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pasteidolons · 2 months ago

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aphelion - hjs

pairing: archaeologist!hong jisoo x curator!reader genre: angst, smut, fluff, short story other characters: kim mingyu, xu minghao, choi seungcheol, park sooyoung, kang seulgi warnings: afab reader, alcohol use, cursing, smut (oral, p in v sex), people not able to talk out their feelings word count: 13.5k summary: the past catches up to you at an archeology exhibit in the italian town of pompeii. feelings trapped and unknown come to light when you end up face to face with someone you thought you’d never see again.

It’s not that the Italian sun is unfamiliar to you, you’d basked in its glow on a handful of occasions as you had traveled and worked in this country rich in both wine and history. The sun bearing down on you isn’t harsh, but it isn’t kind either, its soft rays acting to lull you into a dreamlike state of relaxation and wonder as it swallows the fluorescent lights of the airport as the sliding glass doors lead you outside and into its heat. Stone pines reaching towards the heavens, it is a strangely comforting feeling to see them looming above the cypress trees that adorn the landscape around the Naples airport. Maybe it’s you just thankful to be back on solid ground, the flight had been turbulent and the line at customs hellish. All you really want is a nap.

“Oh my god I can’t believe we made it,” hand finding the rim of a jet-black pair of Ray Bans, Park Sooyoung’s attention is drawn to the bright sky above, cloudless and blue as it reflects in the lenses of her glasses. “How long is the drive to the house?”

You and your friend had met up a few days earlier in order to travel together to an archeological conference in the historical hotspot of Pompeii. She, being an archivist in New York, and you, being one in London, had rarely seen each other since your grad school days and took this as an opportunity to convene with another friend, Mingyu, and play catch-up. It isn’t the most ideal of circumstances, since this is a work trip, but you’ll take what you can get in stride and hope for the best.

Papers folding and bending against each other as the pair of you stroll through the exit terminal, various cars and buses aligning the strip to both pick up and drop off passengers, you sigh, “Half an hour?”

The now meaningless plane tickets and visa information are now tucked away in a pocket of your bag, gone to the world until you’ll need it again to assess your travel information for reimbursement purposes. Flying on the company dime isn’t something you’re unwilling to do.

From what your phone had told you and the various guides that had tried to help in the airport, you’re looking at a relatively short journey to the home you’ll be staying in. Your other hand holds the grip of your rolling suitcase as it trails behind you, clicking against the tile underfoot, “Although, Mingyu said that he could drive extra fast if we needed to get there sooner.”

The only way you can tell that your friend’s eyes had widened is from her eyebrows peeking out from the top of her sunglasses and her mouth left slightly agape at your statement, “No thanks. If it’s anything like it was back in New York, I’d prefer to live this weekend.”

Small laugh escaping you, you know she’s excited to see him, but she’d never admit as much. “He said he’d be under the Alitalia sign,” eyes scanning the cars but more importantly the faces of the drivers to try and determine a recognizable one among the masses.

“There he is!” Sooyoung’s voice, shrill and excited, calls out as she rushes over to a small red Fiat parked parallel between two large tour buses. A roll of your eyes at how obvious she’s being, it isn’t tooth rottingly sweet, but it is certainly something.

He’s leaning atop the small car’s hood when he hears the delighted call of your friend, eyes trailing upwards from the phone in his hand and a dimpled smile gracing his lips as he watches the two of you walking closer. “I was starting to think you took the wrong plane.” Phone slipped into his pocket, Mingyu pushes himself off the car and begins to walk towards you.

Sooyoung’s arms quickly wrap around his neck as she leaves you to catch her falling suitcase, a short ‘tch’-ing from your lips as she lets go of him and returns to her bag. “We got caught up in customs,” a step forward and you sling your arm around his neck in a quick hug before releasing him, “who knew July was prime tourist time?”

“The perfect reason to have a conference, huh?” He laughs, glancing towards Sooyoung’s and your luggage. “I’m not too sure all of this will fit in the trunk; someone might be stuck with it in the backseat.”

And that’s how you find yourself, head pressed up against the window as the rolling hills of the Italian countryside pass to your left, while a mountain of a collection of both Sooyoung and your baggage peeks into your periphery. Headphone in your right ear, you’d been listening to a podcast on your flight detailing different religions around the world and were continuing on listening to one detailing the festivities of the Roman holiday Saturnalia.

As you listen to how, while a merry tradition, it held underlying themes of human sacrifices and the benevolence/maleficence of the gods, you find yourself slowly nodding off as you press the side of your head against the glass of the window and close your eyes. Not before eyeing Mingyu looking over at Sooyoung with a smile on his face as her attention is rapt upon him. You’d made a bet with him when the three of you had first been acquainted as to just how long it would take him to ask her out. The way they look at each other is something you think only found in movies, it makes you yearn for an affection you don’t quite have in your life. Although you’d lost that bet, as they hadn’t so much as gone on a date, you can tell they’re just too chicken with one another to say anything.

The darkness of sleep quelled when Sooyoung quietly rouses you as she gently shakes your knee with her hand. She’s turned to look at you when your eyes crack open and the golden glow of the afternoon haloes her to make her look even more ethereal.

“Your forehead looks bruised,” a smile, more so caring than anything malevolent, on her lips as she knows how you’d barely slept the entire flight. “Mingyu said we’ll be there in a few minutes.”

A look out the window and you realize that the scenery has shifted significantly, becoming rockier as the sight of the mountain is now far more in view than it was when you’d fallen asleep.

“The house is on the southern end of Vesuvius, it’s actually pretty close to the ruins if you have time to visit while you’re here,” Mingyu notes, knowing how much Roman history had enthralled you in your earlier years of work.

“We’ve got a few days,” Sooyoung ponders as if she’d already planned out her free days at the conference, “I’m sure we can squeeze it in.”

Eventually the car winds its way through some narrow street at the base of the mountain and you come upon a small, rustic looking house. The walls are old, obviously not built in this century, but look well cared for. There is a small walkway leading around the side of the house and you wonder where it’ll take you, but most of your attention is focused on pulling your bags from Mingyu’s car.

“Your room’s the second door on the right after you go up the stairs,” Mingyu says as you make your way to the front door as he was now struggling with the weight of Sooyoung’s bags in his grasp.

After rolling your eyes at him you make your way inside, the dark wooden floors and pale beige walls greeting you rather plainly. There is something elegant about the simplicity, but your attention now lies on not losing your center of balance as you haul your bags up the narrow staircase. You follow his directions and move down the hallway and come to your room, bed made and the last glittering rays of sunlight peek in through the curtains on the singular window above the bed. It’s quaint and homely, something you hadn’t had for a very long time as you think to the dismal apartment you keep London.

You descend the flight of stairs, thankful that you don’t have to tote any more luggage up from the car, and make your way into the kitchen. Perhaps you’d hoped to grab a glass of water, yet your actions halt when you see the figure of and older woman standing at the kitchen counter with several canvas bags in hand. She smiles and gives you a small wave while cheerily saying “Buona serata!”

Returning the gesture with a mumbled “Buona serata,” of your own, you skirt around the edge of the kitchen to grab a glass and pour yourself some water from a nearby pitcher.

“My landlord likes to come over every Friday to cook,” A voice from your right and you glance over and notice Mingyu standing beside you. “She says it’s because her family’s grown up now and she needs someone to care for.” A nod of your head as you watch the older woman unpack her canvas grocery bags, the contents full of things both familiar and foreign.

“Grazie mamma,” Mingyu smiles and walks forward, seeming to want to help his landlord in her cooking ventures. His helpful hands are eventually swatted away, her saying something rapid but you get the gist that she doesn’t need any aid.

“What’s she making?” you ask as you catch sight of Sooyoung walk into the kitchen, almost as pale as a sheet as she makes way over to your side.

There’s a gentle tugging at your shirt as Mingyu questions his landlord. A glance to Sooyoung and she mouths ‘We need to talk’ before getting interrupted with Mingyu saying, “Chicken cacciatore with polenta, I think?” A buzz from his pocket and he looks at his phone, “My roommate’ll join us in a little while. He’s on his way back from a dig and shouldn’t be too long.”

Mingyu hadn’t mentioned his roommate too much, just said they’d met when their team was assembled to scour Site V in the ruins of Pompeii and they’d become fast friends. They’d been living with each other for almost a year now and you can't even recall the name even after Mingyu had probably mentioned it a handful of times when you’d talked over the phone.

“Sounds good,” you smile, tugging at your shirt becoming a little more forceful as the urgency in Sooyoung’s eyes is more prevalent. The landlord says something to Mingyu, and he answers with a nod and leaves the kitchen and heads into the living room. “What is it?” After a moment’s calm you turn to your friend, corners of your mouth turning downwards.

“I left my moisturizer at the hotel in Warsaw,” a gentle tugging again, pleading as she speaks once more, “Can I borrow yours?” The soft strums of a guitar and melancholy vocals of a woman emanating from the room Mingyu had left to go to, the landlord must’ve asked him to put on music.

“Is that what you were so weird about?” A gentle scoff leaving your lips as you nod, “Yeah, it’s in my-”

“I know!” She’s already bounding up the stairs and leaves you with the last of your sentence still in your throat.

“She hasn’t changed much, has she?” Mingyu asks as he reenters the kitchen. His gaze lingers on where Sooyoung once stood, a ghost of a smile noted by his dimples.

“Not one bit.” You note, “But you haven’t either, Mr. Kim. Your head is still stuck on Rome and on her.”

“She’s not-?”

“Dating anyone?” You interrupt at his worried tone, “No. Unless she’s got some hunk back in her lab.” A look of relief on his brow as you take a sip of water, “You know, you really should ask her out. She was excited to see you again.”

“It’s just,” a hum as he pauses to ruminate on his thoughts, “She’s all the way in New York and I’m here for who knows how long. It’d be difficult and I wouldn’t want to put that on a new relationship.”

“If you don’t think she’d pack her bags and move here you’d be lying to yourself,” A shake of your head as the sound of Sooyoung descending the staircase echoes around the small kitchen and brings your conversation to a stop. “It’s also Italy, for God’s sake.”

“I think your roommate’s here,” Sooyoung announces, stating that she’d seen a car pull into the already cozy driveway and turn its headlights off. Almost right as she finishes her sentence the sound of the front door opening catches everyone but the landlord’s attention, as she is too busy cooking and humming along to the music coming from the other room.

It’s funny how the memory of someone can stay so far gone in the depths of your subconscious that you can very well forget about them until they’re standing right in front of you. A fleeting glimpse into who and what you were before you’d blossomed into a more mature adulthood staring at you with eyes equally surprised as your own. A small ‘o’ shape of your mouth mirroring; the tousled hair, button down linen shirt and dust and dirt that clings to his khakis almost pulling you from the anchoring weight of the past. A small smile as he looks to Mingyu, the landlord and Sooyoung before hoisting a bottle of wine in the air, “I didn’t want to come in empty handed for our guests.”

“There he is,” Mingyu nods to the former, “This is my roommate Josh, we’re both partnered up on the same dig team.”

Jisoo. His name is Jisoo. “It’s-” you begin but falter almost immediately, unknowing if your friend is aware of the lingering history between both you and his roommate.

“Nice to meet you,” an interjection from Sooyoung as she nods towards Jisoo, eyes trailing down to the bottle in his hand. “Would you mind if we crack that open now? It’s been a long day.”

Dinner had gone and passed more jovial than you’d thought it would, despite the coldness emanating from Jisoo who sits at the opposite end of the table as you. Fingers fiddling with the fork of your dessert plate, you prod at the panacotta lying half eaten in front of you as your appetite had been sated the moment Jisoo said that it was his favorite dessert.

Maybe he notices the lull in conversation, the sound of crickets chirping rising over the once chattering group, “So where did you and Josh meet?” Attention more turned towards Sooyoung rather than to yourself. Maybe it’s a slight to you but you don’t blame him, it only furthered the aching feeling in your chest as you bring your glass to your lips and drink the fiery vintage.

“We were all three interning together in New York our- what- senior year of college?” Sooyoung muses, lifting her wine glass to her mouth and taking a small sip, twirling the remnants of the local Lacryma Christi wine to aerate it further once she’d finished drinking. “Right?” She looks to Mingyu, who’s toying with another bottle of wine behind the three of you. The small bottle opener in hand, he only replies with a simple ‘Yeah,’ before furrowing his brow and setting back to try and uncork the stubborn bottle.

Elbows on the table as a flushed Jisoo leans in, “Where did you go to school?” He had always held his alcohol well, had something changed since you’d last seen him? Jisoo seems far more tipsy than he should be after two glasses of wine.

“It’s a small all girl’s school you’ve probably never heard of,” A wave of her hand as she sets her glass down onto the wooden table. “What about you?”

“Hamilton,” A glance to you, brief and painful, before he turns back to your friend, “But I also studied abroad in Korea for a little bit too.”

“Ah, you went there too. And you also studied abroad, right?” Sooyoung looks to you, brow raised in question as her index finger circles the top of her glass, inviting a response that you never wanted to give. “Did you know each other?”

“We knew of each other.” The sound of Mingyu pulling the cork from its home resonates around the small kitchen as you speak.

It was a Tuesday night, you’d just started watching Derry Girls and the cooling cycle of your AC unit had just kicked up with its trilling noise when a text on your phone buzzed, the words of the infamous “You up?” blaring across the screen in bold black letters. It was 10:47PM and you had a nine am the next day, you really shouldn’t respond. You could say no, say that you’re tired and want to go to bed instead of fucking your friend for the umpteenth time when he was trying to get over some girl he’d been chasing after on and off for your whole college career. But you didn’t, you wouldn’t ever because there’s that undeniable loneliness you had where human affection is a sought-after substance when you refused to forge the intimate bonds that held a man close to a woman. Or a man to a man. Or woman to a woman. Or to whoever preferred whoever. You aren’t one to judge.

Leaving the text for a moment, maybe two, to ruminate and stew in the Atmos of the unknown you responded saying “Only if you’ve got a bottle with my name on it.” Phone discarded onto your sofa you didn’t move again until he replied that he’d be over soon.

And with that you were off to the races to tidy up, clean bits and wipe of counters and take out the trash as you know he’s either on his way to the store, or already there, to pick up the treasured Cabernet Sauvignon that tasted of regret and unspoken vows the next morning. It was a solemn ritual; you’d drink as he lamented over the girl (half a bottle each), listen to music that both of you liked, he’d tell you the same story of him and his brother getting trapped in a tree as a child (because he obviously hadn’t ever told you this tale before), some film he’d watched once and couldn’t remember playing as the backdrop, and at some point he’d start playing with your hair. Long and slender digits patting, running through and twirling the strands that fell around your face, you weren’t even sure if this was done subconsciously or not. Not that you really cared anyway. Fingertips gently grazing your shoulder in the glow of the tv, then your cheek, then your lips as his hand slipped under your chin and your mouths clash together in a wanton want for something constant. And then you’d have to excuse yourself to the bathroom to make sure you looked a presentable mess in your drunkenness.

Cheeks warmed with the wine trapped inside of you, maybe you’d had a little too much as your hand reached out to steady yourself on the counter as your other moved to brush a few strands of hair from your forehead. Fingers danced over your lips as the fiery feeling of his atop yours hadn’t quite left your system yet, you would laugh at yourself tomorrow for relishing in it but the you of now would soak up this limelight as this was the first time this semester this had happened. You had begun to wonder if it would again before his text tonight. Another look at your phone and it was nearing 1:30, a drowsiness in your system accompanied by the lull of the red had you stifling a yawn behind a hand raised to your mouth.

He’s in your bed by the time you exit the bathroom. Eyes shut and slow breathing as the woes of the world were only that of it spinning greatly on its axis. Conceptual in nature you never sought to feel anything more than just a friendship with him. Sure, it was a friendship that was deeply ingrained in fucking each other to take your mind off whatever was troubling you at the time, but a friendship, nonetheless.

You stood in the glow of the streetlights bleeding in from the outside, a majority of his clothes had been strewn onto the floor, and yours were quick to follow. You were trying to get the damned hooks of your bra to unlatch when you heard him shift behind you.

“Allow me,” a smirk danced along his lips as he noticed you struggling with unlatching your bra. You relented as the palm of his hand landed on your lower back, sliding up leaving behind a trail of warmth. In a simple motion, he was able to unhook it with only one hand.

A short laugh as you shrugged off the garment, throwing it to the littered pile of clothes on the ground. You turned and found his lips, “Love that party trick of yours,” you murmured between kisses. With your right hand you gently pushed him backwards towards the bed.

As the backs of his knees hit the mattress, he fell back, but not before reaching to grab your hands to bring you down with him.

After a few more pecks with your chest flush against his, you sat up, straddling his lap as he chased your lips until he couldn't reach them anymore. Instead, his hands that were entwined with yours released their hold and traveled up your sides, finding anchor on your hips. It was then he began to gently guide your hips to move, you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips or the way your hips instinctively rolled over his painfully hard cock.

“I can feel you through the fabric,” he sighed out breathing heavily, he glanced down to where your bodies almost met, the wetness of your core seeping through the layers of cloth. “Is that all for me?”

“Only for you,” you murmured, knowing it would spur him further. “Just touch me more.”

With a newfound sense of purpose, he did. His right hand raised, his thumb brushed over your breast, his index finger moved as well to play with your hardening nipple. You found yourself shifted to the flat of your back when you let out a moan and he moved himself to hover over you, looking down at his hand gliding over your skin, any feeling of shyness quickly left him. His lips met yours as his hand slid back down your side, the other being used to leverage himself over you.

Something’s said, you’re not sure exactly what as it’s a mixture of words you do and do not understand. Jisoo’s lips lower, to your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts and down to your stomach. His hands find the sides of your hips, his own feet falling to the floor as he drags you to the side of the bed so that your knees and calves dangle over the edge. Fingers tangled through his dark and once coiffed locks as he lowered himself to your core, you couldn’t help but to try and quell your pounding heart.

“Help me with this part?” He asked quietly, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your underwear. You obliged willingly, raising your hips to let him slide off the cloth with ease. “Perfect,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

His lips captured your bud and your back arched at the contact, his hands moved away from your breasts and down your sides to the insides of your thighs, gently pushing them apart.

