to be added to the taglist, DM me to let me know!

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yeonzzzn · 5 months

Text

devilish: sjyn + lhs

epilogue of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader + heeseung word count: 2.3k

synopsis: you go visit heeseung in jail for one final interview about the ghost face cases…learning more than you expected.

genre: ghostface!heeseung, ghostface!jake, journalist!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, m*rder & sexual themes, heeseung and jake are insane (as always <3) I think that’s it!

Heeseung chuckled when he saw you sitting on the other side of the glass, his heart smile reaching from ear to ear.

He sat down in front of you, tilting his head, “Awe, what did I do to deserve a special visit from you?” his voice echoed through the small holes in the glass, his voice a tiny bit muffled.

You cross one of your legs over the other and stretch your arms out, hands resting on your knee, “I came to ask questions.”

He chuckled again, “There’s the journalist YN we all know and love.”

“You don’t even know me.”

Heeseung smiled, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth then releasing it, eyeing you up and down, “How’s Jay going?” he asked, tilting his head in the other direction, “You know, after you stabbed him three times.”

You tried to not react, not to give him what he wanted: to see you break. “Jay is fine,” you said calmly, “He was released from the hospital yesterday.”

Heeseung nodded, “Didn’t think you had it in you to be so feisty.”

You still didn't react. But you had to agree with him, you didn’t think you’d have it in you either to attempt to kill someone until seeing the way Jay was hovered over Jake with Jake’s blood spilling on the floor.

“So,” Heeseung said, sliding his cuffed hands onto the table, index finger touching the glass, “How did…” he glanced up to the ceiling, then back down at you, “how did Jake figure me out?”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table, “It wasn’t hard, Heeseung. Not after piecing everything together.”

“Oh?” his eyebrows raised, “Tell me more!”

“You slipped up,” you lean back in the chair, “First, you let me see your watch when you attacked me.”

Heeseung shrugged, “That wasn’t something I was planning on, it didn't cross my mind. Sunoo had my longer gloves at that time and once I saw you leave your apartment, I had to ask fast.”

You continued, “Second, after you attacked me, when we were discussing the murders, you specifically said, “we’ll catch him,” that narrowed it down to males specifically. So we had the watch, and what you said.”

Heeseung stared at you, “Jake figured me out just by those two things?”

You raised a brow, “I wasn’t finished. Besides, he is…you know. He knows how it all works, I suppose.”

Heeseung had to give you that one, Jake was one smart motherfucker.

“Jake went over all the cases again, looking at every piece of information given until he found the missing puzzle piece.”

“He always was a good detective,” Heeseung leaned back in the chair, lowering his head at you, “Still will make a damn good one.”

“Jake wasn’t one hundred percent sure it was even you,” you sighed, “But the more he thought about it, the more sure he became. Jake went into the film office, finding nothing that said it would even be pinned to Jay or Jungwon. Then he searched the investigation office, used his brain, and found Sunoo’s ghost face attire. That was another strike in your box, that you had help. The last bit of confirmation was how Jay attacked us. It wasn’t the same movements as when you attacked me. Plus anytime you talked to Jake as ghost face, you said his full name. Jay slipped up and called him Sim.”

Heeseung locked his jaw, anger raising through him at how he could have gotten away with everything if fucking Jay didn’t fuck that one up.

You saw his gears turning and you smiled, “The only last bit was to draw you in and confess.”

Heeseung evilly smiled, “Your boyfriend used you as bait to catch me,” he laughed, “he was so confident that he risked your life, all to catch me?”

You looked to the floor. It wasn’t a risk Jake wanted to take but one he felt that needed to be done. Jake researched everything about Heeseung and took notice of every little thing he did towards you, it was obvious Heeseung had feelings. Jake knew Heeseung wouldn’t fall for a meeting if Jake was the one to call it, it had to come from you no matter how much he hated it.

“Why did you do it?” you asked him once more, “Why drag Sunoo in on this? How many people did he kill?”

Heeseung smirked, “I assume you already tried speaking to him and he gave you nothing.”

You didn’t have to acknowledge it, you knew Heeseung already knew you spoke to Sunoo. All Sunoo did was stare and smile at you and occasionally giggle, “I want to know about the past department head too.”

Heeseung sighed, leaning forward again, “I’ve always been obsessed with killers and how their brains worked. All the crimes they commit and how they do them. Watching plenty of documentaries growing up and different types of crime TV shows, it always made sense to me to become a forensics investigator,” he shrugged, “You probably could assume how excited I was when the ghost face killings started happening,” Heeseung chuckled at the memory of the first body that popped up on the news, “It was all exciting. Like a serial killer was on my campus. It was crazy. I rushed to the first murder scene.”

He made eye contact with you, “Then there was you,” you swallowed, waiting for him to continue, “It was love at first sight. Seeing how you wrote in that little journal of yours, taking pictures and investigating. I knew I was in love.”

“You don’t know me…”

“Oh, but I do,” he bit his lip, “I followed you around everywhere. I looked up every piece of information possible and learned everything. I know how you like your coffee and you’ve never drank coffee near me.”

The hair on your arms raised. Heeseung stalked you for so long and you never knew.

“I spent so long trying to figure out how to approach you, to make you mine while at the same time, my obsession with ghost face grew. And then Jake joined your team,” Heeseung’s eyes grew with hatred, “I hated him the moment I saw how he looked at you. He looked at you like you were the ones who aligned the planets and slapped the stars in the sky.”

You already knew Jake was interested in you since way before he even joined your team, he’s admitted that much to you. But hearing Heeseung say it made your heart race. Like it was fated that Jake would always be your endgame.

“So I started following him around,” Heeseung confessed, “It didn’t take long for me to figure out…his secret.” Because of course it didn’t, “You should have seen how angry I was. Knowing the man I loathed because he had feelings for my girl was also the same man I obsessed with and looked up to? The mixed emotions were crazy.”

You stared at him, “I can imagine, and I’m not your girl.”

Heeseung frowned, “My admiration for him outweighed my feelings for you,” he looked away from you, “At least, at first. Not until I followed him off to your apartment, seeing how you figured out his secret and still let him fuck you on your kitchen floor.”

“Jealousy is an ugly thing, Heeseung,” you whispered.

“Not so ugly when you felt him fuck you in public all because Jay was hitting on you.”

You roll your eyes, “Continue your story.”

Heeseung laughed, “Eager are we?” you narrow your eyes at him, “I stalked him enough to learn his patterns and the types of victims he goes for. The brand of knives he uses, even the cloak, and where he got his mask. I studied everything, all just to take him down, steal his title and his girl.”

Maybe Heeseung was crazier than Jake.

“But I had to get close, needed a reason to get close. So I committed a few murders and dumped my mask as a middle finger to him knowing it would piss him off. I learned how to bug devices, and was listening in when the news was on. It was the perfect time to introduce myself, then go commit more murders,” He shrugged again, “I needed to get close to you and your team. So I pitched to the dean about us joining together, but he told me to ask the department head. And as you know, she was murdered.”

“I’m going to assume she turned you down, saying to stay out of it?”

“You’re the department head for the journalism club for a reason,” he smiled, “She told me no. So I dressed up as ghost face and murdered her right outside her dorm room,” he sighed, “That’s when Sunoo comes in.”

You laughed, “He caught you, didn’t he?”

Heeseung nodded, “He watched me slit her throat and started acting like a fanboy, begging me to let him join me. He’s a major ghost face enthusiast.”

It made sense.

“Sunoo even knew I was a copycat,” Heeseung snickered, “He did his research just as much as I did. The only thing is he didn’t know who the original was until I told him. Then we started plotting together.”

“And you had him do your side work.”

“You’re on a roll today!” he clapped his hands together, “and to finally answer your question, Sunoo only stained his hands red once. The rest was all me. I wanted it to be all me.”

“Why?” you asked with a shaky breath.

“Again,” he leaned forward, “To destroy Jake. Destroy everything he was and what he had built. To murder him and take up his ghost face mantle and make you love me instead of him!” Heeseung clenched his fists, “I could have continued his legacy and had you at my side. Oh, the way I’ve dreamed of being in his position. Getting to be the one to be ghost face and come home to you every night and fuck you so so good. With Jake completely out of the picture. You were such a fucking tease with how you drew me into you, I knew it was too good to be true but I couldn’t help myself. Feeling your legs wrapped around me and lips brushing against mine, getting to finally touch you…”

Your ears turned red and you stood from the chair, “You’re fucking crazy!!”

Heeseung stood up quickly, leaning closer to the glass, “Says the one who is fucking a serial killer every single night.”

You shook your head, “He’s changed.”

Heeseung laughs a bit too loud, it echoing against the walls on your side of the glass, “Has he though?” he smirked, “Where is your boyfriend at right now? Do you know?”

You swallow, thinking of all the places Jake could possibly be right now, not giving him an answer.

Heeseung leans closer to the glass, his breath fogging it up, tapping his index finger against the glass, “I think we both know where he is right now, YN.”

You slowly backed away, blowing off his comment, “We’re done here.” You turn on your heels, quickly pressing the button to buzz yourself out of this room.

Hessung’s laughter could still be heard, “You know where he is, YN. Use that brain of yours!”

You exited the mental hospital, quickly walking to your car and climbing inside, dropping your face into your hands and taking a couple of deep breaths.

Heeseung’s words echoed in your mind over and over on repeat to the point you were driving yourself crazy. You sat back in the seat, glancing at the time on your dashboard, it was almost seven pm and you couldn’t help but wonder where your boyfriend could be, letting Heeseung’s words sink in and not wanting to actually know the truth.

—

Jake’s laughter echoes across the empty alleyway, pulling his knife out of this random guy's chest, his blood splattering across Jake’s new mask. He lifted the all-white hockey mask up to the top of his head and pulled down the black bandana to his neck.

“Awe fuck,” he breathed, staring at the blood dripping down the blade of his knife, “Feels so fucking good to slash with my favorite weapon again,” he coos, “It’s been too long.”

Jake laughed again, leaning down and pressing the knife to the man’s neck, his eyes widened, and cried out of fear as he looked up at Jake, pleading with him.

“Yes, I’ve missed seeing those desperate looks,” he pressed the blade more against the man’s neck, and Jake’s smile turned into a frown, “That damn copycat forced me to change my whole persona. My mask and outfit too. Such a fucking shame.” Jake slides the blade in and through his throat, blood going everywhere including Jake’s near face, it being the killing blow.

He stood to his feet, wiping the blood onto his long-sleeved shirt, staring at his reflection on the blade. Jake’s corners of his lips curled upwards, him not being able to hold back his giggles that once again became a laughing fit.

“Ahhh,” he sighs after calming down, dropping his hands to his sides and staring up at the nighttime sky, “YN is going to murder me once she finds out where I am,” his smile just grows more, “But that’s just the thrill of it all, knowing she could end me at any moment.”

Jake walked deeper into the alleyway, grabbing his things. Who knew just chilling and killing could be this much fun? Mostly now that Heeseung took the fall for his plus Jake’s crimes. Jake could start fresh and rebuild what was taken from him. Oh man, he couldn’t wait to see the look on your face once he’s home. His cock twitched with anticipation just thinking about it.

He tossed the knife up, catching it at its hilt then tossing it again, “We are so back.”

‧₊˚✧T H E E N D✧˚₊‧

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @zeeloveshee

— taglist: @secretlyapartofthisfandom @wonheartz @ggukkyu @liwugy @hoondrop @jentlecoeur @yawnzzhoon @vixialuvs @ericluvs @qoeqe @hanjisunginc @jaeyunsbimbo @ksnooppy @immortalvee @criminaluvr @kookify @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @sunpov @topichoon @brownsugarbaybee @lilyuwon

#jake bby #heeseunggie #jake sim #sim jake x reader #reader x sim jake #sim jake #lee heeseung #heeseung #enhypen #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #ghostface!jake #yeonzzzn writing #ghostface au

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pathologicalreid · 4 days

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for the fear of falling apart | epilogue

good things come to those who wait, and you're finally getting your happy ending

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: fluff (there's a first time for everything) content warnings: spoilers for criminal minds evolution but nothing super detailed, dad!spencer, babies, breastfeeding, takes place during s16, cancer, spencer's "special assignment" is just him being a dad word count: 1.74k a/n: the spencer reid dilf agenda is at the center of the universe. i cant believe ffofa is over. this is just a short and sweet look into what r and spencer are doing during cme - aka being parents. (the gif has nothing to do with the chapter he just looks so sexy)

“Where is she?” Spencer asked, minding the hour as he hung his token leather satchel in the entryway. He peeked around the living room before making his way to where you were in the kitchen, closing up your book of crosswords before he saw the clues and gave you all of the answers – a habit of his that you had been begging him to break.

Affixing your pen to the cover of the puzzle book, you hummed in response to his question, “It’s nine p.m., she’s asleep, in her crib.” You turned to face him, “And you may not go up there and get her,” you caught at his hand as you noticed him moving toward the stairs, “You will not wake that baby up, Spencer Reid.”

He accepted his defeat, coming back and gently wrapping his arms around you, “Did she go down okay?”

“No,” you answered bluntly, reciprocating his hug by reaching your arms up and slinging them over his shoulders. “She never does when you’re not home,” you added, providing a fact that he was already well aware of.

Spencer chuckled softly into the crook of your neck, “I thought I would’ve been able to get away earlier.”

You were unbothered, leaning into his touch, “Bedtime is at 7:30, you never would’ve made it in time.” His faculty event at school started at seven. It had been scheduled to run until midnight, but Spencer always made the effort to be home with you at the end of every day. The two of you hadn’t missed a tea date since before your daughter was born.

“But now it’s too late for us to do anything of substance,” he said, separating himself from you to switch on the electric kettle, looking over his shoulder at you, silently asking if you wanted tea.

Nodding at him, you watched as he pulled two mugs from the cabinet and dropped tea bags in each of them, “We can watch that documentary you were talking about last night.”

“You’ll fall asleep,” he countered. It was a symptom of motherhood that you hadn’t seen coming, falling asleep while watching anything.

You shrugged, “She’ll wake up to eat, I’ll wake up to feed her.” While your otherwise perfect daughter had mastered sleeping through the night within her first few months earthside, teething had ruined any semblance of a sleep schedule she had, so, she started crying to eat in the middle of the night.

Your husband didn’t seem convinced, but he grabbed the kettle off of its base and poured the hot water into your mugs, sliding a bureau-branded one toward you and keeping the octopus mug for himself. “Last time you fell asleep on the couch and I tried to get you to bed you threw things at me,” he reminded you, stirring honey into his tea before handing the sweetener to you.

“I threw a pillow at you,” you disputed, drizzling the honey into your mug before asking him to put the dish back up in the cabinet.

He rolled his eyes, leaning over the counter and smiling at you, a sweet, dopey, Harlequin romance smile. “I probably deserved it,” he acquiesced, bringing his mug to his lips and taking a sip of the lavender tea.

Spinning your mug on the counter in front of you, you raised your eyebrows and considered changing the subject, but you were lacking any kind of segue material, “So, JJ called me today,” you said.

Spencer set his octopus mug on the counter and frowned, “Are they still having problems?” He asked, resting his chin in his hands and keeping his attention on you.

Nodding, you shared a knowing look with him. Havoc had been wreaked on the BAU since Penelope left. You were lucky enough to be on maternity leave while administrators tore your unit apart and Spencer was on a special assignment – playing the long game on a case that the bureau felt needed to be closed. “I still can’t believe they dragged Penelope back, she was so content with SOAR,” you griped, knowing how much the techie’s life had improved since leaving the FBI.

“I can,” Spencer admitted, “There’s no BAU without Penelope Garcia. There were four people in that tech room trying to do the work she did,” he said, picking his mug back up before making his way around the kitchen island and sitting in the bar stool next to yours.

You leaned back in your stool, with Matt out on an assignment of his own, the BAU’s numbers had gone down drastically. “In better news, Dave went home,” you told Spencer, pointing your sock-covered foot out to nudge him gently.

His expression softened, “Good, the hotel was getting…”

“Yeah,” you agreed, sipping at your tea. Krystall had been the picture of health until she wasn’t, and losing her had nearly sent Rossi to a place you feared he’d never come back from. “Anyway, JJ asked if we were still alright with hosting Christmas this year,” you recalled from the phone call, “I said yes.”

Spencer nodded in agreement, “Have they heard anything from the oncologist?”

You frowned helplessly, “Not yet, depending on the results they might have to do more tests. I offered to take the boys next weekend if they need the time, J’s afraid mom will blab to Henry.”

“You miss it,” Spencer observed, eyes flitting over to the baby monitor on the counter.

Rolling your eyes, “You do a job for nine years, you’re going to miss it when you take time off. Don’t act like you don’t,” you chided gently, smiling into your mug. When the bureau took everything you had been through into account, they willingly offered you an extended maternity leave, which you took without a second thought. However, you hadn’t anticipated feeling so disconnected from the team.

Spencer pursed his lips, “I do, but I like being home with you and Mila more.”

Leaning forward, you reached out and took his hand in yours, “Baby, if you want to go back to the BAU full-time, you know I’d never, ever get in the way of that.”

He shook his head dismissively, “No, not yet at least, but someday.”

The BAU was home, you knew that well enough, but now he had a home with you and Amelia. That wasn’t something he’d give up easily. You watched Spencer at he looked at the baby monitor again, “Stop praying on my downfall, she’ll wake up soon.”

Taking your empty mug in his hands, he set both yours and his in the kitchen sink, “I love you,” he told you.

Your face warmed at the expression, one of those times where there just wasn’t anything else he wanted to say – he just needed to tell you that he loved you. “I love you too,” you said, happily basking in what you assumed was your lingering new parent glow – the two of you were stronger than ever.

Quietly, Spencer loaded the rinsed mugs into the dishwasher before closing it, coming back around the counter and stopping in his tracks when a phone started to ring.

Dropping your head to the counter, you waited for the inevitable wailing to come from the nursery, when the cries started, you looked up at Spencer, “You get her, I’ll get the phone,” you negotiated.

Fishing the ringing phone – Spencer’s – off of the coffee table, you frowned at the caller ID before bringing the screen to your ear. “I need to talk to your wife,” a frantic voice said on the other end.

“Hi, Penny,” you greeted, eyes drifting to the top of the stairs where Spencer was emerging with a squawking baby in his arms.

Penelope gasped on the other end of the call, “I so very desperately need your advice. Do you remember me telling you about Tyler?” She sounded almost out of breath.

You hummed in response, “The guy from the serial killer website?” You wondered where she was going with this – technically the team wasn’t supposed to share case information with you, but that had never stopped any of them.

“Yes, that one,” she confirmed, “I kissed him.”

Surprised, you dropped down onto the couch, looking up at Spencer as you searched for an appropriate response to Penelope’s confession, “Emily is going to kill you.”

The other end of the call was silent except for Penelope trying to articulate a retort. Spencer frowned at you, swaying gently with Amelia in his arms, “What happened?”

Moving the mouthpiece away, you looked up at him, “She kissed a material witness,” you told him, watching as he clamped his lips together in a failed attempt to hide his amusement.

“This is serious,” she scolds over the phone. “I need a debrief. Coffee tomorrow?”

You nodded as the baby grew increasingly impatient in Spencer’s arms – his chest was just no good to her. “Hold on,” You said over the phone, waving for Spencer to hand the baby off to you so you could feed her.

He settled her in your arms, helping you as best he could before he was in the way, “You’ve got her?”

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your hairline when you told him you were fine, bringing the phone back up once Mila latched, “Hey, so tomorrow, nine?” You offered, peering down as the baby nursed for comfort. “I can meet you at the kiosk in front of Quantico if that’s easier.”

Penelope sighed dramatically, “As long as you bring your pretty face and your pretty baby, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lobbing the phone across the couch cushions, you leaned back slightly, adjusting the baby when she was done so that she could hopefully drift back to sleep. Your husband came back downstairs, having swapped his work clothes and contacts for pajamas and glasses, he deftly sat down next to you and took the baby.

Carefully, he settled her on his chest, letting her tiny limbs curl in neatly as she let out sweet coos, brown eyes fluttering shut as Spencer gently swiped his thumb across her back. That little girl had him wrapped around his finger from the moment he knew about her existence.

You shifted to rest your head on his shoulder, watching Mila drift off into her dreams, “Are you going to fall asleep like this?” Spencer asked you, keeping his voice at a whisper.

Humming, you shut your eyes briefly, “Yeah, this is my favorite show.”

taglist: @football1921 @thedancingnerdmermaid @dollarstore-lydia-deetz @cillsnostalgia @alivesarcastically

@hellsingalucard18 @poetoflawed @lillysfrogsandbogs @mega-kittyglitter-1 @sndixz

@k-corbett @nott-my-riddle @guiltyyassin @starkeyellow @rainydayathogwarts

@roblino @awildfirestarting @getawaycarsficrecs @syd-maximoff @melodyflowersblog

@stargirlls-world @ovando13 @cxtherine

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fluff #jareau!reader #ffofa #written by margot

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not-so-mundane-after-all · 5 months

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I keep rewatching that epilogue scene and, the way Hunter and Omega talk about her joining the Rebellion... You can tell this is not the first time they're having this conversation. And I just can't help but wonder what the previous one(s) must have looked like.

Because something tells me it wasn't peaceful.

I just can't imagine Hunter having any other reaction than an immediate, definitive "absolutely not" the first time he hears about Omega wanting to join the Rebellion. Just like I can't imagine Omega being okay with that reaction.

Were they arguing about it? Were they butting heads and not backing down from their respective points? Because they would. Absolutely, they would.

Did their brothers have conversations with both of them separately? Did Wrecker tell Omega to give Hunter a break because he's old and worried? Did Crosshair convince Hunter that he can't keep a grown woman grounded just because he's scared about her? Did Echo tell him that if this is Omega's calling, he has to let her do her thing?

She tried to sneak off. As if she didn't want to go through this again. As if she thought leaving without a goodbye would be easier on everyone and this way no one can stop her. After all, she made up her mind. She's going. But when she turns the light on and spots Hunter sitting there, she's not even surprised. She nods to herself like of course. Of course he's here.

This literally sounds like they've been over this before. But this time the conversation is surely more peaceful. They both have the other's perspective in their minds now.

This is my choice and I know it scares you but I need you to understand.

I know I won't change your mind but I don't want you to go, I want you to be safe.

This must have been said before as well. Maybe in anger. Maybe in pleading. Or desperation. I wouldn't be surprised if Omega got very frustrated with Hunter for treating her like she's still a kid. Nor would I be shocked if Hunter had trouble articulating his point of view in all his worry and panic. But here, it's a confession. It's very vulnerable. It's the truth Hunter doesn't want to hear and gives a reason why.

Omega is a grown woman now. Skilled, capable, brave. Hunter doesn't doubt that. But to him, she's always going to be his little girl no matter how old she is and I am still speechless at the fact that we actually see him not only struggling with it but also admitting to it.

Back on Pabu, after they escaped Tantiss, Hunter told her: "We've all fought enough battles for one lifetime." And now, years later, Omega echoes this back to him. "You've all fought enough." Almost like she's reading Hunter's mind and knows that if he can't stop her, he's going to want to join her.

The way he wants to reach after her here when she gets up. Like he wants to say wait, no, don't go yet!

But this is her fight, just like she says. She's never been able to sit still, we know that, we've seen that. Just like Echo back in season 2, she can't stand the thought of staying down and doing nothing when there are people out there fighting for freedom. People she can help. She's a skilled pilot now (I can bet she'll become most famous in the Rebellion for her flawless Tech-Turn), she has absorbed everything her brothers have taught her over the years like a sponge and now she wants to use that. After years of living away from the fight, she's finally ready to get back out there and make a difference in the galaxy. Fight for peace because that is her calling.

She's ready, but Hunter is not.

You can tell it's literally tearing him apart to watch her go. That's his baby, the whole reason he's living the life he has now. He gave his blood, sweat and tears so she could grow up safe and happy and away from the Empire's clutches. And now she's going back right into them, willingly.

But she's all grown up. And he has no choice but to let her go do her thing. So he holds her close and I don't doubt sends out a prayer that she comes back to him safe and in one piece. He closes his eyes and commits the feeling to memory because who knows when will be the next time he gets to do this?

And it might be destroying him inside but he's so damn proud. And he knows she's got this. She doesn't need her old man to watch her back anymore.

And yet still this old man, with gray in his hair and beard, this old man whose posture is hunched and who is moving slowly and having difficulty standing up because of his accelerated age, is telling his very grown up and very capable daughter that if she needs him, he's going to pick up his blaster, don the armor and join her in the fight.

Because that's what fathers do.

#the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #bad batch #bad batch spoilers #the bad batch season 3 #tbb hunter #tbb omega #hunter and omega

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peachesofteal · 3 months

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Dead Disco - Epilogue

Dead Disco masterlist Ghost/Soap/female reader The end.

You’re having trouble breathing.

It doesn’t help that you’re hiding in the back, peeking around the corner every so often, trying to interpret everyone’s faces.

It’s terrifying. You’re terrified.

“Hello?” Lea calls from the other side of the hallway, hands turned upwards like she’s confused. “What are you doing?”

“Shhh!” You hiss, grabbing her by the wrist. “I’m hiding.”

“Okay… why are we hiding?”

“I can’t go out there.” The denial is steadfast, and she shakes her head.

“You have to. You’re the artist.”

“I know. And that’s why I can’t go. They’re all… looking at me. Judging me.”

“They’re appreciating you, love. They’re appreciating your work.” You shiver. It’s not just your work out there. It’s a collection of your pieces, moments and feelings worked out on canvas, agony and elation painted together into something called art.

“I can’t go out there.” You double down, and she rubs your shoulder sympathetically.

“You have to.”

It’s not so bad. You finally appear from the back, and the gallery host introduces you as the artist. Everyone claps.

As you make your rounds, you start to notice small stickers on the plaques, signifying the sale of a piece, and it warms you, happiness spreading from fingers to toes, fills you with pride.

People stop to talk to you, shake your hand, ask you about certain pieces. You find answering their questions is not as painful as you imagined, and their compliments make you feel lighter. You circle the room, finally coming to a stop in front of the biggest piece in the entire gallery.

At first glance, you think it’s hard to discern what’s really going on, but the longer you stare at it, the more the puzzle comes together. Or at least, you think so. You’ve been staring at it for four years.

It’s an expressionist piece, as all your paintings are, but this one is a touch abstract, stroked together in a way that seems almost unintentional.

It’s a painting of conflicting colors, some dark and moody, others bright. A push, and a pull. Three bodies lay on a bed, diaphragms torn open and bleeding. They're all reaching into each other's chests, blood coating their arms, curled up so tightly together it’s hard to discern where one ends and the other begins in some strokes.

There’s no emotion scrawled into their features, nothing to interpret. You did it intentionally, hoping to direct the focus to the piece as a whole. That’s the only way it works. The only way it makes sense.

“I like this one. It's intriguing. Feels sad, almost.” Someone says behind you, and you turn to see a tall man staring at it with a thoughtful gaze. Studying. “Will you tell me about it?”

Emotion clogs your throat. Your fingers trace over the plaque bearing its name.

Darling.

“It’s a love story.”

The bar stool is one of the spinning ones.

You keep turning around in it, in circles, laughing as Lea rolls her eyes. “Babe, you’re going to fall.” You tsk.

“You’re literally no fun.”

“We’re here celebrating you. I don’t want to be doing that in a hospital when you break a bone falling off that stool.” She tips her head towards the bartender. “Can we get another round please?”

“Sure thing.” You like this place. It’s got great natural light in the day, big, tall windows and sage green walls, gold accents littered throughout. It feels homey, and sweet.

“I think that went really well. How do you feel about it?”

How do you feel.

“I think so too. Once I got over the nerves I… I thought it was good.”

“You sold a lot of paintings.”

“I know.” You laugh. That’s the surprise of the night, if you’re being honest. The number of pieces you sold, to other galleries, to a museum.

A wild dream turned reality.

“You’re going to be a big-time fancy painter now, watch.”

“I’m sure that’s either a long way off, or not going to happen. Either way, I’m really happy. I’m really proud of myself.” The two of you sip your new drinks, and you twist again on the stool.

“Someone tried to buy Darling.” Lea says gently, eyes soft.

“I know.”

“You’re sure you didn’t want to sell it?” You shake your head. It might be your best, biggest piece, but it will never know a home other than yours. You started painting it four years ago, the first night you left her behind, and she’ll never belong to anyone, except you. She’s safe with you, protected by you, loved by you, like she always should have been.

Like she was, so reverently, by them.

You didn’t even want to display it tonight, if you’re being honest. But Lea convinced you, and you found it in yourself to be brave.

She lets you sit in your silence for a while, which you appreciate. She’s a true friend, one that doesn’t pressure you to do things or say things for the sake of them.

Usually.

“Well,” she clinks her glass against yours with a mischievous smile and then says much too loudly, loud enough faces and bodies turn towards yours in the bar, “here’s to my favorite painter and her first gallery showing.” Some people clap. Some people cheer. You glare at her. “What? Opposed to free drinks?” You spin on the stool again, smiling, and then catch a flash of someone walking towards a door, muscled shoulders-

And a mohawk.

Your heart trips over itself.

“I’ll be right back.” You tell Lea, who gives you a confused look, but you’re already moving through the room, unsteady on your heels.

You burst through the door into the cool air, autumn nipping at your exposed skin, and look up and down the street. Your pulse ricochets in your ears.

They’re a block away. The night is dark, and the streetlights are yellow, but you’d know them anywhere.

“Hey!” You yell. “Wait!” They turn, and you teeter towards them as fast as you can manage, startling to a stop a few feet before them.

Your heart hammers inside your chest. Standing here, staring at them, taking them in, soaking in it. They look good. Happy. Healthy. Johnny’s skin is glowing, Simon somehow seems bulkier than he did four years ago, but the weight suits him.

“Hi.” You breathe.

“Hi.” Johnny’s eyes sparkle, Simon’s lips turning up in a barely-there smile.

Words fail you. For the first time in a while, you don’t know what to say. Hundreds of thousands of things try to get free, but none of them make it, though your mouth opens. Nothing comes out.

“We saw yer name on the sign outside the gallery down the street earlier. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. It was… really neat.” Lame.

“It’s a big accomplishment. You must be very proud.” Johnny’s gaze never leave yours, and you nod.

“I am.” The three of you stand there, staring at one another.

“Well, we should get going.” Simon breaks first.

“Right. Of course. Uh, it was… it was good to see you.”

“Ye too.” You let them get half a block away, not even.

You know what you want to say. Delayed, held on your tongue too long in a wash of uncertainty, but it arises clear as day.

“Wait!” They turn, you take a deep breath. “Would you… would you maybe want to have dinner, or something, sometime? Catch up?”

“We’d love to.” It feels different now, but the good pieces, albeit changed, shifted, are still there.

“Great, it’s a… plan. To have dinner. Or something.” Johnny smiles, and Simon nods.

“It’s a plan. You’ll text us?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“See ye soon, then.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

#dead disco #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #simon riley #john soap mactavish

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joonsytip · 4 months

Text

Only for Love || Mingyu - Part 2

Pairings: Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Husband!Mingyu, Cold Wife!Reader, Arranged Marriage au, Contract Marriage au, Divorce au

Synopsis: When an accidental discovery has your perception of happy married life crumbling down, you do what you think is the best for everyone involved. Naturally, your opinion of the best doesn't cater to your husband's. So what happens when things spiral out due to unforeseen events?

Warnings: NSFW, virgin reader, cunnilingus, consensual and penetrative sex, couple uses protection (you do too), mentions of past accident, workplace politics allusions, mentions of getting stalked and periods.

Word Count: 6.1k

Minors DNI! Minors DNI! Minors DNI! Minors DNI!

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

It's been half an hour since your arrival to the party and the lack of interaction between you and Mingyu starts to raise some brows.

Mingyu stays rooted to the same place, his eyes fixated on you as he realises that it was wrong of him to totally wring you out and knowing your temperament he's not brave enough yet to place himself in the periphery of your vision.

"The marriage is really a sham, afterall."

Mingyu scoffs, not bothering to look at the source of the voice.

Kim Hanjun has been demoted under the obvious reason of underperforming and it's boiling his blood having to work under Mingyu because being a man with connections and boasting about it openly would have eventually come to bite him back given he's not even good at his job.

"Your wife isn't even interested in you it seems."

Fisting his hands, Mingyu decides to mute out his words.

"Oh so you're not gonna speak because you might accidentally spill something?"

But there's a limit to how much one can endure. Even though he has the patience of a saint, Mingyu just can't tolerate this obnoxious colleague of him.

Just as he opens his mouth to retort, he feels a hand circling his arm. It's you.

"You must be Kim Hanjun?", you say with a poker face, "You're quite the infamous one around here."

Both the men are caught off-guard by your presence.

"Now if you could excuse us.", your grip tightens on your husband, "I have some making up to do, as you can see husband's upset is at me for not spanning attention to him."

Hanjun is rendered speechless when you step forward and say in a dangerously low tone, "If I see you pestering my husband one more time, you might not find your company ID working while swiping."

The man is suddenly sweating and you cross over your arms with a smirk, "I usually don't interfere but sorry to break it to you, if we come down to this, I'd like you to always remember what position my uncle holds in the company. You're not the only one who can exert connections."

Mingyu looks at you in awe. He wants to record this on his phone so that he could watch this again and again. His wife is standing up for him and that's the absolute hottest you've looked.

Once Hanjun leaves, you also turn on your heels to do so but Mingyu doesn't let you.

"I'm tired.", you say turning to look at him, hand trying to scuffle out of his strong grip, "I'm leaving."

"We're leaving.", Mingyu says leading the way, hands still held together.

While it's a sight for others to finally see the couple, might be romantic to some as well by the way Mingyu is not letting go of you but you know the truth so does your husband.

The car ride back home is silent because halfway neither of you speak and for the rest of the path, you somehow fall asleep.

You wake up in Mingyu's arm as he carries you to the bedroom.

"Let me down.", you say tiredly.

But your husband only sets you down on the bed and once he does he starts spilling the apologies.

"I was mad at you and thought you won't come if I asked you.", he says lowering his gaze, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay.", you say not meeting his gaze either and fumbling your fingers, "You should tell me if any of my behaviour has hurt or is bothering you. I can't read minds, Mingyu."

There's a pang in his chest as guilt consumes him. His mind lingers back on how he had been ignoring you for the past few days. And now that he looks at you, he realises the chronic tiredness ghosting over your features.

"Now if you could please move so that I can get changed.", you say, hands gesturing the way out.

Mingyu swears he hasn't had a drop of alcohol present in his body at the moment so why is he all of a sudden, seeing and feeling things differently?

Why are you glowing in the poorly lit room? Since when did you have such deep beautiful pair of eyes? How are your lips looking so luscious?

Mingyu loosens the tie round his neck, clearing his throat. As he has been crouching, he stands up and sides himself so that you would get out of sight because somehow though it's chilly but by doing absolutely nothing you've managed to heat him up.

You walk upto the closet and after searching for a while you turn around to look at your husband.

"Can I wear something of yours?", you ask, leaning against the door, "I think all of my comfortable nightwears have ended up in the laundry."

The man chokes, he wonders if the stars are plotting against him tonight. He settles with a subtle nod, looking everywhere but at you.

You mumble a thanks and grab the first thing that looks comfortable, going into the bathroom to change.

Mingyu rushes out of the room grabbing a pair of clothes and proceeds to wash himself in the guest bathroom just to cool off. He watches his red tinted cheeks in the dazed vision in the mirror, notices his heavy breaths and eyes down to the semi grown tent in his pants.

Something's wrong with him. He can't comprehend his state. His mind lingers back to the moments when you were defending him against Hanjun. His heart beats erratically when he remembers the accidental view of your cleavage through the dress when he was carrying you inside. The slit of your dress wasn't helpful at all as he could see your trained thighs on display everytime you moved. And your long manicured nails, he's sure that they would look beautiful running through his nape and back.

Mingyu slaps himself twice on both the cheeks, he takes a cold shower.

But he's just a man afterall, so when sees you standing in front of the dressing table in his shirt and shorts he breath hitches and he gasps. Loud enough to catch your attention. As you look at him, he looks at your collarbones peaking out because his shirt is too loose on you.

And before you could say anything he's already laying on the bed hurriedly facing away, pulling over the covers to hide the re-emerging boner.

You follow his actions, laying beside him but facing his back. You wonder if you should sleep at the guestroom because your husband is still mad at you. And his actions are clearly saying so as the person who can't sleep without hugging is maintaining the distance, not bothering to even face you, like he has been doing for the past days.

With a heavy sigh, you tell him, "I'll sleep in the guestroom. We can talk when you feel like you can bear to look at me again."

Just as you turn on your back to get up, you're being held back and within a span of seconds your husband is hovering on top of you.

"I'm sorry, I can't control myself anymore."

And admitting that he crashes his lips onto yours. You gasp grabbing his arms before sighing into the kiss. Mingyu sucks onto your lips pacing them slower now. His hand roams up to rest on your neck, gently rubbing along the column, the sensation of his touch eliciting another gasp out of you.

His tongue enters your mouth and it's lewd in the way they slotting perfectly on each other. His mouth descends to press kisses on your chin and collarbones.

The one time he detaches his mouth off you to unbotton your (his) shirt, you're tapping on his forearm. His gaze follows your hands which are now covering your eyes.

There's a bit of silence. Mingyu wonders if he's forcing himself on you, without your consent and with the thought just as he prepares himself to get off, you say something that wracks his head.

"This will be my first time. I've never been touched before.", you say shakily, evidently embarassed enough to not uncover your eyes until Mingyu does so.

Though Mingyu has his mind too clouded to be pondering over anything but the first question he asks with those eyes now turned soft, after urging you to look at him is, "Do you want to do this? Is it okay for me to proceed? Tell me if you want me to stop."

"Please don't stop.", you breathe out immediately averting your gaze which causes you to miss the smile your husband directs at you before placing his hand under your head to raise it swiftly to kiss you.

"I'll make it worth, Y/N. I'll make you feel good.", he whispers in between the kisses.

You lay naked, all bared out under him as after spanning enough attention to your boobs, Mingyu shifts all his focus on your wet, leaking core.

"Gonna prep you first", he says in his husky voice, "and let me know if you want me to stop."

His tongue laps a long stripe against your cunt and you grip the sheet underneath desperately to hold onto. He keeps tonguing your cunt, holding your legs apart as they try to close off, his nose bumping against your clit making it impossible to hold your moans anymore.

You are squirming under the mercy of yoYir husband and his tongue. There's a knot tightening in the pit of your stomach and you could do nothing, not even speak out any coherent sentences.

"Cum for me, Y/N.", Mingyu urges you and that's the push you need before pouring out the juices all over his face. You're catching breathes when sensitivity hits you as your husband licks you clean off the juices.

You are biting down on your arm when Mingyu decides to prep you a bit further by scissoring his long fingers in your hole until it's oozing out for the second time.

Mingyu presses a soft kiss on your forehead before scurrying away for a few seconds and coming back holding a bunch of condoms in his hands.

"You had those?", you ask propping yourself on your elbows, genuinely amused.

Mingyu cocks his brow, "Not sure who it was but one of the guys has kept them in the drawer at one of the times they visited."

He climbs on the bed, straddling over you as he tears the wrapper with his teeth and rolls up a couple of condoms up his girth, "I didn't even know until all of them sent the same picture in the group chat."

You nod in silence, looking at his big veiny cock and it's red tip that's leaking precum, wondering if it's gonna even fit inside of you.

Mingyu hovers over you, pressing another soft kiss on your forehead.

"It's gonna hurt a bit at start but it's gonna feel good, okay?"

You nod again letting Mingyu hold your hands over your head, intertwining the fingers. He slowly pushes his length and sensing your ragged breathing he stills for sometime before continuing until he hilts all the way inside.

Tears roll down, as you try to adjust and your husband does nothing but kiss you softly trying to soothe you, divert your mind from the pain.

"Let me know when you want me to move."

He waits patiently and once you ask him to move, he thrusts ever so slowly, his lips never leaving yours.

"Gyu, faster please.", you say breaking the kiss.

And who is your husband to deny your wishes. He picks up his pace steadily thrusting in and out, as both of your moans fill the room.

Mingyu fiddles with your nipples by taking them into his mouth while his fingers rub your clit at a fast pace.

You're too dumbified by the way your body is reacting. Your legs are shaking, your stomach is pitting a knot again, your hands are gripping onto your husband for dear life and you swear you're seeing stars.

"Y/N?", Mingyu calls you out, seeing your dazed vision, "Are you okay?"

Your reply comes as another moan as your nails dig crescent shapes onto his back deeper, running through the back of his neck, grabbing onto the hair on the nape.

"Can you hold on for a bit more?", he coaxes you once he realises your gummy walls are clenching harder around his cock, "Let's cum together, can you do that for me right?"

Mingyu looks at the juncture where the bodies are meeting, where your cunt is swallowing him wholly. He groans at the sight of white foamy ring around his cock and kisses you hard making you squeak into his mouth.

"Let it go, Y/N.", he encourages you, his calloused fingers now rubbing your sides as his thrusts turn sloppy, "Cum for me."

Both of you are catching breathes. You lay eyes closed, not feeling your body at all. Mingyu lies looking at you, admiration laced in his eyes, his heart doing dibs thinking about how you trusted him enough to give your firsts to him. He realises that unlike him, you're not vocal so he has to focus on your body language to understand your needs. He also makes his mind to have a conversation with you like a descent person in the morning but before that--

"You need to pee.", he tells discarding the condom in the bin and while you groan he continues, "And we need to wash up. I'll run the bath, clean us up and change the sheets so please don't fall asleep till then."

You are incapable of registering his words so you just let him do whatever he wants to do with you.

Late in the morning, the conversation gets shelved until evening because Mingyu fucks you again because he is insatiable and so are you. Well, you both end up being each other's breakfast in bed.

It's the day, you dread the most. It was the same day sixteen years ago when you lost your family. It's your birthday.

If only you hadn't thrown a tantrum about not wanting to celebrate the day at home as it had been done for all the years. Birthdays had always been a great deal to you. You wanted the celebration to be a bit grander which led all to unanimously decide to go the soaring picnic spot, inviting all your friends as well. Uncle being your favourite person, the rest of the family drove the to venue as it was an hour drive away a little earlier to set up things while you and your uncle drove in a van along with all your friends.

But instead of the picnic spot, you ended up in the hospital with your uncle identifying the bodies. The collision of two vehicles were severe enough to claim the lives of all present in them.

Though your uncle had never expressed anything as such but you know you are to blame for everything. You wondered if seeing you was even bearable to him. The guilt and regret changed you whole as a person. After the incident you distanced yourself from everything, everyone.

Birthdays mean nothing to you now. Unlike for other workers, no one receives your birthday mail as you have requested to the officials. No one knows, no one asks, no one cares and that's perfect for you.

It's been a long day, with you driving successive review and checkpoint meetings. One of the rare days where you want nothing but to fall to the comfort of your bed.

Just as you enter the house, you see a string a shoes lined one after another. You enter the hallway and come across the faces of your in-laws, your husband, his friends and your uncle.

Gatherings on any other day is always welcomed but not today. You have this look of disapproval on your face and the entire flock of people freeze. Without a word, you disappear into your room and it's about half an hour when you don't come out, Mingyu assures everyone and goes into the room.

"What are they doing here?", you ask as soon as he enters.

"Why? Are they not allowed to visit us?"

You glare at him, "They are. But why today? And you always inform me beforehand if anyone is coming so why's there an exception today?"

Mingyu sighs but walks upto you, "Y/N, they're just here to spend sometime with us. But if you want then I'll tell them to leave and trust me they'll leave instantly."

"Tell them to leave then. I don't want to entertain anyone today.", you say stoicly.

Mingyu nods, "All of them have brought something they've cooked for you. Hansol cooks occasionally and almost burnt his house but he came in so proud, bragging how he was able to cook something for you that's edible. And oh", he raises his finger plastered with a bandaid, "I've got a cut while chopping the vegetables. So are you gonna atleast eat them or should I tell them to take those back as well?"

There's a pang in your heart, it's constricts within your chest. Your eyes glistens with tears, the resolute within you starts to dissolve but you could never afford to do so. You don't deserve to be celebrated.

"It's the death anniversary of the people I love.", you say helplessly, "I don't remember them vividly, each year the memories of them are fading away. I can't bear to look at uncle without feeling guilty. He lost his son, his wife, his brother all because I wanted to celebrate a stupid birthday."

You are sobbing now and Mingyu holds you in his arms, letting his own tears fall. He hates that there's nothing he could provide to soothe you.

"There are so many words on the tip of my tongue but they're all meaningless.", he says and bites on his tongue to stop those tears from spilling, "I'm sorry but I won't let you wallow in sadness, I won't leave you all by yourself."

After staying quiet in his embrace, you tell him, "People are waiting for you, you should go. I'll be fine, I'm used to this."

Mingyu pulls away and holds your face gently, "Do you trust me?"

Your eyes say a lot, even if you hadn't given a nod, your husband would've known the answer.

"Then let's go and spend time with them.", Mingyu coaxes you, "They wouldn't do anything to make you uncomfortable, if they do, I'll send them back."

You ponder over for sometime. Past years have always been the same, you wanting the day to pass by anyhow. You've preferred to be alone but you think you'd make an exception for your husband and all those people who are waiting for you outside knowing they genuinely care for you.

When you both step out of the room, you could see the worried faces and it makes you feel bad.

"We're are really sorry for barging in.", Seokmin breaks the silence as he stands up and following his suite everyone does so well, "We'll get going."

And there's a lot of shuffling. Everyone is off their seats and packing the stuffs when you decide to interrupt.

"I'm hungry", you say everyone halt, "And I'm bored of eating his cooking.", you point at your husband who gasp in offence but smiles nonetheless.

And that's how the dinner table was set with everyone sitting together eating and chatting happily. No one wishes you birthday, none of them have bought you gifts and it does seem like another normal gathering except for the subtle wishes of wellbeing they launch softly at you.

"You are beautiful, Y/N, inside out.", Minhee says as she secures the seat beside you, "I hope to see you healthy and beautiful always."

Sometime later, when the topic of work is brought up, Soonyoung slickly tells, "Y/N is handling such a big project.", and looking at you he speaks with a mouthful, "I know it'll be a huge success. Hope we get to see you achieve many more milestones in your career."

And throughout the dinner you recieve such praises and wishes from every single one of them. You didn't want to send them off but you had to with a heavy heart. First time, in several years you feel like you have a family, you want to hold onto people, want to expect certain things and be a part of them.

First time in several years, your birthday didn't haunt you rather it gave you a reason to smile.

Lying the bed, tired after a long day when you feel an arm drape around your waist, you turn to face your husband, snuggling closer in the comfort of his embrace when he opens his arms for you.

His eyes droop in sleepiness but he strokes your hair saying, "I wish you to be happy.", smiling sheepishly he adds, "Thanks for trusting me."

And when you watch your husband drift off to sleep, stroking his hair with a hesitant hand, you whisper, "Thanks for tolerating me."

Your relationship with Mingyu progresses steady but it's beautiful in it's own way. To you, Mingyu hasn't only been a good husband, he has been a great companion. He takes care of you, knows your limits and shortcomings, never makes you feel weirded out and makes sure to sort things out to be on the same page.

Your calendar previously which had only meeting dates marked on them are now filled with many more events such as your anniversary, Mingyu's birthday, Minhee's birthday, your uncle's birthday, your in-laws' anniversary etc etc. A smile appears on your face when you reminisce how late you were to your second anniversary party and how pissed Mingyu was at you, avoiding you the whole night until after the party was over and you had stripped yourself naked in front of him which worked to dissolve his anger as you let him fuck you dumb till the dawn.

You have a best friend now and her name is Minhee. You've always liked her and over the years you two have grown closer. Mingyu's friends, well more of yours, are not scared of you anymore, they've dropped all the formalities to pit long ago.

Junhui shares every funny thing he sees on the internet, on appointment days he rants to you about patients and work. Soonyoung now shares table with you during lunch and eat your ears off. Seokmin calls you randomly during work and if you don't pick up, he just sends you a candid picture of your husband with a caption 'thought you'd be missing him, so here's your husband. Don't thank me, just name one of your gaming character after me.'

Hansol is the most random of all, he just pings you any fact he learned out of the blue without any context. Sometimes when on asking when you confirm that you're free he sends you a bunch of pics telling you to choose the best among the lot. Jeonghan is the quietest among all, he'd only talk to you during the gatherings.

You have started calling Mingyu's parents as what Mingyu calls them because you are comfortable to call them so. They've blended into your life making you feel as their own. These changes in your life have helped you bond better with your uncle as well.

It's been over two years and you think you're happy. You think your married life is perfect and you're in love with certain things.

You love the back hugs, love those forehead kisses, love the smell of coffee that hits the house in the morning, love the way his mouth opens and closes in sleep, love when the fangs graze his lips as he smiles wide, love when his hand sneaks to wrap around yours on a busy road.

You're in love.

In love with your husband because how could you not, he's so easy to love. Though you feel there's still a lot you both need to discover about each other, you hope he'd also love you one day. He's your first love after all.

You are in the middle of a meeting when your phone keeps vibrating continuously. Trying to ignore it, your brows knit in agitation but that soon turns into worry when you check the caller ID. It's Minhee. Excusing yourself, you call her back.

And now after a drive of an hour you find yourself in front of the park, near her apartment.

"It's okay, I'm here now.", you say patting on Minhee's back, "Once you feel better, tell me everything."

And after some moments Minhee does relay everything. There's a thug-like guy who has started visiting the café she regulars at because somehow Minhee has piqued his interest. Even though she didn't notice at first, it started to strike her that she has been seeing a face almost everywhere she visits.

He has been following her to and back from the school she teaches in. He's been bold enough to get in the way and ask her to sleep with him for a night, if she wants to stop getting bothered by him.

Minhee has had enough to slap him straight across his face, even threatening to report him to the police. And that seemed to work because he didn't appear before her for a whole week until today.

As she describes it terrified, he had an ominous gaze, when he had given her an ultimatum to be compliant or be ready for the worse.

"I was so shocked and scared. I could only think about calling you. If Gyu knows about this he'd kill that guy even before police knows about him and would never let me work here. I don't want that.", Minhee says, "I am planning to go to the police today."

"You're so brave", you tell her as your gaze sweeps across the surrounding, "Let's deal with that guy now. Is it that guy standing over there?"

And Minhee now ponders over if it would have been safer to call her brother because the stalker guy, all bruised from the beating he got from you is kneeling in front of you both with hands up in air.

You've called the police and as soon as they arrive, that guy is mumbling confessions of all the harassment he did and tried to perform on Minhee.

"Did I tell you, I'm trained in taekwondo?", you ask her frowning, "Uncle also made me take specialization classes on self defence.", you suddenly hiss because of the bruises inflicted on you during the hassle and look at her.

Minhee engulfs you in a hug, "Thank you so much. You're a lifesaver."

Your lips curl up and you say pulling away, "Let's go to the station and complete the formalities and then we'll have to inform Mingyu and mom & dad as well."

Minhee hesitates but she knows she'll eventually have to so.

"Let's do that.", she agrees, "I have something else to tell you."

Your brows quirk up questioning as you both head towards your car.

"I have developed a liking towards Soonyoung.", she smiles looking at your flabbergasted demeanor, "No ones knows except you and him."

You swear, your head spins at this.

And as if she could read your mind, she adds, "I don't know how he feels but he said he'd never date me because I'm his friend's sister and that's against bro code."

You scoff, how typical of Soonyoung.

When Mingyu stumbles upon his sister's apartment that night, he finds her sleeping peacefully in her room. And when he goes searching for you, he finds you in the bathroom clutching the slab. Your eyes are red, forehead glistening with sweat.

"Oh god, Y/N...", Mingyu rushes inside as the door was open and holds you up on your feet, "what happened?"

"Stop shouting, you'll wake her up.", you say groaning, "and why do you care anyways?"

Right, you both rarely fought but when you did it would go on for days, like now. It started with a simple matter but escalated real quick causing Mingyu to lash out on you and give you a silent treatment. You tried to talk to him twice, which was more than you think you have done but were met with radio silence. He went as far as being petty enough to not even wait for you at dinner table or sleep facing you. And that's how you decided to shut him out as well. It's been a week since you both talked.

As Mingyu holds your waist to support you, you cry out in pain. You tried to resist but when he glares at you, you give up. He unbottons your top and his eyes almost gauze out on seeing the cut on your waist.

"How did it happen?", he sits you on the counter and pulls out the first aid box.

You stay quiet.

"Y/N, I'm asking something.", he uses an authoritative tone, looking at you.

"I thought we are not talking.", you snark at him but gasp when he dabs the cotton with antiseptic gel on the cut. He does several other sorts of things which makes you think he's a trained nurse before pasting the adhesive.

"Y/N, please.", he gets up and holds your face, "I know I have been an asshole and I'll keep apologizing to you until you forgive me. But please tell me are you hurt anywhere else? Did that bastard do this to you?"

You sigh and peel his hands off your face, "Yes, he was swinging his knife at me so while tackling him, I got that wound. And I got some bruises but Minhee treated those, didn't want to worry her so hid this one. You should be worried about Minhee. I'm fine."

Mingyu looks at you with so much admiration. His heart swells within his chest when he thinks about how you saved his sister and handled the situation well while he was being a jerk to you.

"The first thing Minhee asked on calling me was how did I manage to marry someone as amazing as you. That I should have seen you, you were looking like a superhero fighting off the evil.", he smiles pinching the bridge of your nose.

You bite your lower lip, your brows crease and Mingyu instantly deflates noticing the obvious signs.

"Are you on your periods?", he asks concerned.

"The cramps are killing me."

"You should have told me sooner.", he immediately lifts you up and takes you to the guestroom and lays you on the bed, "I think I know what all things Minhee uses for her cramps and where they are kept. I'll be back."

"I was supposed to sleep with Minhee tonight.", you say frowning.

"No, you're sleeping with me", he smiles, crouching to peck your forehead, "Minhee rotates around the bed all night in sleep. Doesn't matter though, I won't be letting you out of my sight."

And while he spends the whole night making sure you get a good sleep, in the morning he makes you apply for sick leave. He scolds Minhee for not calling him sooner as it could have been dangerous for you both but in turn gets scolded by you.

He doesn't take his car, rather drives your car back home because you were scheming on sending him away first, not wanting to go with him. He sulks throughout the way back because when he leans in to you, in the guise of helping you putting on the seatbelt just to give a kiss, you slap a hand over his mouth. But that doesn't stop him from not letting you go to your office room the whole day and spend the time in taking rest.

It's an important day for you. It's a success party of the new game launch and playing the key role in leading back to back projects you're going to get felicitated at the party by the director herself.

You have informed Mingyu beforehand and he has promised to reach the venue before time, also squealing for days on about how he'd capture everything and show others, that how proud he is of his wife.

Your eyes boringly scan through the crowd, waiting for your husband.

"How am I looking?", Soonyoung's voice startles you.

As he takes a seat beside you, you tell him, "As usual. Are you supposed to not look like a human but something else?"

He scowls, "Wow, you're really doing this to me."

He brings over a glass of wine from the waiter who was passing and says, "I heard there have been some changes in the management and they'll be announcing it today."

You take a candy from the bowl kept on the table, "I'll be reporting to someone who has joined the company recently. My previous boss is gonna take over the strategy planning unit."

Soonyoung laughs, "There are rumours about him being eccentric."

"Let him be anything, I don't care as long as it doesn't hinder my work.", you tell him, eating the candy and checking your phone, "They're gonna start soon. Any idea when your dear friend is gonna arrive?"

"He was supposed to leave from work early", he tells you, "Don't worry he's punctual."

Mingyu curses when he checks the time. He's late.

"Min, I think you should leave as soon as possible.", Seokmin says as he helps him pack his bag, "You'll go home, get changed and then leave for the venue, right? You're running late by almost an hour already."

Mingyu is hot on his heels as he hurriedly takes his bag and rushes out of his cabin.

"Be careful!", Seokmin yells seeing Mingyu's fleeting demeanor, knowing how clumsy he can be and as he takes the keys to lock the cabin as requested by his friend his gaze falls on the USB drive which he knows Mingyu would need to work on some presentation.

Seokmin rushes to catch him so that he can give him the USB just in time. As he punches out his employee card, he sighs in relief as he recognises Mingyu standing still just outside the main door.

He pushes through the door and is just about to call him, something catches his eyes from the periphery of vision.

Just like Mingyu, Seokmin freezes on spot.

Because it is Sora who's standing in front of them.

Seokmin doesn't know what or if they had any conversation prior to his arrival but he grabs Mingyu's arm when he sees Sora open her car door and his friend heading in the se direction.

"Min, don't go.", he speaks the next part in louder tone, "your wife is waiting for you."

"I know what I'm doing, Min.", Mingyu frees his arm, "Trust me on this."

Seokmin watches helplessly as the car drives off to who knows where.

You are dejected. Even when recieving the award your eyes kept scanning the crowd just in hopes of seeing your husband's face. And still now doing so you keep on checking your phone, too upset to call or text him.

"I'll call him after they make the announcement.", Soonyoung says equally upset, "I'm sure something really urgent came up otherwise he'd have not missed it."

Everyone is asked to stand near the stage where they announce the key changes in management.

You are shocked when you hear a certain name being announced, see a certain figure taking the centre of the stage.

Xu Minghao is going to be your boss tomorrow onwards.

Minghao seems to have taken notice of you as his smile widens, his gaze locking on you.

Soonyoung has noticed the change in your demeanor, has followed the gaze of Minghao. He observes quietly before motioning you to come with him to a quieter place.

He then calls Mingyu putting his phone on speaker who doesn't pick up. There's an uneasy feeling settling at your chest and hope that your husband is fine wherever he is.

Soonyoung then calls Seokmin and regrets putting the phone on speaker because you hear what he says.

"Mingyu left with Sora and I can't reach him."

Your heart sinks because even though no one has ever talked to you about her, you know that name very well. Your husband's ex girlfriend whom he to marry.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Both you and Soonyoong turn to see Minghao standing, his gentle gaze bestowing upon you.

You decide to forget any other thoughts and wear a tight lipped smile, "Been a long time, Hao."

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip.

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serpentandlily · 6 months

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Untouchable IX - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst, physical torture, violence

a/n: guys, I’m so sorry this part took a long time to come out. I hope this chapter is worth the wait! Part 10 will be the final chapter/epilogue :)

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII

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Part IX

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Days might’ve gone by…days…months…years. Time was an elusive being to you. Had been since the moment the mating bond had snapped between you and Azriel. Since that one last second you got to have with him—your mate.

Koschei kept you strung up in chains, your wrist shackled above your head, your feet barely touching the floor. Your entire body ached with pain. Blood crusted on the white slip he had you put in.

When he had shadowed you back to his small cabin on the lake, you had assumed he would turn you into one of the swans, like he had with the other girls. But apparently, none of you had ever learned the full story.

Vassa had certainly never mentioned this part. Not that you blamed her. You wouldn’t want to talk about it either. How he liked to beat the girls he captured, break them in, before transforming them into one of his pets—forever tied to this lake.

You didn’t want to give up but it was getting harder and harder each day. But you had to. You couldn’t let that day in the clearing be the last time you got to see Azriel…to see your mate.

A few tears leaked from the corner of your eyes at the thought of him, of how he must be feeling with you gone. Everything you both had wished for had come true only to last for a mere second in time before the universe tore you apart once more. It was cruel. It was… no word could come close to describing it. It couldn’t be the end of your story. You couldn’t let it be.

The door to the room you were confined in opened and you whimpered at the sight of the sorcerer.

“Oh, little pet,” he purred, “Are you not happy to see me? And here I thought we were finally making progress.”

“Fuck you,” you groaned, swaying on your shackles as you tried to distance yourself from him.

He gave you a serpentine smile. “The stubborn ones are so much more fun to break.”

You glared at him as he stalked over to you, a cup of water in his hands. You had kicked and bucked the first few times but after all of the torture he put you through the past hours, you had no energy left to do anything but dangle there.

“Now, are we going to do this the hard way or the easy way?” He held up the water to your mouth but you twisted your head away, slamming your lips shut. “Ah, the hard way it is.”

Excitement filled his eyes as he landed a punch straight in your gut, knocking the air right out of your lungs. You gasped and he grabbed your chin roughly, squeezing the sides of your mouth and making it impossible to snap your jaw shut.

He poured the water into your mouth but you spit it back up, right on his face. You knew it was full of faebane because this was the third time he had come in here to give it to you.

He growled as he wiped away your spit before slapping your cheek hard enough that your head whipped to the side and blood swelled in your mouth. You heaved, letting it trickle down your jaw and onto the floor.

He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to face him again, hooking his fingers over your bottom teeth and yanking your jaw open once again. This time when he poured the water into your mouth, he quickly slammed it shut and plugged your nose.

“Drink it,” he ordered.