His fingers run along your slick, gathering it as he releases your clit with a small pop before he pushes his index finger inside of you. After a moment, the word, “Move,” left you more enthusiastically than you anticipated. Yet he met your request with fervor, pumping his digit into you while you curled your fingers in his hair, gently tugging at his locks.

“Fuck–!” voice breathy as it leaves you, another finger, his middle, added to your core causing you to relinquish your hold on him to find your hands tangling atop the duvet.

“Do you feel good?” He questions almost teasingly, knowing the answer as you let out a string of words ebbing on profanity and proclamations of your feelings.

“I think– you know the answer–!” You tried to joke before you cried out as he pistons his hand faster, you feel yourself on the precipice of release. It's when he reattached his lips to you clit did the band snap within you and you cried out, your limbs had begun to tremble when he continued his movements, riding out your orgasm until you lightly nudged him away with your knee and he pulled his fingers from you.

“Come here,” you murmur as you sat up, holding your hands out to him as he rose from the edge of the bed to stand between your open legs. Your hands found the sides of his face and pulled him in for a kiss, the taste of you and him intermingling in your mouths. One of your hands slipped away from his face, traveling down his bare chest and towards the hem of his boxers.

“We don’t,” he stopped, lips parting from yours as he searched your eyes, his hand finding yours, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” you nodded, head tilting slightly as if to gauge him, “do you not want to?”

“God, fuck,” he sighed under his breath as you caught your lower lip between your teeth, “Of course I do. Do you have a condom?”

“In the side drawer,” you said breathily as he stepped away, quickly fumbled in the dark for a moment before he procured the condom.

And with that he pressed his lips to yours once more and your back hit the mattress. Your teeth clicked together clumsily, but it was forgotten with a small laugh as your fingers traced the elastic of his waistband. He hovered over you, forearm holding up his upper body as he trapped yours within the confines of his knees, his free hand moved to help yours pull down his underwear.

The room was filled with tangible electricity, a palpable anticipation that hung heavy in the air as you both had shed the last remnants of clothing. Your skin tingled with anticipation, every touch sending shivers down your spine.

His lips found yours once more, urgent and hungry, as if trying to convey all the longing and desire that he’d been harboring towards that other girl for months. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours.

It’s then he pulled back, tearing open the condom’s wrapper and quickly rolling it onto himself. You watched his eager moments in amusement as you sat up, fascinated by how much he was willing to fuck. When he caught you looking, a deeper rooted desire overtook him and he came back to meet you at the side of your bed. Your hand went out to stroke him, but he caught your wrist, gently pushing it back onto the bed.

“Mine,” His breath hot on your skin as he leaned in, pushing you back onto your back, hive raspy tone sent chills shooting from your head to your toes as he aligned himself with you. The breath had been pulled from your throat, when he pushed himself inside. “Please say you’re mine.”

A strangled sort of laugh escaped you, unknowing why he was acting in such a possessive manner. “Just for tonight.”

As your bodies melded together, skin against skin, you lost yourself in the sensation of him, in the overwhelming intensity of your connection. Each touch, each kiss, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building to a crescendo that threatened to consume you both.

When you looked at him, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his hair tousled from your hands running through it, your heart swelled with a feeling as if it were trying to crawl up your throat. The scent of pine and a shiver snaked itself up your spine. He removed his lips from the side of yours, looking down at you like a beholden idol, his hips snapped into you as he'd begun to chase his own high.

There was desperation in his kiss, and you hoped it wasn’t stemming from where you believed it to be. Your eyes screwed shut in abject ecstasy as your peak toppled you off of a high cliff, and it didn’t seem like Jisoo was too far off behind you.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, pulling out of you. His fingers quickly moved around the condom and he pulled it off before wrapping his hand around himself. He stroked himself a few more times before you felt stripes of heat spurt onto your abdomen.

He stood for a moment, regaining his composure before he excused himself for a moment, returning from the bathroom with a damp washcloth and gently wiped it across your stomach to remove the essence of him. Jisoo then tossed the rag onto the floor and fell next to you on the mattress before wrapping his arm around you. His breath was warm against the back of your neck as your chest still heaved with the sighs and exhalations of pleasure.

The shock that came oh so prevalently to your features when he uttered the cursed “I think I love you” instead of the usual transition into a deep slumber.

Try as you might to steal him away from his yearnings and into the beguiling sin that engrossed you like a funeral shroud you shook your head with a, “No you don’t,” as you raised his hand to your lips and placed a chaste kiss onto his knuckles. A laugh as you were drunk on the spirit and freed inhibitions accompanying the acidic red scouring your veins. “You’re in love with the possibility of something loving and fucking you back.” In truth you weren’t sure if that’s it but repeating it to yourself and vocalizing it sure sounded better than facing your own crippling anxiety of it all.

Tensing under you as the brush of your lips atop his skin left him more flushed than not, “I just confessed to you and you’re telling me that I don’t love you?”

“I am,” a nod of your head as you turned atop the mattress to face him, his breath hot against your face while a confused expression settled into his. “You are far too drunk to be saying things like that and I’m far too drunk to want to accept them,” you reached your hand to caress his cheek before you felt his reach up to gently grasp around your wrist to pull it away.

“Are you saying you’ll love me when you’re sober?” The sensation of rough stubble beginning to emerge from his face still lingering on your fingertips, you closed your hand to staunch the feeling.

Scoff from your lips piercing him like an arrow, “I’ll love you when you start loving yourself over that girl.” The orange slants of lights bleeding in through your blinds from the street below your apartment was the only thing that illuminated the two of you. His hand fell away from your wrist and your hand dropped down onto the small space of mattress that distanced your body from his. “You’re too stupidly handsome to not love yourself.”

Quizzical smile playing on his lips as you felt his eyes peering into yours. “You think I’m handsome?”

“I’m pretty sure ninety nine percent of the population thinks you’re handsome, Jisoo.” A roll of your eyes as you turned onto your back, looking up at your pale ceiling, orange glow still emanating from outside.

“What about the other one percent?” As you moved to place your hand atop your stomach he asked, also moving to look up at the ceiling with you.

He was only the narcissist you knew him to be when you were alone with him. Joshua may have loved his physical appearance but was always critiquing his personality, his interactions with others. “Oh, they actually do think you’re handsome, they just haven’t realized it yet.”

“Can we just stay like this?” Breaths intermingled with the cool air of your apartment as he moved to take your hand in his, warmth emanated from his palms and danced atop his fingertips. “I don’t really feel like-”

“Yeah, of course,” an impending sense of dread ran cold through your once warm veins, an involuntary shiver coursed through you causing him to pull you in closer as he thought that you were just cold. You weren’t, just knew of what’s to come tomorrow.

He was gone by the time you woke up, morning light shining in as you had to hold a hand up to block it from permeating through your eyelids any longer. When your hand ran atop the cool mattress where he was supposed to be, a pang reverberated around your rib cage as you realized he must’ve been absent for some time. Normally after one of these nights the two of you would head to some diner that still sold breakfast around noon while you frantically typed away at an email telling your professor that you’d gotten food poisoning the night before and couldn’t make it to class. Now you were alone and void of the sense of urgency that skipping class tended to put on you.

As if he had impeccable timing, your phone buzzed on your nightstand, a notification detailing that you had several missed calls and unread texts. A sigh from your lips as you reached out to grab the device, swiping it unlocked and reading the last message he’d sent, “Blue @ 2?”

He’d already been seated when you walked into the dingy diner on the outskirts of your college town. Gaudy retro blue interior, a mockup of Elvis at the entrance and the small jukeboxes adorning each table just reminding you of all the times you’d sat in here, hungover and tired. Now you were hungover, tired and anxious. Jisoo was picking at a tray of fries as you slid into the booth, looking up to you as you sat, the vinyl squeaking as you moved atop it, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

There was a gritty, off sounding version of Israel Kamakawiwo'ole’s ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ coming from the little jukebox to your right and you wondered if Joshua had fished out the quarters from his mess of a wallet for it to be playing. He knew it was one of your favorites. “I’m working on my stealth, might just drop out of college and become an international spy at this rate,” You smiled as you shrugged off your jacket.

A nervous smile on his lips, you hadn’t seen that since your freshman year and the whole debacle with that girl had started. Something was on his mind and you knew it would never come out unless you prodded first. Smile on your face faltered as an impending feeling of dread began to surge through you, “What is it?”

“What?” Eyes widening as he shoved a fry in his mouth, “Do I have something on my face?”

“Why did you ask me to come out when I know you’ve got a history or business class right now?”

“A Comprehensive Study of Italian Literature throughout the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries.” Another fry eaten, he spoke with his mouth full, “It’s not really something I want to sit through every day. And I wanted to see you.”

“For?”

“Do I have to have a reason for wanting to?”

“You typically do.” A shrug of your shoulders as most of the reasons had been like the incident that spurred last night’s escapade, or to run over notes for an upcoming exam. And that one time where he’d asked you to look after a cat he’d been trying to smuggle into his no pets allowed apartment complex.

Silence as the cogs turn in his head, you can almost see them as he tries to vocalize his thoughts. “It’s about last night.” His hand rests atop the red basket that housed the last of the fries. He lets out a sigh, removing his hand and brushing it atop a nearby napkin, “I mean what I said.”

“Jisoo…” name faltered on your lips as you knew what was to come, “You know I’m not looking for that right now. And what about that girl? Isn’t that why you came over in the first place?” the dynamic shifting between the two of you with every word uttered out of this conversation. It was uncomfortable as you felt yourself pulling away when all he wanted to do is try to get closer to you. An anxiety running through you as your fingers clenched into fists atop your pant leg.

“That's why I came over. I realized I was looking for someone to replace you when all I ever needed was here.” His voice was quiet, calm and an air of shakiness interlaced through it.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“I’m not really sure.” Humming as he took a glance out the window, gray clouds sweeping over the once verdant blue of the evening. “Are you really never going to give me a chance?” He still wasn’t looking at you, you weren't sure if he was able to.

It’s blurry now, the rest of that afternoon. It had begun to rain while the two of you sat in that diner, precipitation pelting the sides of the restaurant as you both made a haste escape to your apartment. Clothes littered on the floor as you somehow make your way into your bedroom, kisses both chaste and longing grazing your skin as your hands run through his now messy locks.

You hated how tender Jisoo was, how bittersweet his lips felt on yours as his hands caressed your sides as he pressed himself on top of you. Hated how he melted under you and careened for your touch even if you’d only lifted your hand from his seconds prior. There was a want inside of him that you could feel rearing to break free, but he was holding himself back, he always held himself back. He craved an affection you were unwilling to give, too reluctant to lose yourself to the possibility of him.

This wasn’t a goodbye; it was a plead for you to stay. With your sheets wrapped around you and strayaways of your hair clinging to the sides of your face you tell him to leave, you’re tired and need to get some sleep at some point because you've already missed too many classes. It pained and tormented you to push him away, he was a good friend, a good lover but you never once had the thought that he could hold that guarded place in your heart that had been untouched by anyone. You were afraid that you loved him back.

You hadn’t said a word to him since that afternoon. Nothing from him ever came to you either, the ties had been cut at that meeting and no trying to forage the relationship anew ever came. The two of you grew apart and became separate people, you never looked after him and you had no idea if he looked after you. There was some comfort you gave yourself in never seeking him out, you didn’t have to own up to the fact he existed anymore and that the assholishness of your years prior could remain a secret. But now faced with that undeniable presence of him back in your life you feel as if the pillars holding you aloft are beginning to crumble.

“With the earth is in aphelion we tend to lose ourselves, finding that even though it may be summer and memories of an us no longer presents itself, we question the now and want to return to the past. It’s a captivating notion, isn’t it? Take this time to reflect on yourself and the choices you’ve made to understand who you are now and who you were then.”

Roll of your eyes as the host begins to finish up her spiel of moving forward as it feels all too relating to your current situation. Hand moving to pause the podcast as you hear a gentle knock on your door. You’d finally gotten the back of your dress zippered up on your own after what felt like an eternity of it not budging those last few centimeters. “Come in,” you call out and Sooyoung opens the door right away.

“Are you almost ready?” She asks, looking stunning as ever in a simple sparkly nude dress, the v of the neck gives only little to imagine but she pulls it off with more grace than anyone else you could picture. “Mingyu’s getting the car ready so we should all head out soon.”

“Yeah,” you nod, glancing to the small standing mirror atop the wooden dresser. It wasn’t optimal lighting to pretty yourself up in but you’d dealt with worse.

“What’s aphelion?” She asks as she reaches for the door handle, eyes looking to the now black screen of your phone. “The lady on your podcast was talking about it.”

“It’s the furthest point away the earth is from the sun. We’re actually in it right now.” Musing as you move to toss your phone onto the bed, beside your purse that you’ll be using that night.

“Isn’t it summer though? If we’re at the furthest point, shouldn’t it be winter?”

A shrug of your shoulders as she opens the door, realizing your answer could probably be better recurved via a google search. “I couldn’t tell you,” muttering as you lean over to collect the pair of shoes strewn at your feet.

Sooyoung leaves as you begin to slide your heel into your shoe, once put on you stand for a moment on wobbly legs as you hate the way these events make you dress up for things. You feel like a newborn foal as you tiptoe your way to your purse and then to the door. Cracked open it lets a sliver of light in, then a shadow passing over it as someone walks by. “Sooyoung, did you-” thinking it was your friend returning to her room for something you open the door and look down the hall, only to find the widened eyes of Hong Joshua looking back. The two of you stare at each other, vocalizing internally a conversation that had yet to occur or maybe that had in your dreams. “I thought you were-,” a shake of your head as you wave it off. “I’m going now.”

“After you,” a hand motioning to the stairwell as you brush past him, palpitations thrumming so loudly inside your chest you’re surprised he can’t hear them.

When you get to the car you see that Sooyoung’s already in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone as Mingyu messes with the radio of the car in a feeble attempt to get it working again. You slide into the backseat, your stomach dropping when the other backseat door opens and Jisoo gets in beside you. Never in your life had you wanted to be in a bigger car than you were in now.

It was an uncomfortable ride to the welcome party, Mingyu and Sooyoung made casual small talk whereas the back two seats lay dead silent as you try to cave in on yourself. Jisoo is everything you remember and everything you curse, the scent of his favored Jo Malone cologne soaking into you as you sit in the backseat has you reeling. You don’t even know they made the Amber and Lavender scent anymore. Nor were you aware that he could dress this nicely, he’d only followed the preppy boy trend back in college and at his best you think you could recall him wearing some Ralph Lauren polo to an outdoor event. That was the Jisoo you’d known. Not the dolled-up enigma that sits next to you, his knee lightly knocking into yours as the car moves over the bumpy streets.

You’re not sure which deity to thank as the Hotel Diane is only a twenty-minute venture from the house. Before anyone has the ability to assist you getting out of the car as you roll up to the entrance of the venue, you unbuckle your seatbelt and make a speedy retreat into the bowels of the conference. You can hear Sooyoung calling out after you as you race into the plethora of archeologists, researchers and everything in between. A sigh of relief as you find the restroom, locking yourself into one of the stalls as you try and sate your rapidly beating heart.

It was supposed to have stopped a long time ago, the regret and anguish over him. Yet the flame ignited once more when his eyes had met yours yesterday evening. You barely slept that night and you were plagued by memories the entirety of today. Hong Jisoo is a plague that you don’t want to give up. Or maybe the memory of him is, you know nothing of what became of him after the triste in college had ended and you had gone your separate ways.

“You look like shit,” Sooyoung’s voice hitting you almost as soon as you exit the bathroom, “Not your makeup or anything, that’s fine.” A hand raised as if sensing your aura or to generalize the vibe you were giving off, “Your expression though. What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” You blink, trying to mask the anxiety riddled through you with a confused façade. “Nothing, I just really had to use the restroom.”

“And it had nothing to do with the handsome man sitting in the backseat with you?” She poses as the two of you begin to walk through the atrium, sliding past other partygoers. As you near a catering staff member holding a tray of drinks, Sooyoung reaches out and plucks one off of the tray and hands it to you before getting one for herself, “You’ve been acting weird since last night.”

A sigh as you bring the glass to your lips, drinking as you stride forward into the main gala, a large room adjacent to the main atrium. “Seeing him just reminded me of school, is all,” It isn’t a complete lie, just not the wholehearted truth either.

It seems as if everyone’s begun to be ushered into the main hall, the lights of the stage in the back of the room brightening as an older man walks up, a handful of notecards in his grasp. Doors shut behind the last of the stragglers, the gravelly voice of the man begins to welcome everyone to the annual conference and how it was such a treat to hold it in a historic place. The lights of the room dimming to draw attention towards the stage, you find yourself lost in drink as he speaks, eyes wandering the crowds as you catch Joshua looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite put a name to. It only made you drink more, swapping out your now empty glass with a new one from a server’s tray nearby.

The speech drags on for another five minutes or so, detailing the events of the weekend. The words tuned out as you feel the burn of alcohol down your esophagus. When the speech is done and the lights brought up, you and Sooyoung make a round around the room, chatting with several acquaintances from conferences and events prior and greeting any new faces you come across.

“How’s your new exhibition in London going?” A voice asks as you turn to your left, “I hope everything got there safely?”

Turning to now greet a familiar face, “Of course it did, Seungcheol. No thanks to you, of course.” Mischievous smile flashing as Sooyoung leaves your side to wander over to a group of Mingyu’s cohorts. “I’m surprised you lent us your exhibit on such short notice, it’s only been up for a few days but luckily enough I was there to see the inaugural showcase. It’s absolutely phenomenal, by the way.”

Smile now coating his features, “I’m glad it worked out. And anything for an old friend.” He takes a sip out of the glass in his hand, glancing around the room for a moment as if to observe the atmosphere. “It seems busier than usual, doesn’t it? I hear it’s largely in part due to the handful of new teams they’ve set up in the area.”

“Well, typically these are held in stuffy new cities, can’t blame the attendance for being higher here.” You note as you look over the faces of the other patrons. “St. Louis wasn’t all that exciting, was it?”

“Learning about Cahokia was, though.” He notes with a raised brow and turns his attention back to you. “I saw you come in with Mingyu, do you know him?”

“We interned at the Smithsonian and went to grad school together; do you know him?”

“I met him the other day when a few of us early birds were able to get a behind the scenes tour of sector V. I actually know his teammate Joshua, I saw you come in before them so I’m assuming you know him as well?” Seungcheol questions as he scans the crowd for the sight of the taller looming above everyone else.

“Only a little bit,” You lie as the varnish of perceived reality begins to chip away, bit by bit, “I’d say I’m better acquainted with Mingyu really.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. He’s a bright kid, if you ever get to know him, was a great help when our junior archivist was out of town for a while…” You hope he can’t see the painted smile on your face as he speaks again, “Have you met any of their teammates? It really is an eclectic bunch.”

“I haven’t actually, I think Sooyoung’s talking with them now.” Peering back to see Sooyoung laughing at something Mingyu was saying, “I should probably introduce myself.”

“I’ll leave you to it then, I’ve got an archivist and an architect to track down somewhere around here. It was nice seeing you again,” He gives you a short nod before heading off into the masses.

“There’s the woman of the hour,” Sooyoung’s hand that isn’t occupied with a wine glass slips around your waist as you approach the group. “I was just telling them how you managed to snag the Gohyang exhibit, not that they really care. They’re all archaeology nuts.”

“I take it I don’t need to introduce myself then?” Shooting Sooyoung a short glare before looking to the handful of people surrounding you, “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Nice to meet you too,” A voice speaks up and a hand raises to meet yours as Sooyoung’s grip around your waist is lost. “I’m Minghao, the site supervisor, kind of in charge of these guys.”

Another voice beside him, “Don’t let him act all high and mighty about it, it’s just because our real team leader broke his wrist skiing and is on leave for the next two weeks.” Different hand to shake, “I’m Seulgi. I work in forensics.”

“And you already know Mingyu and Joshua, they’re pretty much our main diggers,” Minghao notes and looks to Mingyu, “Where is he by the way? Didn’t you two come together?”

Humming as Mingyu’s eyes scan the crowd, “I’m not sure, he might’ve ducked out to get some fresh air. You know how he gets.” Unable to find him, his attention returns to the group, glancing over at you, “Was he always this weird at events?”

“Do you know him?” Seulgi's voice interrupts before you’re able to speak, pulling your attention away from your friend and to her.

“I-”

Once again interrupted, this time by Sooyoung. “She actually went to school with him. Small world, isn’t it?”

“Not so much in this field,” Minghao muses, something wistful in his tone, “We all come across each other at some point.”

“You’re still not going to get over that Russian tomb raider, are you?” Seulgi sighs, attention focusing back to you. “But was he? He’s always happy at the dig site but whenever we come to these sorts of events, he gets all quiet and taciturn. It’s like he’s looking for someone who’s never really going to show up.”

“That’s uh- Oddly specific.” Uttering under your breath, uncomfortable at the turn of events and barrage of questions being thrown at you. “And I really didn’t know him that well.”

“Ah come on,” Sooyoung’s voice slurs ever so slightly as you take a sip of your drink. “I can hardly believe you went to a small school in the middle of BFE, go on a study abroad trip with him and didn’t talk to him.”

Pressure building as if you’re a kettle with nowhere to expunge the steam rapidly rising inside of you. You’re a trapped animal, cornered in a room of vicious predators.

A nervous, shaky laugh escapes you, and before you can stop yourself, the words start tumbling out. “I mean we were classmates and we knew each other- We were kind of friends and more, but it wasn’t supposed to be serious, you know? I needed to focus on my studies, on my career. I wasn’t ready for anything more, and I told him that, but he just… he wanted more. But it didn’t make sense because he was in love with someone else, always talking about her like she was the one, and I felt like… like he was just using me to fill some void or get over her or something. And I knew it wasn’t right, but I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I did, and now—”

Your voice cracks, the guilt and confusion spilling over as you realize how loud and rambling you’ve become thanks to the alcohol that not only lessened your anxiety but loosened your tongue. The group falls into an uncomfortable silence, the weight of your confession hanging in the air. You can feel the burn of a gaze on the back of your neck, and when you turn, there he is—Jisoo, staring at you, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and something else you can’t quite place.

Smile instantly dropping into a grimace, a mumbling of “Oh shit,” as he brushes past you without so much as a glance, wine stem threatening to break under the stress you now exude from your fingers. A pit dropping in your stomach as the reality of your words and the carelessness of your actions only sought to further dredge you from the comfort of your mind and into the abysmal present.

"I'm so sorry," you apologize with wide eyes to the group. A guilty being inside of you chases after him, the clacking of your shoes atop the marble floor echoing around the space yet muffled by the number of people that you’d outright embarrassed him in front of. Not that they’d all heard, only the ones that matter to him. You set the wine glass in your hand atop a small table before you exit, only after downing the last of the liquid that remained, hoping the warmth of your cheeks is more so from the wine than your mortification. You need liquid courage, yet if you consume any more, you’re unsure what other vile secrets may come tumbling from your lips.

Jisoo’s standing in the atrium of the building when you find him, tie loosened from his neck as if it had sought to choke out every last word from his mouth. You approach with a slowing velocity, unsure how to reintroduce yourself after the disaster of an evening. Another calamity incurred by a slip of the tongue and careless action by you, unlike your past self now this blinding awareness overtook you and a tremendous amount of guilt found itself weighing you down.

“I’m not good with words, I never have been.” A hand had run through his hair as he looked far too more shaken now than he had in the moments prior. Footsteps atop tile as he paces the space, a statue of some Roman deity or emperor looking down upon the two of you as if it meant to judge your sins. “I’ve tried so goddamned hard to forget about this and you just think it’s okay to waltz right back into my life and make it all some sort of fantastical joke?” You feel as if you were a child being scolded by a parent rather than whatever you would define your relationship with Joshua now. If there even was one to define. Eyes trailing the floor as the sternness in his voice was reason enough for you to never want to make eye contact with him again, your blood was hot, and you were warm with repentance. “You broke my heart, what makes you think that you have the right to come back?”

“If you want me to say I’m an asshole I can, the largest of assholes who was too stupid and vain to think of anyone but myself. That was a total lie back there I don’t even know why I said it.” You feel slovenly with the way the words fight their way out of you as you apologize for the immoralities of a time long past, “Jisoo,” he winces at the name, your sure no one’s called him that in some time, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Sorry for much more than the scene you’d just caused.

“Did you really never care about me?” The pain in his voice renders you from the present and into the past where he’d found you hidden away in some closet at a fraternity party. Your arms slung around the neck of someone you’d only met a handful of times before then, focus breaking when the door opens, and streams of blinking led lights from the party outside flooded into the dark space. It had taken you a moment to recognize the large silhouette in the doorway, shadow casting onto the two of you locked into a crude embrace. Blinking you return to the hardened stare he gives you now, reminiscent of that you saw in his eyes that day. “You fucked my friend and didn’t think anything of it.”

“We hadn’t spoken in months! I wasn’t obligated to pine over you when we’d practically become strangers.” Yet you had. This hallowed feeling had plagued you for months following that night, you’d remembered it the morning after and had an apology text written that you never found the courage to send. It sat on your phone screen for longer than you would have liked it to, but that’s what it did, sat and collected virtual dust while you found solace in finding use in other men to take your mind off of him.

Eyes finding comfort in the statue above, you wait for the words trapped inside of his chest like a caged beast to be wrought upon you as he had probably wished to do since the last you’d seen him. They never come. No floods or wrath or hellfire fury wrung out for you to find. Just silence as the gentle chatter from the ballroom down the hall faintly ambling as the backdrop to your tragedy.

“If I had known it was you, I wouldn’t have come.” Spare him from this detriment of character. Scared. You were scared and that’s why you’d not spoken to him since that rainy afternoon. He’d said something before he left but you were too busy trying to keep yourself together to remember what he’d uttered. In his absence you’d try to remember, but it all proved fruitless and you perhaps had lost one of your truest friends that day. “Didn’t Mingyu tell you we were coming?”

Hands in his pockets, gaze racked onto something painted onto the domed ceiling of the atrium. “He did.” Breaking your gaze from the statue you look to him, quizzical brow already set atop your features.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Voice quiet, you feel the alcohol tunneling your vision and pulsing through your fingertips.

“To see if you’ve changed, to see if you’re still vehemently against my happiness.” Eyes turned to you as a frown adorns his lips. You’d never felt such seriousness come from him, it made you feel even more a cornered animal than you’d been in the ballroom. “It’s obvious that you are though, I should’ve expected as much.”

“Vehemently against your-? What the hell are you talking about Jisoo?”

“You never wanted me to be happy!” Hands flying out of his pockets as they move to gesticulate a feeling you couldn’t quite comprehend. “Every time I tried to move towards you, you always pushed me away. I tried to accept and understand that, but you let me into your arms on more occasions than I can count on my two hands. If you really didn’t want me then why did you continue to let me in like that?”

“Because I thought I was doing you a favor! I was taking your mind off of that girl! You never wanted me, or I was too stupid to see that you actually did because you talked about her all of the fucking time!” Voice raising as you continued, a fire boiling in your blood that you hadn’t realized had been only simmering for the past eternity. “It took too long for me to realize that I loved you back.” You were in love with him. You are in love with him and now you’ve gone and ruined any chance you had at reconciliation again. It’s as if some Austenian novel was taking place yet it was far too real and far too raw for it to be anything as romantic or gothic as such.

“Loved me back,” a bark from the back of his throat, a laugh of incredulity as the damnation in his gaze is ever so present, he didn’t believe you and he had every right not to. “You know, I thought about what I would say to you if I saw you again,” Leaning back so his weight now lay on the base of the statue, “I wrote out countless scenarios, questioning why you never reached out. Why I never tried to either. I was so, so angry at you and now I’m just tired.” Frown as he looks to the floor, the fire once bright behind his eyes simmering into a broken flame, “I can’t be too upset; I was as much an ass as you back then for not wanting to respect your wishes. But if I had loved you any less, I might just hate you now.”

A moment’s pause to reiterate what he’d said in your mind, the alcohol running rampant you take a few deep breaths in hope you’d heard what he admitted correctly. ‘Loved you any less,’ sounded like he certainly didn’t despise the essence of your being but with the way he’d acted prior to tonight made it seem as if you were a ghost to him. “Are you saying you don’t hate me?”

“I’m saying I’m old enough to realize that we both had our faults.” Gaze still trailing the veins of marble in the floor, “I used you as an emotional coping mechanism for the longest time before actually realizing I liked you. I didn’t even talk to her that last night, I just wanted to come over to be with you. But you,” Lower lip bitten as he nods his head, “I was never able to figure you out.”

Humbling as this whole situation is you’re finding it harder to stay upright, you move to stand next to him and motion to the bit of statue base beside him. He nods and scoots over enough to allow you enough space to lean alongside him. Warmth from where he once was lingering on your back, you let a sigh loose from your lips, “I was too selfish, I said I didn’t want to get involved with anyone, but I was just scared.” Foot tapping against the floor as the gentle reverberations echo around the room, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I didn’t even sleep with your friend, I left soon after you did.”

Mouth parted to say something more, it never happens as the door to the main hall opens and Mingyu emerges, quickly moving to the two of you. “Would you mind if we head back a little early? Sooyoung’s a little, no, super drunk and I don’t want her to say anything embarrassing. Well, anything more embarrassing.”

Knowing how your friend got seemed to momentarily distract and sober you, a look to Joshua and then to Mingyu you nod your head, “I don’t mind.”

“I don’t either,” Jisoo agrees and then opens his palm for Mingyu to throw him the car keys, “You get her and I’ll pull the car around.”

Gentle breathing as the warmth of another lying next to you in bed rouses you from slumber. Light peeking in from the window overhead as you shift, the fragrance of a rose scented shampoo greeting you. “Sooyoung,” a grumbling from your lips as you hadn’t realized that she’d snuck into your bed during the night, she was a clingy, cuddly drunk that you were normally never one to accommodate. But last night had been different, you barely remember the ride home as you’d been in and out of slumber. Joshua had driven while you took the passenger seat, Sooyoung’s head atop Mingyu’s lap as she gently snored away, finding sleep a much better accompaniment than drunkenness in a moving car.

“Five more minutes,” a murmur from her as she pulls the blankets closer to her chest, “I think I’m still drunk.”

“Want to trade,” a hand moving to your forehead as you sit up, waves of nausea rolling like an unbearable tide through your system. “I need a Powerade and a nap. Do they have Powerade here?”

“Pedialyte maybe,” Sooyoung says, sounding more awake as the covers fall away as she sits up. She ponders for a moment, sleep in her eyes as she stares down at the white duvet. A yawn escaping her as she turns to you, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Hand running through your knotted locks, looking over to your similarly disgruntled friend.

“Oh, you know, the stock market.” Retort scoffing from her, “I’m talking about whatever the fuck happened last night between you and Joshua.”

Maybe you’d thought it all a dream, the argument and your drunken folly. Yet presented to you again you couldn’t help but acknowledge it, “I said something stupid and I apologized to him.” More than that you’d unthinkingly confessed you liked him eons too late, but you could blame that on your inebriation, although you’re not sure what he’d say. You’re not sure you saw him have a sip of anything at all last night.

“Seemed like a little more than that,” Shoulders shrugging as she moves to slide out of your bed and walk over to the small vanity. “When he was carrying you inside you were all over him, apologizing about something.”

“I what?” Eyebrows raising as you feel the familiar flush of embarrassment creep along your spine. “You must’ve been seeing things there’s no way in hell he’d do that.”

“-Even made sure to bring you some water,” you hadn’t realized she’d been continuing. “I can’t really remember much else though.” The sound of acute popping as she stretches her arms, “I’m going back to bed, wake me up if anything important happens, okay?”

A shake of your head as you usher her out to leave, an icy feeling running from your head to your toes as you think you’d rather stay in this room the entirety of your stay than face whatever was beyond the door. When you do get that confidence to venture out, as you didn’t hear anyone trapezing about the house, you try and quietly amble down the stairs as to not wake your slumbering friend a few doors down. Pounding in your head you make way to the kitchen to rummage around for an aspirin or five to rid yourself of the aftermath of indulgence. Quiet, “Shit,” escaping you as there’s nothing to be found, only water and tea. So, when Jisoo finds you sitting alone at the kitchen table, water glass in hand as your head is pressed gently to the rough wooden surface, he can surmise you’re probably not feeling your best. You hadn’t even heard the front door open, nor had you guessed he’d be dressed up in business attire once again. Another jarring thing to add to your morning.

“I figured you wouldn’t be feeling great,” His voice soft as if not to disrupt the cosmos, “I brought you and Sooyoung some espresso. It won’t cure your hangover, but it’ll wake you up.” The sound of a cup hitting the tabletop and you look up to see it sitting in front of you. The shift in his attitude over the course of the last two days all too paradoxical and overwhelming for you to think of right now. Your hand reaching forward to grasp the paper cup in your hands and slowly bring it to your face.

A sip taken and you sit up, “Thank you.” Finger running over the small hole atop the lid, “Sooyoung’s still asleep. I’m not sure when she’ll be up again.” Jisoo responds with a slight nod of his head, not furthering the conversation as it seems he’s lost in thought. “Where’s Mingyu?”

“At the conference,” It takes him a moment to respond, “I ducked out early to make sure you both were doing okay. He also wanted to know if the both of you wanted to check out the ruins today. It’s going to be crowded but we can sneak our way through without too much hassle.”

“I think we’d both be up for it after a little more sleep if that’s alright?” The scent of the espresso finally hitting you, it was good but didn’t sate the anxious butterflies floating around your stomach.

“That’s fine, you can go and get some sleep, Mingyu’s not supposed to be back for another couple of hours.”

“It’s quite sad, isn’t it?” Walking through the ancient and weathered streets of Pompeii felt more as if you were walking through a graveyard rather than a place frozen in time. In a way it is a graveyard, yet most came to ogle at the plastered bodies of the deceased than appreciate the ability to see how the people once lived and thrived. You stand now, with Mingyu and Sooyoung, Jisoo standing some feet back as you gaze at one of the faded frescoes from antiquity.

“Sad, yes. Tragic? Absolutely.” Mingyu says as he takes a few steps further into the atrium of the household, towards the small, empty impluvium that sat in its center. “But in a way it’s kind of happy too, don’t you think? It’s a city lost in time but we’re slowly uncovering the past and its people.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve got a room like this in the MoMA,” Sooyoung says, looking down to the little guidebook in her hand.

“That’s actually from a villa outside of the city,” Mingyu interjects, “It’s preserved beautifully.” They share a look and you turn away, not wanting to impede on their moment.

Instead, your attention turns to Jisoo, who’s walking through the doorway and out into the street, lip bitten you contemplate following after him since you hadn’t really spoken to him since that morning and a plethora of questions are running around your head. You excuse yourself from the other two, not that they would’ve noticed as it seems they were in deep conversation, and head out into the increasingly overcast afternoon. “I don’t want to sound weird but what exactly did I say to you when we came back here last night?” Voice calling out to Jisoo as he reads something carved into a slate of marble beside the house. Standing atop the steppingstones that dotted the antique streets so that you could get a better look at him. “I can’t really remember and it’s been eating me alive all day.”

Hum from his lips as he glances to the cloudy sky and then to you, “You did say something about being ‘the most unmitigated and comprehensive ass,’ was that Shakespeare?” There’s a slight smile to his lips and you feel your stomach doing cartwheels. “You said it at least ten times.” He strides over, not needing to take many steps since his gait is that of a giraffe’s.

“Austen, actually.” Words coming out in almost a whisper as the two of you stand in silence. Birds cawing overhead and the buzz of nearby tourists as you don’t know what to say next.

“For someone who was never a romantic, you sure as hell indulge in romantic things,” casual musing and he moves his hands into his pockets. The air smelled of sun-dried dirt and salt envelops you, even with the clouds above the harshness of the sun felt ever so present on your back.

“I’m sorry,” words escaping you, “I-”

“You’ve already apologized more in a weekend than I could’ve hoped for in my entire life,” A shake of his head as he raises a hand to stop you. Tongue swiping his lower lip, “You know, I thought I was supposed to be angry when I saw you again, but when I saw you standing in the house after all this time, I was more happy than not?” Laugh escaping him, “Maybe I’m crazy.”