You glared at him defiantly but it did nothing to help you as you ran out of air and choked the water down. He let go of you and you greedily sucked in air.

“Good girl,” he grinned. “See how much easier it is when you listen to me?”

You said nothing. You couldn’t. Not as the faebane coursed through your body, extinguishing all the magic that had started to replenish as the last batch wore off. Not as your wounds and bruises stopped healing and pain slammed into your body.

The faebane he liked to give you was partially diluted. Just enough to let it wear off quicker so you had time to heal in between his sessions but not enough to fully heal or get your magic back. He liked working with a clean canvas but didn’t let your magic linger enough to rid you of pain entirely.

Koschei circled around your hanging body and you heard him fiddling behind you. The sound of leather in his palm had you squirming.

“Now, where were we?”

The crack of the whip against your back rippled through your body and you couldn’t fight the scream that erupted from your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to push your consciousness into the deepest crevices of your mind, where you might find the tiniest bit of solace as one name constantly repeated in your thoughts.

Azriel.

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“I’m not waiting any longer,” Azriel growled at his High Lord. “I’m leaving. Now.”

Both Azriel and Rhysand looked worse for wear. Rhys’s face was littered with bruises and cuts and Azriel was sure he looked no better. But he didn’t care. All he cared about right now was that his mate was in the hands of that fucking sorcerer and he was going to rip that male apart limb by limb for ever thinking he could take her.

“We need to think this through, Az,” Feyre pleaded. “If you rush in, you’ll end up dead and be of no help to Y/n.”

Azriel’s hands tightened into fists. These past two days had been hell. Once Rhys had misted the Prince in the clearing, he had winnowed the three of them back to Velaris—to start planning their rescue mission.

He hadn’t even gotten two words out before Azriel pounced on him. He could barely remember those first few hours after she had been taken. All he knew was the anger he felt—the rage. The mating bond snapping into place. The bargain breaking. And her…his love being taken away from him, his heart and soul with her.

And Rhys, the fucking asshole, had been at the center of his anger. For making him agree to that bargain with him in the first place. For making him stay away from her—his mate.

It had taken Cassian, Mor and Feyre to pull them apart that day.

He had stopped starting fights with Rhys but his anger still pulsed under his skin, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

"We've had plenty of time to think,” Azriel snapped at his High Lady, causing Rhys’s head to shoot up with a warning glare.

“Watch your tone,” Rhys bit back at him.

“Fuck you, Rhys!” Azriel slammed his scarred hands down on the desk between them. “I’m going and I swear to the Gods if you try to stop me, I’ll rip your throat out!”

“No, fuck you, Azriel!” Rhys yelled, standing up to his full height. “Stop acting as if you’re the only one affected by this! She was my sister long before she was your mate! Maybe if you hadn’t gone behind my back—”

“Maybe if you hadn’t made us make that stupid bargain with you in the first place, we would’ve never had to! I could’ve had centuries with her. You stole all those years from us!”

The second the bond snapped between him and his mate, Azriel swore he lived a whole lifetime. A whole lifetime they hadn’t been afforded. It had all flashed right before his eyes. His mate…His beautiful mate. She deserved so much better than this and as soon as he got her back in his arms, he would give her the whole world. He'd tear the sun from the sky if it would make her happy.

“Guys, stop! This fighting between the two of you has only made things worse! Fight all you want once we get Y/n back, but you need to focus. Both of you. For her sake,” Feyre snapped.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, letting out a noise of frustration. His shadows swarmed around him like a monsoon—screaming his mate’s name over and over again in agony. “You don’t understand, Feyre. Every single time I feel her…during those tiny moments she slips through to the bond…all I feel is her pain. He’s torturing her. How am I supposed to sit here while my mate is being tortured?”

He turned away from them, unable to look at Rhys any longer as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. He had completely and utterly failed his mate. Had let her get into the arms of an enemy. This was all his fault…all of it. She would’ve never even ran away from Velaris if he had never tried to move on with Elain last year. He put those thoughts in her head and there was nothing he regretted more in his life. He had never wanted Elain. He had never even wanted Mor. He had tried, when he thought Rhys’s sister was off limits, to move on. But he had never, ever stopped loving her. He had never felt anything for anyone other than her.

And she had been ripped away from him before they could even have a life together.

“That’s it,” Rhys whispered from behind him. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“What?” Azriel snarled, whipping around.

“You said you can feel her sometimes—through the bond, right?”

Azriel nodded his head, crossing his arms.

Rhys stroked his jaw in thought. “He must be drugging her with faebane. But not consistently. There must be small moments when it wears off before he gives her another dose. That’s why you can feel her sometimes.”

“Where are you going with this?” Feyre asked.

“We can use the mating bond to tell us when to act,” Rhys explained. “When Azriel can feel her, we know her magic is regenerating. We should stop looking at this as battle and more like a stealth mission. We bait Koschei into coming to the water’s edge the moment Azriel feels my sister down the bond—act like we are declaring war. Keep him distracted long enough for her to get back most of her power. Meanwhile, Azriel can slip into the cabin, release her from whatever binds he has her in and get her out.”

“What about the wards around the cabin? No one can winnow in or out. Even Az’s shadows might set it off.”

“I’ll have to get inside without using any magic,” Azriel said. “I can do it. I can get to her. As long as you keep him distracted and buy me enough time.”

“Helion has given Y/n some lessons on setting and breaking wards,” Rhys added. “Once she sees you, once she realizes she’s being saved, she can start working on breaking them so she can winnow the two of you out.”

“And you trust that she’ll be able to do that?” Feyre asked.

Rhys let out a long sigh. Azriel knew how much it would pain him to have to force his sister to save herself. Rhys had always been the one doing the heavy lifting for their family, always keeping his sister as protected as he could, especially after she almost died. But he couldn’t save her this time.

He’d need to have faith in her.

“She can do it,” Azriel declared, full of confidence in his mate’s abilities. “She is not that little girl in the woods anymore, Rhys. You’ve trained her. I’ve trained her. She is more than capable of this.”

“I know she’s not,” Rhys whispered. “She hasn’t been. Not for a long time. And I’m sorry, Azriel, I truly am. You’re right. I should’ve never forced you to make that bargain.”

“Save your apology for when I get my mate back,” Azriel spat out. Maybe it was unfair, but he was not ready to accept any apologies from Rhys. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be.

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If their plan worked, Azriel would have his mate back in his arms, back in Velaris, safe and sound by tonight. It had to work. It had to work because there was no way he could go through another sleepless night in an empty bed. He needed her like he needed the air in his lungs; he simply could not live without her. He would either be back in Velaris tonight with his mate or six feet under because he wasn’t leaving this damn lake without her.

The Valkyries are ready, Az.

Rhysand’s voice in his head caused his fists to clench. He was not any closer to forgiving him than he was yesterday but that was a problem for a different day. Right now they’d have to work together to get his mate back and nothing would stand in his way, certainly not his own pride.

The plan was simple in theory. They had decided to use Koschei’s weakness against him—females. Some of the Valkyries were willing to help and he trusted their training. If things went correctly, they wouldn’t even need to fight.

Azriel was crouched, hiding and waiting for the mating bond to begin singing again. He hated that he couldn’t just rush in and take her. Hated that she was likely being tortured as they sat out here waiting for the right moment to begin their plan. Azriel was used to having to wait around like this. It was a part of his job, after all. But right now, it was excruciating.

But finally… finally he felt it. That tiny spark. That gold thread reforming.

It’s time, Rhys.

Okay, wait for the signal.

They had to lure Koschei out. He couldn’t see though because he was waiting behind the cabin on the other side of the lake, ready to fly to one of the landings so he could sneak his way inside.

Alright, we’ve got his attention. Good luck, Azriel. Bring my sister home but make sure you come home too.

He couldn’t promise his brother that. He wasn’t leaving here without her, no matter what happened.

I will.

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A noise caused you to look up despite the pain the movement caused. Your eyes widened in surprise as a shadowed figure stood in the doorway, blue light emitting from their form. Your vision was going in and out of focus, blurring everything. You blinked one…twice…

The person finally stepped into the light.

“Az?” You wheezed out.

Azriel swore and rushed forward until he was right in front of you, holding your face in his hands. He was speaking but you couldn’t hear anything through the ringing in your ears. You must be hallucinating. There was no way Azriel was really here in front of you. It was not possible…

“—can you hear me, baby? Fuck, we’ve got to get you out of these chains.”

“Az,” you rasped again, “Is…is this real? Are you real?”

His beautiful hazel eyes met yours again, the emotion swimming in them threatening to tear your heart right out of your chest. Pain, rage, desperation, guilt. Your eyes flooded with tears of relief.

“I’m real. I’m here with you, baby,” he said, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m going to get you out of these chains, okay? And then I’m going to get you out of here.”

“H-how?” you stuttered out because you had no idea how he was standing here in this cabin when it seemed like an impossible feat.

“Later. I'll explain later. Do you think you can start trying to take down the wards around this place?”

"I'll try," you whispered but your magic had barely started regenerating. The wounds on your back weren't even beginning to heal yet.

The sound of a door slamming open rang through the house. You let out a whimper and Azriel’s eyes widened in fear as he looked at you but not fear for himself…fear for you.

“Fuck, we’ve got to go. Now,” he said, frantically.

The fear in his eyes faded to cold, hard rage and he grabbed the chains above your head and yanked them apart with his bare hands. You collapsed to the ground, crying out in pain, your legs unable to hold you. Azriel caught you on the way down, kneeling with you.

“I’ve got you, babygirl,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

You could still feel the wounds on your back bleeding, some ripping open as you curled in towards Azriel. Your head was still pounding, your body still in agony. Azriel wrapped his arms around you and helped you stand up, letting you lean your entire weight against him. Stomping footsteps were coming down the hallway, almost to the room you were being kept in.

“We need to get out of here,” he was frantically whispering, his hands holding you by the upper arms, your wrists still in cuffs with a bit of the chain attached.

You stood on shaky legs, raising your head to see Koschei standing in the doorway, his face twisted into a grin that sent chills down your spine.

“Az!”

Azriel twisted around, his wings flaring out protectively to block you just as Koschei sent a blast of dark magic careening your way. It came at the two of you so fast, Azriel was unable to throw up a shield.

You were able to yank Azriel behind a stack of crates just as the wave of darkness clipped his wing. He let out a cry of pain, his entire body tensing as the darkness ripped through tendon and bone. You nearly cried out with him as the wing that was hit fell limp.

“Did you think you could fool me with your little plan, shadowsinger?” Koschei purred out as the two of you hid behind the crates. “Did you think I’d let you steal my pet? You’re a fool!”

Despite the agony he was in, Azriel twisted the two of you around, covering your whole body with his. Another blast of darkness caused the crates in front of you to explode to pieces, sending splinters of wood flying that pierced through any exposed skin and you let out a tiny scream of fear.

Azriel pulled you up and helped you run further back in the room, unable to leave with Koschei blocking the door. Another blast of magic hit the both of you just as you ducked behind a rack of the weapons and tools Koschei had been using to torture you with.

You cried out in pain, your jaw smacking against the floor with a sickening crunch. Blood filled your mouth as you pushed yourself up, your whole body aching, turning to make sure Azriel was okay.

But Azriel had taken the brunt of the hit, shielding your body as much as he could. A deep laceration cut across his torso, blood seeping over his leathers. His body was tense, his wing still limp on the floor. You knew he was holding back his cries of pain for your sake.

The sorcerer strided into the room, leisurely, as if this was at most a minor inconvenience to him. Darkness seeped from his figure, tendrils running along the floor towards the two of you.

“I’m going to distract him,” Azriel whispered to you. “You need to make a run for it. The Valkyries will be waiting for you, okay? They’ll help get you home.”

“No,” you cried out, clinging to the front of his leathers. “I’m not leaving you behind, Azriel!”

Azriel stroked your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re going to have to, princess. I need you to get out of here, do you hear me? Get out of here and go as far away as you possibly can. The others will find you, I promise.”

Tears filled your eyes as he held your face with such care and tenderness. His own eyes were filled with that same cold rage and a heavy resolve. You shook your head rapidly.

“I’m not leaving you, Azriel,” you repeated.

“Why don’t you come on out, shadowsinger?” Koschei called out, his voice filled with amusement. “You can fight me for the girl. I’ll even let you make the first move.”

Azriel was the most powerful warrior you knew but even he would be no match for a Death God. Facing Koschei would mean certain death and by the way Azriel was staring at you, he knew that. His eyes traced over your entire face as if he were committing it to his memory.

“I’m so sorry, princess,” he whispered to you, his thumbs stroking away your tears. “I’m sorry for ever making that bargain that kept me away from you but I want you to know that even after all those years, it has always—will always—be you that I love. You were my first and only love and I’m so sorry that I can’t give you the life you deserve. I will find you in the next one, I promise, even if I have to crawl my way out of hell to get back to you. Even if I have to tear apart the universe, I will find you. You are my mate and even death can’t take that away from us. I love you. I will always love you.”

“Azriel,” you choked out, your fingers tightening on his leathers, but he simply placed his hands over yours and lightly tore them from him. “Az, you can’t—”

Azriel cut you off, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. A kiss full of love and despair. You tasted your salty tears through it, tears that kept pouring at the realization that this was the very first kiss the two of you shared that didn’t cause him any pain.

And it would be your last.

Azriel stood up as much as he could, his right wing still dragging along the floor. Bruises were appearing on his jaw, blood still poured from the wound on his chest.

“Azriel, no!”

You reached out for him, to yank him back, but he stepped away, exposing himself to Koschei.

“Look at you,” Koschei said with a grin, “So ready to die for your love. I’m going to enjoy killing you in front of your mate.”

“Fuck you,” Azriel snarled as he spat out some blood. “If I’m dying here then I’m dragging you to hell with me.”

Shadows exploded from Azriel in a swirl of never ending darkness that launched itself towards Koschei. But Koschei’s own darkness seemed to absorb it and grow in size before he sent it careening back to Azriel. It burned through the blue shield Azriel had thrown up and knocked straight into him, sending him flying through the room until he collided with the back wall which nearly buckled under the force.

You screamed out for him, trying to stand but falling once again. You were dehydrated, starved, and beaten within an inch of your life but you pushed your body as much as you could, using the edge of the table to help you stand as Koschei stalked towards your mate.

Azriel had wanted you to disable the wards....If you could do that, if you could tear them down, you could try winnowing to Azriel so the both of you could winnow away before Koschei killed either of you. You were wheezing as you forced yourself to stand and concentrate. You had to do this. You had to get Azriel out of here.

Koschei descended on him once again and they began a battle of shadows and darkness. You could hardly keep track of either of them as they began to disappear and reappear in other places with their shadows, each taking shots at each other. You winced at every noise of their magic colliding, winced at every brutal hit Azriel took from the Death God.

You could feel more of your magic renewing itself, the open wounds on your back finally starting to heal. As more and more pain wore off, you focused your energy into tearing down the wards, trying to drown out the sound of the fighting in the room for now.

It was like an intricate spider web of silver light. One you'd have to disentangle carefully to not trigger. You had no idea what sorts of traps lay in the magic around this place. So strand by strand, piece by piece, you worked on taking it apart. It just had to be enough, enough to give you a small window of opportunity.

You heard Azriel cry out and your focus slipped for a second. You frantically looked over your shoulder and screamed his name as Koschei slammed him into the ground a few yards away. His condition had worsened, his face had gone pale from all the bloodloss, less shadows seemed to be swirling around him as his magic weakened from all the use. You had to hurry.

“Go,” he rasped out, glancing your way. “Y/n, go—run!”

But you wouldn’t…couldn’t. You couldn’t leave him to face this alone.

You tried to remember everything from your lessons with Helion on spellcleaving. Tried to remember how to spot what strand to pull and when, as if the ward was a symphony of sorts and you were playing its violin. One after the other. Twisting and pulling each and every way until finally… finally, you were able to carve out a small hole. But it needed to be bigger. Big enough to winnow through.

Suddenly, something sharp struck within your chest and you fell to your knees in pain, losing your concentration. You clutched at your chest, your heart feeling like it was tearing itself into two. A feeling of dread and terror washed over you when you realized the mating bond that was beginning to fray as life was being sucked from Azriel. Another stab of agony made you crumble all the way to the ground, crying out.

You looked up to see Azriel on his knees in the center of the room. His breathing was heavy and slow, he was covered in his own blood, his leather armor torn to pieces and bruises decorated his beautiful face. His wings were slumped on the ground, the right one still nearly shredded. And above him stood the Death God, his darkness wrapped around your mate's throat, ready to squeeze the remaining life out of him.

Time seemed to pause in that minute—like the whole world was about to collapse in on itself. The breath was sucked right from your lungs. The very fiber of your being was crying at the sight of your mate on death's door, ripping itself apart as you felt his pain like it was your own. Your hand inched on the ground towards Azriel as you weakly called out his name.

His head turned slightly, his eyes widening as he realized you hadn’t ran away like he had hoped you did. That you were still here with him. He shook his head at you, unable to speak, trying to will you to get up and make a run for it before it was too late. But you would die here with him, because no part of you wanted to live without him.

They always say your life flashes before your eyes when you're on the brink of death.

But that is not what happened.

Instead, a life you never lived did.

A private mating ceremony with Azriel, declaring your love for each other as a priestess tied a ribbon around both your hands, linking you forever. Azriel painstakingly building a small cottage for you on the edge of Velaris with his own hands just because the ones you toured weren’t like the one you had dreamt of. A life where you and Azriel were together, mated and married, living in that cottage on the outskirts of Velaris. You and Azriel on a balcony watching starfall as he gently placed a hand on your round belly. Azriel with his arms wrapped around you, pressing kisses to your neck as you watched two children who resembled the two of you running through the tall grass in the meadow behind your home.

A whole life that they two of you could've had. A life that was stolen from you because of a bargain made three hundred years ago. A life you would never get to live because this would be your ending. Two lovers torn apart for centuries, finally able to be together as they wished only to met their demise before their life together even began.

No.

You pushed yourself up on shaky arms, crawling on your hands and knees towards your mate.

No.

This would not be your ending. You wouldn't allow it. No, too much had been stolen from the two of you and this...this was not how your story together would end.

You channeled all your magic, pulling from the depths of your soul, pulling from parts of yourself you didn't even know existed, all the way down to the core of your being. You were the Princess of Night—a child of night and shadow, for Gods’ sake. A child born with the darkside of the moon in her. A child blessed with magic. You pulled and pulled at your darkness until it was pouring out of you, seeping from your skin and bones.

It lurched forward and slammed into the Death God, pushing him away from Azriel—away from your mate.

Death would not have him today because he was yours.

Azriel fell forward onto his hands, gasping for air. You stood up, limping over to Azriel and standing in front of him, glaring at Koschei. You didn’t have any armor on, still in the tattered night gown with your wrists shackled together, didn’t even have a weapon, but you had your magic back and it would have to be enough.

Koschei chuckled, standing up and dusting himself off. Although he had brought Azriel to his knees, the Death God hadn’t escaped without injuries of his own, a testiment to Azriel’s power.

“You know,” Koschei said, striding towards you. “I thought we’d have more time together—you and I. But it seems like you’re more trouble than you’re worth, child. So now, I shall end you and your mate. Hm, two mates dying together, how romantic.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled, your darkness curling around your form. Azriel was weakly calling out your name from behind you, his hand reaching to grab you so he could push you away but you didn’t let him.

“You know, this is the most excitement I’ve had in a long time. I’m feeling rather charitable so I’ll offer you this—become one of my swans and I’ll let your mate go.”

Azriel let out a growl from behind you that nearly shook the room but you stepped forward, as if considering it. Koschei’s body relaxed, thinking the fight was over, like you hoped he would.

But the darkness that was curling around you shot forward like a chain and wrapped itself around his neck before he could deflect it. You yanked on it, causing him to choke as he fell to his knees—in the same exact position he had Azriel in before.

His hands clawed at the darkness but you didn’t let up, not for a second. Not as that life you dreamed about replayed in your mind over and over again. Not as you thought of Azriel, your mate. No, you wouldn’t let up. You sent all your hatred, all of your anger into that darkness.

Your darkness spread around the Death God and started shoving its way into him from all orifices, his ears, his mouth. Everywhere until he was being consumed by it.

“You should’ve never laid a hand on my mate,” you growled at the Death God who was gasping for air and then you yanked your rope of darkness tighter and tighter—ignoring the agony you felt as your magic burned through you until your well was drained entirely.

Koschei’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he slumped over finally—crashing to the floor. He…he wasn’t dead. You could still hear his faint heartbeat but he was out cold. You let out a breath of relief.

“P-princess…”

You whirled around as Azriel rasped your name. His hazel eyes met yours for a second, blinking lazily before they closed and he fell to the ground. You let out a cry of alarm and rushed for him, falling to the ground next to him. You wrapped your arms around his limp body, pulling him into your lap. His breathing was labored, heavy. His heartbeat barely audible.

“Azriel,” you cried, brushing some hair from his face. “Come on, baby. Don’t—you can’t…you can’t do this to me. Wake up, please!”

His eyes blinked open for a second and some of your tears fell on his cheeks. You pressed a hand to the deepest wound on his torso, trying to stop some of the bleeding.

“H-hey, princess,” Azriel choked out, a soft smile on his lips, still in a haze.

“Hey, shadowsinger,” you whispered, smiling at him weakly.

“You’re…,” he coughed, a bit of blood dribbling from his lips. He was in bad shape. You needed to get him to a healer. Now. “You’re touching me.”

“I am,” you choked on your own sobs, running your hand down his face. You tried to reach out to your brother through your mind. You didn’t have enough magic left to winnow the both of you out of here.

Rhys…Rhys, please, I need you!

“Y-you’re touching me,” Azriel repeated, his eyes closing. “And i-it feels like…heaven.”

You couldn’t help the bittersweet laugh that escaped as you wiped at the tears still pouring down your cheeks.

Dove, I’m here! Are you okay? Where is Azriel?

“Az, I need you to stay awake, okay? Can you open your eyes for me? Please, baby, just for a little longer.”

He’s here with me but he’s in bad shape, Rhys. I don’t have any magic left. I can’t get us out of here. Please…I don’t know what to do.

“Mm…‘mm so tired,” Azriel slurred out.

“I know, baby, but you’ve got to stay awake. Just for a bit and then you can rest as long as you want to, okay?”

I’m coming, dove. Hold on.

You let out a sob as Azriel’s eyes shut again and his breathing slowed. “No, you can’t do this! You can’t leave me, Az. Not when I finally have you. Come on, baby, wake up!”

Darkness swirled around the cabin and for a second, you thought Koschei had woken up but you sobbed even harder as your brother finally emerged from it. Rhys glanced at the passed out Death God before he saw you holding Azriel on the floor.

“Rhys, please! Please, he needs a healer,” you cried.

Your brother’s eyes widened at the sight of his shadowsinger. He rushed forward, falling to his knees beside you.

“Let me take him,” your brother whispered. You didn’t want to let your mate go but you knew you couldn’t lift him. “It’s okay, dove. Let me help him.”

You passed Azriel over to him, watching your brother take your mate into his arms and lift him off the floor. You stood on shaky legs, your own vision beginning to blacken as the exhaustion of all the magic use finally caught up to you. The last thing you remembered was Rhys winnowing the two of you to some makeshift camp away from the lake and crying out for Azriel before darkness consumed you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

One week later

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The sound of the door opening stirred you from your slumber. You sat up with a groan, your back aching because of the way you had fallen asleep—hunched over in a chair, next to Azriel’s bed where he still lied unconscious, as he had been since the day he’d help you escape from Koschei’s grasp.

You blinked the sleep from your eyes, taking notice of your brother in the doorway. He hesitantly stepped inside the room, closing the door shut behind him softly. You hadn’t spoken to him since you had woken up a week ago. Not when he was part of the reason for all of this, for ever making Azriel stay away from you.

And he knew he deserved your resentment and had kept away for the most part. But you noticed how sometimes after falling asleep you’d wake up with a blanket thrown around your shoulders that smelled like him or there’d be food waiting for you on the bedside table that you knew came from him.

You grabbed Azriel’s hand, squeezing it lightly. You felt comforted by his warmth. Madja wasn’t able to tell how long it would take for Azriel to heal. He had taken a lot of damage, all of it mostly internal because of Koschei’s magic, and that was taking far longer to heal.

You were so scared he’d never wake up. So scared that you never left his bedside. You'd sit here for the rest of your life if you had to.

Rhysand was staring down at Azriel’s limp body, his eyes swimming with tears. You could see the guilt he felt written all over him. He’d almost lost someone he’d considered his brother because of that stupid bargain he’d made him make.

He came around the side of the bed until he was standing beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder. Part of you wanted to cringe away from his touch but another part also just really needed him as a brother right now.

“I am so sorry, dove,” he whispered. “Making Azriel make that bargain with me is something I’ll regret for the rest of my life. I’m so sorry I kept you away from your mate. I’m so sorry for ever thinking it was my right to control who you loved. I understand if you never want to talk to me again—if you hate me now.”

A moment of silence passed before you stood and looked at him. “Rhys, you fucked up. You really did. I know you were traumatized after mother died—after I almost did, too. What you did has caused me and Azriel so much pain and maybe I’ll be mad at you for it for the rest of our lives but I Rhys, you’re my brother. I could never hate you.”

A small sob escaped from his lips before Rhys pulled you into a warm embrace. You crumbled into your brother’s arms, seeking a type of comfort only he could provide. Your own tears slipped down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, dove. I’ll keep apologizing until I can’t speak. When Azriel wakes up, whatever you guys want, it’s yours—all of it.”

“I’m so scared, Rhysie,” you cried, burying your face in his chest. “I’m so scared he’s not going to wake up. I’m so scared I’ll never get to talk to him again…”

“Azriel is the strongest person I know,” Rhys whispered into your hair. “He’s going to wake up, dove. As long as you’re here, he will fight his way through whatever is keeping him from you. He’s going to wake up.”

“I never even got to tell him how much he means to me. I never told him how much I love him or how ready I am to accept the mating bond. I never…I never—”

You fell into a fit of sobs again, unable to even speak. Rhys held you tightly, stroking your back.

“He knows, dove. He knows how much you love him. And you’ll get the chance to tell him, okay? You will.”

But all you could do was pray to the Gods that you would get that chance.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

A few more agonizing days passed by. Days that seemed longer than the span of your entire life. Days spent next to Azriel’s bedside, praying each and every morning that this would be the day he finally woke. You didn’t lose hope, you couldn’t because just the thought of him never waking up would send you into a spiral so deep, there’d be no pulling you out of it.

You let out a sigh and dropped your head into your hands.

Is this how he felt while you’d been chained in Koschei’s cabin?

You still felt so guilty…guilty that you hadn’t trusted Azriel’s reassurances that there was nothing between him and Elain, guilty that you had fallen for the Prince’s cruel trap. If you had just trusted your mate, he wouldn’t be lying here after nearly dying for you.

“P-prin…p-princess?”

Your heart leaped to your throat and you looked up so rapidly, you almost cracked your neck. Azriel blinked at you in a daze. His eyes held confusion as he glanced around, realizing he was in his room back at the House of Wind. His beautiful hazel eyes met yours again, glowing gold in the soft faelight.

“Azriel,” you breathed out, reaching forward to grab his hand. “You’re…you’re awake.”

“I-I think I am,” he said, his words still slurring a bit. “But you’re touching me and I’m not in pain and normally this usually only happens in my dreams.”

You smiled through the tears sliding down your face, tenderly cupping his cheek.

“You’re awake,” you replied. “You’re awake and I’m here, touching you and it doesn’t hurt because the bargain has been broken. You are my mate, Azriel.”

A dopey smile took over Azriel’s face. “I’m your mate.”

You nodded with a small laugh. “You’re my mate, Azriel. And I am yours.”

“You are mine,” he repeated softly, then lurched forward like all of his memories finally came back. You jumped into action, helping him sit up.

“Careful,” you said. “You’re still healing. You’ve been asleep for a little over a week now.”

“What! W-what happened?”

You brushed some of his hair from his forehand, running your fingers through it. Now that you could touch each other without causing him pain, you weren’t ever going to stop. He leaned into your touch, looking up at you with such reverence and love, it caused your cheeks to turn pink.

“I kind of…lost it when Koschei was about to kill you,” you finally answered, your voice a mere whisper. “My magic erupted and I choked him out. I didn’t kill him but it gave us enough time to get out of there. I broke the wards like you told me to and my brother came for us.”

“Are you telling me that my mate choked out a Death God?” He grinned at you and you lightly smacked his shoulder.

“It’s not funny, Az. You nearly died! Do you know how awful this past week has been? I…I thought I might never talk to you again. I thought you might never wake up!”

Azriel lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm. “I know, babygirl. How do you think I felt all those days you were trapped with Koschei? I wanted to get you the minute he shadowed you away but Rhysand wouldn’t let me go.”

Well, Azriel using your brother’s full name told you exactly how he was feeling towards his High Lord at the moment.

“I’m glad he didn’t,” you said, sternly. “You would’ve died and I would’ve given up. The only thing that kept me going in there was the thought of you, Azriel. The thought that maybe, maybe I could find my way back to you.”

Azriel wiped at the tears falling from your eyes, gently. “I’m so sorry, princess. I’m sorry for everything.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I wouldn’t change a single thing if it meant that the mating bond finally snapped between us…if it meant that I could have you now.”

“I’m yours in any way you want me, princess,” Azriel reaffirmed, yanking you down onto his lap and wrapping his arms around you despite your protests because of his injuries. He placed a kiss on your forehead. “I’m yours from now until always.”

You pulled away to look him in the eyes, your heart pulsing at everything you found in them.

“And I am yours, Azriel,” you whispered. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He smiled, fully smiled. “Good, because I’m never letting you go.”

And then he pressed a passionate kiss against your lips. A kiss free of pain. A kiss that was full of every single emotion he felt towards you—admiration, craving, devotion, but above all else, love.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Taglist:

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bvidzsoo · 1 month

Text

Love Me Like A Rockstar (Epilogue)

ー☆ Epilogue

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: suggestive language, cursing, smut ー☆ Word count: 8.7k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: mature ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: I chose no song for this chapter, so everyone is free to listen to whatever or not listen to anything at all, however, while doing the moodboard I was listening to Power and I actually started sobbing, so uh, you can give it a listen if you wish to! I won't yap here, so see you at the end of the chapter! <3 I hope you enjoy, and as always, let me know what y'all thought of the last chapter of my beloved series. divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red

@sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng

@deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf

@hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss

@catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi @mingisbbg

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

3 months later

Spring was finally approaching, the weather having turned less harsh and warmer in the span of a few weeks, slowly painting nature in its vibrant and gorgeous colors that I would never get enough of. And we were lucky the air was warmer now outside, because in the confines of the limited space of my little studio of my Arts Club at university—which is more of a storage room to be fair—the smell of fresh dye and incense mingled together almost in a nauseating way, leaving me no option but to crack open the small window of the studio. Well, since it was so high up, I had to ask Mingi to open it as I didn’t want to get on a chair as I would have had to walk to the front of the room, and I was too lazy to do that. Music played quietly in the corner from Mingi’s portable speaker as he hummed along the melody of the song, typing away on his phone as his shoulders were slouched over, head lowered.

My eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as I bit my tongue, making sure the dye spread out evenly at the back of Mingi’s head, not wanting to leave spots of his previously platinum blonde hair. Around a week ago, he and Seonghwa hung out under the pretense of watching movies and having a boys' night in which they would drink beer and maybe compose some music, however, the next day when Mingi came over to have lunch with my mother and me, his hair was short. The long strands that curled prettily against his nape and ears were gone, replaced by short spikey hair that stuck up against his head, giving him a punkish look. My mother had squealed when she saw him, touched his hair, and then cradled his cheeks, gushing about how handsome he was, making me glare at the two as they forgot about my existence. Instead, I went and set the table and left them to their usual gossiping, shaking my head when my mother told him all about the new hot doctor at work she had her eyes on.

At times, those two would get lost in their own world and forget about my existence, amusing me, but also prompting me to give them a side-eye. Don’t get me wrong, I was beyond the moon that my boyfriend and mother got along really well, but at times it almost felt like I didn’t even exist—and before you would be like Mingi and say that I am dramatic, the fact that my mother seemed to love Yunho just as much as Mingi, definitely sent me into an existential crisis after the first time she confessed she loved the two as if they were her own sons. And about Yunho, well, yes, we’ve worked out our differences—which involved a lot of explaining, invoking buried memories, and a lot of apologies from Yunho’s side—so now we were all a big happy family—family as in not to be misunderstood, we all loved each other and had a nice bond. To be honest, I felt no mal-intent towards Yunho when after a month of dating Mingi we finally decided to sit down and discuss everything with his best friend, and I even found myself now confiding in him and asking him for advice in areas Seulgi—and Wooyoung—couldn’t help, because, after all, Yunho knew Mingi best. And Yunho’s girlfriend was an absolute angel and sweetheart, I took a liking to her quite quickly and found her love for literature rather adorable as she’d often quote her favorite characters from her favorite books.

Mingi snickered as I playfully pushed his head forward as I was done dyeing his platinum hair to a regular, darker, blonde with pink hues in it. I tried to look over his shoulder to see what he found so amusing but he cradled his phone to his chest and made me roll my eyes as I walked to the sink to wash the small bowl and the brush I used to dye his hair. Mingi changed the music to something more upbeat and a lot noisier than the music he, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa made, and I came to realize the speaker was playing Limp Bizkit. I couldn’t say that I enjoyed their music too much, I preferred something more indie, but I still appreciated some of their songs. I turned on the faucet and started washing the brush first as Mingi approached me and leaned against the counter, lips pursed as he tried to hide his cheeky smile. I threw him a questioning look as I rinsed the bowl out, applying a little soap in it to wash out the dye completely as Mingi finally spoke up, “Check this out, ‘Your face is a work of art, my legs should frame it.’”

My eyebrows furrowed as I gave Mingi a confused look, quickly making him pout, “Oh, come on! It’s ‘art rizz’!”

I snorted as I placed the bowl and brush aside to dry, peeling the gloves off my hands carefully to not stain my clothes or skin, “You’ve had better ones Mings, besides, shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“I mean,” Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed as he pocketed his phone in his light pink jeans, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He wore a white loose sleeveless tank top today, his biceps bulged from the action and I tried not to let my eyes linger on the well-defined muscles, “I definitely like the idea you’re suggesting—”

“As if we haven’t done that already.” I interrupted with a pointed look and Mingi just rolled his eyes.

“That’s beside the point,” And then he was smirking, leaning into my space as I rinsed the soap off my hands, “wait, are you suggesting something right now?”

“I just dyed your hair, Mingi, no, I’m not suggesting anything.” I sighed, unimpressed, as I shut the faucet off and grabbed a small towel to dry my hands off in it. You see, Mingi is rather…vocal with his needs and quick in executing them, so, I cannot say we haven’t been… active, if you know what I mean.

“Pity.” Mingi pouted for a second before he moved on to the next subject, his brain sometimes moving too fast for me to be able to keep up with him, “You remember that well-dressed woman from our last gig at Outlaw?”

“I sure do, she looked rather out of place with her pencil skirt and blouse.” I hummed as I leaned my hip against the sink, facing Mingi. He grinned and then fished his phone out of his pocket again and unlocked it, clicking on something I couldn’t see. Then, he cleared his throat and raised it to a higher pitch that was definitely mocking the woman’s voice.

“Mr. Song, I am delighted to let you know that Horizon Records would love to work with Noir Zenith, and we’d like to set an appointment as soon as it fits you and your bandmates' schedule. – Hong J.” Mingi bit his bottom lip as my eyes widened, prompting me to hold onto his wrist in excitement.

“Wait,” I said, eyebrows lightly furrowing, “isn’t this that super famous and huge record everyone dreams of getting signed to?!”

And when Mingi’s smile grew into a hug grin, I felt joy and excitement fill my senses as I grabbed both of Mingi’s hands, jumping up and down as he giggled and followed along, the two of us jumping in small circles like little kids. I couldn’t believe my ears, this was even bigger than the last record they agreed to sign with for half a year—the one Hongjoong helped out with—and once their contract was over, they could sign a new one with Horizon Records.

“That’s fucking amazing, Mingi!” I exclaimed loudly as we finally stopped jumping around, my heart beating fast as Mingi nodded in excitement, his teeth visible as he couldn’t stop smiling.

“I know, Wooyoung started running laps while screaming and Seonghwa cried clinging to me for half an hour when I told them.” I chuckled at the image in my head, but quickly realized the message wasn’t fresh. Before I could go off on him for hiding something so important from me, Mingi beat me to it, a knowing glint in his eyes, “Mrs. Hong sent the text yesterday afternoon and I only didn’t tell you about it because I knew we’d meet today and I wanted to see your reaction, so, don’t be mad, please.”

And how could I be mad at him when his plump lips were jutting out and his eyebrows raised in a manner that made him look adorable and heartbreaking at the same time? I huffed and squeezed his hands before I released them, trying to play off the fact that he already knew me so well, “I wasn’t about to get mad, I’m very happy for you and the rest of the boys, my love.”

Mingi giggled and looked away, the high of his cheekbones slightly flushed, and I grinned because I could never get over the fact that calling him ‘love’ or ‘my love’ turned him into a giggling and blushing mess. It was adorable, cute, and somehow still sexy, and before I would let any stray thoughts enter my head and distract me from the plans we had, I cleared my throat, “We should eat that pizza we ordered, it’s probably already gone cold.”

Mingi hummed but didn’t speak up as I went to walk towards the white sheet we had laid on the floorboards to sit on, pizza, black nail polish, Mingi’s pink beanie, and my sketchbook scattered all over it. However, before I could take another step, my feet suddenly weren’t touching the ground anymore as I was lifted by the waist, a squeal leaving my lips as I clutched onto Mingi’s bare arms, “Mingi! Put me down!”

“No.” He giggled against my neck and I felt his warm lips press a small kiss against my nape as my hair was in a bun, then he was running towards the sheet as we both laughed, the song playing through the speaker drowned out by our loudness. He finally placed me back down on my feet when we reached the white sheet and I sat down in a crisscross position, opening the box of pizza as Mingi took his seat across me. I grinned as I grabbed a slice, my stomach growling in hunger once again, and then I took a bite of the cheesy pepperoni pizza, making Mingi chuckle as he looked less hungry and less eager to devour our lunch for today. I extended my hand for his phone and he gave it to me without a word, I typed in his password before I looked through his playlist, taking bites of my pizza in the meantime. I found a slower beat that I liked and switched the currently playing song to that and then handed his phone back after I locked it, smiling as Mingi was flipping through my newest sketchbook which had mostly drawings of him.

I didn’t expect him to flip to that particular page and I almost choked as the pizza went down a little array, making Mingi smirk as he pulled the drawing closer to himself, dark eyes inspecting his sleeping form in the drawing. Well, the drawing looked completely innocent unless you knew what happened before it, and I couldn’t help but blush harder when Mingi bit his lower lip, pizza in his hand forgotten as he traced the blanket that hung low on his naked hips, torso on display and face serene as he had been in a deep slumber. When he looked up, he didn’t look much too smug, but there was a glint in his eyes that I had become accustomed to too well. He was in awe, but he was turned on, and I couldn’t help but stuff my face more with pizza, satiating my hunger as a means of distraction from the fact that I drew Mingi post-sex not even four days ago.

“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a talented songwriter and composer but a good hell of a painter.” His voice was deeper as he mumbled, taking a bite of his pizza as he glanced back down at the drawing, “I want to draw you too, to capture you in all forms and commemorate you for an eternity.”

Well, what a way to make me blush harder. I grabbed another slice as I had finished the first one as a means to stall for a second, ponder over my answer, “You’re good with your words though, unlike me. I always struggle to express myself concisely, yet to you it’s easy. You create beautiful lyrics and you never fail to capture my true nature in your songs, so I think I’ll always live on in your music, Mingi, you have already commemorated me for an eternity.”

That made Mingi blink in surprise as he hadn’t even realized that before, and I smiled as he gave me a lasting look before he flipped the page, the drawing of him playing with a kitten I had found outside my porch. Now, she was our kitten and she, obviously, loved Mingi more than me—just like my mother, I didn’t try to complain about this too, “You inspire me like none other.”

“You inspire me too, Mings.” Mingi’s smile was shy as he continued flipping through the sketchbook, less filled than my other ones as I decided to dedicate this one only to him. He’d seen the older sketches plenty of times before, yet he never failed to become shy when looking through them.

I finished my slice of pizza, dusted my hands off and made sure my cheeks weren’t greasy as I leaned towards the black nail polish, shaking it in front of Mingi with a grin, “Ready to get your nails painted?”

He nodded excitedly and handed me his left hand as he still held his slice of pizza in the right one. His thick fingers were smooth and decorated with rings, much like mine, and I flipped my left hand around to place his palm in mine. After having arrived at my humble studio once we were finished with our classes for the day, Mingi got to work and painted my nails. He had bought some new nail polish a week ago and convinced me to surprise me with them, so, the nails on my left hand were now almost neon green and the nails on my right hand almost Barbie pink. Sometime along, painting each other’s nails became a habit, something we both enjoyed doing and now we could confidently call it our thing.

I concentrated hard to not smudge the skin around his nails, eyebrows furrowed and teeth clamping down on my bottom lip as Mingi’s eyes were either on me or his nails, bobbing his head along to the rhythm of the song playing. He usually chewed loudly and I was thankful he kept his mouth closed this time, knowing that it would only irritate me if he started chewing on his slice of pizza aggressively—it wouldn’t be the first time he does it just to annoy me. As I finished doing his middle finger, his phone rang and Mingi reached over to his left side as he bit on the crust of his pizza, picking his phone off the floor as the music cut off. He accepted the phone call and put it on speaker as I chuckled and watched him take out the crust from his mouth so that he could talk.

“Hey! Song Mingi!” It was unmistakably Wooyoung’s voice as he screamed into the phone, making me concerned that Mingi would lose his hearing if he had just normally picked up the phone without putting it on speaker, “What’s up, bro?!”

Mingi snickered, shaking his head as I finished painting the nails on his left hand, “I told you yesterday that I would hang out with Y/N after classes.”

“Ah, right,” Wooyoung hummed as I leaned down to press a kiss against Mingi’s hand, making him grin as he finished his slice, eagerly handing over his right hand to paint his nails, “And where are you two lovebirds?”

“In her studio,” Mingi answered as I got to work, careful as always as I painted his pinkie’s nail.

“Now that you mention, Seulgi said something about not being able to work on her assignment in the studio because of you two.”

I scoffed and before Mingi could answer, I spoke up as I leaned towards the phone, “I told Seulgi to do her assignment not two days before the deadline, and I also told her a week ago that I’d be hounding the studio with Mingi today.”

“Heard that babe?!” Wooyoung’s voice was distant just for a second, then he snickered, “She says you’re lucky she loves you, otherwise she would’ve kicked you out of your studio.”

“My own studio.” I huffed and applied another coat over Mingi’s forefinger’s nail to even out the texture, “What a bitch.”

“A bitch that is forced to listen to her best friend’s constant bitching, who’s the bitch now, Y/N?” Everyone snickered and I rolled my eyes as there was the unmistakable sound of a kiss pressed against a cheek through the phone, Mingi and I shared a look of mild disgust as I went to paint his thumb’s nail.

“Don’t start making out while you’re on the phone with me, Wooyoung.” Mingi’s voice carried disgust but there was a hint of amusement, “Anyways, what’s the purpose of your call? You never call unless you need something or I ask you to remind me of something.”

“It’s neither this time,” Seulgi chuckled through the phone, and then there was shuffling and I knew she walked away. I finished Mingi’s nails and closed the bottle of nail polish, sitting up on my knees to kiss Mingi’s cheek as he bit his lower lip, grinning at me as he wriggled his fingers happily.

“Do not be late to Aurora’s opening tonight and wear something extra fancy, Hongjoong will have our heads if we don’t honor his fiancé for God’s sake.” Wooyoung sounded mildly annoyed but it was no secret that he loved Hongjoong probably almost as much as he loved all of his friends, however, he’d never admit that to anyone. Aurora became the name of Seonghwa’s studio and small gallery, and tonight was the grand opening. Everyone was excited about it, with Seonghwa being a nerve wreck as he feared people wouldn’t show up. After having talked to both him and Hongjoong, they agreed to display a few of my paintings in the front lobby and I was giddy and curious about everyone’s reaction to them. Nobody knew what I had handed over to Seonghwa, and he had beamed when his eyes took in the paintings, he getting emotional instead of me and making me chuckle as I hugged him tightly and thanked him for the opportunity.

“You should worry about yourself, Woo,” Mingi teased with a chuckle, “Y/N and I will look impeccable, as always.”

“That is for sure,” I muttered as I sat back on my ankles, watching Mingi with a grin as we had decided to match our outfits for the night.

“Talk to you later, we’ve got some business to attend to with Y/N now.” And then Wooyoung said his goodbye and they hung up as Mingi pointed towards the pizza with a pout, “I’m still hungry, will you feed me?”

And even if I said no and rolled my eyes, five minutes later Mingi had a teasing glint in his eyes as I fed him his third slice of pizza, smart enough to remain silent or else I wouldn’t have continued feeding him or helping him drink water while his nails dried.

Barely an hour later, when Mingi’s hunger and thirst were satiated and his nails were dry, we replaced the white sheet with a huge flat canvas that we would paint over. We had agreed on painting a scenery, something similar to the creek we so much liked to visit when the weather allowed it, but sometime along my attempts at making it look like the actual creek, Mingi’s not so painter skills came into the mix and created a—whatever that did not look like the creek. He refused to admit that what was supposed to be the water now looked like the sky, making the whole painting look like it was upside down from our standpoint, and he also kept on vehemently denying that he tried to paint a dick over the trunk of the tree I spent at least fifteen minutes on to make it look as realistic as possible. All in all, I concluded that without Mingi here I would’ve been able to finish the painting in a maximum of three hours, however, now there was no future for finding a vision in whatever we have created.

But I didn’t mind, because this was Mingi’s and my work, something we created together while laughing and talking about whatever came to our minds, the atmosphere light and joyful. I had also washed out the dye from his hair and we towel-dried it, making it look spikier than usual. I couldn’t lie, this new hair made Mingi look incredibly hot, and it took me some willpower to not jump him as he looked at me with those sharp eyes and a knowing smirk, the asshole.

“But you’ll dye it back to black soon, right?” I asked while painting clouds over the once creek turned sky now. Mingi was behind me, crouched down, and his clothes still somehow miraculously not stained. I wore my old overall knowing that I’d stain myself the second I opened a can of paint, and I wasn’t wrong at all as the edges of my pants were already stained green and white.

“I mean, do you hate this color?” Mingi asked from behind me as he dipped his brush into black, terrifying me of whatever he had in mind to do with the color once I saw him.

“What the hell do you need black for?!” I exclaimed as I grabbed his wrist, making his eyebrows shoot up in amusement.

“Aren’t artists supposed to just go with the flow?” His lips jutted out as he playfully leaned closer, my eyebrows furrowing as I was ready to oppose his idea, “You’re making me question your working etiquette, doll, I don’t find you creative enough—”

“As if!” I exclaimed only mildly offended as I knew Mingi was only teasing me, “Going with the flow and trusting your instincts is one thing, love, but having no vision or idea in mind is plain terrifying.”

“I was going to sign the top of it, but never mind—”

“Fine,” I groaned, gripping his wrist to stop Mingi from twisting away. His voice was whiney and he was pouting, not even looking at me as if he was offended. I knew he wasn’t; he was just acting up to get what he wanted. And unfortunately, it was working embarrassingly well on me, “Sign it.”

“Great!” He beamed as he leaned forward, mindful of staining his pink jeans with paint and I sighed as I shook my head, making curved lines before I colored them to make them look more like clouds. I had no idea what would become of the painting, but I certainly was eager to find out.

“Back to your hair,” I spoke up as Mingi carefully drew his ‘fix on’ signature onto the canvas, “I don’t hate the blonde but I miss your natural color, it suits you more, makes you look cuter and softer.”

“Aw,” Mingi turned back to give me puppy eyes—which he learned from Yunho, no doubt, “you like your boyfriend to be all soft and cute? I thought you like it when I get all wild and destroy—”

“Do not finish that sentence, Song Mingi.” I threatened as I sat back, brush pointed threateningly towards Mingi.

“Or what?” His crooked teeth showed as he grinned, quirking an eyebrow to annoy me further. I huffed and tried to think of a good comeback, but came up empty-handed for once so I gave him a pointed glare.

“I’ll stain you with paint.”

“Bet.”

And I know Mingi didn’t expect me to actually follow through with my childish threat, but as I jerked my wrist in his direction, the remaining paint from my brush flew off and, well, stained his white sleeveless tank top. Mingi’s mouth fell open as he gaped down at himself, and I laughed, giving him a smug look.

“What, did you think I was fucking around?”

“Oh, I’ll make you wish you never did that!”

And before I could prepare myself for whatever attack he had planned, he pressed his hand against his brush and coated it in black paint then sprung towards me, making me gasp as his thick fingers drew a cold line against my cheekbone. Mingi grinned as I stared at him in surprise, but I reacted soon quickly as I pressed my fingers into the fresh paint on the canvas and returned the favor, the only difference being that I drew a circle on his forehead with white paint. Mingi blinked once, then twice, and a mischievous grin spread onto his lips which told me that I was in trouble.

I quickly scrambled to my feet, but Mingi was fast as he dug his whole hand in green paint and slapped my ass painfully hard, making me cry out as it stung even through the fabric, making me give him a deadly glare, “Song Mingi! That fucking hurt!”

“You’re a pussy.” He stuck his tongue out and I tsked, leaning down to push my whole hand inside the red paint. Mingi’s eyes widened as I gave him a victorious smirk, eyes narrowing as he jumped up to his feet, holding his arms up in defeat.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start a war—” But his futile attempts at saving his ass fell on deaf ears as I cackled and took off towards him, making him yelp as he tried to duck and run away, making us run around the canvas. We were both barefoot and as Mingi tried to jump over the canvas, he miscalculated where his long legs would land and landed on his freshly painted signature, making him yelp again as it was no doubt cold against his feet. I laughed as I easily caught up with him and felt up his chest, biting my lower lip as Mingi’s eyes widened.

“Oh, no, your white shirt is all stained now.” I fake pouted as Mingi froze, incredulous eyes looking between me and his shirt. I chuckled and clapped my hands together, deciding that my job was done here, but then Mingi was stepping back and leaving foot marks all over the canvas on purpose. I scoffed but didn’t care much, the poor painting had been long ruined. I crossed my arms in front of my chest in defiance as he dipped both of his hands in pink paint and then gave me a grin as he beckoned me over with a finger. I huffed in disbelief as if I’d hand myself over willingly to him. And he knew that because I dipped both of my hands in light blue paint and faced him again. Our stare-off was intense and calculating as we both tried to guess the other’s next step, and thinking I’d have the upper hand, I stepped in the middle of the canvas just as Mingi moved too and I raised my hands to dirty his tank top even more when he cupped my cheeks and made me squeal.

The paint felt cold against my skin and I knew it would dry it out once it started drying itself, but I was far too amused to worry about something so insignificant right now. Wanting revenge, I grasped his hair and massaged my hands well into the freshly dyed darker blonde strands, making his hair look like cotton candy due to the pink hue mixing with the light blue of the paint.

“My hair! Y/N!” Mingi whined loudly slapping my hands away, but I wasn’t finished as I dirtied his jaw, neck, and tank top too. Mingi was pouting hard and glaring at me at the same time, already sharp eyes turning sharper and full of revenge as he flushed his body against mine and cupped my ass over the fabric, gripping tightly and kneading the flesh.

“Mingi!” I exclaimed, content with being so close to him, but also annoyed that he kept going for my ass, “Leave my ass alone, you idiot!”

“You ruined my hair!”

“I told you to dye it black and not a different shade of blonde.”

“I thought you were a firm believer in people doing whatever they want.”

“I am, but you’re my boyfriend and I find you hotter with black hair.”

“Well, you’re my girlfriend and I find you hotter with my dick down your throat.”

We both paused as my eyes widened and Mingi caught himself a second later, cheeks flushing as he looked sheepish, finally releasing my ass as his hands settled around my hips instead, “Oopsie, that went too far but it’s the truth—”

He cried out as I whacked him over the head, giving him a fierce look, “Yeah? I also find you hotter gagged around my fingers—”

“We only did that once!”

“Are you afraid it makes you less masculine?”

“I agreed to let you peg me, bro.”

“I know, bro, and you fucking enjoyed it.”

“So, what’s the issue here?”

“That you keep slapping and kneading my ass, leave it alone.”

“Okay, princess, my bad.”

“You’re the princess, Mingi, not me. You’re always whining.”

“And you’re always beating me up, Y/N.”

“Am not!”

“Yeah, you are!”

I scowled at Mingi and pushed him back by the chest, by no means aggressively or harshly, but his dramatic ass pretended to stumble and then he fell back, splaying out across the canvas. I huffed and pinched the bridge off my nose as he made fake crying noises, blinking up at me slowly, “See? I’m huwt.”

I closed my eyes to compose myself and control the need to kick him in the balls for being cringy, “Don’t talk like that, oh, my God.”

“Do you hate it?” He grinned evilly as I walked off the canvas, and to look at me, he turned onto his stomach as he cupped his chin and raised his legs to swing them in the air. He looked like a mess with the paint all over his hair, face, and body, some having gotten onto his pants too now that he was laying on the canvas. I chuckled and shook my head as I eyed my boyfriend, knowing that I looked probably just as messy as him.

“I do, actually, you’re only cute when you’re not trying to be cute.” I deadpanned and Mingi huffed dramatically, letting his arms fall as he pressed his forehead against them. Eyes falling on his round ass, I knew it was my time for payback, and I moved swiftly before he could realize what I was aiming for—it wouldn’t be the first time—so I quickly kneeled next to him and leaned down, baring my teeth as I opened my mouth wide. At first, Mingi jumped when my teeth made contact with his jeans and then when I bit down hard, he yelped, soon turning into loud cries as I continued to bite his left ass cheek harder and harder. He started flailing around and I pulled back with a cackle after I made sure my teeth had sunken in deep enough. But, I had no time to react as he quickly turned around and leaped onto me, landing on top of me as I fell back onto the canvas, no doubt smudging even more whatever paint hadn’t dried yet.

Mingi got on top of me, sitting on my hips as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, pinning me to the floor. I smirked as I raised my eyebrows tauntingly at him, watching his eyes slowly rake over my body to take me in.

“That hurt.”

“Fair enough, it hurt too when you slapped my ass.”

“Well, you have no right to whine so much about it anymore.”

“I do if you keep slapping it, and I also have the right to bite your ass as revenge.”

Mingi’s eyes narrowed and I giggled as he slowly leaned down, placing his hands on both sides of my head to prop himself up, effectively caging me between himself and the floor. I continued looking at him challengingly as he bit his bottom lip, eyes never settling as they searched my face for even a fraction that showed that I would back down. But I wouldn’t, and he knew that by now as he suddenly smirked too, leaning so close our lips brushed against each other.

“I think I won, doll.”

“I didn’t know we were in a contest, love.”

And then he sealed his lips against mine, shutting up the both of us in the most effective way as our lips moved slowly, savoring each other’s taste and lips. Mingi shifted above me and I eagerly opened my legs to let him settle between them as I hugged his torso, hands raking up and down his back slowly as his hips pressed firmly against mine. I smirked against Mingi’s lips when his breath hitched in the back of his throat due to my fingers tangling into his short strands now a little crusty from the red paint in it, it was no secret that Mingi liked it when I pulled on his hair. He cupped my chin with one hand as he pressed his weight on his left arm, the only cue I needed to open up my mouth to grant him access. We both sighed in contentment as his tongue slowly glided against mine, my legs coming up around his hips to lock Mingi’s body against mine.

Mingi moaned when I tangled my fingers just a little harder into his hair, letting him lap at my tongue as he explored my mouth, my body growing hotter as the seconds passed by, hands slipping under his loose tank top to feel up his warm skin. The skin of his back was smooth and I pressed my nails into it as I slowly racked it up his back, feeling Mingi shiver against my body as he jerked his hips forward, making me hum against his mouth as he pulled my bottom lip between his teeth and clamped down on it, sucking hard. I groaned and dug my nails into his shoulders, pulling my head back to be able to lean up and press kisses against his lean neck, his cologne mixing with the paint that was smeared all over us. My lips were hot as I parted them to press wet kisses against his flesh, sucking in the areas I knew Mingi was sensitive to, making him groan and jerk his hips forward again. With a hand slipping down to his hips, I gripped him firmly and prompted him to grind against me, Mingi’s head buried in my hair as I continued to press kisses until I reached his collarbones, gripping the hem of his tank top. He wasted no second as he pulled back just slightly, slipping the fabric off his torso, leaving it bare for me as I grinned at him, feeling his chest and abs up as he worked at the clips of my overall.

I kissed the skin between his pectorals and then pressed up on my elbows as Mingi made quick work of slipping the overall down to my waist and ultimately out of them as goosebumps covered the bare skin of my legs. We threw the overalls off to the side and Mingi was then moving back, down between my legs as he hovered above my thighs, eyes boring into mine as he pressed a feather-like kiss against my left thigh. I gulped and fisted my palms as heat pooled in my lower stomach, his lips always featherlight as he advanced higher up on my thighs with nips and kisses, sometimes licking at the skin teasingly. I knew my cheeks were flushed as I felt hotter by the minute and I shuddered when his lips pressed against my core through the fabric of my panties, making the breath hitch in the back of my throat. Mingi smirked and did it once again before he licked a slow strip upward, closing his eyes to hum, and I let my fingers tangle in his hair as he tapped my inner thigh, moving away from where I wanted him most.

He sat back to undo the buttons and zipper of his jeans, and I watched in anticipation as he slipped the fabric off his thick thighs and ass slowly, in a teasing manner, bottom lip between his teeth as he was half hard already, eyes hooded once he was done with his half-assed striptease. I chuckled and he was all over me again, hips flushed against mine again as I wrapped my legs around his hips, eager to feel his heavy body press me down into the floor. Mingi’s fingers gingerly traveled from my waist up to the hem of my blouse and then he brought it over my head and arms, landing in the pile of clothes to the side. And then his lips were over mine again, licking into my mouth and biting my lip messily as he slowly ground his hips against mine, making me hold onto him as it was easy to feel him in just our underwear. One of my hands went to tease at the elastic of his boxers and, despite him talking shit about it, I knew he liked it when I kneaded his ass, the skin sensitive for him there.

Mingi moaned and ground just a little harder against me, making me burn for him more as he cupped one of my boobs through the bra, pinching the bud as our tongues moved messily without much purpose or goal, too focused on how our bodies felt with the ministrations done to it. As he pressed himself up on his elbow, the hand that grabbed my boob traveled lower on my body until it was inside my panties and rubbing circles against my clit, making me moan out his name loudly, his length grinding up against my thigh as he bit my collarbone, making me screw my eyes shut as I was throbbing for him. But he was a little shit and he only teased, rubbing but never quite letting his fingers slip inside as he chuckled against my ear, making me grit my teeth at him as I gripped his wrist to keep him pressing against my clit as my hips kicked off the floor.

“You’re wet, doll.”

“And you’re not doing enough, love.”

Mingi chuckled again and I moaned as he teasingly slipped just the tip of his finger inside, his rings cold against my burning skin, my nails digging into the flesh of his ass. Mingi groaned and pulled back, making me groan in frustration as I glared at him, but he quickly silenced me with his lips as I felt him pull down my panties, I shimmied my hips to help him get over with it faster. He grinned and nipped at my bottom lip as I pushed his boxers off too, grabbing his dick to teasingly rub at his slit, making him hiss against my lips as our eyes fluttered open.

“What? Only you can tease?” Mingi’s eyes were dark and narrowed as he bucked against my hand, my pace awfully slow in jerking him off, “I could tell you to get off me and I would go on with my merry day—”

“Sure,” Mingi grinned, lips ghosting against my ear as his voice had dropped lower than usual, grabbing my wrist to stop my movements, “but you love my dick too much to pass up on it.”

I scoffed but said nothing, perhaps a little too desperate to have it inside me finally. I hated it when he teased me too much, and because Mingi knew this, he never passed up on the opportunity to get on my nerves even when we were having sex. He enjoyed it perhaps a little bit too much. But the teasing was finally over as he had gotten enough of it, eager to push in as he lined himself up with my entrance, pressing a kiss against my lips.

“I don’t have a condom.” He whispered, eyes searching mine.

“Just pull out, I’m fine.” I circled his shoulders, embracing myself as my core throbbed, eager to have his size expand my walls. Mingi hummed and then pressed another kiss against my lips as he slowly pushed inside, having to take it slow as he didn’t stretch me out with his fingers first, the burn insistent despite our active sex life. I still haven’t gotten used to it, but I didn’t mind as it only made me wetter for him, more eager to take him. Mingi’s bottom lip was between his teeth as he kept his breath labored, concentrating on not hurting me and taking it slow until I said so. I let my fingers run through his hair as I sighed, trying to relax my muscles and just melt into his arms, pressing a kiss against his cheek when he paused abruptly, shuddering.