“I was too,” in a strange way you had been. The anxiety had been there, of course, yet there was an undeniable elation at seeing him. Flicker of a smile coming over you, “Maybe we’re both crazy.”

“Mingyu’s said you’ve climbed up in your career pretty fast,” A nod of his head, “I’d love for you to tell me more about it if you’ve got time to grab dinner while you’re here?”

“It’s not like we’re housemates for the week or anything,” You smile, “I’d really like that.”

When he takes your hand and doesn’t let it go after you’ve exited his car, that’s when you start to think, finally, his resentment towards you had begun to fade. When he holds the door open and pulls your chair out for you at the restaurant, is when your heart starts thrumming. When he pays the tab but you go out for an hour or two longer talking, reminiscing, and catching up is when you feel like you can look at him without any semblance of regret or shame. When his hand lingers atop yours while he tells you a story about an extravagant find in Site V is when you can’t wipe the smile from your lips and the euphoria from your chest.

“So, other than becoming a wildly prolific curator, what else have you been up to?” Hand moving away from yours as he leans back in the small wooden chair. The dim lights of the restaurant casting soft shadows across his features.

“I play tennis on the weekends, I’ve also got a cat back home but she’s kind of an asshole,” you laugh, returning your hand to your lap. “But what about you? I always thought you’d go into curation, never saw you as the archeologist type.”

“To be honest I thought it’d be like Indiana Jones, but I think the movies overexaggerated his job a little bit,” the joke playing gaily in his eyes as he shoots you a small smile. “But I might look into a museum job when I get older, it’s just too much fun being out in the field right now. I didn’t enjoy archiving as much as this.”

“I get that,” agreeing as you reach for your water, taking a sip before placing it back onto the table. “So, did you and that girl ever work out?”

“That girl,” Joshua pauses, “You know she has a name, right?”

“Of course, but I don’t think I’ve ever called her by it.” Lips pursed as your finger plays with the condensation on the glass.

“What did you call her? An anglophile or something?”

“She always had that stupid union jack jacket on, it was like she was trying to be a wannabe Beatle,” it wasn’t a bad jacket. You realize now that it had probably been jealousy that coined the title.

A short laugh, “I remember that. But no, we never ended up together. I’m really only dating one person right now.”

Brow furrowing, had you gotten this whole night misconstrued? “Oh really? Who is it?”

“I’m not really sure, to be honest. We kind of found him halfway under a rock a few years back and have been trying to piece him and his story together ever since.” Eyes widening as he tells you the tale, “He’s at least nineteen hundred years old so I don’t think it’ll work out between us though.”

“You’re an asshole,” scoffing as you roll your eyes at him. In all honesty you were a little relieved he’d only been joking.

The two of you slowly begin to realize the lateness of the hour, the moon hanging high as you exit the bar with warm faces and hints of smiles lingering on your lips. There is a coolness in the air that hadn’t been present when you’d entered, it wasn’t cool enough to make you shiver but it feels pleasant as it runs over your skin. The drive home is filled with aimless chatter, it just feels comfortable to be back on good terms with him and feel his presence once more in your life.

Not too long after you arrive to the house, you find your friends absent. Checking your phone, you see they’ve gone off to watch a film and wouldn’t be back for another hour or two. You sit on the plush, green velveteen sofa of the living room as Jisoo saunters in with a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand. “I’m shocked at the amount of wine everywhere, I feel like if I stuck a spigot into the ground it’d be wine that comes out instead of water.”

“The Italians love their aperitifs and their wine,” Jisoo says as he pours out two glasses and hands you one. The TV turned onto a channel playing a movie you know but dubbed in Italian, you watch for a moment before feeling the brush of a hand atop your shoulder. Turning to look, you see Joshua’s head tilted to the side as his fingers dance along your shoulder.

“Can you tell me if I’m being too presumptuous?” A nod of your head as his fingers begin to absentmindedly play with a few strands of your hair, “But I don’t think my feelings about you changed all too much since I told you I loved you. And I understand if you don’t want to accept me again because it’s been too long, and we’ve grown apart but-”

Jisoo’s ramblings are cut short when you lean forward and place a kiss on his lips. It isn't your first kiss with him, nor was it his with youu. Although it was your first kiss with him that you wholly put intention behind as you’d never allowed it before because it had called for an intensified intimacy, you’d been scared to assign yourself to such a concept. Yet now you feel as if you were ready, “I love you too.”

Pulling your face away from him, the stars of disbelief shine in his eyes as the glow of the TV lights illuminate the smile on his lips. He looks relieved, sated and gleeful, a cornucopia of feelings that were unobtainable so long ago. Without another word you settle into each other, your head upon his chest as his hands run absentmindedly through your hair, the staticky nature of the television and sounds of a summer night outside lulling you both to sleep. It’s difficult to explain the situation to your friends that walk in an hour and a half later, startling the two of you awake as they come upon you. Their hands interlocked with each other, you shoot Mingyu a look to which he avoids, Sooyoung only winks and looks down to your hand which you find covered by Jisoo’s. It’s a silent act of solidarity, just a casual acceptance of what time had spurned as the night trudges onwards and you return to his side as the other two make their way upstairs.

#seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #hong jisoo x reader #hong jisoo smut #hong jisoo fluff #joshua x reader #joshua x you #joshua smut #joshua fluff #joshua angst

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sophiethewitch1 · 10 months ago

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What We Want - Prologue

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The cupcake is smashed. Pink icing and gaudy star-shaped sprinkles coat the interior of the box, and the pastry itself has devolved into crumbs. You just stare at it. It had cost you seventeen dollars. It was expensive, yeah. But you’d spent the last three months walking past it every morning and afternoon in the bougie cafe’s windows. You’d waited. You’d wanted.

And it was destroyed. Completely. The perfect swirl of the buttercream was no more. The single, delicate flower made of frosting had lost half it’s petals. You weren’t sure how you could eat it. The wrapping had been warped, but maybe a tea spoon would work?

You let your head fall into your hands, a sob wracking your shoulders. And then less than a second later you swallow down the feeling, and stride over to your shitty apartment’s tiny kitchen. You grab a lighter, a plastic wine glass and the bottle of white wine Molly had given you earlier today. You hadn’t told her what happened yet, but she could tell something had. She’d gave you the wine, a hug, and the promise to always be by your side.

Despite today’s circumstances, despite this week’s circumstances, despite this decade’s circumstances, you were going to have a good birthday getting black-out drunk.

You weren’t going to let yourself sink into one of your funks. Even if it was the worst day of the year by far. Even if it was the second worst birthday of your life.

You just don’t. It’s not allowed.

Your phone rings. Sliding it out of your pocket, you stare blankly at the name on the screen. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Malcom. One of George’s friends. You reject the call, block the number, and slide your phone back in your pocket. See? Dealing with things like an adult. Not throwing a temper tantrum, not crying, not… well, destroying your life in an epic meltdown. You’d had a few of those. Still, despite your obvious erraticness, you hadn’t been fired this year. Yay!

You told yourself you were getting better, even as the universe seemingly conspired against your happiness. You were kind of convinced it was.

Turning, you play with the cap on the wine, walking over to your old ratty couch and falling into it. The beast groans at the contact, but you pay it no mind. The thing was probably older than you, and you were celebrating your twenty-first today.

You were an orphan in Gotham, it was not your first time drinking. Molly had dragged you to so many awful parties over the years. But this wine was probably the fanciest you’d ever been given. Scratch that, definitely was. You pour yourself a glass, stick the birthday candle half-hazardly into the largest chunk of cupcake, and grab the remote.

The only true comfort you can get on this day. A woman, a reporter. She speaks, but you can’t really hear what she’s saying. You chug down a glass of the wine, apologising in your head to Molly, and then pour yourself another.

It takes a few minutes, but your muscles relax, and her words tune into focus.

“Today’s memorial, is once again sponsored by the Wayne foundation.”

Yeah, because they’re the only charity organisation in the city. The family of billionaires were debatably the only good ones in existance. Debtable because you weren’t sure if they were good enough themselves. As an orphan who’d known the cruelty of the system yourself, you were a mix of bitter and grateful towards them. Sure, they’d been the only thing that kept you out of true poverty. You were still an awful bitch about it.

You always had been the jealous type. The other kids who got better backpacks or toys or whatever had you seething with fury. The multitude of orphans Bruce Wayne risen out of poverty were not safe from your envy. It didn’t matter if you were… Well, a little bit, just a teeny-tiny-tiddly-little bit… obsessed. Obsessed with them. Kind of manic about it, actually.

You were working on it. Today was a bad day, and you were a little too raw. So, like every little dumb animal on the planet, you went straight to your creature comforts. You pretended you were a roman eating and drinking on their chaise lounge, watching their magnificent entertainment.

Delusional. Your sofa was falling apart at the seems, your cupcake was debris and your entertainment was a memorial service. Wine was good, though.

Gotta focus on the good parts.

You watch the TV screen, the reporter’s voice drifting in and out of focus. There was a family photo of the Waynes and their family friends, all in perfect suits and dresses and pearls and fancy watches. You’d bet that those little accessories were worth more than a year of your rent.

And you lived in fucking Gotham, both the most expensive city to live in, and the worst at the same time. A miracle, truly.

Anyway, they were all stunningly beautiful, even some of the guys. God knows how much the internet went on about Richard Grayson’s long eyelashes. You’d always been enamored with Dick’s good looks. Even Damian Wayne who had only turned nineteen a few months ago and was three years younger than you was already being fawned over by the tabloids.

Gotham’s newest young rich bachelor. Bitterly envious, that was you. You didn’t like that emotion, though, so you turned your attention to others. Namely, delusion.

You let yourself get swept up in daydreams. Of having a rich family, of one so close knit as the Wayne’s. Of having a handsome, loving, kind partner. You don’t let yourself dream about your real family, of a George that was faithful.

You just don’t.

Maybe someone like Tim Drake. Loyal, everyone who knew him described him as loyal. His romances with Bernard Dowd and Stephanie Brown were famous. There were hundreds of papparazzi photos of him with big bundles of roses and a sweet look on his face. You thought someone like Tim Drake would probably be like one of the heroes in your romance novels. Something silly like a meet cute in an airport, or maybe a bookstore or a cafe. He was pretty famous in Gotham’s niche hipster coffee scene, right?

Yeah, you could see it now. Some dumb but cute scene where you get confused and accidentally take his order. You get the same drink, and bond over your shared love of caramel syrup. Like he didn’t live on the opposite side of the city from you, and you probably couldn’t afford whatever fancy shit he drunk. Italian coffee beans versus… well, you didn’t actually know what you bought. You knew it didn’t taste very good, but it was dirt cheap.

What were you doing? Ah, yes, silly daydreams about romance.

But even as you think of Tim, Dick Grayson was so pretty, and he’d had his fair share of partners too. Someone with such an angelic face had to have a personality to match, and the media agreed. Of course you didn’t really know what he was like, this was all just fantasy. Other than numerous tabloid interviews and television, which suggested he had a kind heart and a love for bad jokes you truly knew nothing about the guy. Still, he’d be the golden retriever trope, you think. Or the knight in shining armor, saving his heroine from one of the many disaster’s plaguing Gotham and confessing his love in one big final act. His meet cute would be the airplane one. The blue of his eyes, it makes you think of the sky. You’d take his seat, but he’d be super sweet about it. Like he didn’t have a private jet, and would never be caught on economy.

You think Damian Wayne could play a good romance lead as well. From what you’d seen, he seemed to have a terrible personality, which was perfect for any modern romance. A classic enemies to lovers, with some bickering. Maybe he’d have secretly loved her the entire time, and maybe there’d be a good grovel at the end. So, appreciating his character, he’d have to have a meet ugly. Probably get stuck in an elevator with him or something, and he’d get to display his keen intellect and argumentative nature.

You swirl your wine, nodding your head. Brilliant ideas today, you should talk to Molly more. She’d definitely appreciate your wisdom. She wanted to be a screen writer one day, and all this would be very helpful. She was going to college for it. You couldn’t afford college.

Maybe you were drunk. Maybe you were a genius. It was hard to tell, so you take another sip. That’ll help you figure things out.

“As always, the Wayne families’ faces are morose as they celebrate the late Jason Todd.”

And as always, you felt an odd connection with the dead man. Your lives had both technically ended the same day, in the same grand calamity. Sure, you were still technically alive. Kicking about. But everyone you loved dying in one fell swoop, right in front of your eyes? You felt more like a ghost these days.

Weren’t you supposed to be fighting those sorts of thoughts off? Whatever, it was too much effort anyway.

Your slight obsession with the Wayne family had been initially started by Jason Todd. You hadn’t been thinking about him as much recently with George in your life, but he swung right back into place as soon as George left your life. Like a magnet, or more likely, a compulsion.

But now you were brought right back to the morning after. Seeing the entire city grieving the day after you’d lost your family, your first thought had been ‘Good, I’m not the only one,’ and then you’d stopped being an idiot and realised the city was mourning Jason Todd, heir to the Wayne name. Sure, there’d been hundreds of others who’d died, but that was Gotham. Your family had gotten a plaque filled with tens of other forgotten names, Jason had gotten framed photos hung around the city.

Today, his photo was once again surrounded by thousands of bouquets. Peonies, roses, daffodils, lillies, a rainbow of petals that almost covered his memorial stone. It reminded you of your sad-ass cupcake. When the camera zoomed out, you could see your smaller set of poseys against one of the thirty towering monuments, the tiny names crammed into the rock. Your families name was on line fifty-two, near the bottom. You could only afford the flowers once a year, but you visited once a week at least.

There were other flowers. Other offerings. Other candles. Jason’s dwarfed them all.

You sometimes couldn’t tell if you hated the dead man or were hopelessly in love with him. Obviously it didn’t matter. Even when he was alive he was out of both your league and your tax bracket.

Still, you were absolutely certain of it, Jason Todd would beat up George Lancaster. So fucking bad. To a bloody pulp. He’d be eager to do it, as well. You could hum and haw about how you thought violence was bad but he’d see right to the core of you.

The part of you that wanted George Lancaster to suffer. And he’d do it with a kiss and a promise that he’d make it slow. He’d save you from all your monsters, and he’d do it eagerly. And that was the fantasy of it all, wasn’t it?

You lift your glass, in celebration of your dead parasocial imaginary boyfriend. You hoped he wouldn’t be jealous of your new living parasocial imaginary boyfriends. Hiccuping out a laugh, you swallow down another gulp.

And even then, of course you wanted Bruce Wayne as a father. As someone who has seen the worst of the world, and would protect you from it. As someone who would wipe away the tears, who would save you from your own self. And you wanted Cassandra as a sister, someone to groan over guys with and steal clothes off. You wanted the close relationships they shared with Barbara Gordon and Stephanie Brown, with Duke who’d only recently come into their fold. You even wanted their dog you’d seen in photos, the cat that Damian posted on his instagram, the fucking cow they kept for god knows reason inside the estate. You wanted everything, every part of their lives. You were a jealous person, but more than that, you were a greedy person.

You glance at the clock.

11:57.

You shakily open the candle packet, picking a green one out. That had been Sam’s last favourite colour, but he switched them so often it was hard to remember. You stab it into the pink frosting. Julie always chose pink for her cake. Chasey loved flowers, particularly poseys. The flowers had looked like posesys before they’d been crushed.

You light the candle. It’s tiny flame flickers in the dark room, the warm light overpowered by the cool from the television. You peek back over to the clock.

11:58.

And Mum always made her wish at midnight, because she believed that was when it was most likely to come true.

What would you wish for? You never did, because you never knew what you wanted to wish for. Everything you wanted, everything you could’ve wanted, was gone. It couldn’t come back, it was impossible.

11:59.

You look at the TV, at the blinding forms of the Wayne family. Of their graveyard, with the manor in the background. It’s as impossible as everything else. But that’s what they represent for you, isn’t it?

Something hopeful. Something impossible.

You wanted impossible.

12:00.

You lean over the messy cupcake, and blow the candle out. It disappears in one blow, and you sink back into the couch. You take a few crumbs from the cupcake and sneak them past your lips. In your drunkenness, you probably get more on the couch than in your mouth.

You let your eyes flutter shut, and because only you can, you give yourself the comfort of lies. You imagine loving embraces, whispered platitudes. You imagine that today was a good day, that you’d find yourself tomorrow happy. That you wouldn’t wake up with a hangover, that you wouldn’t have a shitty job, an evil ex, and mountains of debt.

That you’d have people who loved you, who could ease the pain.

And you don’t even care who they are.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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celiastjamesoscar · 1 year ago

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Himbo Next Door

Pairings: Tara Carpenter x gn! Reader

Summary: you met Tara in the elevator your apartment and you two awkwardly hit it off. You begin to form a situationship with her, but Sam disapproves of you.

Warnings: Scream levels of violence, Pitbull Sam

Word Count: 5.5k

AN: this was from a request and I kind of expanded on it. I hope you enjoy it and if theres anything I need to change, let me know! If anyone has some requests, also let me know!

This is my first time writing a himbo reader, so im sorry that it’s not the best in that regard

Rain pattered against the quiet apartment complex as you rushed into the building, holding a pizza box. It had been a nice, beautiful day outside, but Mother Nature decided to flip on a dime. And, of course, you wore a white button shirt with black slacks, so your shirt was utterly see-through thanks to the rain. This was supposed to be a lovely evening out with friends, but it had turned into a disaster, and you were more than ready to binge-eat pizza while watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

You were initially supposed to go to a fancy restaurant with your best friend, Olivia, her boyfriend, and another close friend, Lucas. It was a going away dinner for her, as she was moving away for college. The restaurant was one of the best ones in New York City, and you somehow managed to snag a reservation for the four of you. As it was a top-notch restaurant, there was a dress code that one had to follow: black tie. You wore a handsome black suit with a white undershirt, and you were more than excited to drink the best wine and taste the best food that New York had to offer.

You meet up with your friends outside the restaurant, waiting for Olivia’s boyfriend to show up. She wore a beautiful cocktail dress, while Lucas wore a decent suit; he wasn’t what you would classify as a redneck, but he fit the description to a tee.