“You’re so tight,” His voice was barely above a whisper and strained, “I’m about to burst.”

“So soon?” I asked with a chuckle, teasing as it earned me a sharp glare, “And whose fault it is I’m so tight? Your fingers are there for a reason.”

“Shut up.” Mingi groaned and then pressed in fully, a gasp leaving my throat at the sudden move, eyebrows scrunching up as he pressed in deep, making me feel fuller than before. My walls clamped down against his dick and Mingi pressed his forehead against mine as I embraced him, letting my fingers tangle in the short hair against his nape. I nodded, eyes boring into each other, and then Mingi was moving, slowly at first, pulling out only halfway before he was pressing back in, sighs leaving my lips as the pleasure was slowly building up, my hips moving in an attempt to meet his thrusts.

He secured his knees better against the canvas and pressed up on his elbows, hovering over me as his cross necklace dangled in my face, and the image was way too good and hot, knocking a moan out of me as he started thrusting faster, hips slamming back against mine as our pace got faster and more urgent, our breathy moans falling against each other’s lips as I nipped on Mingi’s bottom lip. I hooked a finger against the silver chain as his nose scrunched up, hips slamming back against mine with more purpose, more power, and eagerness as he looked down between our bodies, a grunt leaving his lips as he enjoyed the view. I hooked my legs tighter around his hips and prompted him to move faster, most of my moans were swallowed as we had to remember that we were at university still, in my own studio, so we couldn’t be too vocal. The walls here weren’t soundproof like in Mingi’s studio, yet staying quiet proved to become harder and harder as Mingi started pistoning his hips, grunts turned into low moans as he slammed his lips against mine, our breaths getting swallowed as our teeth knocked together, saliva gathering in the corner of our mouths as I pressed my hands against the small of his back, my own arching off the floor for an even better angle, keening his name when he finally reached the spot that had me seeing stars.

But Mingi was a diligent man who took his time in everything he did, even sex, and if he could prolong our orgasms, then he certainly would, so I had no doubt we’d be at it for a while, subsequently making us late to Aurora’s opening. And we couldn’t have that happening, but our brains were too fogged up and busy with something else to notice Wooyoung’s insistent texts on Mingi’s phone or my mother’s call to remind me I had to be home in fifteen minutes to start getting ready. Oh, well.

Turns out, we got there just in time and nobody screamed our ears off—I’m looking at you Wooyoung—and Seonghwa was certainly overwhelmed when he saw the number of people that showed up for the opening. It was a mix of all age groups and people who knew Seonghwa and Hongjoong from different places, like Hongjoong’s employees or Seonghwa’s colleagues from his major, and there were even more fans of Zenith Noir that showed up, surprising all three of the guys. Seulgi and I stood to the side with grins on our faces as their fans swarmed them and gushed about the beautiful designs Seonghwa had displayed, some put behind glass to protect the expensive material Hongjoong’s team had worked on, and some even put out to be tried on and bought if someone desired to do so.

Seonghwa’s speech had been an emotional one in which he thanked everyone for their support and Hongjoong for believing in him and offering him opportunities he thought were real only in a far-fetched dream, and then I got teary-eyed when Seonghwa’s family surprised him with cake and hugs and praises, making me extremely happy for being able to chase his dreams. The matching rings Hongjoong and he had on their ring finger were eye-catching to those who didn’t know about their engagement, and it was Hongjoong who proudly announced it to the whole room while Seonghwa flushed and tried not to hide behind Hongjoong despite being taller than his fiancé. It was a sight to behold and I wasn’t surprised to feel Mingi cuddle up into my side and sniff loudly as he watched his friends with a proud smile on his lips, Wooyoung amusingly quiet for once.

When everyone was done appreciating Seonghwa’s efforts and creations, he announced with a cheeky smile that the next time anyone visited, the front lobby would be decorated by other artists’ works, but because I had a special request, tonight my works were displayed in the room adjacent to this. I felt my heart in my throat as Seonghwa led us towards the dark room, then our eyes met and I nodded with a small smile, biting my bottom lip as the light switch was flipped on, coating the room in light. I turned to look at Mingi in anticipation as his eyes widened, and he broke free of the crowd, hurrying inside to take in the entirety of the room, from being incredulous to teary-eyed and then looking like the happiest man on Earth, I couldn’t help it but let my heart swell in happiness and pride as I watched him chuckle and look at me with eyes filled with pure and honest love.

The soft sage green walls were decorated with two portraits of Mingi I had sketched out right at the beginning when I had met him, when I wasn’t so familiar with all of his features yet. Then it progressed to the moments I had captivated as our relationship slowly progressed into that of friendship, us sitting in his car, Mingi driving, Mingi laughing at making me flustered, Mingi’s sharp eyes watching me in a faceless crowd, Mingi up on stage shining like the star he is, Mingi gazing at me with yearning in his eyes, Mingi hugging me warmly into his chest, Mingi chewing on his bottom lip in concentration as he sat in his chair in his studio, working on his music, Mingi looking upset because I rudely disregarded everything that’s happened between us, Mingi angry because I was too stubborn to admit my feelings for him, too afraid to move on from Yunho, and at last, Mingi smiling so widely his eyes disappeared, nose scrunched up and his front teeth showing a little more than usual, pure happiness painting his face.

There was a low murmur amongst the crowd as everyone took in the sketches, drawings, and paintings, but I was only focused on Mingi and his reaction to seeing the stages of our relationship displayed through my eyes, my feelings, and my thoughts. And then, more towards the end of the exposition, there was an old sketch of Yunho I had done while still mulling over the failure of our relationship, and right next to it was a painting of both Yunho and Mingi as they sat next to each other, laughing about whatever was funny at that moment. I had captured the moment when Mingi, me, Yunho, and his girlfriend had gone out for dinner, and then I decided I wanted to paint it twice and gift it to Mingi and Yunho for Christmas. I suppose Mingi would get his sooner than Yunho, I’m sure neither would mind.

Seonghwa announced that I was the artist behind the creations and the room erupted in cheers and claps as people complimented me on my talent, but my eyes were on Mingi only as his blazer was glittery underneath the white light, matching my floor-length glittery black dress. He opened his arms and I didn’t waste any more seconds to approach him and let him crush me in his arms, his embrace warm and reassuring as he pressed his face into my hair, exhaling loudly as I embraced him back just as tightly, closing my eyes as my heart was racing. These past three months I spent next to him had been the best time of my life ever, he made me happier and feel safer than anyone else ever. He helped me get better at controlling my explosive emotions and he helped me slowly break down the walls I so defensively built up after Yunho’s departure. He made me unafraid to love and to receive love, he made me want to spend the rest of my life with him.

I wanted a forever with him.

“I love you, Mingi.” And it was the first time I voiced those thoughts, voice clear but quiet so that only he’d hear it. I felt Mingi freeze, a gasp leaving his mouth as he pulled back, holding me at arm's length as I smiled at him softly, “I love you.”

Mingi gulped as his eyes suddenly turned teary, and he cupped my cheeks as he lowered his head to press his forehead against mine, inhaling deeply as he nodded his head. He’d said those three words to me before, unafraid and unashamed to let me know how he truly felt towards me, and I finally found the courage to say it back. I finally was ready to let him know just how much I felt for him, that I loved him just as much as he loved me.

“I love you, Y/N, so much.” His voice trembled and he kept his eyes closed out of fear of having the tears escape them, and I hummed, resting my hands on his shoulders as I gently rubbed the skin of his neck in an attempt to soothe him.

“I love you just as much, Mingi.”

And he smiled, pressing his warm lips against mine with the unspoken promise that this would last forever, that this was what we both had been searching for. Safety, contentment, honesty, friendship, and freedom, a love that was honest and unafraid. It seemed like our future was rather promising, next to him, I could take on anything. We won’t forget to look at the moon tonight.

I love you, Song Mingi.

A/N: So, hello once again, I am so-so grateful if you made it 'til the end. I cannot believe I'm actually finished with this story and it's a really bittersweet feeling actually, because I am as happy as sad, no joke I kinda cried a little bit. I absolutely love the character and personality I have created for Mingi in this story and I love MC and his dynamic so much, that I find it so freaking hard to let go of them omg, what's happening to me?!

I just really really want to thank everyone who stuck around from start to finish, or from the middle of the story, or showed up as we neared the end of it, I am so so grateful to you all for being patient with me and showering me with love and making me look forward to posting. I was always so excited about a new chapter because I wanted it to be the best, and when I felt like it wasn't, you reassured me that it was and it made me really happy.

I started this story nine months ago, back on the 15th of December, which is funnily enough my sister's birthday so now I will never forget the date I posted it lol, and I find it so freaking crazy that this whole story came from a random brainstorming with my best friend in my car (@orshii), right as we finished our classes at university, brains fried off and ready to end everything, and yet, here I am, trying not to cry again ffs because of how much I grew to love every character in the story.

A little insight: the story at first started out as a random plot that was somewhat similar to 10 Things I Hate About You (which is one of my favorite movies) as Mingi was inspired by Patrick's character and our MC by Kat's, but as time went on, the story and our characters became their own and thus this is how Love Me Like A Rockstar was created. Back at that time I was also obsessed with this song, which played a part in the story becoming a rockstar!au beside Mingi acting like a whole ass rockstar during Crazy Form era lol, and even the title is inspired by the censored version of the song.

I think I made this note already too long, so I'll try to wrap it up. I really want to thank absolutely everyone who reads the whole story, to my loyal readers who were here for every chapter and for all of your thoughts and theories and for making me smile, really. Those who stumbled upon this when it's already finished, I hope you enjoyed each chapter and had fun exploring the world I created (this applies to those too who stuck around while it was still on-going) and I always appreciate your feedback, it's never too late! Thank you everyone, and I hope to see you back for my other stories! <3

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scoonsalicious · 7 months

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A Scoonsalicious Masterlist

All fics are 18+ Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here. I exclusively write for Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader at this point in time, for maladaptive self-indulgent purposes.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

Individual fics will contain individual warnings.

Bucky Barnes

(Fluff 💖) (Smut ❤️‍🔥) (Angst 💔) (Horror 🖤) (Violence ❤️‍🩹) (AU 💞) (1k+ Notes 🏆)

Series

⚜️ The Pocket MCU: ❤️‍🩹 A series of miniseries and one-shot prequels featuring the MC from Unwanted, integrated into the existing narratives of the MCU films. ONGOING (Updated 5/20/24)

⚜️ Unwanted: ❤️‍🔥💔🏆When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn't be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust. COMPLETED 155.4k words (Epilogue Posted 4/27/24)

⚜️ Post-Unwanted: ❤️‍🔥💔💖 A series of miniseries and one-shot sequels set between Unwanted and Unbroken. ONGOING (Updated 7/11/24)

⚜️ Unbroken: An Unwanted Sequel: ❤️‍🔥💔💖‼️ It's a secret, but doesn't that title sound ridiculous?! BRAINSTORMING

One Shots

⚜️ Like a Fairy Tale: 💔💖🏆 Dating Bucky Barnes had been like living a fairy tale, but as he distances himself from you and your relationship, you come to the realization that maybe fairy tales aren't meant to come true. 3.4k words (Posted 3/4/24)

⚜️ Your Choice: ❤️‍🔥💖💞You're minding your own business at home one evening when local police Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes comes knocking on your door. Someone's reported a crime being committed on your property, and the sergeant can either bring you down to the station, or get you off with a warning... it's your choice. 4.3k words (Posted 3/5/24)

Series On Hiatus

⚜️ With Friends Like These...: ❤️‍🔥💔Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntyre never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You. ON HIATUS (Updated 6/17/24)

Upcoming

⚜️ Hunted ❤️‍🔥🖤❤️‍🩹 A plane crash leaves you stranded in the Canadian wilderness with the one person who can't seem to stand you: Your mission partner, Bucky Barnes. You'll have to work together and put your differences aside in order to survive and get rescued. Only, the two of you aren't alone; someone, or something, is watching you from the woods. WRITING

⚜️ Boys of Summer ❤️‍🔥💔💞 Every summer, the wealthy Barnes family escapes the heat of the city to their beach house on the New England coast, and every year for as long as you can remember, your father has been the caretaker of their property. Now your father's gone and you haven't seen Bucky Barnes since you two spent a summer night together when you were eighteen. Four years later, Bucky's returned with a slew of college friends in tow for the ultimate beach summer to celebrate his college graduation, and his recent engagement. PLANNING

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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jolapeno · 3 months

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19. charming blue

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter nineteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 4.1k chapter warnings: dad!frankie. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. flirting. they're no longer idiots. an: next week is the epilogue, and I'm crying in the club rn.

prev chapter | series masterlist

read on ao3

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It’s been almost a year.

A thing you think to yourself as you drag the tip of your paintbrush across the cheek of the sixth child at your little homemade stand, nestled on the edge of Sam’s backyard.

It had only been built last night. You and Frankie had been inspired by lemonade stands, ignoring his mutterings about Pinterest as the two of you rummaged in his workshop, scavenging enough wood to bring it to life. Dragging bits and scraps, a saw in hand as you cut things to size, laughing as you begin grunting with each back and forth—

“Alright beaver, calm down. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Don’t worry, Morales. I'm only eager for your wood.”

You’re grateful the bruise on your hip is still healing. The one gained from a mandatory break between coats of paint, his finger wrapping two of your fingers in a bandaid. Soft kisses to the tips of them before those same kisses were on your mouth, on your neck, traipsing down your collarbone. That's when you'd caught the edge of his workbench, fingers busy with his belt, a clang, whoosh and then an ouch.

Now, dipping and swirling the paintbrush in the murky water, you feel the pain flare when you shift—hand occasionally brushing over it. A private smile forms, buried easily when another child requests the same animal.

Then, when the stripes and whiskers are complete, you can’t help but grin at the high-pitched thank you that follows, watching the child skip off, shouting to anyone who’ll hear them that they’re a lion too now—at a dinosaur-themed birthday.

Carefully, covering the orange paint, you place the lid back over the others so they don't dry out. The air is full of squeals, sugar practically on the tip of your tongue from the at-home cotton candy machine Sam's cousin is operating. You lift your head, squinting still through the shades you borrowed from Frankie to see that said cousin had given up putting it on a stick, and was instead shoving balls of it into the hands of already excitable and sugar-filled children.

Shaking your head, cleaning your hands on a rag that was now a canvas of colours, going from a pale pink to an assortment of shades, you laugh if only to yourself. Pushing the aviators up your nose, the warm plastic familiar against your skin, and catch a whiff of Frankie's cologne lingering on them—a mix of cedarwood and something distinctly him.

You had known the two of you were inching towards a year, but it had been Frankie who had brought it up first.

Whispering it against your bare shoulder yesterday morning, asking if he could take you for lunch with a kiss to your hip—having booked a table, reserved the same spot the two of you had sat at during your second date. Only this time, you took in the place even more—hand in hand—from the plants to the decor. You were less nervous than that first time, more comfortable, letting him order a range of mini plates so the two of you could sample a variety of things.

Your fork extended over the table, watching him try to chase the food you had told him he should try, before his fingers—thick, dexterous, that somehow still make your stomach flip—wrap around your wrist so he can place the fork between his teeth.

“We should come here more often,” you had said, him taking your hand in his, thumb brushing over the place between your knuckles.

“We should.”

“You gonna kiss me like you did that first time?”

Licking his lips, swiping a finger through the lingering sauce. “Can do so much more than a kiss, Rainy.”

Sighing, content—finding it hard not to smile—you glance around as the memory fades into Luca's backyard birthday party.

How laughter echoes around the fence panels, blending roughly with the music and occasionally intercepted by a squeal that makes you wince behind your shades. And you wouldn't change it, any of it. Your heart even doubles when you see Luca grinning and waving at you, as you return it before he's running off once again.

“Brought you this.”

Looking up, squinting in the sun, you see the inflated dinosaurs behind him jiggle and move in the warm breeze. Dressed in a green polo, a new fake T-Rex sticker on his cheek, you curl into his touch as his hand spreads across your shoulder.

“Oh? So you’re not here to have your face painted, Morales.”

“Not one bit—makes me itchy.”

“Not very party of you.”

Smiling, he massages a particular spot that could turn you into goo. You press a kiss to his sun-kissed arm, inhaling the scent of his sunscreen—a blend of coconut and tropical flowers that instantly transported you back to your day at the beach, laughing and holding hands as the waves crashed around you. Staring up, you want to brush your fingers through his hair, feel his curls shifting and dancing in the breeze.

“It seems to be holding up well. The stand.”

Smirking, doing a little shrug. “Yeah, it's doing good. Must have been that DIY video.”

Scoffing, it forming from the back of his throat and exiting his mouth quickly, you swear he rolls his eyes. “Wasn't the video.”

“No?”

His fingers still massaging, working the place between your neck and shoulder, jaw tight, eyes fixed on something ahead as he grumbled, “Didn't need it.”

You hum, resting your head against him, smiling, all easy, without a care in the world. “Sometimes, videos aren't all bad though, are they?”

His chin dips, your eyes fixing on the place you think his stare will be behind his own shades. Wondering, hoping he's thinking of the first time you met. The video, the one he'd made you show him so he has some semblance of an idea of what you were trying to do.

“Sometimes. I'll give you that.”

“You think next year it’ll be at yours? The party?”

He draws a circle, one that shifts into a square and then back again. “Maybe. Maybe it’ll be at ours.”

“We do need to finish that conversation.”

Humming, he smiles, lowering his mouth down to meet yours as you hear him whisper, “We do” at the same time as you both distantly hear Luca screaming for him.

“I think you’re being summoned.”

“Swear my kid is cockblocking me from finishing this conversation with you.”

“Maybe it’s an omen.”

Tapping you, you smirk—biting your lip as he grins. “Do me a favour.”

Letting him hold the back of your neck as you tip, his fingers gripping just lightly. “Anything, baby.”

“If I’m not off that in five minutes, stab it with something so it deflates.”

Smirking, you brush your fingers over his back as he kisses the top of your head. You watch him run off to the bounce house, unable to stop yourself from grinning, feeling nothing but joy as he charges in and roars.

Adjusting the party hat atop your head, you glance over and spot Sam, who mouths a thank you for the millionth time today before pointing at the buffet. You shake your head.

You’re not sure you can eat another pizza roll if you tried, but you don’t say no when she points at the cupcakes beside it.

The second cupcake is being devoured when you carry in some of the presents an hour later, placing them in the room marked Luca’s. It is so vastly different from the one at Frankie’s, yet still holds the same charm. The colours are different, if not reversed in how they’re used, the love of dinosaurs smothering everywhere it can in a similar fashion to his.

Admiring, letting your eyes wander across the photographs on the top of the little cubbies, the ones that hold multicoloured tubs with sticky labels highlighting their contents. In each frame, the people shift, from Sam and Luca to Frankie, Sam and Luca, Luca and what you assume are his grandparents, but the smile, the grin never changes. It just grows, gets bigger with him as more hair curls atop his head and his hands get larger as he waves at the camera.

“You hiding from me?” Looking over your shoulder, you find Frankie walking towards you, hands sliding around your waist as he rests his head against yours. “Well, I found you.”

“Is this the part where I scream?”

Snorting, he kisses your cheek. “If you want a bunch of tiny lions coming and stealing me again, be my guest.”

Leaning against him, fingers tracing over his, feeling his knuckles, the healed scratches and rough parts. “Hey, did you build these?” you ask, resting your head on him, his chin resting on you. “They’re like the ones at yours…”

You hear him swallow, before he shrugs. “Maybe.”

Tilting your head, staring at him, finding his eyes have flicked down even if his head is still in the same position. “Has anyone told you that you’re good at this—at making things with your hands?”

His chest fills with a breath before he slowly exhales. “I try.”

Fingers, all instinctive, slide around his chin, tug his chin down, eyes unable to not stare into yours. “I mean it. You’re really good at what you do, Frankie.”

One side of his mouth slides into his cheek, before he takes your hand, kissing your wrist. “C’mon, before there’s a search party.”

Clutching his wrist, keeping him in place. “I love you, you know?”

His lips slide into his cheek as he closes the gap, his fingers cradling your face tenderly. “I know,” he whispers, his eyes soft and full of wonder, as if he's hearing it for the first time, before he presses a slow, lingering kiss against your lips, sealing the words against your mouth.

I don’t know who is running your social account but they’re very witty.

They are. They make me laugh.

Yes, I’ve heard they have a good mouth on them.

Did you know that they’re also beautiful and very cute in the morning?

Should I be worried? They sound like a keeper.

Jealous?

Depends, are you going to make them a coffee using your complicated machine?

Maybe. They’re a bit moody without caffeine.

I’m beginning to feel offended.

I will say that you were right about scheduling them—it has helped.

Is that you saying I’m right?

Maybe.

I’ve screenshotted that as evidence.

Do you want a coffee bringing when I come to yours?

Is that a bribe to delete the evidence? Either way, that would be nice.

Good, might have already made you one in your cup.

You spoil me, Butterscotch.

It's hard not to fidget—moving from standing to pacing, to leaning.

Currently, you're back to standing in the place where the sun streams in through the open back door, casting warm, golden light across the kitchen floor, and your feet as it gently warms you—until you get too hot again.

The gentle breeze continues to bring in the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the soft hum of distant lawnmowers which add a somewhat comforting background to the quiet afternoon. But neither do anything to stem the growing worries in your stomach, the ones climbing, doubling—

Sliding your hand around your glass, the ice cubes clink softly, slowly melting and leaving a ring of condensation on the counter. You sip the cold water, letting it cool your nerves. The anticipation builds, each second stretching as you glance at the clock, knowing he'll be here any moment.

It doesn’t work, not even as you take in a deep breath.

Trying to will tranquillity and calm to shower down over your shoulders as you glance at the clock, realising he’ll be here any moment.

And it makes your heart pound. Forces your palms to become a little more clammy as you place the glass down in its puddle.

You’ve rehearsed this. Gone over it in your head, running a hand down your outfit to flatten it—as though that would be the thing that could ruin this. Even if you’ve gone over every detail of this surprise a million times. Yet, standing in the quiet kitchen, you can’t help but second-guess everything.

What if he doesn’t like it?

What if he thinks you’ve overstepped?

What if, what if, what if—

Shaking your head, you jumble the doubts. Shake them to some other part like a snow globe, taking a reprieve from them before they flutter back down. Allowing yourself the brief chance to remind yourself why you’ve done this, why you're doing this.

Because you love him. Because you believe in him—

Taking in another deep breath, fingers flexing at your side, you force yourself to focus on the positive outcome you’ve imagined so many times, rather than the others.

Like him storming out.

Like him staring at you in outrage, questioning why, what gave you the right.

But then, this is him.

Your Frankie. The one who never needs the heating, because he’s always several degrees warmer than you, a thing you hate when he’s not sharing a bed with you—when he’s not pulling you close and whispering against your skin that he’ll keep you warm.

Or, your Frankie who grunts if he’s not awake before you, needing coffee, or breakfast. Tugging you close as he curls you under him, burying his face in your neck as he grunts that it’s too early—even if he deep down knows it isn’t.

The man who goes quieter when he’s tired, who dislikes bumper-to-bumper traffic and hammers his thumbs on the steering wheel in protest of it; who might be fiercely protective, but has never stormed out or raised his voice—so why would this even be a worry you’d have.

You jolt at the echoed familiar sound of a key turning in the front door, a flutter of excitement mingling with a rush of nerves as your thoughts fade, vanish. Replacing it with nothingness, a barren wasteland of quiet worry.

And each noise you can hear makes it worse. Makes you feel sick, nauseous, sweaty and lightheaded. Your fingers clamping to the counter for leverage—

"Hello?" he calls out, his voice carrying through the open rooms. You hear the door close behind him, the soft clink of keys as he puts them down.

"In here," you reply, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

Frankie appears in the doorway, his face lighting up as he sees you. "Hey," he says, crossing the room to wrap you in a warm embrace. "What’s this? You look like you’ve got something up your sleeve."

You smile, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. "Maybe I do," you tease, your heart racing a little faster.

He raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What’s my surprise?"

Nervously, you slide the turned-over paper across the smooth counter towards him, your fingers trembling slightly. His smile, ever so warm, flickers with curiosity as his eyes drop to the paper.

Everything you rehearsed, fades, goes.

It’s like trying to grasp water, it just slides through your fingers as your hand hovers over the paper, flattening it, pressing it to the counter as though willing it to vanish. You’re thrumming, vibrating, unsure if you’ll even be able to keep your voice level as you clear your throat.

“So, you can totally rip this to pieces—but, happy six years.”

Nervously, you slide the turned-over paper across the smooth counter towards Frankie, your fingers trembling slightly. His smile, ever so warm, flickers as his eyes drop to the paper as you begin talking, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“I know it’s late, and I know it was a bit ago, but firstly, just know I love you. And I love what you do—all of it. Harolds, Instagram...”

Tilting his head, a flash of nervousness ripples out across his face. “Rainy, you’re making me nervous.”

Shaking your arms out, you smile. “Don’t be. I can be nervous, you can’t be.”

“Oh, is that how this goes.”

Grinning, you nod. His hand takes yours, his other trailing up and down your forearm as he stares into your eyes—as though trying to have a conversation with your soul. Almost commanding you to breathe, to take a second, both things you do before licking your lips.

“You’re so good with your hands—” You don’t miss his snort, “and at DIY, at renovating. That room in there, it’s beautiful, everything I thought I ever wanted.”

His eyes narrow slightly, a hint of confusion crossing his features.

“You’re good at it. So good. People are reaching out to you and you don’t even have the time.”

“I know, I just—”

“Let me finish, please baby.”

You take another deep breath, trying not to shift nervously on the spot. Sliding the paper closer to him, you press on. “You can say no. We can pretend I never did this, never even brought it up. I don’t want to be someone who makes you do something you don’t want to do, but I also don’t want to be someone who doesn’t support you, who doesn’t champion you and make you feel like you can.”

“Rainy… what’s going on?”

Biting your lip, you exhale loudly. “Turn it over.”

And he does. Dropping his hand from your fingers to do so.

All you can do is watch.

Everything seems to move in slow motion as he does so. Your heart thumping into your ribs, anxiety rippling and spreading out as it turns over and you see the moment his eyes spot it, take it in.

His eyes gaze up and down the paper, taking in the logo you’ve spent weeks on. The one with a new name, with ‘by Frank.DIY’ in the corner. Raindrops in the top corner, for you, and a flash of orange for butterscotch; tools and a house with a broken roof, details that he might not notice at first glance, but you hope he will on further ones.

Then there’s just silence.

Unreadable, bubbling silence that makes you shift. Makes your inside knot and twist as you try to give him a moment, a minute. Failing.

“I remember you told me you didn’t think you deserved to own anything. And I know you, and the others, faced a lot before I even knew your name. But, Frankie, I’m here to prove you otherwise—when you’re ready.”

His face lifts to you, the paper under his hand, fingers outstretched over it, a look so nondescript on his face that your pulse begins to pound in your ears.

Mouth falling open, you want to ask him to speak, to say something, but you’re not sure you can find the words. Having prepared for anger, for joy, but not something in the middle that was hard to label or describe.

Less so when he places the paper down. When he stands, and you subconsciously mirror him—his hand scratching the back of his neck, skin turning a shade of pink you hadn’t banked on.

“I should… I should give you a moment, right?”

Moving, stepping out from behind your side of the counter, fidgeting, moving slowly as you try to find words and form thoughts to choose a place to go hide in.

“I crossed a line, and I’m—”

He doesn’t let you go far, fingers sliding around your wrist, tugging, pausing you in your step. And it’s silent, just covered by your slight heavy breathing as your teeth nip at the skin of your lips, as your other fingers twitch nervously at your side—desperate to pick, to scratch. To anything to root—

Then, he’s pulling you flush to him, lips crashing to yours in a way that steals both your breath and your worries.

“I’m sorry, Frankie—”

His palm cups your cheeks, and tilts you to look at him. “You really believe in me.”

Heart settling, warmth spreading. “Absolutely, Frankie. I always have.” The look he gives you undoes you, makes the worries melt and instead be consumed by the need to comfort. “Have done since you measured my office without even using a measuring tape.”

Swallowing, with difficulty, he tries to smile at your joke. “I can't... I can't believe you made me this... Baby, it’s so good.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No. No, sorry—no. Overwhelmed, maybe?”

Smiling, nodding, you swallow. “Yeah, I didn’t—should have done more of a speech.”

Laughing, his eyes close, the tip of his nose brushing yours, just keeping you there, fixed, paused. Your hands slowly rise to stroke at the underside of his forearms, just like he did—the paper there, turned upright on the counter.

“Tell me.”

Two words he’s begun to say more when he can hear the cogs turning—when he can tell that there’s more bursting and bobbing around your mind.

“Frankie…”

“I know you. So, tell me.”

Sighing, you avert your eyes, when he taps your arm and you take his hand, leading him into your living room, sitting, finding further proof that it doesn’t feel half as warm as his—not even close to as comfortable.

Taking a breath, you smile. “The other week, when you asked me if I’d live with you. If you meant what you said, I’d love to live with you.” Your free hand, the one not inside his on his bent knee, raises, pausing. “But we don’t have to sell here, I’m not sure we’d make much, and that’s a decision to make to—”

“Rainy.”

Nodding, you take another breath. “Now, this is all hypothetical. It’s your choice—”

Smiling, he tightens the hold on your hand. “Ours.”

Rolling your lips, sighing. “Ours. But, we could use this house for your business—keep things here. Operate meetings from the office because it is too beautiful not to use—and you’ve worked too hard on it not to show it off. Or we can sell here, use the little that’s from it to set you up one of those summer house things so you can work from that.”

“I can’t leave Harold.”

Biting your lip briefly, you smile, tipping your chin. “He thought you’d say that.”

Brows lifting, Frankie slowly frowns.

“He's got a real eye for things—helped me with the logo quite a bit. Gave me some constructive feedback—as did the boys. I never told them what it was, but…”

“That was what Will almost dropped you in on at the fight.”

Grinning, you squeeze his hand. “I could have kicked him. Will guessed what I was doing first, I had only asked a question—but I just told them you’d mentioned rebranding. But he guessed and then he helped where he could. He's been looking at getting on your truck for you.”

Frankie laughs, raising his hand to scratch the back of his head as his nostrils flare.

“And when I nipped in to grab those bits for you, I asked Harry about working there—jokingly. I think that’s when he caught on,” you say, shaking your head. “Don’t think I’m good at surprises. But he brought it up, me working with him, that day I helped?”

“Baby…”

“Anyway, I could take your place, Harold’s would be covered still, and then when I can, I can help you—probably just with painting, think if we did any woodworking I’d slow us down.”

Frankie snorts, fingers scratching at the curls above his forehead. “I can’t ask you to give up your job.”

“You’re not. I… Frankie, I like what I do, but only sometimes. I’m burnt out. You even asked the other week if it was making me happy, and it isn’t. And, look, I’m not saying it’s forever, but for now, I can do it when I choose to, be picky. I can be an extra pair of hands when you need it, helping you get off the ground, and can use the discount when needed for little bits.”

His other hand comes over the top of the ones linked, eyes soft, gentle, and sweet.

“You’ve thought of everything.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to do it. It’s your choice—you deserve a choice, Frankie. And if you don’t use the logo, that’s fine, but I will put it on a flask for when I make you lunches.”

Laughing, he dips his head, before lifting it to meet yours. “If I choose not to do it, will you still move in with me?”

“Are you finally, really asking me?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, tilting his head to the side, he nods.

You smile, leaning closer, arms wrapping around his neck. “Well, I would love to move in with you, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, taking in a deep breath. “Yeah. Because if it's not clear, there's not a thing I want more than a future with you, Butterscotch.”

TO THE EPILOGUE ->

do not be alarmed, we still have the epilogue. but, long time fans will know that jo is more emotional at the chapter prior to the epilogue than the epilogue. this is where my goodbye begins.

firstly, thank you. to every single person who gave me a chance to tell a hardware!frankie story, for letting rainy into your hearts, and for letting this become what it is. this is the longest thing I've written in years, and a reminder of the reason why i love writing so much.

this entire thing wouldn't be possible without @secretelephanttattoo and i will be forever grateful for her pushing me to do this, especially when i think she could tell i was swirling down a drainhole with something else. it was a raft, those cute rings you throw when someone is drowning, so thank you, my dear friend.

and, this entire thing wouldn't be what you love, if it wasn't for the encouragement from @goodwithcheese. who each week began her excitement that made me giddy, from guess the paint shade to letting me share with her my big plans for this chapter first. when i thought i was losing the path, she reminded me the path was very much there, i just needed to take a breath.

and then finally, a special thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who holds my hand a lot more than you lot thing. who read the first chapter of this when we met and got so excited with me i had to really hold back tears.

to my darling @morallyinept who told me she loves my frankie, you don't know what those words did for me on a day where i almost walked away, to the amazing and brilliant @toomanytookas who understood rainy on a level that we can both share, and to @covetyou my lo <3 for being there every week and also for understanding how conflicted and odd i feel about next week.

truly there is so many more of you i wish to thank, but i am honestly sobbing writing this. this may be the hardest pairing I've had to let go of (and i know, we have another week, but my grief has begun so.. shh).

i love you all, I'll see you next week. thank you for letting me tell a story that means more to me than there are enough words for me to explain why.

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales

234 notes · View notes

moralesmilesanhour · 1 year

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teamwork (makes the dream work...?) epilogue

summary: they ass is NOT doing homework 🤣

wc: 1k+

A/N: That's a wrap, guys! tysm for reading and enjoying!

prev 'if you believe in me'

“Miles, what is this emo shit you got me listening to?” you laughed.

Miles was currently in the middle of an imaginary drumming solo next to you, with two mechanical pencils as drumsticks. Once the final cymbal crashed, he turned to you to respond.

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s emo, that beat goes crazy. You done with your conclusion yet?”

You rolled your eyes.

“No, but I’ve got all my body paragraphs together.”

“That shit is due Monday,” the boy adjusted his glasses, “Mr. Padilla don’t do extensions.”

Shutting your laptop in protest, you got up and stretched your arms. “Can we take, like, a ten-minute break?”

Miles smirked. “The last half hour felt like a ‘break’, but sure.”

The smirk fell from his face when he noticed you staring at something on his desk.

“Aye, don’t touch nothing–”

“Is this me?”

Too late.

Miles’ notebook was already in your hands, flipped to a page full of sketches of your face. There were little lines scratched out next to each sketch, as if he were measuring the proportions of your eyes, nose, ears...

His lines were sharp and geometrical, as always, but they softened at your hair and lips. Speaking of lips, there was an oddly-detailed sketch of them off to the side. He’d even managed to include the suggestion of gloss.

You looked up to see Miles standing in front of you with his arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“You done invading my privacy yet?”

“Nope,” you placed a finger on the page. “How long did you need to stare at my face for this?”

You held back a laugh when he tensed visibly.

“Not long enough for it to matter,” he deadpanned, finally snatching the notebook out of your hand. “It was just a study.”

“Oh, so you’ve been ‘studying’ my lips? Got it.”

Miles’ eyes flickered down at them as you spoke before he returned to his spot on the bed. “Whatever. Break’s over.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” you teased as you followed him, “the drawings are nice! You made me look prettier.”

The boy looked at you like he wanted to say something - to argue - but he remained silent. You elbowed him playfully in the side.

“What, you think I’m ugly, then? I’m telling you, Morales, one day we gon’ fight–”

“No,” he interrupted.

“Complete sentences, please,” you mimicked, laughing when the boy sucked his teeth in response.

“Fine. No, you’re not ugly, and I like drawing you. Can we move on?”

With a triumphant smile, you finally cracked open your laptop again. “Yes, yes we can. I need your genius powers to proofread this for me.”

Miles leaned in to get a good look at your screen, hitting you with the crisp scent of sports deodorant and some generic brand of lotion. You watched his eyes dart back and forth as he read your work out loud to himself in a low mutter. While he read, your gaze drifted away from the screen and landed on his side profile. His ears were now delightfully occupied by tiny gold studs that you would’ve missed at a farther distance. Past his jawline at the nape of his neck, a thin gold chain peeked out at you from beneath his black graphic tee.

Your eyes met Miles’ the moment you brought them back up to his face, amusement playing on his features.

“Yo, are you good? There something on my shirt?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “Go back to reading.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m done. I just said you need to switch these two body paragraphs so they flow better.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” he laughed, dimples on display. “I’m scared I’mma get my face stolen one day. Do you stare at everybody like that?”

A beat of silence passed as you considered whether to say something bold a second time, if not just for a reaction.

“...Nah, it’s just you.”

Miles blinked, the smile dropping from his face. “Huh?”

“You’re nice to look at, and I can’t draw you in my notebook to make it last longer,” you tilted your head comically. “Staring will have to do.”

Like clockwork, the boy’s hand shot up to his ear to toy with his piercing. He glanced out of the window.

“The sun’s setting, you should really get that essay done,” he blurted out before narrowing his eyes at you. “What’s so funny?”

You had a hand over your mouth to stifle the laughter. “I’m sorry,” you giggled, “it’s funny when you’re nervous.”

Miles scoffed.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you sang, beginning to type your conclusion paragraph.

There was no response.

Your typing slowed as the silence grew long, feeling Miles’ eyes on you until you finally stopped to look at him quizzically.

“Yes?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

He leaned in closer until your noses were in danger of brushing each other, looking determined despite the rapid rise and fall of his chest. You met his gaze with a challenge.

“Well? You just gon’ sit there?”

Miles couldn’t hear anything above the heartbeat pounding in his ears, his eyes squeezed shut as he closed the distance between you.

No one told him that kissing would feel this weird.

For one, your lip gloss wasn’t half as sticky as he’d anticipated it to be, tasting like artificial fruit flavoring. Your sweaty palm came up to rest on the side of his face and kept him anchored as his breath stuttered. Having no idea where he would put his hands (another thing no one had explained to him), he kept them flat on the mattress for support as you deepened the kiss and he leaned back.

Your hand was gripping his chin now to guide his face. Having kissed at least two other boys before, you had a vague idea of where it was supposed to go. Unlike the other two, Miles was tense, almost unmoving, despite being the initiator.

Miles’ head buzzed when you pulled away, chuckling softly.

What the hell was so funny? The boy felt white hot blood rapidly coursing through all of the veins in his body at once. He thought he might start floating, like a hot air balloon. Or explode. Or vomit. Preferably the first one.

“Are you okay?” you asked, dropping your hand. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

He blinked slowly, three times. “Yeah, I’m…fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. That was, um…”

Hand on the neck. “Interesting.”

“A good interesting, I hope,” you laughed.

Miles tilted his head, a small grin spreading across his lips.

“I don’t think I’d mind doing that again.”

Handing the boy your phone, you said, “I think you’d need my number for that.”

#miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x black!reader #moralesanhour

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scarletlizzard · 8 months

Text

Epilogue

Sessions Series

Paring: stalker Wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: stalking, mentions of a knife, smut, smidge of somnophilia, fingering, strap on use (R Receiving), surprisingly fluff. This type of relationship is super toxic, okay!!

Masterlist

A/N: Thank y'all so so much for reading this series. Truly has been so nice seeing everyones comments and reblogs (the tags kill me every time)! This was my first series and hopefully there will be more, I really enjoy writing and am happy to share with you kind people. Let me know if you have any questions, would love to know what you think!! Thanks 💚💚

New Years Eve 2018

Your senses were heightened as you became aware of a set of eyes on you. Her gaze fixated on you from across the room, behind the crowd of people that swarmed around you. You watch with a familiar spark in your chest, a sense of safety that your shadow was watching over you.

"They're about to start the countdown, I'm going to find Maria!" Natasha yells closely to your ear, breaking the eye contact you held with Wanda.

You give her a small smile and nod, "Alright, find me after!" Before kissing her cheek and giving her a short hug. You watch your best friend push through the crowd until you can no longer see her red head, and your eyes travel back to your shadow. Panic settles in when you realize she's nowhere to be found.

Around you people begin pairing off, touch hungry ones scanning the crowd for a last chance at a kiss before the New Year. A touch on your shoulder makes you smile and turn around, but instead of seeing your Wanda, you see a drunk man attempting to balance himself in front of you.

"Hi sweetie," he slurs, resting his hand on your shoulder. The '2019' glasses he wore took up most of his face, a drink in his other hand sloshed onto your shoes.

"I'm sorry, I'm looking for someone..." You groan and try to push his hand off of your shoulder. To your suprise, he keeps it there.

"I'm somebody, you found me!" His words slur together as he presses closer.

"Seriously? Get off!" You raise your voice and put your hands on his broad chest, pushing him back. It's only a second later that you feel a body pressed against you from behind, the intoxicating scent wrapping around you.

"Hey man, I'd back off." Wandas husky voice sounds from behind you, but she moves to step in front of you as the man steps forward again.

He laughs and holds up his drink towards her, "We're just having fun, you wanna join in?" He slurs again, and Wanda makes a face of disgust.

"Just go away before we do something we'll both regret," she threatens. It's then you notice her hand is behind her back, settled on what you know is a blade hidden underneath her jacket.

Instinctively you reach out, resting your hand on top of hers. You watch as her shoulders drop and her grip on the handle softens. A blush creeps up your neck as you once again realize the affect you had on her.

Who, really, was the mouse?

"Fine, fine, you two are no fun," the man mumbles with a shrug, leaving the two of you in the crowd.

Before Wanda can turn around, you wrap your arms around her stomach, hugging her from behind. You feel soft vibrations from her back as she chuckles, turning in your arms.

"Okay, little mouse?" She asks softly, her demeanor changed in an instant as her green eyes meet yours. You nod and slide your hands up to her shoulders.

"I was hoping you would show up," you bite back a smirk as she leans in. The crowd begins counting down, signaling the seconds to midnight.

10... 9... 8...

"I'm always there, you know that," Wanda rasps in your ear, placing a soft kiss just below.

7... 6... 5...

The thought doesn't bother you, of her always being there watching. Waiting. Instead of dread, you felt comfort. You knew she would always be there. One hand cups her face as she continues to leave soft kisses across your jaw.

You would take any bad, as long as you had this good. As long as you had Wanda.

4... 3... 2... 1...

As cheers errupt around you, shouting, "Happy New Year!" You waste no time pressing your lips to hers, your fingers tangling into her soft brown hair. Wanda holds you tightly against her as she slips her tongue into your parted mouth. You savor the flavor of mint on her tongue, biting down softly on her bottom lip. She groans into the kiss, and you can't help but smile.

"You're going to be the death of me, little mouse..." she sighs onto your lips, and you nod.

"You love it..." You giggle, causing her to laugh. She pulls back with an unfamiliar look in her eyes, lips parted like she wants to say something. You wait, but only watch as they pull into a crooked grin before kissing you again.

***

January 2019

Wanda peers through the darkness into the windows of your house, her figure disconcernable against the shadows.

You walk around, a prickling sensation on the back of your neck, knowing someone is watching your every move. Despite the comforting warmth in the room, a shiver runs down your spine, knowing your shadow was just outside.

But instead of fear, instead of unease, you simply walk to the front of the house and stare out the window.

Wanda remains concealed, her presence a silent observer in the stillness of the night. She looks with curious eyes before realizing what you were doing, and a smirk forms on her face.

Your hands move to the locks, opening them up with a 'click'. As you stare off into the shadows, a sense of vulnerability washes over you, the feeling of leaving the windows unlocked. You have to lock and unlock it three more times before you're comfortable.

"Little mouse.." A whisper in the dark, a body next to yours as you stir in your sleep.

You could've sworn it was a dream as her hand traveled down your body, cupping your clothed pussy. She ran small circles over your clit, the clothing between become wetter. You felt your skin burn under the covers, aching for her as she teases you. Then her hand slides inside of your pants, rubbing against your now sensitive clit.

You awake with a start and attempt to sit up, but her other hand immediately covers your mouth and presses you back onto the pillow. Your hands fly up to her wrist that held a hand over your mouth, your breathing ragged as you attempted to figure out what was going on.

"It's okay, pretty girl. Just let me take care of you.." Wanda whispers, slipping her fingers inside of you. Her body presses further against you as she moves her wrist, her fingers pumping in and out of you at a quicker pace. Your moans muffle from her hand on your mouth.

"Such a good little mouse.." She praises, trapping your moans into the palm of her hand. "You were just begging for me to sneak in, needed me to come fuck you huh?" Her tone is condescending, but you only groan in response as her lips attach to your neck.

"That's it, just like that," Wanda chuckles darkly as you squeeze her fingers tightly, her thumb moving circles on your clit. "Now I want you to be a good girl and cum on my fingers, okay?"

As she sucks the skin on your collarbone, you follow as she commands, coming on her fingers and biting down harshly on her hand. Wanda moans at the feeling and the way you fall apart for her. You knew by the sound of her belt unbuckling that it would only be the first of the night.

***

February 2019

"So you and Wanda, huh?" Natasha laughs, shaking her head. "Was the therapy that good?"

Your face turns a dark shade of red as you think back on your sessions, the dark road it led you down. You shrug and take a sip of coffee, "I suppose it was..."

There was no way you could tell Natasha everything. You wouldn't. The Cat and Mouse game you and Wanda played was special, just for the two of you. But there was no way you could hide your feelings for her anymore, or the marks she left on your body, from your best friend.

"You're happy?"

"For the first time in a long time," you answer honestly. Through the whirlwind of emotions Wanda caused you, you knew you were.

"Taking your medication again?" Natasha raises an eyebrow as you tap the side of your cup 4 times absemindetly.

"It'll never go away..." You refer to your compulsion, "But I'm learning to cope with it."

"Good! Now, when are we going to go on a double date?" She smiles widely at you.

A date... you couldn't imagine Wanda taking you on a date. Maybe you could sit at a nice restaurant and she would watch from across the street. Maybe four rows away from you as you sit in a movie theater. Would it always be this way? Always about the chase?

"Hopefully soon," is all you say, a small smile planted on your lips.

***

May 2019

The microwave beeps from across the kitchen, and you set your glass of wine down before walking over and pulling out a bag of freshly popped popcorn.

Wanda watches hidden in the shadows as you grab a second glass, filling it up and topping off your own. She raises an eyebrow at the sight. Jealousy seeps in through all the cracks of her chest. She knew for a fact that Natasha was with her girlfriend tonight, and you never had anyone else over, especially this late at night.

Two glasses of wine sit on the counter along with a bowl of popcorn as you grab your phone. Her heart races as she sees the smile spread across your lips as you stare at the small screen.

A vibrate from her pocket distracts her from you.

Wanda takes her phone out to check the text, shaking her head with a sigh. She laughs at the message with the ridiculous nickname. It was only fair, she supposed.

You - Want to watch a movie, kitty?

She looks up from the screen to see you standing by the window, waving at her. Wanda tucks her phone back in her jeans and walks towards your house, where she finds the front door unlocked.

"Do you ever get tired of watching?" You ask curiously. Wanda now sat next to you on the couch, her arm wrapped around your shoulders as you leaned into her warmth. New and uncharted territory, the most normal interaction the two of you had privately. It felt so natural. You longed for this.

"No," she answers sternly, reaching into the bowl you held and tossing some popcorn into her mouth.

In the months Wanda had revealed herself as your shadow the two of you became closer, but she still felt out of reach. You noticed during sex that she would never let you touch her, and you craved to reach out and caress her. You didn't know why, and any time you tried to ask her, she would shut it down and become distant. Wanda still watched, too, every night. Any time she wasn't in the room with you, you could feel her eyes on you. By now, you didn't mind it, but you were starting to want... more.

"What if you... didn't have to go far to watch me?" You ask casually, keeping your eyes on the movie that played in front of you.

"What do you mean?" Wanda asks, and by the tone of voice, you could tell she knew what you meant. She wanted to hear you say it.

You lean forward to set down the bowl on the coffee table and move to situate yourself to sit on her lap. Your legs straddled her thighs, and your hands rested on her shoulders. You let the nail on your finger scratch up and down the side of her neck softly.

"Baby.." You whisper to her, feeling her strong hands grip your waist. For some reason, Wanda loved when you called her that, and you saved it for times like this.

You grab her jaw in your hand, tilting it to the side so you had full access to her neck. Your lips descend upon the soft skin, tongue licking a stripe to her pulse point. Wanda shifts beneath you, fingers fidgeting against your hips as you begin to bite down and suck.

"Is that what you want then, little mouse? Did you fully think about what that means?" Her voice is laced with lust as you trail down and leave another mark. "It means you'll never be alone, you won't sleep alone. It means I can use you whenever I please..." Wandas hands travel underneath your shirt, exploring your back.

"I know.." You mumble against her skin, your hips rolling slightly down against her to find she was definitely packing.

"It means you'll belong to me. You'll be mine, completely," Wanda growls as you leave another mark, her senses failing her as you continue to grind against her.

But you stop suddenly and remove your lips from her neck, your hands on either side of her face.

"I always was, baby. I am... completely," you whisper and look into her eyes, finding that same look she gave you on New Years Eve.

Wanda kisses you passionately, slipping her tongue into your mouth the second she can. Her hands travel your body before she's pulling your shirt over your head, you do the same for her.

"I need you so fucking bad," you groan against her lips, the ache between your legs growing as you throb around nothing. Wanda nods and hums in response, lifting you up and laying your back on the couch.

She slides her hand into your panties, feeling just how badly you needed her. "All mine, huh?" Wanda chuckles as her fingers pump inside of you.

"Completely," you moan out as she begins kissing your chest. You reach around her to undo her bra, sliding it away so you can feel her breasts pressed against you.

Wanda marks your skin as hers, fingering you until you're falling apart underneath her. You watch with wide eyes as she takes her fingers out of you and puts them into her own mouth, sucking your juices off of them.

"Mmm, you taste so good, pretty girl.." Wanda gushes and then chuckles as a whimper leaves your mouth. She then leans down and kisses you in a quick and sloppy kiss, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. She parts to unzip her jeans, sliding them off of her before lining her strap up between your legs.

Wanda slides in, filling you up completely with her faux cock. The position, the closeness, this was all so new. Usually you were bound or on your stomach. This was different. It was so much more intimate. She moves her hips slowly against yours, a low moan escaping her throat.

"So good, detka.. always so fucking good," she groans and lets out a few Sokovian curses as she thrusts harder into you. Her arms rest on either side of you, holding her weight above you. You take the opportunity to wrap your arms around her.

She tenses and begins to pull back, but your legs wrap around her hips tightly to pull her closer into you. You both moan at the feeling of closeness, her being deeper than ever in you, and Wanda finds herself lost in you. She lets your hands roam the skin on her back as she fucks you.

"Baby - feels so good!" You cry out in her ear, the weight of her body pressed down onto you as she grunts against your neck. Your nails scratch down her back, causing a guttural moan to escape her lips. You throb around the plastic cock at the sound of it, wanting her as close as possible.

"I know, I know... so good... Christ," she praises you and moans in agreement, pace picking up. You can feel the muscles in her back flex as she pounds into you. The way she's moaning into your skin, you can tell she's close.

She fills you completely with every thrust, hitting that one spot that makes you see stars over and over again. Your fingers feel every inch of skin she'll let you touch, from the few moles that spread along the top below her shoulders to her back dimples on the bottom. You let your nails mark into her skin again, and Wanda feels on cloud 9. Pure bliss.

"Fuck, pretty girl I'm gonna cum," Wanda moans in your ear and picks her head up to look in your eyes, finding only pleasure written on your face. You nod at her words and hold onto her back, your legs still gripping tightly around her hips to bring her desperately closer to you.

"Me too, baby, I-I'm so close!" You gasp, feeling her lips on yours.

"Fuck, fuck! Always.. so good, fuck, I love you so much.. oh God," Wanda moans into your mouth as she thrusts into you, fucking you hard into the couch. You don't have time to register what she says before the tight coil that had built up inside you releases. A wave of pleasure crashing over you.

The two of you come at the same time, the sounds of your moans and Wanda chanting your name as she slaps her hips into yours. Wanda slows to a stop once she's sure she's taken everything she can from you.

Your chest moves rapidly as you look up at her, her jaw tense as she lets out one last groan. The muscles in her back tense up as your fingers trace small circles on her skin, and she begins to move away.

"Stay... don't move, please?" You whisper, pleading with her. Wanda sighs and gives in, too tired to move. Your heart races as you replay her words over and over again in your mind.

You bring your other hand up, stroking her brown strands of hair that splayed across the two of you and closed your eyes. Wandas arms wrap tightly underneath you as she rests her head in the crook of your neck.

She had never let you hold her like this before, touch her like this. You knew what she said was true. Her words were not just words spoken lightly. Maybe she hadn't meant to say it then, but you knew she loved you. You knew she would never let you go, even if you didn't love her back.

But you did. With all of your mind, body, and soul. Everything that you were, are, and will be.

More than you loved the special bottle of red that sat on the counter, more than the feeling of a paintbrush in your hand, more than I Love Lucy, more than counting to four.

Wandas breathing slows against your neck, her body fully relaxed as you caress her. You had never seen or felt her so at ease before.

"I love you..." You whisper as you hear soft snores fall from her lips.

It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep after, the sounds of her quiet snores and slow breathing along with the comforting weight of her body on top of yours, lull you to sleep.

Dreaming, hoping, there was a way Wanda would give in to you.

To let the game fade away.

But when you awake in the morning, you're alone on the couch. A blanket covers your naked body, hopes and dreams fading away into reality.

Wanda was gone, and the worst part was you knew she would be back, out of reach again.

You give yourself a moment on the couch, only a moment to cry, before wiping your tears and shaking the sounds of her soft snores out of your mind. The way her body melted into yours as your hearts beat insync, the way she kissed you lovingly, the words "I love you" slipping from her lips in a desperate, intimate moment. It was all a game, after all.

The wine glasses and popcorn bowl were missing from the coffee table. Curious, you wrap the blanket around your body and walk to the kitchen. The dishes were clean and sitting on the drying rack. It was then you saw on the counter a glass of water and a bottle of your medication along with a paper and pen. You slowly pick up the paper, an old receipt you had lying around, and read the note:

I'll be back later with some boxes. Don't forget to take your medicine.

The curved letters tug at your heartstrings, the next lines causing another spark to ignite in your chest.

I love you

If the game was still afoot, Wanda was winning, because you were utterly and irrevocably hers.

***

October 2019

In the sunlit room, you stood in front of a canvas, wooden brush in hand. Each stroke, movements precise and deliberate, guided by a vision taking form in your mind. You inhale the scent of oil paint as you take some more on your brush before leaning in, adding intricate detail to breathe life into your creation. Time seems to stop as you lose yourself to the creative side of your brain.

You don't hear the creak of the door opening, or feel Wandas gaze on you as she stands in the doorway, admiring you.

The large button down you wore loosely was covered in paint, a work of art in itself from all the leftover paint of paintings you had done. You hummed along to the music, playing softly behind you, tongue between your teeth and brows scrunched together as you concentrated on the small details.

Wanda can't help the crooked smile on her face as she takes in the sight of you in your element. Her heart pounding out of her chest as you brush a piece of fallen hair out of your face. She walks closer, setting her hands on your waist.

You gasp at her touch, the feeling of her nose tickles your ear as she kisses your neck.

"Baby.. you scared me," you giggle and rest a hand on top of hers, leaning back against her.

There it was again, that feeling Wanda would never get used to. The feeling that wanted to drop her to her knees right there and whisper devotions between your legs, something she did more often since you had moved in with her.

"I got tired of watching," Wanda jokes, a rumble in her chest as she laughs. You turn yourself in her arms, resting your hands on her chest.

"I don't mind you watching... but I prefer you touching," you whisper the last part sinfully, the word darkening Wandas emerald eyes. She picks you up easily, you squeal with excitement, and wrap your legs around her waist.

And there on the floor, in the room Wanda had transformed into your art studio, she whispered those devotions against your skin and between your legs.

You lay on the cloth tarp that covered the floor underneath your canvas, drawing patterns on the skin of Wandas stomach. You turn in her arm to look at her.

A jaw sculpted by God, green eyes blessed by the angels, and a smile gifted from the Devil.

The sun shines on her face, highlighting smudges of green paint on her cheek. You giggle and let your fingers travel to the colored paint stripes spread across her body, a handprint on her shoulder.

"You're my favorite work of art," you murmur to her, feeling her thumb brush the paint on your hips. She smiles, your favorite crooked smile.

"Little mouse?" Wanda asks, her voice low and calm as she stares into your eyes.

"Yes, baby?"

"Marry me.."

And it's not a question, it's a statement. A declaration. You didn't need a moment to think, because you already knew you were hers, forever.

"Yes," you say anyways, nodding your head. Wandas' smile widens, and she lifts you on top of her, kissing you the best she could without letting her smile go.

***

Christmas Day 2021

The snow crunches under Wandas' boots as she watches you walk from the kitchen to the living room, a towel on your shoulder. Your hands fumbled with something unseen, hidden from her view. Your brows furrowed in concentration, and you shook your head, mumbling something to yourself.

And then you looked up and saw her. The widest smile overcame your face. You radiated pure joy.

Wandas' heart sped up at the sight of you as she carried wood and walked towards the front door.

"Reminiscing, kitty?" You purr as you greet her at the door with a kiss and a hug, she hums against your lips.

"You don't miss it, little mouse?" Wanda chuckles and kisses your jaw, the wood dropping to the floor.

"Not when I have all this..." You sigh happily as she kisses down your neck, her hands moving under your shirt.

A cry from the other room interrupts the moment.

"Mm, those boys always know when to start, don't they?" She mumbles, "I knew when I heard twins, they would be trouble."

Wanda hears a radiant laugh escape your lips, and she gives you a crooked smile in return. You cup her face in your hands, the ring on your fourth finger on the left hand is cool against her cheek.

"I loved you then, and I love you even more now, Wanda.." you whisper, breath fanning against her face.

"I love you even more, little mouse.." she says softly, giving you one last kiss before walking into the living room, your hand in hers.

#marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda x fem!reader #elizabeth olsen #dark wanda x reader

676 notes · View notes

zepskies · 8 months

Text

In the Dark

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: You and Ben have tackled the insurmountable together, but no one said the recovery would be easy.

AN: Another story for the BMD-verse! This was requested by @sl33pylilbunny. It’s set in the six-month time gap after Part 17 and before the Epilogue of Break Me Down.

Word Count: 1,500 Tags/Warnings: Angst, traumatic memories, hurt/comfort and feels.

Read more of the BMD-verse: ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

The building was falling apart.

You couldn’t remember why, but you were deep in a labyrinth. The only way out was further down, into what felt like an immense basement, wading through debris and pieces of the ceiling threatening to crush you at every turn.

You hadn’t stopped running and your lungs were on fire. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears. You had an iron grip on your friend’s wrist, so you wouldn’t lose her or her son in the chaos.

“Keep going,” you told them. “We’re getting out.”

A hand on your shoulder stopped you from moving forward.

And three shots rang out. You ducked and took your friend down with you, but you choked on a gasp when you looked back…

You woke with a sharp inhale.

Your eyes blinked wide and bleary in a pitch black room. You couldn’t see, but you could still hear your wild heartbeat echoing between your ears.

The more you blinked, the more your eyes adjusted. You could make out the familiarity of your bedroom. While you tried to calm your breathing, you turned onto your side, slowly.

You found Ben, asleep.

His mouth was parted as he breathed. His hair had fallen over his brows in sleep. You almost smiled…but you weren’t quite able to.

You carefully brushed the stray locks away from his forehead. Then you slid out of bed so you wouldn’t disturb him.

This had become your habit over the past couple of weeks since moving into this new apartment. You loved it, but it was hard for you to stay comfortable at night.

Though I don’t think that’s the apartment’s fault, you thought wryly. No, it was just your fucked mental health.

Shaking your head at yourself, you went down to the kitchen and made yourself some chamomile tea. That was Step 1.

Step 2 was sitting on the couch with your laptop and your headphones. You kept yourself up with YouTube videos and answering work emails. By now, they knew not to ask why you were sending them at three in the morning.

This time, however, you made a mistake.

Instead of going back to bed and lying awake for another hour until your alarm went off…you fell asleep on the couch.

You must’ve been more exhausted than you thought.

The next time you woke, it was to the odd sensation of floating. Or rather, being carried. You blinked up at Ben, whose brows were already furrowed.

“Hey,” you said, a bit sheepishly.

He didn’t answer you, nor did he set you down until he’d walked you back into the bedroom and laid you down on your side of the bed. It was still dark in the room, which meant you couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour or so.

Ben slipped back into bed, and you turned toward him under the covers.

You felt bad about waking him up. He had his own bouts of insomnia, but it had been starting to get better, ever since you two moved in together permanently a couple of months ago.