Thirty minutes had passed before her boyfriend showed up, and you almost lost it. He wore sweat shorts with an ugly soccer jersey, and to top it off, he wore a beanie that he refused to take off. You were always calm and collected, not one to jump to violence even when needed, but he really pissed you off sometimes.

You knew there was no way you guys would be allowed to dine at this restaurant just because of him, but you still gave it a shot. And whenever you guys walked into the restaurant, the waiter asked him to leave or change, but he insisted that he was allowed to eat there because he was ‘more of a man’ than the owner. Because of this, he turned it into a fifteen-minute argument with the manager, and then all four of you were asked to leave.

You were naturally upset about this and the fact that you had to put down a hundred-dollar deposit just to reserve a table. After you guys had left, he decided the group would go to Hardee’s, as he needed to get his daily food from there. You held your tongue as you drove there; this was supposed to be Olivia’s going-away party, but he just had to hijack everything.

Long story short, you were out a hundred dollars, listened to Olivia’s boyfriend talk about the WWE for thirty minutes, and bought a pizza at a locally-owned pizzeria. Just as you left the pizzeria, a downpour of rain started, causing your outfit to get ruined while you had to drive home in the rain. Your nerves were more than shot, but you didn’t say anything. Confrontation made you uncomfortable, and you always did your best to avoid it.

As you made your way to the elevator, a soft voice called, ‘Hold it!’ You switched the box to your left hand and held the elevator door back with your right.

“Thank you,” the voice said once she entered the elevator. She was close to a foot shorter than you, and when your eyes made contact, your heart skipped a beat. She was easily the most beautiful person you have ever seen; she had soft chestnut-brown eyes, freckles that highlighted those eyes, and the prettiest smile you had ever seen. Her bangs perfectly framed her face, and you couldn’t even mutter, ‘You’re welcome.’

She looked at you uncomfortably while looking at the elevator buttons. “Oh, looks like we’re going to the same floor then,” she said with an awkward chuckle while glancing over at you.

Your eyes snapped to the buttons and then back to her. “I guess so,” you said with a weak voice.

Tara looked at you when you spoke, but her eyes slowly drifted down to look at your shirt. She admired your abs through the soaked white shirt as it clung to your body, trying her best to keep her cheeks from getting too warm. She loved how you towered over her, and she would pay money to see your muscles or watch you work out.

Tara was snapped out of her thoughts as the elevator dinger and the doors opened. You smiled at her politely as you left the elevator, and to your surprise, she followed you down the same hallway. As you approached your door, Tara walked to the door before yours.

When you found yours, you unlocked your door and opened it, but before you walked in, you looked over your right shoulder and smiled at Tara. “It was nice meeting you,” you said softly as you walked into your apartment and shut the door. Tara smiled back at you while saying, ‘You too.’

You ran into Tara several times like that, and you tried your best to talk to her. You weren’t the best at socializing, especially with beautiful women, and Tara seemed to like that about you. You would always listen to her and seemed to enjoy what she said.

After enough small talk in the hallway, she eventually asked you to come to her apartment for the first time. You were nervous, of course, but there was no way you could pass on an opportunity to hang out with the alluring woman.

“Here we are,” Tara said as she held the door open for you. You smiled at her while walking into the apartment. It was nice and cozy, and it looked a lot like yours, and you instantly felt at home. Tara crept up behind you, grabbed your hand, and eagerly pulled you into the living room. Your cheeks immediately warmed at the touch, and you didn’t fight back as the younger girl tugged you into the living room.

You sat on the couch next to her as she grabbed the remote. “So, you know how I told you I wanted to watch a movie with you?” Tara asked with a smile while staring into your eyes; she could look into them forever and never get bored.

“Yeah, ‘The Babadook,’ I think?” You questioned with an eyebrow raised.

“Yes, that’s the one,” Tara said with a smile as she got up and looked around the entertainment center for the DVD. After a few minutes of looking, she let out a loud ‘ah-ha’ and inserted the disk into the DVD player.

She then sat on the couch and rested her head on your lap. The action caught you off guard, but then you gently ran your fingers through her hair. She smiled at the action and let out a soft sigh of happiness as she nestled into your lap.

That's how you two spent every Friday night: curled up on her couch watching movies. You enjoyed being in the girl’s company, and Tara loved showing you her favorite movies. Sometimes, you two would gossip about people on campus- you were in psychology together- or you would talk about what you had done that day.

Tara had mentioned that she had a sister she lived with, but you had never met her. Frankly, you were a little nervous to meet the older woman. You had caught yourself slowly falling for Tara, and it seemed that Tara valued her sister’s opinion more than her own. You hoped that you would make a good impression when you did meet her; you just didn’t expect to have to meet her today.

You and Tara were watching your new favorite show, ‘New Girl.’ It had been a peaceful night, and you two refused to watch an episode without the other. You were lying on the couch with Tara curled up on your chest. You guys were laughing together as Jess explained how she bought a footstool with a giant bag of meth when you heard the door to the apartment open.

Tara quickly pushed herself off your chest when she heard the door open and sat at the opposite end of the couch.

“Hey, Sam! What are you doing back here so soon?” She asks with a slightly nervous tone as she pauses the tv.

You heard the sound of boots walking toward you on the couch. You slowly push yourself up on the sofa, resting on your elbow as you look at the woman.

Sam was certainly taller than Tara, but not taller than you. She had jet-black hair and beautiful brown eyes. You were almost certain if Tara didn’t hold your heart, you would have fallen for the woman. She has a neutral expression as her eyes dart between you and Tara. “What’s going on here?” She dryly asks as she hangs up her backpack purse and turns to face you two.

You were about to say something, but Tara quickly interrupted you. “We were just watching a movie. This is Y/N, by the way,” Tara says as she nudges you, silently telling you to introduce yourself.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. You are extremely gorgeous,” you say with a giant smile as you extend your hand. Tara gives you a look of disbelief, but you can't see it as you face her older sister.

Sam looks at you suspiciously before shaking your hand. She makes sure to give you a good death grip, and if it weren’t for Tara, you probably would have melted onto the floor.

She scoffs as she rolls her eyes and lets go of your hand, and then looks at Tara, “Where did you find this street rat?”

Tara let out a small laugh that caused you to whip your hand around and give her a disheartening look. She quickly clears her throat before speaking in an annoyed tone, “I ‘found’ her in the apartment building, actually. We met in the elevator and shared a few conversations in the hallway.”

“So you have invited a stranger into our home with just you two here?” Sam asks with narrow eyes as she stares at you.

Her sister huffed, “This isn’t our first time hanging out here.”

At that, Sam’s eyes instantly leave yours, and she is staring at Tara with wide eyes and her mouth slightly open. “Are you kidding me, Tara?! Have you been hanging out with this random person while I’ve been at therapy? What if they tried to kill you?” Sam exclaims as she walks over and kneels before Tara, checking her sister for scratches or cuts.

“I would never hurt her, Sam. She’s too kind,” you say with a giant smile, even though Sam just insisted that you were a potential killer. You didn't care that she implied it; all you could think about was the beautiful girl you shared the couch with.

Sam slowly looks at you while keeping her hands on her sister’s knees. She glares at you with narrowed eyes as her eyes look you up and down. She can tell that you are taller than her and undoubtedly stronger than her. The fact that you could easily overpower both her and her sister set Sam on edge, but the way you seemed to carry yourself: the way you talked, sat, smiled, and even breathed made her even more suspicious of you. Sam had already seen how someone Tara loved killed her friends and almost both of them; she refused to let that happen again.

But you just seemed so indifferent about things. Sam wanted to call you some other things that weren’t nice, but she stuck with calling you indifferent.

Sam looked back at Tara and lightly sighed. “Is this the one you’ve been talking about?”

Tara moves around nervously while Sam calls her out. Her eyes shift uneasily between you and Sam as she fidgets with her fingers. “Um, yeah, they are,” she says with a low voice.

“Okay,” Sam says with a defeated tone as she stands up. She looks at you and speaks threateningly, “If you do anything to hurt Tara, I will kill your entire family and then you.”

You smile at Sam’s words as you sit up on the couch. “I don’t talk to any of my family, so I wouldn’t really care if you did. But I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill me; I love hanging out with Tara, and I would greatly miss it,” you say gently as you look at Tara. Tara is staring holes into the floor while she tries to hide her smile with her right hand.

Sam rolls her eyes at your comment and walks into her room, but not before sending a threatening glance at you and Tara on the couch. You had moved closer to her sister, and you looked back at her, sending her a polite wave with a friendly smile, believing that you had made a great impression on the older woman.

Sam scoffs as she walks into her room, slamming her door. You look back at Tara with a gentle smile and ask with a quiet tone, “You told her about me?”

The atmosphere in the living room immediately changed into something tense, and Tara could almost taste it on her tongue as she spoke calmly, “Um, yeah, I did. Does that bother you at all?”

You love how Tara refused to meet your gaze when she spoke; it almost made you believe she harbored romantic feelings for you, just as you did for her. “No, it doesn’t bother me at all. In fact, I kinda like it,” you say with a gentle smile as Tara’s eyes meet yours.

Those beautiful brown eyes smiled for her as they quickly glanced down at your lips before returning to yours. “You mean that?” She asks in a more confident voice as she shifts her body to face you; she has pulled her left leg up onto the couch while letting her right one hang off the couch, and her entire body is facing you.

“Of course, I mean that, Tara. I actually think I made a good impression; she seemed really nice,” you say happily. Tara let out a small laugh as she grabbed your hands and pulled you closer to her. You followed her silent commands and ended up laying your head in her lap while facing the tv.

Once your head got comfortable in her lap, Tara softly ran her fingers on her left hand through your hair while she reached for the tv remote on the coffee table with her other hand. “Just so you know, you did not, in fact, make a good impression with Sam, but I still like you,” Tara said with a smile that grew bigger when she heard you scoff in response.

She loved having these small, soft moments with you. She knew you weren’t the brightest, but your kind and caring nature made up for it plenty. Tara would give up everything she had to her name if it meant spending an evening like this with you for the rest of her days. You held her heart in your hands, and it only took her two weeks to admit that after your first encounter with Sam.

You two were going on a ‘double date’ with Mindy and Anika. You were a bit iffy on calling it a double date, as you and Tara weren’t dating, but Mindy and Anika are. So in your head, you called it a ‘totally platonic hangout.’

You got dressed and left your apartment to head over to Tara’s. When you knocked, the door instantly opened, and Tara was wearing a giant smile and a cute outfit.

“Hi,” she says with an angel-like voice while staring up at you with soft eyes.

“Hi,” you reply breathlessly. If Tara would let you, you would always stare at her, admiring her beautiful features and counting her freckles.

She snaps you out of your daydream by taking your hand in hers and intertwining your fingers. You gently bump your shoulder against hers as you walk towards the elevator and out to your car.

When you two get in the car, you start it and drive towards the restaurant. You and Tara talk about your day and how you missed each other (it's been two days since you last saw each other). You tell her about the crazy things your roommates have done recently, and she laughs at your stories. She tells you about new things in her life, such as Sam asking about you more and that she’s got a new roommate named Quinn. Tara said that the girl was promiscuous but funny and lighthearted. She then starts to talk about Chad, and you instinctively tense up.

“Chad hasn’t left me alone all week, Y/N! It's starting to drive me crazy. At first, I thought he just wanted to hang out as friends more, but yesterday he told me he has feelings for me. Can you believe that?” Tara asks with a small laugh as she looks over at you. You had gripped the steering wheel tighter at the mention of Chad having feelings for Tara. Your chest began to tighten, and your heartbeat picked up with jealousy. You had no right to be jealous, but you couldn’t help. Chad was athletic like you, but he was also a lot smarter than you, which Tara valued and liked as a romantic partner.

“Oh. Well, I'm happy for you, Tara. You deserve someone like him,” you lie through your teeth with a sad tone.

At your saddened tone, Tara finally noticed how your body was tense and how you seemed to want to strangle the steering wheel. She reaches her left hand out and gently places it on your arm, “I don't like him like that, Y/N,” Tara says honestly while looking at you with love. You visibly relax at her words and almost let a smile appear.

“How come? He’s everything you want in a partner: smart, funny, caring, loyal, and strong,” you reply with a weak voice that Tara almost laughs at.

She rubs her hand up and down your arm as she says, “I don’t like him back because I have feelings for someone else.”

“Oh. Well, I hope they make you happy,” you say honestly. Tara might not like you back, but you wanted her to be happy. And if she was happy, you were too.

Tara gently squeezes your arm before pulling back and placing her hands in her lap. She looks at you with so much yearning and love that she’s surprised you can’t feel it, but then she remembers you were basically a himbo: friendly, respectful, handsome, but not that bright. “You have no idea,” she says while sending heart eyes your way.

When you two get to the restaurant, you meet with Mindy and Anika and walk in together. You four get a table in the corner of the restaurant. You are sharing a side with Tara while sitting across Anika and Tara across from Mindy. You guys made idle conversation while waiting for someone to take your orders.

An attractive young woman approaches the table with a pip in her step, “Hey guys, welcome to O’Charley’s, my name is Sadie, and I’ll be your waitress for today. What can I get your guys to drink?”

All four of you order sweet teas, and before she leaves, she sends you a flirty wink that you missed, but Tara didn’t. She let out a small scoff as she hid her face in her menu, trying to fight jealousy. You look at Tara but don’t say anything, afraid to upset the girl more.

When Sadie brings back your teas, your hand lightly brushes hers as you grab yours, causing the woman to smirk. “Alright, are you guys ready to order?” She asks as she pulls her notepad from her apron, and you guys nod. “Okay, what can I get for you, beautiful?”

You pull your head from the menu and find that Sadie is talking to you. “Oh, I would like six-ounce sirloin with a Caesar salad and fries, please,” you say with a small smile. Not a flirty one, just a friendly one, but both Sadie and Tara mistake it for a flirty one. One girl is excited, while the other is filled with thoughts of murder.

Sadie finishes taking everyone’s orders before she quickly disappears again, but the atmosphere at the table is tense. Everyone but you can feel it, to which you start another conversation, and everyone else but Tara joins in. You tried to get the girl to talk, but you would get a small ‘uh huh’ or ‘of course.’

When your meals arrive, the four of you eat in peaceful silence, occasionally talking about how excellent your food is. It was an overall relaxing dinner until the checks came.

“You guys are separate, and you two are together?” Sadie asks, gesturing to you and Tara before gesturing toward Mindy and Anika. She was asking about the checks, but Tara picked up on the hidden underlining that you did not.

“That is correct,” you say as you accept your check from Sadie and then hand Tara hers. You all pay in cash and quietly wait for Sadie to come back.

When she does, however, she hands everyone their change, and instead of leaving, she pulls out her notepad and writes her number down on it. “Give me a call sometime,” she says with a wink as she hands you the paper.

You were going to ask what she meant by that, but any words got lost on your tongue as Tara stood up from the table and stormed out of the restaurant. Your clueless eyes follow Tara out of the restaurant before you lose sight of her, and you turn away to find both Mindy and Anika staring at you with wide eyes. “Go get her, dumbass,” Anika says harshly after a moment.

You grab yours and Tara’s change before quickly excusing yourself from the table, almost knocking your chair over. After you leave the restaurant, your eyes scan the area, looking for your lady. It only takes you a few seconds before your eyes land on her; she’s sitting on a bench, just staring at the ground.

You jog over to her and stop when she looks up at you. Her eyes are filled with a bit of anger and a lot of hurt, and for the first time in your life, you are out of words to say. You were always overtly friendly with people and they often mistook flirting with friendliness, which seemed to be your downfall with Tara.

“Tara, I am so sorry-”

“Just take me home, Y/N,” Tara cuts you off as she stands up from the bench and walks towards your car. You followed closely behind her, and when you got to the car, you went to open the door, but she shut it and opened it herself. You were slightly startled by the action but shook it off as you made your way to the driver’s side and got it. You start the car and drive back to the apartment; tension is the only thing you two feel.

You tried to talk to Tara throughout the car ride home, but she just stayed quiet and looked out the window with her arms crossed. You knew she was mad, but you couldn’t tell why. At first, you thought it might have been because of Sadie, but you and Tara weren’t dating, so she can’t be upset about it. Plus, your heart only belonged to Tara, so you would never go for anyone else.

When you two returned to the apartment building, it was an awkward ride up to your floor. When you two stepped off the elevator, you finally spoke, “Tara, please, I’m sorry, just talk to me,” you pleaded as you followed behind the girl.

You were getting ready to usher more apologies as Tara opened her door, but you were quickly cut off when she slammed the door in your face. You were stunned at the harsh action but knocked on her door once you realized what had happened. “Tara, please. Talk to me,” you said with a defeated tone. You waited a minute before sitting on the floor and resting your back against the door, sending Tara a string of apologies and asking her how you could fix it. But you got no reply, so you closed your eyes and rested your head against the door, hoping she would open up.

You fell asleep at one point but were quickly woken up when the door opened. Tara scoffed at you before she stepped over you. You stood up after she did that and followed her down the hallway. “Tara, you have to talk to me. Tell me what I did wrong,” you pleaded as you grabbed her wrist.

She pulled her hand out of your grasp. “Leave me alone, Y/N. I'm going to a party with Chad,” she said with a voice full of anger. Your heart instantly dropped at the mention of Chad, and your face showed it.

“Why Chad?” You asked with hurt, causing Tara to stop and turn around. She noticed the hurt look on your face, and she instantly wanted to wrap you in her arms and never let go, but she refused to give in easily.

“Because, Y/N, he invited me to go with him as his date. And who knows, I might even get lucky tonight,” Tara replied as she crossed her arms. She had no intention of sleeping with Chad; she just wanted to make you jealous enough so you’ll finally make a move on her, but Tara soon found out how wrong she was.

With a defeated sigh, you slumped your shoulders and spoke with a heartbroken voice, “I didn’t know you truly felt that way towards him. I hope he gives you the world then, Tara. You deserve that kind of love. I hope you have fun tonight, and just so you know, I am so sorry and I don't want to lose you.”

When you finished talking, you gave Tara a tight-lip smile as you turned around and walked toward your apartment. You were just outside your door when you felt a tiny hand slip into yours, pulling you around. You barely have time to respond before Tara crashes her lips against yours.