You scooted closer to him, resting your head against his shoulder when he shifted onto his back. His arm came down around your waist, a comfortable weight that made you feel more secure.

“When was the last time you slept through the night?” he asked.

You breathed in deeply…and you let it out.

“I don’t know,” you replied.

He paused for a moment. Then he hummed in understanding. His hand moved slowly up and down your back.

You closed your eyes, but he still fell back asleep before you did.

Both of you had to work in the morning. Ben watched you out of the corner of his eye as you got ready for the day.

He’d been waiting for you to come to him with whatever was on your mind, but you were keeping it to yourself. He didn’t push you. You were smart, and whatever you needed to work out, he would let you deal with it your way, as you so often did.

It didn’t seem to affect how you did your job. At Supe Affairs, no one was the wiser. They didn’t know about the concealer covering the bags under your eyes, or that you were adding a couple shots of espresso to your usual latte every morning.

No, the fun came long after your day was done. After you had showered and dressed for bed, with a silent undercurrent of anxiety hovering in the back of your mind.

Another night, another pain in your ass.

You kept your eyes open for as long as you could, but at 2:00 a.m., you couldn’t take it anymore.

The darkness claimed you.

Three shots rang out. You ducked and took Yvette with you, but you choked on a gasp when you looked back…

Jon, your father, had a gloved fist punched through his chest cavity.

You watched with wide eyes as Black Noir revoked his arm from your father’s body with a wet, horrific sound. You gasped when Jon fell to his knees.

But to your shock, the supe glanced right past you, Yvette, and Devon. His pale gray eyes focused on only the men in the room. He then strode forward and began picking them off one by one.

You shakily pointed out a large aisle of A-Train merchandise for your friend to hide behind. Yvette pulled her son in that direction, while you went to your father where he laid on the ground.

With difficulty, you rolled him onto his back. You then laid a hand on his shoulder, while the other hovered over his chest. Blood pooled through the gaping chasm in his Vought-issued black jacket.

Your lower lip trembled, and you realized then that you were crying as he struggled for breath. Even after everything he’d done to you—to your family—it still hurt you to see him like this…to know that he was dying.

And there was no time. Not to save him, or for resolution…

“Dad,” you tried, but he stopped you. His brows were furrowed with pain, but he gripped your wrist tight.

“Run,” he said. He held on for a moment or two longer, but when the light faded from his eyes, you closed yours.

Your eyes wrenched open when a hand gripped your throat.

It was Black Noir, brandishing a katana between your eyes.

“…ake up.”

Words that just barely registered as you sucked in shallow breaths.

A solid pair of arms were caging you, and you instinctively fought the hold, uttering a whimper.

“Hey,” he said firmly. “It’s me.”

You gasped and finally found Ben’s face in the dark of the room. You heaved for breath as you stared up at him.

Despite your relief, tears brimmed in your eyes. Your grip tightened on his arms as your lips trembled. You opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sob.

Ben slid onto his side instead of looming above you. He guided you more securely into his arms, and you let yourself rest against his chest. You buried your face there and wept.

His fingers sorted through your hair as he tried to calm you.

“I’ve got you,” he rumbled.

Your body was exhausted. Your chest was filled with anxiety, the remnants of fear, and frustration at yourself, that you couldn’t just get over this.

But you felt his lips at the crown of your head. The sound of his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek drowned out the sound of your rapid one, and it served to steady you too. Your hand splayed against his chest, connecting you with his warm skin.

You began to calm in his arms.

“I see my father die every night,” you whispered.

Finally, you admitted the things you hadn’t been able to for weeks.

“Black Noir, Vought crumbling, trying to find you,” you said, even though your voice was shaking. “Everything, all over again…except I never make it out.”

Ben let out a deep sigh. He nodded, his lips still brushing against your forehead.

“It’s just a dream,” he said.

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.”

He could concede to that. He didn’t know what else to say to you though. All he could think to do was hold you a bit tighter.

“It’ll fade,” he said eventually. “Give it time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. A few tears fell through, but he brushed those away from your cheek.

When you were able to look up at him again, you asked him, “Has it all faded for you?”

Part of you already knew what he might say. As a result, you expected the way he hesitated.

“You know the answer to that,” he said. His fingers continued to sift through your hair, and you breathed easier at the pleasant sensation.

“They’re like battle wounds,” he continued. “They’ll just become scars.”

That wasn’t anything new for you, he knew. You’d had scars long before he met you.

You seemed to let his words sink in though. You nodded and pressed a kiss to his chest; a wordless thank you.

“Close your eyes,” he said, low and steady.

You hesitated, but you did as he said. You closed your eyes.

And when your breathing gentled into the deep calm of sleep, Ben allowed himself to try and do the same.

AN: And there we have it. Short and angsty lol. But I can't write angst without a little hurt/comfort. 💚💚

I hope you liked this!

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

The one-shot that started it all (AKA: inspired the BMD story):

Summary: You’re not a supe. You’re breakable. Soldier Boy sometimes forgets that.

▶️ Next Story: Checkerboard

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joelscurls · 1 year

Text

to the ends of the earth

pt ii of feel it in your bones | epilogue

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 12k

summary: You spend the week of Spring Break in Austin with your long-distance-boyfriend Joel. As you settle into a comfortable routine together, questions regarding your future arise.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), fluff, angst (ik ik i’m sorry), smut, phone sex, masturbation (f, m), semi-public touching, unprotected p in v, squirting, creampie, soft dom!Joel, hair pulling, tiniest bit of nipple play, implied oral (f receiving), brief mention of shower sex, use of pet names (darlin’, baby, etc.)

a/n: i’m honestly so overwhelmed with all the positive feedback I got on part 1 - thank you all so much! there will be a part 3 in the form of a lil epilogue, so stay tuned for more of these two! as always, ty to @caffeinated-validation for giving this your eyes <3

Long distance sucks.

It’s been six months to the day since Homecoming Weekend, five since you and Joel put a label on things: “exclusive”. Not like you’d been talking to anyone else. Since Joel left Vermont that first time, he’d occupied your mind, made a home there, nestled deep between grooves of soft brain matter.

He’s been back a couple of times since. Quick weekend trips — much like the first one — just without the bad art and couch surfing. And each time he’s come and gone has been more painful than the last. More memories to reminisce on when you lay in bed alone. More words exchanged to drown in. You feel as if your heart has been ripped apart and stitched haphazardly back together every time he slips from your embrace.

The last time you’d seen him in person was New Year’s, when you’d rented a cabin in the Green Mountains, watched Joel react to his first snow, exchanged I love yous for the first time under falling flurries.

It feels now as if it were a lifetime ago.

It’s never enough — time, kisses, touches. It’s all so fleeting. You want, more than anything, to burrow into Joel’s chest and make a permanent residence there. To go with him where he goes, be with him where he is, always.

But you know you can’t — it’s not realistic. You have your life here, and Joel has his there. You remind yourself of this fact more times a day than you’d like to admit.

You will be with him again soon enough, though, and for the longest stint of time yet. An entire week in Texas, you and Joel.

The thought of it keeps you going in the leadup to spring break.

It’s the night before your flight, an early-morning departure from Burlington International Airport. You’ve waited until the last minute to pack, so here you are, hovering above your suitcase — which lays sprawled out on your bed — aimlessly throwing pairs of underwear and t-shirts into the main compartment.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. A much welcomed distraction.

And then you notice that it’s Joel calling.

Your heart skips a beat. You answer. Put it on speaker-phone.

“Hello?,” you purr, flopping down on the small empty space on the bed.

“Hi baby,” he drawls, his voice so sweet and saccharine it makes you melt. “All packed?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m ready.”

“Me too,” he says. “So ready. I miss you.”

“I miss you,” you parrot. “How was your day?”

He sighs. “Fine, I guess. Had a bunch’a loose ends to tie up at this site before Tommy takes over for the week. A lot’a back and forth on the phone, orderin’ shit.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I hope you won’t be stressed all week thinking about it.”

He hums, so deep it vibrates through the phone. It goes straight to your core. “Impossible, babygirl. Once I have you here, ‘m not gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout anything else.”

Your face heats. An unignorable pang of desire swells in your chest.

“Joel,” you say, desperation already coloring your voice.

“Yeah?”

“I need you.”

Phone sex has become somewhat of a norm for you and Joel, that overwhelming need to be close to one another manifesting as desperate touches of your own fingers and half-coherent pleas through the speaker. It’s rare that a bedtime conversation between the two of you doesn’t end in panting down the line, telling each other goodnight through labored, satiated breaths.

Tonight, your need for him is bordering on carnal, carving into your skin like a sharp blade. You know you’ll have him tomorrow, and a number of days after that, but still, it feels so intangible, unreal. Like you can’t let yourself fully believe it until he’s in your arms.

And so you need him — right now — in any way you can have him.

“You wanna touch yourself?”

“Yes Joel — please.”

“Fuck babygirl,” he breathes. “Okay. Lemme take care’a you.”

You slip your fingers under the waistband of your sweatpants impatiently. You feel yourself through the thin fabric of your panties and, unsurprisingly, you’re soaked. It’s like you’ve been pavloved — like all you need is the sound of Joel’s voice, soft and deep like crushed velvet, and you’re gone — every single time.

“I’m so wet,” you mewl.

Joel groans on the other end. He sounds almost pained, like not being there to feel you, to taste you, is physically hurting him. If it is though, he covers it up well, snapping his attention back to you like a reflex.

“You still got your pants on?,” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Take ‘em off for me. And your panties.”

You do as he says, pulling your sweatpants and underwear down in one tug, letting them bunch at your ankles.

“They’re off,” you say.

“Good. Now touch yourself baby, go ahead.”

You shallowly dip two fingers into the pool of arousal that’s formed between your thighs. Then you glide slick digits over your aching clit, back and forth, a quiet whimper slipping from your mouth.

“‘ts it, darlin’,” he coos, “rub that pretty pussy for me.”

You pretend your fingers are his — bigger, rougher — as you increase the pressure you’re applying and begin to rub tight circles against your clit. The thought of your touches being his, instead, leaves you failing to swallow back a moan.

“Joel – ngh – it feels good.”

“‘Good, baby,” he says. “Doin’ so good for me.”

You keep going, your breaths becoming increasingly uneven, your hips inadvertently canting off the bed in an attempt to create more friction. You can sense that you’re dripping onto the duvet below you, staining it with your arousal. You’re way past caring at this point — you just need to cum.

You bring your other hand between your thighs, teasing your entrance. You sigh when you find how much wetter you’ve gotten in just a few minutes. You’re sure Joel must be able to hear the lewd slickslickslick of your fingers swirling against your sopping cunt — which he confirms when he curses under his breath.

“Fuck; that all for me, darlin’?”

“Mhm,” you moan.

“Gonna fuck yourself with your fingers for me? Cum all over ‘em, imaginin’ it’s my cock, instead?”

“Yes,” you cry. “Please, Joel, need your cock so bad.”

“I know babygirl, I know.”

You push two fingers inside as deep as you can get them, crooking them against your walls until you find that spongy spot. You fuck yourself in time with the fingers rubbing your clit, your pace reflexively increasing when you start to feel that familiar warmth growing in your abdomen.

You feel it build, up up up — and then it falls, fading completely.

“Fuck,” you murmur.

You don’t relent. But again and again, even with the perfect amount of pressure applied to your clit and the fingers in your pussy curved just right, you find your orgasm just out of reach. You let out a frustrated whine, your movements stalling completely. You can’t get there, not like this, not alone.

“Joel,” you punch out, “need you to touch yourself. Need you to cum with me.”

He inhales a sharp breath through his teeth. “Fuck, sweetheart — okay.”

You hear a faint clink of his belt on the other side of the phone, followed by the telltale whir of a zipper. There’s rustling over the line. When you hear him sigh, you know his cock is in his hand. And then there’s a shift in his breathing, subtle, but enough that you pick up on it. Evidence that he’s started stroking himself.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Miss that perfect little cunt so bad, baby. Can’t wait to fuck you again. Gonna ruin you.”

You love when he talks to you like this — when he loses himself in it and his tongue works faster than his brain. You’d never imagined when you first met him, reserved, quiet Joel, that he could be so filthy.

“Tell me —“ you plead — “tell me how you’re gonna fuck me, Joel.”

“Fuck, gonna get you in my bed, burry my face between your legs until you’re beggin’ me to stop…”

“Shit,” you gasp, your fingers stuttering at his words.

“‘N then ’m gonna fill you up with this cock, make you go dumb on it, fuck you so good your eyes roll back in your head.”

You whimper. You know he’s not just all talk from experience, and the thought of him fulfilling all these promises so soon has you plummeting toward the brink. As long as he keeps going, keeps talking, you’re not going to last another minute.

“Gonna make you soak it, make you cum all over my fuckin’ cock. Fuck — swear ’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

You feel your orgasm approaching again. But it’s not waning, not this time. You chase it, letting Joel’s words run on a loop in your head: gonna fill you up with this cock, gonna make you feel so good, bury my face between your legs until you’re beggin’, gonna make you go dumb on it, gonna make you feel so good, so good, so good…

“So close Joel,” you breathe. “So fucking close.”

“‘ts it, darlin’”, he says, his voice strained. “‘m right behind you — shit — let me hear you cum. Wanna — ahh — wanna hear you.”

That’s all it takes, just his encouragement, and you’re cumming so hard the room spins.

You can faintly register Joel talking you through it, able to make out a string of good girls through ringing ears. When you finally start to come down, you can tell he’s nearing his own climax, panting down the line as your own breaths begin to even.

“Please Joel,” you beg. “Please cum for me.”

He lets out a low growl, and then your name is spilling from the tip of his tongue, over and over again, in between strangled moans.

The line is quiet for a moment, apart from you and Joel’s shallow breathing.

“Fuck,” he says when he’s recovered from his orgasm, “how many hours til you get here?

You laugh. “I don’t know — too many.”

“Yeah, too many,” he agrees.

There’s another lull. You yawn exasperatedly, only now realizing how exhausted you are. An earth shattering orgasm will do that to you, you guess.

Joel chuckles on the other end.

“Go to bed, baby. It’ll make the time go faster.”

You sigh. You don’t want to hang up. Don’t want to be without him again. But he’s right. He usually is — though you’d never admit it out loud.

“Yeah, okay,” you acquiesce after a moment.

“I love you,” he hums.

“I love you too, Joel.”

“Can’t wait to see you,” he adds.

You smile. You’re glad he can’t see you right now, can’t see how ridiculously giddy he makes you.

“Me either,” you say. “Goodnight.”

“Night, darlin’.”

You’re still grinning like an idiot when you hang up the phone. You lay there for a few minutes, just staring at the ceiling, willing time to move faster.

Eventually you peel yourself off the bed and finish packing. You throw in some lacy bras you know Joel will love — if you end up wearing any real clothes this week, that is. Then you zip your suitcase shut, toss it onto the floor somewhere, and slip under the covers.

You flick your bedside lamp off with a sigh, and begin your attempt to coax sleep. You are tired, but you’re more excited.

When you finally do drift off — at some ungodly hour of the morning — you dream of Joel, of his large arms wrapped around you, his honeyed voice in your ear. Tomorrow, he whispers, again and again. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

You wake up the next morning with butterflies the size of baseballs in your stomach. You get to the airport unnecessarily early, make it through security in record time, and plant yourself down at your gate with a coffee in hand two hours before your scheduled departure.

Your body is practically vibrating in your seat, only partially due to the caffeine. Joel will no doubt still be asleep at this hour, so you shoot him a text to wake up to:

at the airport, all checked in. can’t wait to see you, cowboy <3

And then you send one to Sarah, who you know will be awake, her study-abroad trip to Cambodia meaning she’s probably studying or eating dinner right now.

On my way to see your dad; miss you! Can’t wait to hear all about your studies sometime soon :)

She almost immediately responds:

Yay! Miss you both so much! Yes, talk soon pls - lots to catch you up on. The professors here want me to stay forever (I won’t, dw, need to be able to bother you and my dad on a more regular basis).

You laugh to yourself.

Sarah had been thrilled when she’d found out about your relationship. Had been way too proud of herself for setting you up. When you’d learned she’d faked sick the night you met Joel at the art exhibition, you’d found yourself unable to feign disapproval. How could you care, really, when you’d ended the night straddling him, kissing him?

Not that you’d told her that, of course. She didn’t need to know every detail of that weekend.

It had been…interesting, to say the least, navigating a long-distance-something with the father of one of your students. But Sarah hadn’t pried, even when you’d suspected she wanted to. She’d let it bloom into something more, something real, before beginning to pester you with the questions: isn’t he the worst cook? do you think you guys will get married? can I be your maid of honor if you do?

To which you’d responded: yes (affectionately), I don’t know, and of course you can.

You’ll miss her this week, but another part of you — a more selfish part — is thrilled to have a week alone with Joel, without any distractions.

So thrilled, you can barely steady your shaking hands enough to plug your phone into the outlet under your seat.

You scroll mindlessly on social media as it charges until it’s time to board. Then you’re shuffling single-file down the aisle of the plane to your row, hauling your suitcase into the overhead, and taking your seat next to the window.

It’s your first flight of two, separated by a three-hour layover. You make it to Philadelphia in just over an hour, halfway through the cheesy 2000s rom-com you’d selected on the inflight entertainment screen. You make a mental note to finish it on the next leg.

You get lunch once you’ve tracked down your new gate — pay seventeen bucks for a soggy airport sandwich and a bag of chips that, upon opening, is mostly air. When you sit down to eat, you notice that Joel texted you back.

Got one foot out the front door already. Can’t wait to see you babygirl.

You can’t help the embarrassing smile that pulls across your face.

You re-read the text no less than ten times before you board your next flight — then once more for good measure just before you put your phone on airplane-mode and shove it in your sweatshirt pocket.

This is it, you think as the wheels lift off the ground and the clouds come closer into view. No more countdown. It’s here.

You have to refrain from sprinting off of the plane as soon as it’s landed in Austin.

You grab your suitcase from the overhead with reckless abandon, nearly knocking another piece of luggage out of the compartment and onto a passing flight attendant.

“Shit, sorry,” you curse.

She glares at you, unamused.

“I’m just…I’m meeting someone here,” you ramble. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Too excited.”

She nods. Pops her gum. “Mhm. Have a good day, ma’am. Thanks for flying with us.”

You keep your head down as you disembark.

It’d been a packed flight, and so you find yourself weaving through the crowd that’s gathered at the gate as you exit, around parents who have stopped to tie their kids’ shoes and solo travelers pausing to book their ride shares.

You check your phone as you walk, unwilling to waste even a fraction of a second. Find the directions buried in the text thread between you and Joel detailing how to get from your terminal to the passenger pickup area.

You follow them, suitcase rolling behind you as you trudge along, down a couple escalators and through a corridor.

You round one last corner — and then you see him, standing with his back to a pillar, hands anxiously fiddling at his sides.

Now you are sprinting.

Your suitcase is abandoned somewhere behind you as you run toward Joel. He doesn’t see you at first. You make it a few feet, shoes squeaking on tile, before his head snaps up and his eyes catch yours. And then he’s bounding forward, meeting you in the middle, your bodies colliding, hard.

He throws both arms around you, squeezes you so tightly you think your blood vessels may burst. You accept your fate willingly, breathing him in, letting your hands rove along his broad back.

He smells like pine and worn leather and Joel.

He feels like home.

He bruises a kiss in your hair, whispering against your scalp in disbelief: baby, you’re here.

You stand wrapped up together for a long moment, Joel rocking you back and forth as you catch your breath. Then you pull apart to look at each other.

Only then does it begin to sink in — Joel is right in front of you, touching you — and you’re about to spend a whole week together.

“C’mere,” he drawls, grabbing both sides of your face and crashing his lips into yours. It’s a slow kiss, punctuated by gentle strokes of his fingertips along your jaw. Your tongue rolls against his and your fingers anchor into his shirt collar. It simultaneously feels like it lasts forever and not nearly long enough.

“C’mon,” he whispers against your lips when you part. “Let’s go home, darlin.”

You grab your forgotten suitcase and pull it behind you with one hand, the other in Joel’s as you walk to his truck. It’s parked just outside, at the curb, hazard lights blinking.

“Was supposed to wait here for you,” he explains as he opens the passenger door, helping you in. He takes your suitcase, throws it onto the backseat like it weighs nothing.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you smile as he gets into the driver’s seat. “Felt like a rom-com — I liked it.”

“Yeah,” he says, turning his key in the ignition. His cheeks flush. “I liked it too.”

You stop for fast food on the way to Joel’s — Whataburger, naturally. They don’t have these in Vermont, so you try to savor your burger, but your long day of travel has you ravenous, so you wolf it down, ketchup smearing on the corners of your mouth between bites. Joel just laughs at you from the driver’s seat, piece of lettuce lodged between his front teeth.

You get it for him — fingernails prodding at his gums, but he lets you. Even sighs at the contact. When you flick the leaf off your fingertip, he pulls you in for a kiss, much softer than the one you shared in the airport, but dizzying, nonetheless. “Better?,” he whispers, and you’re not sure if he’s asking about his teeth or you, but both are true, so you hum affirmingly.

You sink back into your seat, adjusting your seatbelt where it’s tightened around your neck.

You feel full and drowsy as you throw your trash into the paper bag the food came in, tucking it by your feet.

You let your head rest against the window. The glass rattles against your skull as the truck begins to move, but you ignore it, too tired to care. And then you let your eyes shut — just to rest them — that’s all.

You don’t remember falling asleep.

You come to when you feel Joel at your side, trying to move you from the passenger seat.

“Baby,” you hear him say. Your eyes flutter open. He brings a hand up to your face, peeling stray strands of hair from where they’re stuck to your forehead and pushing them behind your ear.

“We’re home,” he drawls. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”

You nod groggily, still letting your eyes adjust to the daylight. You take in your surroundings: you’re parked in his driveway, his house right in front of you. Somehow, it’s just as you’d imagined it to be — big, sprawling porch at the front, meticulously kempt yard ornamented with a beautiful red oak tree. It’s so Texan, you think, so Joel.

He grabs your luggage from the truck. Then he helps you out, walks you with a large hand wrapped around your middle to the front door and into the house. Once inside, he sets your suitcase down.

And then he hugs you again, like he’s afraid to let you out of his embrace, lest you vaporize into thin air.

“Still tired? Wanna take a nap?,” he asks.

You yawn, right in his ear. He laughs; that’s enough of an answer.

“Alright,” he says. You follow him to his bedroom, too sleepy to argue. You pass through the kitchen and living room on the way. Through drooping eyes, you notice scattered pieces of Joel — the guitar leaning against its stand next to the couch, the pictures of him and Sarah lining the staircase. It makes your chest tighten, being here in his house, seeing the parts of him that he can’t bring with him when he visits you.

His room is the most him though — masculine and minimalist. A canvas with a ram painted on it hangs above his bed — a gift from someone, you assume. You can’t exactly imagine Joel strolling the aisles of Target, picking out artwork to hang in his house. There’s another photo of him and Sarah on his bedside table that must’ve been taken at her highschool graduation, cap adorning her head full of curls.

It makes you smile — all of it.

You lope over to the bed, climbing in when Joel pulls back the covers for you. He tucks you in with a kiss to your forehead. His duvet wafts his scent, when you pull it up to your face. You inhale it deeply. Commit it to memory.

“Wait,” you say as he turns to leave the room. “Aren’t you going to stay with me?”

He leans against the doorframe, wood creaking under his weight. “Well I don’t really nap, darlin’,” he admits. “You get some rest, I’ll just be doin’ some stuff around the house.”

“Please,” you say, sticking out your bottom lip at him. You watch as he thinks on it for a minute, then sighs in defeat.

“Okay, I’ll nap with you baby.”

He climbs in next to you. “Only for a little bit, though,” he mumbles, like he’s trying to convince himself.

His broad chest presses into your back. He drapes an arm over your side as you nuzzle into his embrace, so warm, so safe. He noses at your neck, leaving gentle kisses along your exposed shoulder. This, you think, is what heaven must feel like.

The sound of Joel’s breathing lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up, the room is cast in shadows. It’s dusk, you realize, wiping the sleep out of your eyes. You roll over. Find that Joel is no longer next to you.

His side of the bed is still warm, you notice, so he must not have gotten up too long ago.

You clamber to your feet, ignoring the blood rushing to your head as you stumble out of his room. You make your way down the stairs, hand braced against the wall as you descend. The lights are on in the living room — a sign of life. But Joel isn’t there.

You wander into the kitchen. He’s not here either. Did he leave the house? You look around for a note, fish your phone out of your pocket to see if he texted you. But you have zero notifications and the dining table is empty, apart from a pair of salt & pepper shakers and a napkin holder.

You call out for him, to no avail. Stumped, you make your way to the door that leads to the garage, the only room you haven’t checked yet, and wedge it open.

To your surprise, you find Joel standing at the back of his truck, loading something into the bed. Upon further inspection, you see that it’s blankets.

Huh?

“Hey,” you announce, making your way down the small set of stairs. He whips around at the sound of your voice. The color in his face drains, like he’s just been caught in the act of something.

“Darlin’,” he says, eyes wide. “You’re up.”

You join him by the truck. Let him rest a heavy arm on your shoulder. You peer up at him with a quirked brow. “What are you doing out here?”

“Well, I uh, I had planned somethin’ for you. Not sure if you’re up for it?”

You look back at the blankets in the truck bed. It’s not just blankets, you discover. There are pillows too, big ones, like the kinds you put on patio furniture, plus a small radio situated in the corner. And there’s a bag of chips leaned up against one of the pillows, next to a box of your favorite candy.

“A picnic… in your truck?”

He laughs. “Not quite. There’s a drive-in movie theater down the road. Thought we could go.”

Those butterflies from this morning suddenly return, swarming your insides at the realization — Joel planned a date for you.

It’s not that he isn’t normally romantic, because he is.

You recall one particular weekend he’d visited — he’d insisted on cooking dinner for you at your apartment, determined to make it perfect for you. He’d ended up burning the chicken and oversalting his sauce, but you hadn’t cared one bit — not when he’d gazed at you so adoringly across the candlelit table, one of your hands in his as he’d peppered each of your knuckles with kisses.

On another visit, he’d scouted one of the only nearby mountains you hadn’t hiked yet and climbed to the top with you — because the internet said this was the best spot to catch the sunset. You’d stood at the lookout, hand in hand, and shared your greatest dreams — yours to have your research published in a major publication, his to leave contracting behind and buy a sheep ranch. And when the sun had dipped behind the horizon, the sky bleeding vibrant pinks and oranges, he’d just looked at you.

So you know he’s romantic. Still though, you’re practically swooning at the scene in front of you.

“So, you wanna go?,” he asks. He scuffs his boot along the concrete floor, awkwardly. “It’s okay if you d-“

“Joel,” you say. “I wanna go.”

He smiles. Rolls the cover over the truck bed. Presses a kiss to your temple.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

The sky is dark by the time you get to the drive-in. There are already quite a few cars in the dirt lot, parked in neat rows facing the giant movie screen that sits at the edge of a treeline. There’s a person directing traffic, a teenage boy, you guess, based on his stature, and he twirls his light-up batons in the rearview as Joel rounds the corner to the back row.

He backs into a spot at the far-left, car to your right parked a good ten feet away. And then he cuts the ignition with a quiet grunt, steps out, and makes his way over to your door to open it for you and help you down.

The pillows in the truck bed had jostled around a bit on the drive over, Joel finds when he unfurls the cover. So he adjusts them, making sure everything is just right. Then he unlatches the tailgate and helps you hoist yourself up, following closely behind you as you crawl toward the back.

Once he’s set the radio to the right channel, Joel sits with his back flush to the truck cab and spreads his legs, patting one of his thighs in invitation. He doesn’t need to ask twice — you immediately crawl between them, letting your head fall back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in him.

A satisfied hum escapes your lips. The realization hits you then that you hadn’t even asked what movie you were seeing. Not that you care much — it could be a documentary about grass, and you’d still have a good time, thanks to the company.

It’s some dystopian sci-fi thriller, you find, as the opening credits begin to roll, with a title you vaguely remember hearing in passing at some point.

And it’s good. You’re invested in the story by the end of the first act, curious to find out how the main character is going to save her love interest.

But then you lose interest, quickly, when you feel the white-hot touch of Joel’s fingers against your skin as he slips them under your shirt, inching down your stomach.

He halts when he gets to the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitches, lodged somewhere in your throat when he dips one finger under the denim. Your hips lift reflexively and he laughs lowly in your ear, prompting a shaky exhale to sputter out of you.

“Stay still, darlin,” he whispers, slipping another finger into your pants.

You try, you really try not to move, but he’s teasing you, his fingers moving the pace of molasses toward your core, where he hasn’t touched you in months. You feel like your entire body is going to combust if he doesn’t make contact with your clit in the next five seconds.

You whine, quiet enough that it’s muffled by the sounds of the movie echoing from the radio, but still too loud for Joel, apparently. He reaches his free hand out to turn the volume up, pushing the nob a few decibels higher.

He returns his attention to you. “You want this, babygirl?,” he asks, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear.

“Yes,” you whisper pleadingly. “Please touch me, Joel.” You feel his cock stiffen behind you, prodding your back.

“Okay,” he says. He pulls his hand out completely to unbutton your pants and unzip them halfway. Then he’s cupping your sex through your panties, letting his fingers brush over the wet spot that has already formed.

“Gotta be quiet then,” he purrs. “Can ya do that for me?”

You’re not sure you can, to be honest. He’s barely touching you and you already feel like you’ve lost all control over your body. Whatever it does, however you react — you have no say in the matter. Still, you’re not about to tell him that, risk him stopping, so you nod, furiously, your desperate face illuminated by the flashing light of an action sequence playing out on screen.

He dips two fingers into your underwear, immediately pressing them to your seam. He curses under his breath behind you, clearly pleased with how wet you are for him, with how easily he breaks you down. He brings them up to your clit, then, swiping back and forth, back and forth, his calloused touch forcing you to suppress a yelp. His fingers feel so rough compared to yours, so good. Breaths are pouring out of you in quick succession, your chest heaving with pleasure.

You’re briefly paranoid as Joel continues his ministrations that someone might see — but as you glance around the parking lot, you realize that you can’t see anyone else, just shadows in cars and on folding chairs, all focused on the movie in front of them. Slouched within the walls of Joel’s truck bed, it’s impossible for anyone to clock what’s happening.

So you let your body relax, melting into Joel behind you, your hands clinging onto his thighs to hold yourself steady. “‘ts it baby,” he says, your pliancy encouraging him to press his fingers down harder. “Always so good for me, huh?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, your voice still hushed.

“Yeah, you are” he agrees, rubbing your clit faster, more deliberately. He knows by now just how to touch you — exactly how to bring you straight to the edge and send you toppling over. And it’s clear that time apart hasn’t affected this in the slightest, your abdomen already tensing, familiar coil tightening threateningly in your core.

You warn Joel with a squeal. His free hand flies up to your face, covering your mouth in an instant. Your eyes roll back instinctively at the lewdness of it, of him muffling you with his palm. You moan freely against it, teeth scraping the skin there as your orgasm grows nearer and nearer and nearer.

It hits you hard. You have to bite down on Joel’s hand to keep from screaming out as it scorches through you, heating every inch of your skin as it does. Your fingernails are digging into Joel’s legs so hard you think you may be drawing blood even through thick denim. He talks you through it, quietly, his utters of atta girl, look at you, ya cum so pretty for me baby keeping you tethered to reality.

When your breathing begins to even and the trembling in your thighs subsides, he removes his hand from your mouth and the other from your pants.

You gaze up at him through bleary eyes just as he brings the fingers that were pressed against your pussy straight to his mouth, sucking on them through a satisfied hum. He pulls them out slowly, and your body nearly buckles at the sight.

“Taste so sweet,” he whispers in your ear. “Always taste so goddamn sweet.”

Your head swims.

“Joel,” you say, pointedly.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“We need to leave. Right now.”

He cocks his head at you, confused. “Are you alr-”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off. “But I need you to fuck me right now, and I don’t think we can do that here.”

You see his eyes darken, his jaw twitch.

“Yeah,” he says after a few seconds. “Let’s get out of here.”

Joel speeds the entire way home.

The hand he doesn’t have on the wheel grips your thigh, making you dizzy with desire by the time he pulls into the driveway. He lodges the passenger side door open so hard you’d think there was an emergency (maybe needing to fuck your significant other after months of not seeing them in person does constitute as an emergency, though — who’s to say?).

He unbuckles your seatbelt for you, barely letting your feet hit the pavement before his lips are on you and he’s slamming the truck door shut, caging you against it. It feels like he’s everywhere all at once, his tongue sliding along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone. You’re panting by the time he pulls back, begging him in not so many words to bring you inside and pound you into the mattress.

It must take you five whole minutes to get from the front door to his room. Joel’s hand is splayed across the globe of your ass as you walk. He stops you every ten feet to spin your around and kiss you again, sucking on your tongue, needy moans slipping from his parted lips. His shirt has been discarded by the time you get to the stairs, and your hands greedily take in every inch of skin they can reach as you make your way up step by agonizing step.

When you finally make it upstairs, he backs you through the threshold, straight to his bed. You tumble down onto the mattress in a heap, mouths melding together in desperation as he reaches a hand behind you, under your shirt, and unclasps your bra. You help him out, reaching up your sleeve to tug down one strap, then shifting your weight to pull down the other. When you move, he follows you, not letting his mouth part from yours a second sooner than it needs to.

He tugs the bra the rest of the way off your body and pulls your shirt up over your chest, revealing your bare breasts. Only then does he unlatch his lips from yours so that he can admire you.

“More gorgeous every time I see you,” he mutters, rolling one of your nipples between two fingers until it hardens under his touch. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. He leans down, lathing his flat tongue over the sensitive peak, eliciting a heady moan from you.

“Joel,” you cry beneath him, a hand coming up to his shoulder. You push against him lightly.

And he gets it — as much as he loves teasing, now is not the time. You’ve been teased enough by the miles between you and him. So he pulls back. Lets you roll him over. You straddle him, bracing your hands on his chest and experimentally roll your hips. You immediately feel his hard cock straining against his jeans underneath you.

You reach between your bodies then, prying open his button and yanking the zipper down. Then your hand is in his pants, tracing the outline of his heavy cock where it bulges under cotton.

You lean down and press a kiss to his clothed length. He hisses through his teeth.

“Baby,” he groans, hand coming down to tilt your chin up towards his face. “Another time. I need to be inside you. Right now.”

You don’t argue. He sits up. Shuffles back to the headboard, bringing you with him. He pulls your shirt the rest of the way off, over your head. And then he’s helping you slip out of your jeans and panties so that you’re completely naked atop him.

He pulls you in for another bruising kiss as he tugs his pants and boxers down, just enough to free his leaking cock. He strokes it languidly, smearing pre-cum from the tip down his length. You’re already impatient by the time he’s lining himself up with your entrance, so much so that you have to refrain from taking him all the way down in one go. You use your better judgment, sinking onto him slowly, until you’re flush with his pelvis, the hair at his base tickling your inner thighs.

His eyes are squeezed shut, his breathing labored as you adjust to the size of him. You’ve missed the sweet, burning stretch of him, the fullness you feel when he’s inside you, like you’re complete, whole. You’re pretty sure you could stay like this forever, make a home here on his throbbing cock.

When the sting dissipates, you begin to move, rocking on top of him. He grabs onto your hips, steadying you, his eyes blinking half-open to take you in.

“Fuck,” he rasps as you set a steady pace, his cock disappearing from you, then filling you to the brim again and again. “‘ts it baby, take my fuckin’ cock; ridin’ it so good.”

His hips snap up, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. You wrap your hands around his neck reflexively, digging your nails into his shoulders, indenting crescent moons in the muscle there as he ruts against your g-spot. Your face falls against his chest, your muffled pleas for Joel to fuck you harder, harder, right there barely coherent.

He gets the message regardless.

He pulls you down onto his cock, essentially spearing you on it. You think he must be bruising your cervix, the way his thick head is repeatedly bumping it, but you don’t care. You need every inch of him, need to take everything he has to give you; it feels as essential as the air being punched out of your chest right now.

He’s fucking up into you so brutally that you find yourself delirious, eyes rolling back in your head for the second time tonight. You can’t even find the strength to warn him of your rapidly approaching orgasm, your body going limp in his grasp. He doesn’t need you to, though — he can tell just by the way you squeeze him that you’re close.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?,” he growls, hitting that spongy spot over and over and over.

“Uh — ahhh — uh-huh,” you moan weakly into his skin. Your fingers loosen at his neck, too weak to hold onto him any longer.

Suddenly, he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head off of his chest and holding it up so that you’re looking him in the eye.

His gaze is lascivious, almost carnal, like going without you for so long has him ready to swallow you whole.

“Look at me,” he spits, “look at me when you cum.”

You nod wearily. You want to give him that, want to give him anything he asks of you. But you’re not sure if you can, not when your eyelids feel like boulders on your face.

“C-can’t Joel,” you manage through moans as they fall shut again.

“Nuh-uh,” he snaps, yanking at your roots. Your eyes fly open at the intrusion.

“You can do it baby, c’mon. Missed these pretty eyes so much — wanna see ‘em.”

You can only imagine how absolutely fucked-out you must look, using every last ounce of energy in your body to keep from slipping again. Your eyes glaze over slightly as he gives a particularly rough thrust, and you feel yourself skyrocket to the edge.

You feel like putty in his hands — and maybe you are. You’d let him mold you to whatever shape he pleased right about now, when he’s making you feel this good.

“There ya go,” Joel coos, bringing his thumb to your clit. He lazily swipes it once — twice — and you begin to fall apart in his arms.

It’s almost violent, your second orgasm of the night. It rips through you, your body thrashing on top of Joel’s, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he continues pounding into you. It feels different too, something more intense lingering, the threat of it just behind your walls.

And then he hits that spot again, the one that makes you see stars, and you’re gushing around him. Your release splatters out onto the duvet below you, soaking it. If Joel notices, he doesn’t care.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groans.

Your eyes adjust as you come to. You take in Joel’s, charcoal black and blown-out with lust. You feel shy, almost, which you know is ridiculous given he’s still inside you. But even so, the way he looks at you, like you’re the most desirable thing he’s ever seen — it makes your cheeks heat.

He flips you over onto your back in one swift movement, slipping from you momentarily as he helps you to wrap your shaky legs around him. Presses a gentle kiss to your trembling ankle as he does. And then he’s burying himself in you again, right to the hilt, his pace slowing as he nears the edge.

“Please baby,” you cry. “Please cum inside. Need to feel you.”

Your body feels boneless under Joel’s weight, like he’s fucked near everything out of you. And now you need him to feel good, to take whatever he needs from you, whatever you have left to give.

“Fuck,” he grunts. His hips stall abruptly. He spills into you, deep moans pulling from the back of his throat. You dig your heels into the meat of his ass, dragging him closer, forcing him so deep he paints your cervix.

He pulls out with a hiss, his length softening against your mound as he lifts himself up on his elbows to kiss you. It’s a meager kiss, both of you still too out of breath to deepen it, but it soothes you, along with the soft graze of his thumb over your ribs.

You hold each other for a while, in no rush to move from this moment. You’re pretty sure you drift off more than once, awoken each time by the vibration of his gentle hums against your neck. When you finally do move, it’s not far, just up the bed and under the covers. And then his arms are right back where they were, around you, pulling you tightly to him.

He falls asleep before you, snoring quietly at the crown of your head. You try to wiggle from his grasp, move to the other side of the bed, but even in his sleep, he’s acutely aware of your presence. He just grips you harder, nuzzles his head deeper into your hair. You’ve never felt more content being stuck somewhere.

You slip under again eventually. You’re pretty sure you dream of nothing — no need for your brain to conjure up anything more than what you already have.

The following morning, you wake up with Joel’s tongue between your legs. He nibbles at your inner thigh, waiting for you to give him the go ahead to continue. And then he makes you cum twice on his mouth before you even eat breakfast.

He doesn’t let you get up for that, either. He brings you hot coffee in a Texas Longhorns mug and a plate of toast, slathered with butter and grape jelly, and doesn’t complain when you get crumbs on the sheets.

You’re satiated and caffeinated before you even start your day — which Joel has planned out to a t.

He brings you to his favorite spot for lunch, a BBQ place by the river, and acts smug when you tell him these are the best ribs I’ve ever had in my life. Then you go home, take a shower — together, of course — and you rinse shampoo out of your hair with his cock nestled comfortably inside you.

He fucks you with your hands braced against the shower wall until you’re screaming, the echoes bouncing off of tile, and then you get back in bed, laze around in your towels until dinnertime.

Joel orders takeout — sushi for you, lo mein and teriyaki beef for him. You sprawl out on the couch as you eat, your feet in his lap and the calming buzz of the tv on in the background.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a long time.

You easily fall into a routine over the course of the week: wake up, fuck, eat breakfast in bed, fuck, get up around noon, shower, eat lunch, grade papers while Joel cleans up or does yardwork, eat dinner, fuck, go to sleep.

You almost forget that this isn’t permanent, that you’re going to have to get on a plane and go home soon, that this isn’t your home, here with Joel. That is, until Friday night, over dinner — when Joel abruptly pulls you back down to earth.

You’re finishing your pasta, spooning the last remnants of sauce into your mouth. Some western flashes across the tv — Joel’s choice, and as you put your bowl down on the coffee table and snuggle up to him, he sighs.

“This has gotta be the best vacation of my life — or, staycation, I guess.” He says it innocently enough. Still, you feel jolted. Vacation, you repeat in your head until your brain catches up with reality. You feel smothered, suddenly, warm, like your whole body is an ore about to be smelted. You extricate yourself from Joel’s arms and settle on the other side of the couch.

“Just hot,” you lie. “Sorry.”

“‘ts alright,” he murmurs, unphased, eyes glued to the tv.

He doesn’t notice the way you tense, the way your breathing picks up when you excuse yourself to the bathroom. But why should he? There’s no reason for you to be freaking out.

Except there is.

Because the thought of leaving in a couple days, leaving behind Joel and this routine, not seeing him again for several more months, and even then, only having a weekend, or if you’re lucky, a week with him – it’s making you spiral.

You lock yourself in the bathroom. Close the lid to the toilet. When you sit down, your head falls into your hands, heaving breaths warming the skin of your palms uncomfortably. I can’t do this, you think. I can’t keep doing this.

You love Joel — you do, more than anything. And you can’t begin to imagine living without him. But you also can’t help but wonder, elbows digging into your knees, how this has become your life — all the leaving.

Something heavy settles in the pit of your stomach. You feel nauseous.

You get up. Splash cold water on your face. Curse your reflection, all sunken eyes and tear-stained cheeks. So stupid. This is why you didn’t want to get into another relationship. The pain, the pain, the unbearable pain.

Why did you have to fall in love with him?

There’s a clanging on the other side of the door — Joel clearing your dishes from dinner — an act of domesticity that plunges the dagger deeper into your bleeding heart.

You wipe your cheeks with your shirt sleeve. Huff at how pathetic you feel.

It’s so stupid, so silly, crying in Joel’s bathroom when he’s right outside, right there waiting for you. Even still, you can’t seem to shake the dread that hangs over you like a storm cloud when you make your way back into the living room with dried eyes, back into his arms.

You hope, silently, that it’ll go away with a good night’s sleep. That this is just a minor breakdown, a hormonal thing, maybe, and you’ll feel better in the morning.

It doesn’t, it’s not — and you don’t.

Joel can tell something is wrong the moment he hands you your morning coffee. You’d slept in today, legs tangled under the sheets, trepidation still clawing its way up your throat. You’d been quiet, had only hummed in response when he’d told you good morning.

That, he hadn’t noticed. But when he passes you the mug, steam billowing from the mouth, he detects the way you won’t look at him, your mumbled thank you.

You catch the way he steps back with a dejected hmph, and rounds the bed to climb in next to you.

You feel awful.

The mattress springs creak as he settles, balancing his full mug in one hand, laying the other over yours where it sits on top of the duvet, resting on your covered leg.

“Y’alright?,” he asks, even though you know he knows the answer. It’s why you don’t lie, shake your head. Your eyes flick up to his as a frown sets under his nose.

You downplay it. “I’m fine, really. It’s just — I — I’m sad that today’s our last full day. I don’t wanna go home yet.”

“Don’t have to go,” he drawls, drawing light circles over your skin with his index finger.

And you know he means it — know he’d let you move in with him in a heartbeat. But you also know you can’t. Can’t leave behind the life you worked so hard to make in Vermont.

“I wish,” you sigh, taking a cautious sip of your coffee.

“Well…d’you wanna do somethin’ today? Go into the city? I know we haven’t done much’a anything this week.” He smirks. And just for a moment, the look on his face — that dopey smile and those sweet cinnamon eyes — makes you forget about the darkness fogging your mind.

“We can do touristy stuff,” he continues. “Do anythin’ you want. To take your mind off things. Make the most of the day, ya know?”

His brows are raised as he anticipates your response. He’s so eager to do whatever it takes for you to be happy, and that makes your chest clench. More than you want to protect your own heart, you want to appease him. He deserves that, at the very least.

So you say yes, let’s do it; show me around Austin.

The cracks in your heart deepen when he nearly jumps out of bed in excitement.

Joel is a great tour guide, for what it’s worth.

He brings you to his favorite hiking trail in the city. It runs along a lake, the water busy with kayakers and paddle boarders.

The sky above is overcast. A sliver of sun cuts through the clouds, casting your forehead in a light sheen of sweat as you walk.

Every single passerby waves at you or says hello, all in the same singsong twang. Joel waves back, grunts a greeting. It throws you off, how nice everyone is here. You’ve grown used to New England, with its temperamental weather and even more temperamental people.

“Busy,” you note when another group passes you.

“Mhm,” Joel hums. Wraps a sweaty arm around you, pulling you into his side. It’s awkward to walk like this, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Sarah used to love this place. We’d come all the time when she was little.”

You lean into his embrace. Nuzzle your face into the fabric of his T-shirt.

“I know you must’ve missed her this week. Is this the first spring break she hasn’t been home?”

“Yeah,” Joel’s other hand rests at the back of his neck, fingers absently working at a knot in the muscle there. “Gotta get used to it though, I guess, with her stayin’ north after school is over and all.”

“She didn’t tell me that,” you admit. “When did she decide?”

He sighs so deep you can almost feel it in your own chest.

“Couple weeks ago,” he says. “Guess she got some unofficial job offer for after she graduates, from this research institute in Boston. She’s all excited about it.”

You know Joel is proud. He’s always proud of Sarah. How could he not be? But you also know his heart is breaking right now, the long-established plans for Sarah to come home to Texas, to come home to him after finishing undergrad, suddenly squashed.

And then there’s you — leaving too — again.

The thought of hurting Joel is overbearing, more so than the thought of hurting yourself. He doesn’t deserve to be so far away from the woman he’s in a relationship with when his own daughter is already out of reach.

You feel selfish, suddenly.

It plagues your mind for the rest of the day — when you go to a diner after the hike and split a strawberry milkshake the size of your head with Joel — and still, later, when you wander hand-in-hand into a tacky gift shop.

You try your best to ignore the ache in your chest as you scan the store.

The back wall is stacked top to bottom with cowboy boots of varying colors and styles. There are cowboy hats too, displayed on a long table.

Joel picks up an oversized straw hat, resting it on the top of his head with a laugh. “Looks ridiculous, right?”

“Somehow, no,” you say. And it’s the truth. You think he’s the only person who could put that thing on and look hot in it.

He grabs another hat off of the table, a more traditional one — brown leather with a braided band wrapped around the base of the crown. You let him affix it on your head. He steps back to get a good look at you and nods.

“Looks good. Looks sexy,” he amends.

“Yeah?” You dip your head in faux greeting, fingers pressed into the front corner of the brim.

He scans over you then, his eyes darkening. It looks like he’s pondering something, the corner of his mouth curving.

“What?”

He steps closer. Leans down to whisper in your ear. “Think we should get ‘em. Wear ‘em later.”

Your breath pulls. The thought of Joel wearing that and nothing but that underneath you is enough to make you forget your quandaries, temporarily.

“Yeah,” you respond way too quickly. “Let’s get them, Cowboy.”

You watch his entire body tense at the nickname. And then he’s yanking the hat off of you, bringing both to the register in a hurry.

The house is dark when you get home, bag of Greek takeout in hand.

Joel flicks a light on in the entrance. You squint reflexively, your eyes adjusting as you set the food down on the coffee table in the living room. Joel brings your new hats upstairs, then joins you on the couch. You pull out two styrofoam containers, passing the one with Joel’s name scribbled on it to him and leaning back with yours in your lap.

“‘m starvin,” he mumbles as he cracks his open, squeezes a wedge of lemon over his rice.

You eat quickly, something else clearly on both of your minds as you shovel falafel into your mouths. You even forget to turn the tv on.

When you’re done, you insist you’ll clean up, bringing the trash into the kitchen as Joel disappears upstairs. Once everything is tidied, you re-situate yourself on the couch.

He returns a few minutes later — shirtless, that ridiculous cowboy hat fastened on his head, dark jeans sitting low on his hips. He’s holding your hat in his left hand.

There’s a dull throbbing between your legs. He starts across the room, toward you.

“Joel-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, bracketing you against the cushions, his hat bumping into your head. He pulls it off immediately, like if it’s going to interfere in any way, it’s not worth it. It falls onto the floor somewhere behind him.

Joel pulls at the fabric of your shirt. Your back arches, allowing him to pull it up and off before tossing it aside. His mouth moves from yours, trailing lower, lower, and settling at the column of your throat. He sucks a bruise there, the contact sending your hips bucking off the couch, the need for him to touch you already borderline painful.

And then that voice returns, the one that’s been screaming in your head since last night.

This’ll be the last time for a while. Maybe forever. Last time he touches you like this, kisses you like this. Don’t think about it — don’t. Just enjoy it. Just-

“Joel,” you pant. He stops immediately. Pulls back.

“What? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Tears well in your eyes, blur your vision. You can barely make out the look of concern plastered across Joel’s face as he kneels down in front of you and grips both of your shoulders.

When you speak, your voice comes out shaky. “No, it’s not — I just.” Your breath catches in your throat.

“What? What is it darlin’?,” he tries, massaging tense muscle under his palms.

You hadn’t wanted him to see you like this. You feel embarrassed that he has to comfort you like you’re a child who’s just had a nightmare, and not a grown woman with a PhD. You groan. Catch your breath.

“Fuck. I’m fine,” you try. Joel clearly isn’t buying it. He quirks a brow at you.

“C’mon baby, talk to me. I wanna help, whatever it is. Let me in — please”

And you want to, you do, it’s just — you don’t know how to even explain how you’re feeling.

“This is all so hard,” you start. Joel nods. He wants you to continue. “This whole — situation,” you try. “Being long-distance. It’s just — being here for a whole week and waking up together every morning, having coffee, watching tv at night, like a — fuck — like a real couple — and now I have to go back to normal?”

His face falls.

“Real couple? Is this not real to you?”

“It is real,” you sob. “It’s too real. That’s why it hurts so fucking much. I just, I can’t —”

“Can’t what?” His voice is quiet. Low.

“Can’t do this. Can’t handle the pain. And it must be hurting you too, Joel. Between me and Sarah—”

“I’m fine,” he barks, suddenly jumping to his feet. He takes a deep breath. “This isn’t about Sarah. This is about us. Do you not want this? Me?”

Your hands tremble in your lap. “Of course I want you, Joel,” you sniff. “I want you more than anything. But-”

“But not like this. This is too hard.”

You nod weakly.

He sighs.

“You know you can move here — stay with me.”

You do know. He’s said it so many times before. But you’ve worked way too hard to pack up and start over, to give up your professorship after only three years with the blind hope that you’ll land a new position in Austin. And now you’re mad — infuriated, almost, that he keeps suggesting it.

You scoff. “You know I can’t just give up my life, Joel.”

“So what, you’re just gonna give up on us, instead?” His voice is strained.

“I’m not giving up,” you clip, defensively.

“Certainly doesn’t sound like you’re tryin’.”

He stares at the ceiling. You watch as his eyes mist, his concentration palpable as he wills the tears not to fall. Your anger dissipates into guilt.

This is exactly what you’d feared — breaking his heart. It’s like you can see it fracturing, chipping at the edges.

“I don’t want to,” you whisper. “I don’t — I don’t know. I just can’t.”

His face contorts. A single tear slips down his cheek, which he wipes away quickly with the back of his hand. “Fuck,” he curses.

You stand from the couch, begin to move cautiously toward him. “Joel, I-”

“Don’t,” he snaps. Throws his hands up defensively. And then he’s turning, heading up the stairs, leaving you standing there in the middle of the living room with a ringing in your ears.

When you climb into bed twenty minutes later, he doesn’t acknowledge you.

You fly home the next day. Joel doesn’t say anything on the drive to the airport.

Once there, he pulls over to the curb at the drop-off and puts the car in park. You’re not sure what to do — should you kiss him? Tell him you love him? Because you do, so fucking much. You’re just — not sure if he wants to hear that right now.

He makes the decision for you, cradling your face as he presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. He lets his forehead fall to yours with a sigh, and then he pulls back.

He doesn’t open your door for you, though. Doesn’t grab your bags from the back when you clamber down from the passenger seat.

It’s as if he’s saying: I love you, but I’m going to give you space.

You pry open the back door. Pull out your suitcase and rest your new cowboy hat over the handle. You almost wish now that he hadn’t gotten it for you. It’ll just serve as another reminder of everything you’ve left behind once your home.

“Text me,” he offers once your things are all gathered on the curb. “Let me know when you board, when you’re home safe.”

“Yeah,” you nod. Search his eyes for something. Some indicator that he’s okay. But he’s stoic, his lips set in a straight line. “I will. Promise.”

His mouth opens, like he wants to add something else. But whatever he’s thinking, he decides against saying out loud. Instead he just tells you safe travels, and then he’s pulling the passenger side door closed from the inside.

You stand unmoving. As his truck disappears down the roadway and out of view, a list of all the things you should’ve said rolls through your brain like the end credits of a film.

You send Joel a message when you get home. Let him know you got in safe. You don’t call, like you normally would, because that’s not what he’d asked of you.

Then you climb straight into bed, still in your clothes, and let the tears consume you. You wallow in them for what feels like hours, the natural light in your bedroom gradually sinking into the floorboards. You welcome the nightfall, the way the darkness soothes the pounding in your head, the way it feels like nothing.

Morning comes before Joel responds. You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, the time on your phone reading 11:09, and the notification from him just below it nearly jolts you:

Okay. Thanks.

No love you, no miss you.

You curse under your breath.

Why did you have to say anything? Why did you have to ruin this?

The pain of possibly losing Joel for good makes the pain of long distance feel like a papercut. All you want is to go back in time, take back everything you said, tell Joel you love him a million-and-one times. Anything to undo this.

You fleetingly consider quitting your job, handing in your resignation letter the second you get to campus tomorrow. You’ll take your unpacked suitcase and head right back to the airport.

You don’t let the temptation win. But it lingers, sits at the top of your chest like a threat. Like if he asks one more time — you’ll do it.

He doesn’t, though. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything — which you should’ve expected — but it still stings. You hadn’t broken up, not technically, so you’re stuck in this weird limbo, one in which neither of you wants to talk about what happened in Austin.

Instead, you text each other once a day or so — weird, surface-level messages, ones you’d send to an acquaintance, not someone who literally knows you inside and out.

Finally above 60°, you say, on Monday morning, attached to a screenshot of your weather app.

Your walk to campus must’ve been nice today, he replies.

And the next day:

Guy at the job site today was talking about that show you like.

Parks & Rec?!

Yeah, that one.

It’s barely enough to keep you going, to keep you sane. You feel pitiful, looking forward to Joel’s text-of-the-day like it’s a re-up of your drug of choice. Better than heroin, you tell yourself.

Two weeks pass with no phone calls and minimal messages. It’s 5:45 pm on a rainy Tuesday when you sit at your dining room table with a pile of papers to grade in front of you, some low-fi playlist on in the background, unable to focus.

Because Joel hasn’t texted you all day.

Usually he’d send something by now. And it’s not like you hadn’t texted him — in fact, you’d double-texted, one message sent this morning about how you burned your tongue on your coffee, and another after your final class of the day when you’d seen he still hadn’t responded:

Busy day?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, the gears in your mind whirring as you debate whether or not to send the words punctuated by a flickering cursor on your screen:

Can I call you later?

He’ll probably say no. Or worse, continue to ignore you. Maybe this is it — maybe weeks of dancing around residual tension have driven him to call it quits. He’ll block you, and then you’ll never hear from him again.

The thought has bile rising up your throat.

You close out of the app and put your phone down before stalking over to the living room, letting yourself fall stomach-first onto the couch. You stuff your face into a throw pillow and scream.

You almost don’t hear it over your muffled yells — the rapping at your front door.

You still, lifting your head from the pillow. Listening intently. It comes again — rapraprap.

Ugh, you groan, lifting yourself onto your elbows, then your feet. You pull your cardigan tighter over your front. Drag your feet across the hardwood to the entranceway, wondering who the fuck could be at your door on a Tuesday evening, unannounced.

Is it the property manager?, you speculate as you reach the door. Was there an issue with my rent?

Your fingers wind around the handle apprehensively. You peer through the peephole and your heart plummets into your stomach.

Because Joel is standing right outside your apartment.

You wonder if you’re seeing things. If you’ve gone full-on hysterical. But it’s him, it’s unmistakably him — in his favorite flannel and his workwear jacket, which is smattered in rain spots. His gaze is trained on the floor by his feet and his hands are fidgeting at his sides — just like the first time you met him.

You throw the door open. Joel’s eyes shoot up. For a long moment, you just stare at each other, waiting for the other to say something — do something.

When your breath pulls, he rushes forward and crashes his lips into yours. He backs you into your apartment, letting the door slam shut behind you.

You barely hear it, still registering that Joel is here, he’s here and he’s kissing the hell out of you. And just minutes ago, you’d been sulking on your couch, convinced it was over between you two.

You feel dizzy. You pull back, only because you fear if you don’t, you’ll literally topple over. Joel’s breathing is heavy — it matches yours.

“What are you — fuck — what are you doing here, Joel?”

“I need to talk to you,” he pants.

“Could’ve called,” you say, as if there’s any universe in which you’d prefer that.

You lead him to the living room. Fall back onto the couch. He sits down next to you, taking both of your hands in his. You get a good look at him for the first time since he’d barreled into your apartment, and he looks wrecked.

“Are you okay?,” you ask.

His response isn’t much of an answer. “’m selling my house.”

Your head spins. “You — what?”

“Listed it last week,” he says. “Already got a couple offers.”

“Oh,” you blink. “Okay.”

“‘m gonna move up here.”

Oh.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat straight out of your chest. You’re — speechless.

“I put an offer on a place,” he continues. “‘ts a ranch with some land. Room for sheep. I’m sellin’ my half of the business to Tommy. Leavin’ Texas.”

He exhales. His eyes search yours with tangible desperation. “Say somethin’.”

“I — fuck, Joel,” you breathe. “You’re — when? How?”

“Found the place a couple days ago. ‘ts about thirty minutes Southeast of here. Just went and saw it in person. Sent my offer letter before I came here.”

“Right,” you nod. “But Joel, you can’t just leave-”

“Sure I can,” he interrupts. “Nothin’ there for me anymore. Not Sarah, not you.”

A beat passes. And then he adds:

“I can’t lose you.”

Your heart swells in your chest as you imagine Joel this past week, making all of these plans to rectify the distance between you, to be sure he doesn’t lose you. And still — you’re not sure if you deserve it after the way you hurt him.

“You — you still want me, even after what I said?”

“Darlin’,” he says, in that honey-sweet drawl. “I love you. There’s nothin’ you could do to make me not want you. You were right. This isn’t feasible. We can’t do this forever.”

“Joel,” you sigh, “I just — you’re sure you want this?”

“I want you,” he says plainly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world — like nothing else matters. “And you need to be here. So it’s a no-brainer”

The rain picks up outside. It patters against the windows.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave,” he says. “I’ll retract my offer. Go back to Texas.”

“I do Joel — want you here more than anything, love you more than anything. But-”

“Good.” He cups your face in his hands. You stare into his eyes, your future.

“It’s settled, then,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours, his fingers twisting in the fabric of your shirt. “I’m movin’ to Vermont.”

“This is crazy,” you laugh. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you more,” he beams. “No gettin’ rid of me now.”

You smile so wide your cheeks hurt. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Cowboy.”

end notes: ty again for reading! pls consider reblogging and leaving a comment if you liked it <3

tagging everyone who expressed interest in reading a part 2 (lmk if you don't want to be included going forward): @anoverwhelmingdin, @joelalorian, @lol-im-done, @bensonispunk, @sereindreams, @survivingandenduring, @stevie75, @vee-bees-blog, @brittmb115, @casssiopeia, @bbyanarchist, @janaispunk, @barbellpedro

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