You were so shocked to feel her lips against your own you just stood there like an idiot before you finally broke out in a grin and kissed her back. When you kissed her back, you felt butterflies in your stomach, and your entire body became warm the more Tara kissed you. You grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, needing to feel her body against yours. Tara parted her lips to deepen the kiss, and your knees almost buckled.

When oxygen was needed, you two pulled away, resting your foreheads together. You two could hear nothing but the sounds of each other trying to catch your breaths and the drums of your hearts. You placed one final kiss on Tara’s lips and pulled away from her. “Are you still going out with Chad?” You asked with a slight frown; you really wanted to hang out with Tara after what just happened, but you were still unsure of where you stood with her.

She laughed as she grabbed your hand and opened your apartment door. “Not a chance,” she whispered against your lips, pulling you into your apartment before closing the door.

That was four weeks ago, and today you are preparing a dinner for yours and Tara’s one-month anniversary. She told you it didn't have to be anything special, as you two would have many more months together in the future, but you insisted on doing something nice. You were cutting up some steaks in the kitchen while Tara made homemade mashed potatoes. “Do you think Sam would want any?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know. You should ask her though. I think she’s on the couch,” Tara replies as she mashes the potatoes in a saucepan. You nod at her words and head into the living room with the knife still in your hand.

Sam was lying on the couch watching tv. She wanted to stay home tonight to keep an eye on you and Tara, but she wanted to give her sister some amount of privacy.

“Hey, Sam, I'm getting ready to make some steak. Would you like some?” You ask, pulling Sam’s attention away from the tv. She leans up, and her eyes instantly land on the knife, dripping with blood. Her mind is filled with thoughts of Tara, and her body reacts before she can even think; her hands grab your arm and flips you over the couch and onto the coffee table, breaking it. She quickly takes the knife out of your hand and presses her right knee into your chest, making breathing hard for you. The action slightly turned you on, and you mentally murdered yourself for thinking that way about your girlfriend’s sister.

“What the fuck was-oh my god, Sam! Get off of her!” Tara screams as she runs into the living room, pulling Sam off your chest. You suck in some air, and Tara moves to help you up, “are you okay, love? Is anything broken?” She questions while checking over your body for any injuries.

“No, I'm okay,” you say as you stand up and look at the table, “your table isn’t, though.” Tara laughs at your comment and kisses your cheek before turning toward her sister. Her caring and loving nature was gone and replaced with anger. “Why did you do that, Sam?! Y/N was just being nice!”

Sam scoffs at Tara’s words but flinches back as Tara points the knife at her, demanding an answer. Sam reaches out and pushes Tara’s hand down, “I saw the blood on the knife and freaked out. I'm sorry, Tara,” Sam mumbled with shame.

“Don’t apologize to me; apologize to Y/N,” Tara demands, still staring at her sister.

Sam glares back at her sister before looking at you. “I'm sorry I flipped you over the couch and onto the coffee table,” Sam says with a low voice as her eyes refuse to meet yours.

“It's okay, Sam. Don’t worry about it,” you say with a smile. It really was okay with you, even though you felt slightly bad about breaking the table.

After your dangerous encounter with Sam, you and Tara return to the kitchen and finish dinner. You even made Sam a plate and brought it to her room. She thanked you as she took it, and you smiled politely as a response.

You and Tara continued having small dinners at home, followed by movie nights. She would also stay up late reading her books to you as you fell asleep. You weren’t the best at reading, but you loved the stories more than anything, and you loved them even more when Tara let you lay on her chest as she read to you.

It was game night at the Carpenter’s apartment, and the core four plus the girlfriends were over, along with Quinn, but she had a ‘male friend’ over. The six of you were playing a not-so-relaxing game of Uno when muffled screams came from Quinn’s room. The group just laughed it off, believing it was just Quinn having a really good time, but when her screams became ones of pain, and she cried for help, everyone stood up from the table and ran into the living room, staring at Quinn’s door.

The apartment had fallen into an eerie quietness that sent shivers up everyone’s spine; it was as if the temperature in the room had dropped ten degrees.

“Run,” Mindy says, but before anyone can move, the door opens, and Ghostface pushes Quinn’s body out of the door, causing it to land on Anika, knocking her to the ground.

Ghostface charges out of the room and swings his knife at Mindy, cutting her arm. You push Tara into the kitchen as you grab a bat from the corner of the room. You run towards him and quickly swing it; the sound of metal meeting bone rings throughout the apartment as he collapses onto the ground.

“Come on,” you command as you grab Tara’s hand and pull her towards the door, flinging it open as you rush everyone out of the apartment. You do a quick headcount, and when you reach head number five, you shut the door and follow everyone downstairs.

Once outside, everyone regroups with their loved ones; Anika and Chad both check on Mindy’s arm as Sam holds Tara close to her chest. You walk toward Tara and Sam, and when your girlfriend sees you, she pulls away from Sam’s grasp and throws her body at you, pulling you into a crippling hug. You smile at the contact and kiss her head, thanking all the gods that your Tara was safe in your arms.

#scream #tara carpenter #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x gn!reader #sam carpenter #anika kayoko #mindy meeks martin #jenna ortega x reader

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vapekingg · 3 months ago

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Last date

Eddie x Fem!Reader

Angst/hurt (no comfort)

Tags - divorce, successful Corroded Coffin, rockstar!Eddie

“We didn’t have to make a whole thing out of this, you know.” You unravel the silverware that’s folded up in front of you and lay the napkin that concealed them in your lap.

The Liberty Bistro, just outside of Hawkins.

You and Eddie used to treat yourselves to Liberty once in a blue moon, back when everything was so simple. He’d make a big sell or you’d pick up an extra shift at the record shop. That was back when all of your money went to rent, beer and weed. The only groceries you could afford to keep stocked were cans of ravioli and milk. Your apartment was just a little one bedroom. It was nothing compared to a glamorous tour bus or hotel rooms, but it was cozy. It was comfortable.

It was home.

That was years ago. And The Liberty Bistro hasn’t changed. It’s still a quiet little steakhouse with candles on every table. Everyone speaks in hushed tones and ambient classical music plays quietly in the background.

Everything else has changed though.

“I wanted to make a thing out of this,” Eddie says from across the table. “You deserve it. We deserve it.”

He smiles with the inflection of his words, but you can see the hurt in his dark eyes.

Eyes as dark as a lake at night, you used to get lost in them back in that little apartment. Liberty’s would take the very last of your money, not a dime left to your name, and never can you remember feeling so rich.

Eddie looks older now. He is older, you both are. You still remember him as the boyish nerd you’d fallen for when you were seventeen though, how his smile lines wrinkled when he finally asked you out and you agreed without hesitation. Everyone else sees him as someone else. A sex symbol. Hollywood’s newest rock and roll god.

You shift your eyes to the bottle of wine that’s sitting on ice at the edge of the table. Anything to avoid seeing his hurt. This was a mutual decision, after all.

Eddie clears his throat.

“Did you bring the, uh…” He waves his finger before bringing it to his mouth. An old nervous habit that you’ve been on him about for years.

The divorce papers.

You reach for them in your bag and lay them out on the table. There’s about a hundred pages here, his lawyers had insisted on it and yours a had argued with you to fight for alimony.

You didn’t want alimony. You wanted your husband.

That stack of papers sits between the two of you like an omen. It was easier to get married. The decision to get divorced didn’t come as naturally.

Eddie’s eyes hold yours for a moment, finally breaking with his resolve to glance at the end of your affair. You see the crinkle of his chin, how his bottom lip is a little red and wet from being chewed on. If only you could comfort him this time, too.

“Baby…” his voice breaks, even in a whisper.

“Eddie.” You whisper back more firmly, tears stinging your eyes now.

To be quite honest, you’re tired.

Tired of fighting the press and the record label. Tired of traveling. Tired of being alone.

You find a pen at the bottom of your bag and set it atop the stack. It doesn’t need to be that big. It’s just one signature. He purses his lips and bites back tears, but you can see them in the clench of his jaw. The flex of the veins in his neck. Eddie quiets the demons screaming at him to give it all up, to tell his managers to fuck off and stay here in Hawkins with you, and instead grabs the pen.

He signs his name across from yours. The end of your marriage.

You look up, expecting time to have turned back somehow. You wish you were still twenty years old and eloping with Eddie to the courthouse. Instead his eyes are heavier, partially because of you. Eddie is older. His hair is a little thicker and his stubble scratches your face now, or at least it did. It will the next girl. He’s on the peak of greatness, and at one point you thought you wanted to stand on that summit with him.

Now, you just want to heal. And you want him to heal, too.

“Well I guess that’s that.” You finally say.

And Eddie smiles. For your comfort, you can tell.

“That’s that.”

Hi! Just letting you all know that my requests are open for Eddie, Steve, Robin, Hopper, Billy, and Rick Sanchez. Prompt me, folks.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things fic #rockstar!eddie x reader #exhusband!eddie Munson #stranger things fanfic #stranger things angst #eddie munson angst

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izvmimi · 6 months ago

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cw: dead dove do not eat. horror. love as consumption (bad). cannibalism. true form sukuna. reader with female pronouns.

Uraume doesn’t like you, hasn’t from the very second they met you, and never will.

Uraume doesn’t like a lot of people, especially not any of the wives, and you’ve once wondered if the way that wives get disposed of when they’ve outlived their duty has anything to do with their own specific…recommendations, but it’s all moot point. All that matters is that Uraume hates you particularly, possibly because you are the favorite, but not favored concubine, and it has nothing to do with envy or malice, it’s something far deeper than that.

Uraume is actually smiling, a severe upturn of both corners of their thin lips that crinkles their eyes and looks painfully unnatural, as though imitated from a painting with minimal practice, when the heavy, padded doors that carry out your confinement finally unseal.

Light floods the dark room and blinds your eyes practically. You’re not sure what time it is; it’s been hours since you’ve been locked within these four walls, and you don’t remember the last time water or food has graced your lips. It must be over a day you think, typical of the punishments he doles out to you because despite the fact that he acts severe, in some small way he does truly dote on you. After all, it’s been a year and you’ve yet to be digested or maimed, all of your limbs present down to the fingers and toes, skin unmarred, both eyes still able to look at Uraume in the face and piss them off, lips and tongue still pleasing to the demon’s scarlet eyes and hard at work in the depths of night.

Uraume lowers their eyes as they approach you, then bows. It’s ridiculous that Sukuna makes them do this, a mockery even, because you’re both slaves to that demon’s wit and power and you know intuitively that even if Uraume is poised as subservient to you, they are of far more use and necessity than you are. Warm bodies are a dime a dozen, even if you’ve managed to convince the owner of the harem that your pussy is particularly pleasing. Either way, right now, he’s mad at you, and while you have not died, your starving stomach turns at the same time as it growls, disorganized like a thrashing tantruming child, and your brain wants to entice you to vomit, even if your mouth is watering.

Uraume thinks it’s particularly hilarious to see you like this, frenzied as the wafting smell of the food they’ve brought you hits your nostrils and they flare like a beast.

Perhaps it hasn’t been just a day. Perhaps longer. Your breathing is deep and straggled as you hold your arms around your growling stomach, and try to collect yourself into a kneeling position, lacking the strength to stand.

“Princess,” Uraume says mockingly. Sukuna does not require them to call you this, wouldn’t dare call you this in front of him, but they are doing it now grinning as they present the tray to you.

The food smells contradictorily heavenly, and you hate that such an evil human being (if you can call them that) is such a good cook. The savory aroma can practically put you in a frenzy, almost as powerful as the desire that swells up inside you when you’re filled with Sukuna’s ample presence, but you know better.

This isn’t the first time. You know better.

“Eat.”

Uraume’s tray practically drops in front of you, and you reflexively clamor towards it. An ornate assortment, dressed in red. Red wine, red meat, red, red, red. Red strawberries fed to you by candlelight as your body was stretched to the limit, palms pressed against Sukuna’s chest, pushed into your mouth, skewered by the point of a clawed finger. Sweet juices running down your chin, your slick running down the shaft of Sukuna’s cocks, saliva pooling in your drooling mouth.

You can’t eat this, but you are so, so hungry.

“Who is it?” you venture to ask, but your voice only comes out as a hoarse rasp.

Uraume snorts.

“Does it matter? You’ll still feed like a dog.”

As they berate you, you’re already hand in plate, forgoing any utensils, eating rabidly. The meat has a sweet aftertaste to it, again like the strawberries you covet from him. You gorge yourself, Uraume watching with a sneer, in part disgusted, in part entertained.

Uraume doesn’t have to remind you that the cup you use to force down the bolus of food you’ve just taken in is blood diluted thinly. The irony aftertaste is barely perceptible when you’re this ravenous. Tears run through the corner of your eyes as you continue to eat. Uraume’s food is an orgasmic experience, you’re always moved, no matter what they prepare. You’d eat by the mouthfuls, drink by the gallons if you were allowed to.

Funny how you’re only allowed this experience when you misbehave.

Uraume stands in wait as you continue to bite and chew and swallow and sigh, then shakes their head.

“Do you still want to know?” they ask finally, once the plate has been licked clean. Your face is tearstained but your belly is full, and in a couple more hours you can leave to service your master once again. As a treat.

Perhaps he’ll feed you something sweet again. Perhaps not strawberries this time, perhaps something that’s no longer red, something with a myriad of colors along with a complexity of taste. You’ve only been shrouded in darkness for the past few days after all, you’d love some light.

Now that the food is gone, you don’t want to think anymore.

“No,” you whisper, trying to contain the moroseness in your voice.

Uraume snorts.

“Remember that child you smiled at?” they start, anyway. You reflexively cover your ears and Uraume won’t force your hands down, they know you’ll hear them anyway. “In the courtyard, on your daily trip. You’re supposed to keep your eyes straight ahead, remember princess? You wanted this opportunity, didn’t you?”

You curl into a ball but Uraume would like it if you crumbled. The food was delicious, you do not have to know where it came from. He would have eaten that child anyway. It doesn’t matter if it was you. You are but part of the whole. A small part. The whole is Sukuna. The evil is him.

The smile is back on Uraume’s face - perhaps they will get that practice after all.

“I’ll be back shortly to clean you up for tonight’s service. I’ll leave the gate open. Enjoy the fresh air.”

The fact that all the food doesn’t come back up as fast as it went down is proof enough that you are no longer being reprimanded, you are being trained.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #true form sukuna x reader #cw cannibalism #cw yandere #daydreams: jjk #mimi’s notes

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dilfhos · 1 year ago

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HE’S NO DIME

TOJI FUSHIGURO X FEM!READER

inspired by [ the worst • j.aiko & basically whole ye album ]

cw;deadoves! abusive relationship, dvbc0n, alcohol, hyperfem!reader (hair done/laid, acrylics, makeup), violent threats, ass play, fingering, derogatory use of bitch, car sex, fear, baby trap, toxic toji, rough handling, toji’s really mean like borderline sadistic, toxic relationship. toji’s slightly delusional. he pulls a tool on ya (ending’s a bit rushed—wanna expand on this and dont wanna reveal tm)

+n; this turned out a wee’ whumpier than intended, trying diff things. i do not promote nor officially romanticize the acts in this fiction. if you find yourself in this situation, please try n’ exhaust every method of telling someone and leaving.

You almost didn’t register the click before the head of the barrel was pointed in your direction, trained directly in between your brows…

wc: 4.9 | MDNI.

“Don’t take it personal, but I just don’t see us…” He flicked his finger back and forth across the table. “You know.”

Under the low glow of the lights in the expansive restaurant, your face cracked but only briefly as you picked up your wine glass and looked away.

The low hum of the crowded dining room was only heard between the two of you, serving no comfort to the looming silence hung aimlessly. Fushiguro tugged awkwardly at his collar, sighing when you didn’t initially speak.

You cleared your throat after setting down your glass as you took your time to formulate a response.

“Right. So, you somehow managed to boss up because inherently you’re broke. Let's start with that. The fact that I’m actually sitting here is a miracle,” You giggled to yourself ignoring the way his lip twitched up at the corner.

If he weren’t surrounded by such a distinguished audience at the moment, you wouldn’t have gotten so far but he let you have it. You continued with a wicked upturn of your glossed lips.

“So somehow, you’ve gotten a hold of a shit ton of money. And the first thing you do is demand I ‘doll up’ for you, bring me here just to tell me I don’t mean anything to you.” He shrugged as your gaze narrowed.

“You pay your bills, Toji? Pay your debt collectors? Pay for your past exploits. You know my card is still being billed to this day! Heh, and the very first thing you want to avoid talking about is where we stand.” You jabbed a finger against the table.

“I’m tired of it. Tired of the push and pull. You’re a grown ass man! Can’t take care of yourself but want to drag me down to hell with you.”

You could go on but the more you looked at him, the more you wanted to slap the shit out of him. Your words were sharp, everything inside having been edged each time you saw him. They felt good to say but it didn’t seem like it was enough especially considering how unbothered he seemed to be across you.

“You need to stop talking now.” He deadpanned.

By now your other hand was pressed against the table, freshly manicured hands gripping into the tablecloth. It seemed your own composure was slipping to reveal more of the betrayal and resentment inside. Still, you fought through the budding sluggishness, plump lips set in a tight line as you glared back.

“Didn’t have to agree on coming if yer just gonna shit-talk me. Coulda spent my hard-earned money on a nicer bitch.” He countered.

You scoffed. “Hard-earned money my ass. You stole that shit. And like anyone would be sane enough to put up with you for as long as I have. Regardless, that’s not the point here,” You thrusted a single digit between him and yourself.

“I’m leaving and you’ll never see me again until you get your shit together.” He was silent, watching the subtle tightening of your jaw and slitted eyes.

“So you’ve clearly missed my point altogether.”

He said it so casually, igniting the fire in your gut to spread along your body. Your face burned, heat nipping at your nape and the pit of your arms as he just sat there.

Fushiguro stared back at you, not missing the twitch in your cheek with his deadpan expression. But deep down he was roused. He knew exactly what buttons to push to get a reaction out of you, make you fall apart in any sort of way because he knew exactly how it would end. You were close too, just needed a bit more of his nonchalance as you spiraled through your anger.

Your hands moved to drag down your face, only last minute remembering your makeup and opting on clipping your fingertips together in irritation.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that right.” You started moving, throwing a napkin over your barely touched meal.

Fushiguro was silent as he watched you gather your belongings. You didn’t look at him; you knew he wore that goofy expression, lips twisted up in a condescending smirk with amused eyes as you did what you’ve always done.

He only picked up his glass, eyes trailing down your body and landing on your ass as you turned off without a word, heels clacking as you maneuver around the approaching waiter toward the door. The vision of glass and the flood of richer sunlight blurred through brimming tears as you pushed through, immediately met with the subtle frost of the autumn chill.

Fushiguro watched you go and heard the distant chime of the front entrance closing behind you too. He felt alone in the middle of the restaurant surrounded by only a reminder of what he couldn’t have. He simply huffed, nudging aside his half-empty glass to go straight for the wine bottle. His other hand came up to pop open the blazer buttons, bringing forth little comfort to the heat flushing his skin.

Brazenly he choked the neck, downing the sweet taste in two, three, five gulps before slamming it down, meeting the eyes of the rich bitches to the table next to him. With a toothy grin he stood, fisting out wadded, striped bills from his pocket to throw down before eventually heading out, a wobble in his steps.

Met with the cool air, his head cocked to the side to see you at the far end of the sidewalk in front of the building, pacing with slow steps as you talked into your phone. You didn't look his way, didn’t seem to notice even as he headed in the direction of his vehicle.

Both of you knew you didn’t have a ride, being that he was the one who wanted to bring you. He chose this far-out location specifically, knowing something like this would happen. That you’d try to run from him, call up one of your childhood boys to come and try to intimidate him.

More of the sleek black SUV came into view as he unlocked the door, immediately awakening the car with a low hum from the fob. He got in and sat in silence, eyes trained on you through the mirror. You were looking towards the entrance now, probably still waiting for him to walk out. To grab you up. To apologize and offer to take you home, make it up to you just like the prince concocted preciously in your deluded mind would.

He enjoyed the anger on your features as you brought your phone back in front of your face, tapping the screen angrily before shaking your head.

Fushiguro shrugged out of his coat, flinging it behind him. He then put his car in reverse and began backing out of the parking space. You didn’t notice the hulking vehicle stalking up beside you until he rolled his window down.

“Get in.”

“Fuck off Toji,” He laughed and leaned over, engine revving in succession. “I'm so serious. Leave me alone.”

You spun in the opposite direction, waking up your phone again to call another car. Anything to get away from him.

Starting back toward the warmth of the restaurant, a sudden snarl of the car ripped through the lot, startling you. He skidded backwards and had you stumbling as he jerked the vehicle to a stop. You knew well enough that he couldn’t hit you on the sidewalk, but something deep inside told you if given the opportunity, he’d run you down with no hesitation.

Witnesses be damned, he’d skip town, leaving you behind altogether like nothing.

The car door slammed shut and Fushiguro emerged from the side growing bigger in sight until he loomed over your body. You realized he’d taken his tuxedo coat off in the car, the white button down snug over a bulging frame. His hands flexed, clenching and unclenching as he blinked narrowed eyes toward the other passerbys.

“Get in the car. Why’re you making a scene?” He muttered getting closer to you.

“I don’t want to be around you right now. I’m tired of you playing me,”

“Don’t be stupid. Just get in the car. We can talk about it,” he gripped your wrist and you attempted to jerk him off.

“Let go of me.”

“Don’t push me.” He warned.

“Or what? I’ll be replaced?” You shrugged him off again and he let you. “Woe to me. Go home Toji. I'm calling a cab.” Before you could bring your phone to your ear, he snatched it away. You couldn’t get a word out as he spun on a heel and stalked toward his car wordlessly, the sound of the door slamming following. You gaped after him, eyes flickering about the audience your interaction drew.

They whispered among each other and your cheeks burned as you followed him, cutting around to the passenger side. You flung open the door.

“Toji please give me my phone so I can call someone to get me. We don’t have to keep doing this and I’ll be gone.” Your voice remained calm as you bit back the tremble.

You almost didn’t register the click before the head of the barrel was pointed in your direction, trained directly in between your brows. Black swallowed the olive specks in his eyes, pupils seeming to pulsate under his leveled gaze.

“Get in the car baby.”

…

The ride started quiet as he turned out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Your body was pressed toward your side of the vehicle, away from him as you stared out the window.

Until your sight turned rural, the familiar scene of the apartment complexes that surrounded yours parting into spaced treelines. You snapped your head to face him, his expression unreadable as he continued driving.

“Take me home.” You glared a hole through his temple but he didn’t register your demand. Only strummed his finger against the steering wheel as he stared at the road, humming to the low faded music playing.

“I'm serious. I never want to see you again. I want you to take me home.” You shoved his arm hard, earning a faux surprised expression as he gaped at you. “Take me home now, Toji.”

“Okay, okay relax. Just sit there and be pretty, yeah?”

“Screw you.”

He laughed again, foot quickly pounding the pedal as you jerked forward, yelping as the revving grew louder in your ears. The scenery whipped through the window blowing cold air along your body.

“What are you doing!”

“We’re going home right? ‘M taking you home, we’re juss getting there faster.” He chuckled darkly, tongue laving over his scar as he glanced over at you. The way your wide, glassy eyes stared back, a hand clutching your door and the other in your lap. His eyes flickered up and down your body, eyeing the heave of your chest behind the strappy bodice of your dress as he only inched his foot lower.

“You’re gonna kill us!”

“Till death do we part.” Toji only grinned as his hand clutched the wheel, ignoring the way you gawked at him. Tears sprung fresh in your eyes as you clutched yourself, hair wild as it whipped around you through the wind. You clawed at the strands sticking to your gloss as your other moved to the handle instinctively.

“What, you gonna jump out at ninety-eight miles per hour? I’d love to see you try it sweetheart!” He roared in boisterous laughter, the taunting noise loud over the buzz of the engine, swirling aimlessly around your fuzzy mind.

“Please,” He turned again at your whimper, noticing the trembling in your chin as you bit your lip. In the passenger seat, you looked pathetic. Not at all the big bad attitude you personified publicly just an hour before as you stared at him disgusted.

Instead you’re cowering against the door, fear etched all over your face. “Stop it. I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry.”

He eased his foot up until the car came to a crawl. When he stopped, it was quiet again, save for the anklet jingling against your shaking legs and subtle breaths.

You only met his eye for a second before you flicked the lock, jumping out as you ignored the way your leg buckled onto the soft ground.

You whipped your head around, the treelines gone completely to the highway surrounded by mountains and country space. Straight ahead was a bar before the plunging drop of the hill you were standing on. Stumbling back against the door you start to circle around the car toward the road.

“What are you doing? You wanted to talk so let's talk!” You waved him off as bleary eyes scanned both directions. Toji sighed, leaving the driver side to go to the backseat. He situated himself comfortably against the new leather, relishing in the subtle fan of fresh heat coming from the vents as you frantically searched for another car. He popped the buttons of his sleeves and collar before groaning to roll the window down.

“Get in or I’ll leave you out here. I’ll throw you off the fuckin’ ledge and no one will find you. You want that?” He leaned further when you looked back, lips agape. “Then get in the damn car.”

You shivered again against the bite of the evening, now painfully aware of the darkening sky and desolate surroundings. Your arms crossed, internally regretting the bodycon you wore, feeling exposed and idiotic as you looked back and forth between the highway. A single car hadn’t passed in the moments you’d been standing there and when you peered back toward Fushiguro, you knew it was exactly what he’d been betting on.

“I just wanna go home,” you whined, lifting a sinking heel from the earth. You nearly stumbled and Fushiguro huffed at your composure.

“I'm gonna take you home. Will you get in the car? Please, woman?” His speech was slow, emphatic as he dragged it out. As if he didn’t go through the trouble putting the two of you in the very predicament.

You turned, a pout on your face as you defeatedly made your way to the other side of the car, giving another forlorn look to the road, hoping that maybe headlights would flood the asphalt. Instead you made sure to slam his backdoor behind you, hard.

He didn’t flinch. He just watched closely as you scooted the furthest you could away from him.

It was eerily quiet, your sniffles heard over the hum of the vents.

“Why do you hate me,” you eventually whimpered, head lolling against the back of the passenger headrest. Even though he turned the heat on you shivered erratically, exhaustion beating its way through your static body.

“Because it pisses me off when you spout about shit you know nothing about. You don’t know what I do. What I can do.”

Not that he didn’t hate you. Not that the very accusation was absurd given everything the two have been through; what he’d put you through. What you’d done for him and who you became to appease the insatiable hunger that was Fushiguro.

You slumped back against the door at his response as your eyes flickered to the metal on his thigh. He followed your gaze before lifting it to make a show of turning it over. You jerked your knees back as he leaned toward the front seat to shove it in the glovebox with a snicker. He sat back, closer and he slung his arm against the back of the seats.

“So,” he waved a hand toward you. “Y’gonna talk?”

“You gonna hurt me if I try?” You mumbled half-heartedly.

“I will if you push me.” His face was dark before he grinned. “Kidding, baby. I would never do anything to hurt you. I lo-” He stopped himself, clearing his throat.

“Just need to stop acting out. I do shit my way. And tha’s that. Nothin’ to it.” He ignored the downturn of your lips, obviously disatisfied.

“Then I’ll go,”

“You won’t.” He countered definitively. He inched closer watching your shrink into the door.

“I’ll run away. And you’ll never find me.”

“I’ll hunt you down b’fore you could even think of tryin’.” He leaned in.

“To-mmf!” He had your head shoved against the window, a hand against the headrest to hold his weight. The other was furled in the roots at the crown of your head as his tongue shoved past your lips, licking at your thrashing tongue. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails sinking into his nape as you subtly bucked back. But there was nowhere to go. He pulled away, eyeing your state.

The makeup he’d assume you worked so hard on was fucked up, mascara smeared beneath wet eyes, lashes clumped with fat tear drops. Your nose was puffy and if he looked closer, he could make out the bit of moisture beneath, evidence of your crying. Your lipgloss was smudged, smearing opaque brown across swollen lips above a trembling chin.

And he couldn’t find anything worth more staring at.

“Wanna be a good girl now?” He huffed, eyes training down your body when you stopped moving. The dark dress was taut against your body, snatching subtle curves and accentuating your figure. It was hiked unintentionally up your leg and he slid a wide palm over your thigh to reveal more skin. Thighs snapping closed, you whimpered as his eyes jerked to yours.

“What? Don’t wanna make it all better? ‘S all your fault y’ know.” He sneered, shrinking to his side of the backseat.

You sat up and straightened your dress, palming back the hair you knew he messed up in his handling. “I didn’t do anything Toji. You’re just insane,”

He scoffed. “You been fucking with me all night. Didn’t have to take you out at all,”

“All I asked was what we were.” Silence. He imstead snarled out his window, eyes darting around the dark scene outside before starting.

“Not gonna be the man you want me to be. Take it or leave it. I don’t care if you cry, you stay, you leave— If that’s what you really want.”

“It is.”

“Yeah?” He grinned as he finally looked at you. And really looked at you.

Beneath his scrutinized gaze you straightened the best you could, eyes narrowed. But deep down Fushiguro knew you weren’t going anywhere. He’s had nights worse than this and seemed to always know exactly what to do to bring it back.

You could spout your absence and threaten him all you wanted. Take a few days, take a month even to recuperate, he’d implore you! The more time he’d give you, the easier it was to come crawling back with some half-assed explanation as to why he needed comfort, why he needed you in his life. Your hopeless devotion was something he’d been picking at from the beginning. Since he met you, little by little he revealed more layers of how much you’d tolerate and how far he could push.

Even now, as he licked his lips, bloodshot eyes glinting beneath the light post, he saw your eyes dart away as you began to shift around uncomfortably.

“Thought so. Now c’mere. On my lap…that’s it baby,” He cooed as you begrudgingly crossed the space to situate yourself awkwardly on his legs. You kept your eyes down to his chest.

“Look at me.” When you didn’t, Fushiguro slid his hand around your head to palm your nape. You whimpered as your face was brought closer to his. “Yer gonna be good f’me now?” He cooed.

“Answer me when I speak to you. Or yer still thinkin’ of leaving, hm?” His other hand crept up your shin, traveling to slide beneath your dress and rest on your hip. When you still didn’t respond he grinned.

“Open your legs, lemme see how wet she is f’me,” You still weren’t acting fast enough for his liking, earning the handling on your knees as he roughly spread you himself. Calloused thumbs dug into the plush of your thighs as he got a sight of pussy deeply outlined by your panties, lacy material sticking to fatty wet lips.

“Drooling. Look at ’er.” You whimpered as mashed his thumb against your slit, bearing no tenderness as his eyes flickered to your expression.

“Toji-”

“Shut up.” He snapped. “I let you speak enough in the restaurant. And you didn’t wanna answer me now. So stop fuckin’ talkin or I’ll hurt you, seriously.”

“Make yerself useful and pull that fucking dress up. Matter fact—Take it off, yeah. Here,” He shoved away your sluggish hands, yanking the fabric over your head as it tussled your hair. His hands trailed up your back as he drank in your dazed expression. Your lips parted to speak.

“What. Wanna complain s’more?” Nails dug into your scalp as your head was jerked to the side, meaty fingers curled in your locks. Fushiguro’s hips bucked, knocking your legs apart again as he skillfully shoved the crotch of the lace to the side. His fingers flicked up against your clit, as he dove forward with teeth bared, attacking your neck feverishly. His canines scraped over the prominent bone of your collar before digging in.

“That…that hurts,” His grip was gradually tightening on your hair as he started stroking your weeping cunny. Even so, your hips dragged, sensitivity ever growing as you smeared your arousal along his pants. He plunged two of his fat fingers into your cunt, make your body arch into him.

You didn’t know where to put your hands, mind still hazy and you were unsure of what to do. Adrenaline and alcohol coursed through, the building of the evening's events spilling out through the eventual shy tugging of his belt.

“Please,”

“What? Daddy didn’t quite catch that.” His hand stilled, palms slickened with the juices he was drawing from you.

“Won’t say nothin’ anymore. Don’want you to be mad—Don’t want you to be rough,” you rushed, trembling hands stroking the sides of his neck.

“Shoulda thought of that before shooting your mouth off.” He took over, hands flying to tug at the leather from the loops. You lifted slightly for him to shove his pants around trunked thighs, practically drooling to see he wasn’t wearing anything beneath. His heavy cock sat against his thigh, chucky in width and long enough to split you a gape.

Under your gaze, it jumped excitingly and ignited the assault of fluttering in your tummy. His hand jerked to regain your attention, the other hand fisting his dick with a couple languid strokes.

“Should fuck your brains out and leave you here,” He leaned forward capturing your nipple in his mouth, the edge of his teeth grinding against the swollen bud. “Uhnn, th-that, Toji!”

His tongue lashed over the indents before releasing your tit with a wet smack.

“Want my dick baby?” You nodded as best you could in his grip, soreness budding in your neck from the angle as hands sooth down his chest to pop open the rest of his buttons.

“Eager now? Thought ya wanted to leave,” he chucked. You ignored him, hands sliding beneath the flaps of his open shirt. You palmed his chest, his heart beating beneath prominent pecs as your fingered grazed his nipples, making him grunt.

His hand stuck against your ass like a crisp snap as you shimmied. “Yeah, keep that ass moving.”

Your acrylics clawed at his neck as you grounded your hips, whining as you frantically tried to move and appease him. It still didn’t stop another blow before he smashed the globes of your ass together, using them to roughly thrust you along his cock, his arousing leaking from his slit.

“Fuck, look at you slut. Can’t enough of me huh,” He huffed, rutting up his hips and groaning at the friction.

He tore your panties to the side again, using the skinny strap to prop against the side of your ass.

He had arm wrapped to lift you and shove you down on his monstrous length as a sob racked through your body.

His elongated groan echoed in the steamy car with your cry as you lifted slightly, cunt spasming around his puffy tip. He shoved you back down completely before his hand struck your ass again.

Your hand slammed against the hood, the other against the window, feeling the wetness of the steam through your palm. You threw your head back, the tug in your tummy satiated through his hands, through the way his dick massaged your ridged walls, thick head bumping against the fatty hole of your cervix. His hands trailed around your sticky skin, palming your tits and allowing you to take over, thighs flexing as you rode him.

“Look so good, princess. Taking my dick, I might forgive ya,”

“I hate you,” You cried, as though to somehow ease the way his fingers pinched cruelly at your nipples. Tears streamed down your cheeks, blurring the image of him grinning in your face. He brushed away the spilling tears, thumb trailing sloppily over your swollen lips.

“I know,” he pressed it past them, dragging the corner of your mouth to reveal your teeth. You resisted the alarming urge to bite him until he thrusted it deeper against your tongue, choking you.

His cock snapped up, balls slapping your ass as his thick veins scrubbed your gummy walls. You couldn’t help but drool and squeal, face slack and shiny with sweat and dirty tears ran down your face, makeup utterly ruined. He pulled his thumb out before muttering, “I know, tell me again sweetheart.”

His hands slid down to pull apart the fats of your ass as his dick drilled deeper, middle finger pressed against the opening of your hole between them.

“I-” A wolfish grin split his face as you visibly shivered when he pressed deep, the pad nearly disappearing inside. He knew exactly where you liked it, what switch to turn on, where to poke and prod. It’s what had you coming back for more. Begging more more. And he’d give it to you, always, even if you had to drag it out of him.

“God, I hate you Toji…Fushiguro. Wish I never met you!” At your blubbering, his hands snaked around your waist, gathering both wrists behind you at the small of your back under a large palm. Your head fell behind you against the driver seat, back arched as he had you trapped in the new and limiting position.

Fushiguro’s hips continued to flex, cock tearing through your little cunt as you bounced on his lap. His other hand gripped at your ass cheek, pulling it away before delivering another smack.

He growled at your fucked-out composure, relishing in the arch of of body as your tits bounced in his vision. His balls tightened as more and more of your whining grew broken and more incoherent.

“Can’t—Can’t hold it! ‘m gonna cum! Gonna,” He leaned forward, restricting your movements to keep you from squirming.

“Look a’me. We’re gonna cum together, yeah?”

Your eyes glossed briefly before you tugged your arm half-heartedly. He scooted forward, thick thighs unrelenting as they thrusted upward. He didn’t miss a beat even when you began writhing on his lap, the sound of sicky pap pap paps! quickening as it filled the car.

“Wait-Wait…can’t nut in me. Toji ‘member I stopped—”

“-Shh it’s okay, I wanna start a family,” Your lips snapped shit as you froze and he grinned, continuing. “‘Mma make you a mommy how’s that sound? You want me so fucking bad, I’mma keep you forever. Surprise, baby.”

He let you wrench free from his hands this time, knowing you weren’t fit for the strength needed to crawl away from him. His heels dug into the floor and he bucked off the seat, car creaking as hands falling to your hips.

“‘M gonna fill you up. Yer gonna take my fuckin’ load bitch. Yer gonna be my little trophy wife and ‘mma stuff my seed into this pussy. ‘Nd yer gonna give me a little bastard, honey,” Spit flew around gritted teeth as nails clawed your skin, words tumbling out unfiltered.

He didn’t care to hide it at his point, you’d been provoking him all night. He wanted to let it go, wanted this night to be the closest thing to a peaceful dinner the two of you had. Through the fiery arguments budded a deeper emotion he couldn’t describe but all he knew is you had him wrapped around your finger and he had you gripped with all of his. Fushiguro didn’t want to admit it to you but his feelings were intense, an ever growing storm swirling within him as much as he tried to stuff it down, to push you away entirely.

But you had to go and run your fucking mouth.

“Stoppit, I shit…You can’t! You scratched at his hands, twisting your body away from him.

“Shut up! Fuck just…shhh baby. Ya can’t stop me.” He growled, holding you flush against his heated body as his hips stuttered. They twitched against your thighs as his cock throbbed inside your walls, hot thick cum spilling into your cunny.

You cried out, fingers yanking at his sweaty locks, cunt involuntarily twitching around his girth.

“Toji!”

Your name spilled out at the same time, muffled into the curve of your neck. Your palms pressed against his chest to push him away but he countered with precision, thick limbs wrapping around your arms as he sat back against the seat to pull you into his chest.

“Yer mine now, ‘s what ya wanted.” He grinded his hips slowly, thrusting his spilling, warm nut back into you.

It was a second layer when you stilled, defeated as your chest heaved against his in a silent sob, sticky cum leaking around your thighs. His dick jumped around inside you as he nuzzled your neck with his lips.

“Now you can’t go nowhere baby, I’ve made sure of it. We’re gonna go home now and yer gonna be good for’me right?”

DILFOS. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE MY CONTENT—CURRENT OR ARCHIVAL.

#toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro x black reader #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro x you #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen toji #[ output—☆ ]#angelshubnetwork #planeto🪐#bitchcraftinc

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pinkanonwrites · 5 months ago

Note

Optimus finds out about the minibot human fucker club and is like “😢 you didnt invite me? Is it cause I’m too tall?” And now their boss is trying to share those dollar store wine mom novels with them

Bumblebee is just like: D:

Powerglide probably reads them so he and Astoria can have a mini book club together

The imagery of the Minibots trying to have a meeting only for Optimus to peek through the doorway with a sad expression and drooped finials, clutching a paperback bodice-ripper with a chiseled, shirtless man on the cover is SO FUNNY to me. He's got no idea why he wasn't invited to the club. The Minibots thought Oppy would scold them if he found out this is how they were spending their off-time.

Meanwhile Astoria is reading her dime novel of choice while perched in the lap of her precious Powerglide, giggling to herself every time he gets flustered while reading over her shoulder.

#transformers #transformers x reader #x reader #valveplug #tf generation one #powerglide x astoria #tf headcanons #pink chat #anon #maccadam #suggestive #nsft

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hadassah4ever · 7 months ago

Text

lukas matsson x f!reader smut

warnings: decent age gap, reader has no survival instincts for plot convenience, no protection, and the fact that i haven’t written smut in such a long time, i feel like it’s not the best, but 👍👍

word count: 1,430

minors dni pls

The night was frankly, very boring.

Strolling around and seeing the art pieces that made you realize that you might’ve flushed $50,000 down the drain, but at least you got some good complimentary cocktails and horderves.

“You look bored out of your mind.” A man whispered in your ear from behind, almost making you look like a cat jumping away from a cucumber.

“I don’t like this bullshit… ‘cum on a canvas and call it a painting’ stuff either, it’s emotionle—“

“Technically it’s eliciting emotions from you by making you hate it. But maybe that’s just the art school in me.” You shrugged, turning to see a tall, blonde haired blue eyed man.

“Arts school? On daddy’s dime, huh?” He teased. “I wish.” You softly chuckled, shaking your head.

“Hm. Not a rich girl?” He asked. “I would’ve thought you were. Normally poor people don’t throw $50,000 into the trash like that.” He joked. “I have passion! I’m a starving artist!” You replied, softly chuckling and playfully rolled your eyes, not too offended at his teasing. “How’d you get in here? No offence, but I thought that looking at usele— very… meaningful, modern art was a rich person thing?” He asked, seeming genuinely more curious than insulting or gatekeepy, like most of the people here.

“They invited a student with a referral from their professor. And I was referred by my professor.” You answered. “What an insult.” He joked, you tried to shake your head and jokingly roll your eyes to dodge all of the tiny comments that made you slowly realize more and more you should’ve gone to business school, like your cousin.

“You just hate my future profession, don’t you?” You teased back. “Well, it’s the job that makes parents slowly nod and say ‘ahhh…’, so.” He shrugged, a smug smile on his face like he knew you were gonna laugh. “Ugh, I hate how true that is. I just wanna get out of here as soon as possible. It’s not boring, just terrifying.”

“You could get out of here with me.” He quickly replied, realizing he sounded way too eager. “I don’t even know your name.” You replied, coyly smiling. “Is that the only thing stopping you?” He asked. You shrugged. “I’m Lukas Matsson.” He spoke. “Now, do you wanna leave?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully and chuckle at that. He was cornier than he let on.

“You intrigue me. Sure.” You don’t think he’d have the gall to murder you or something after being so chatty in the decency crowded gallery, so what did you really have to lose?

You knew something was up when he rubbed your knee in the car. And the way he kept glancing at your tits. And giving you “fuck me” eyes.

“You’re alright with coming to my apartment right? No pressure.” He spoke, not seeming to just be covering his bases, but actually not putting too much pressure on you. “Sure, what else do I have to lose?” You joked, he softly smirked and told the driver his address.

You should’ve been aware about the fact that he could’ve been rich, but he dressed so casually, and not just the “hello fellow peasants, I am like you” kind of casual the way most rich people dress, but he was in a really nice part of town.

——

“Down for some random wine that people give me?” He asked, going into his wine cabinet, using his fingers to browse through several wines that would probably be a month's worth of rent for you, at the very least. “Gonna wine and dine me before taking me to pound town?” You joked, and as you silently cursed yourself for saying “pound town”, he chuckled.

“No, I’m just gonna wine you.” He answered, catching you off guard but still enjoying the banter. “So pound town is a non negotiable?” You joked. “Nah, we can negotiate that.” You didn’t know if he really cared this much about your consent or if he was just not trying to catch a case, maybe both, but you’d take it anyways. So far, he cared more about your consent than any person you’ve been with beforehand. Maybe you’d need to sign an NDA.

“I mean, if it’s a good journey to pound town, then I agree, but if I’m just gonna be a vessel, no thanks.” You teased, he softly laughed, picking out a bottle of wine and standing up. “I’ll make sure it’s enjoyable then.”

“Then I’m definitely aboard.” You softly chuckled, glancing at the ground and then glancing back up, Mattsson standing right in front of you, immediately leaning forward and kissing you, placing the bottle of wine on the marble counter with a soft clink.

His hands squeezed your ass, his semi-hard cock grazing against you, his hand found his way to your clit, rubbing it in somewhat rough circles, before stopping and his hand diving into your underwear, his slim fingers opening up your folds and feeling around for your slick, satisfied he grumbled a quiet, “So fuckin’ wet for me.”

“Could we move to the sofa?” You softly asked, snapping him out of his own head. “Huh? Oh yeah.” He answered, both of you scrambled to his couch, as you laid down, he placed his head between your thighs, his hands held your hips before his fingers dipped underneath the fabric of your panties, pulling them off your legs.

“You don’t seem like the guy who’s ready to eat a girl out at a moment's notice.” You flirtatiously teased, he paused for a second before breaking the brief silence with, “Not just any girl.” A similarly teasing smile but a slight, genuine look in his eyes.

That really shut you up, as you leaned back down, his mouth softly sucking your clit, his tongue and lips working together, his fingers moved around as he tried to find your entrance, quickly finding it, they dove in. You tried to resist the urge to clamp your thighs around his head, his beard softly scratching you as he ate you out, throwing your head back and moaning, you shut your eyes hard.

He was too damn good at this.

Within a few minutes he had you softly moaning about how you were about to cum, his mouth worked harder and his fingers thrusted in and out of you quicker, having you unravel faster than you ever have, he still worked his mouth and fingers even when your thighs squeezed the sides of his face, having you shaking.

He quickly pulled his head away from your core, the imprint of his cock ready to burst out from his boxer briefs. He slid them off quickly and you were a bit wary, his size was definitely gonna teeter on uncomfortable, and it was probably gonna stretch you a bit, little veins running up it, the pink tip leaking already. He opened your knees up once again and lined himself up with your entrance, “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable, ‘kay?” He spoke, after you nodded he slowly eased himself inside of you and to your surprise and delight, his size actually worked well fully inside of you.

“It’s good?” He asked, trying to suppress a groan. “Amazing.” You answered, he nodded and started to thrust inside of you, his cock curving upwards and hitting the deep, pleasurable bits inside you, he grunted and moved his fingers to your clit again, his hand resting on your pelvis as his thumb worked in circles, getting into the rhythm of it, he was eventually pounding into you, now using both of his hands to keep himself steady.

It was like a haze surrounded you, gripping onto his couch cushions and arching your back warned him of your impending orgasm, he noticed your inability to just sit still and take his cock, his hands pushed your hips down and continued to nail into you relentlessly, without any further notice, you constricted and finished around him, your breathing became shaky and every limb in your body felt like it was vibrating as he pulled out and came on your stomach, an impressive amount of warm cum hitting just underneath your belly button. His face looked like he just met god and his breathing became shaky as yours started to even out.

“Jesus.” He spoke under his breath. “Hardly anyone has been able to take me like that.” He muttered.

“Might have to pay for your tuition.” He added, in a tone you didn’t know whether or not it was a joke.

Maybe it wasn’t.

——

a/n: lukas definitely has feelings for the reader and i’d be willing to maybe add onto this if enough people want that.

#lukas matsson x reader #lukas mattsson x reader #succession x y/n #succession x you #succession x reader #alexander skarsgard x reader

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ughthisisntright · 1 year ago

Text

Lap of Luxury | Sugar Daddy!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: As a young woman without much income, a joke of a job, and an unfortunately expensive taste, your curiosity one evening leads to a string of events far out of your control.

Warnings: Age gap (reader is 23, Bradley is 40), suggestive themes (no smut), fluff

Word Count: 4,635

“Babe,” your best friend slurred. “You need to get on Seeking Arrangements! These guys- they just buy you stuff! And give you money!”

Another conversation about your not-so-much of an income, splitting a bottle of wine with your best friend, and her insistence on helping you has devolved into this. Discussing a sugar daddy arrangement from a site for older folks. You couldn't imagine a worse way to spend your night.

“Aren't they, like, old?” You ask with a sneer. Your friend just laughs it off.

“And rich!” She squeals. “You’d never have to work another shitty job again! C’mon just try it!” She grabbed your phone from you and fumbled with it to download the app.

“Ugh, what’s your password?” She showed you the screen where the app store was asking. You hesitate before typing it in and allowing her to do the rest.

“Okay first thing’s first,” she places her hand on your knee, mostly to steady herself. “Never use your real name. So you're going to be…”

She starts typing on the phone, probably using her galaxy brain to come up with something truly brilliant. And by brilliant, that means ridiculous.

“Genevieve,” she states finally. You don't hate the name, but it's not yours. You made a mental note to change it when you're sober. “Everything else will be the same. And…”

She starts scrolling through your camera roll. You'd have freaked out but really, there wasn't anything there she hasn't seen already. She taps on a photo of you she took a week ago at a vineyard the two of you had visited (on her dime) and handed your phone back to you,

“Voilà! Welcome yo Seeking Arrangements,” she grinned at you. You looked down at your profile and sighed.

“Now what?” You ask flatly.

“Find someone!”

“How? I don't know how to use this!”

“Ugh, you're so boring sometimes…”

Thus began a hunt for the “perfect man” to fund your broke self’s habits. It was all a drunken blur from there, and you passed out on your couch after about two hours of playing around on the app. You had no idea there were so many men willing to give their money away to young women with no regard. But it was working out in your favor.

You woke up the next day with a pounding hangover, cottonmouth and your phone on 5% battery. Your friend was nowhere to be found - as usual after drinking binges like that. You mentally kicked yourself for allowing it to go this far but, realistically, you didn't care to go into work today anyway.

A quick text to your boss and a shaky walk to your bedroom to plug your phone in preceded your chug-fest in the kitchen. Drinking straight from the tap wasn't fast enough, but it would suffice. You groaned as you finished gorging yourself on your borderline acceptable tap water, went to the cabinet, and pulled out your bottle of painkillers. You popped two extra strength tablets and washed them down with yet another healthy gulp of water.

You walked back to your bedroom and laid in the quiet dark on your bed. Just as you closed your eyes, your phone buzzed. Once, then twice. You pick it up to see you have missed messages from men on that confounded Seeking Arrangements app. You groan and set the phone down again, remembering just how horribly drunk you got last night. Drunk and stupid, it seemed. You hear another buzz and pick up the phone in frustration, unlocking it and then scrolling through the messages and threads you'd started last night.

Genevieve. What a stupid name. You quickly changed it to your name and kept scrolling through. You deleted many of the threads, only stopping on a few men who were even remotely close to your age bracket. All tech startup guys with nothing better to do than wine and dine young women into their panties. Typical.

You’re about to delete the app when you see one face in particular that doesn't piss you off like the rest. You open your conversation from the night before to find it was pleasant, not sexually charged, and genuine. You smile briefly before clicking his profile picture. He’s handsome, too handsome. What’s the catch?

You open his profile to see his age, what he does, and where he is. He’s forty, lives nearby in San Diego, and is an aviator for the Navy. The military thing would have been a turn off if the conversation you’d had didn't look so… refreshing. You scroll to see his net worth - nearly one million. Unheard of among these other men. He must be well-off.

You scroll more and see he’s very close by. A block away. You excitedly - but cautiously - type a message to him.

You: So sorry, I fell asleep. I think it's wild you’re still single at your age. How doesn't that mustache pull women nowadays?

You bite your lip and quickly turn the brightness down on your phone, the blue light making your migraine worse. You see him typing and your heart flutters.

You can't believe this is happening. How did you let your friend talk you into this? Were you crazy? Desperate? Or just lonely? You watched the bubbles on screen appear and disappear as the man on the other side of the screen typed his response to you.

The self-loathing part of your brain told you he was figuring out how to turn you down gently. Tell you you're too young for this, to go find someone your own age, chase your dreams, and whatever other sentiments he could think of. You wanted to hear it, but you also didn't. This was all too much.

Until it wasn't.

Bradley Bradshaw: No worries, sweetheart. I see you're nearby - let me come get you and treat you to brunch. Mimosas?

You stood outside your apartment with your cutest outfit on, though to someone like Bradley, it could be considered… revealing. You didn’t have much, hence the entire reason your friend had convinced you to join that stupid app in the first place. Regardless, you stood waiting for Bradley to come pick you up for your impromptu brunch date.

Could you even call it a date?

Your mind swam as you stared down at the photo of him on the app. He was handsome, yes. You just weren’t sure if this made you one of those gold-digging, shallow women who you were sure were all over this app. He looked as though he’d spent a lifetime laughing, living. The wrinkles you could see that weren’t airbrushed out of this photo seemed deeply set. A good sign that he wasn’t as stuffy as some of the other guys you’d apparently spoken to.

Was this just a giant ass mistake?

What if he was just another one of these guys looking to fuck a younger woman and then give her some hush money? Or even expensive gifts in lieu of hush money? You didn’t want to be the dumb trophy on some older man’s arm. And that was when it hit you - you actually liked Bradley. It was just a small crush, of course, you’d hardly known him. Hardly even spoken to him. But from the little interaction you’d had he seemed like the genuine article.

Before you could psych yourself out any more, you heard the low rumble of a classic car getting closer. You popped your head up to see a bright blue classic Ford Bronco headed your way. Your eyes lit up - having an affinity for classic cars - and you simply prayed that this was Bradley coming to get you.

The car came to a stop right in front of you, and the aforementioned Bradley was looking out the window at you with a grin. He pulled his aviators down the bridge of his nose and looked you in the eyes. A genuine kind of look on his face that had you melting inside.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said kindly. “Are you ready to go?”

You nodded wordlessly and shoved your phone into your small purse. Bradley jumped out of the Bronco and approached you. He was incredibly tall, compared to you, and he didn’t have this dominating presence that you kept thinking he would have. No, he was like a giant teddy bear - someone you could imagine curling up with at the end of the day and getting nothing but hugs and kisses from.

“You’re even more adorable than that picture on the app, you know,” he tilted his head sweetly to one side. Your cheeks flushed a bright red, though you weren’t sure if he would notice.

“I-I’m happy I’ve surpassed expectations,” you croaked. “God, I’m sorry-” He chuckled and shook his head.

“I’m nervous, too, sweetheart,” he admitted kindly. “Let’s get to where we’re going and we can be nervous together.” He took your hand and led you to the passenger side of the Bronco. He opened the door for you and helped you get up into the seat. He waited until you were situated before closing the door and walking coolly to the other side and getting into the driver’s seat.

“I hope you don’t mind. I chose a more secluded spot than I normally would,” Bradley admitted as he pulled away from the curb. “Not because I’m embarrassed, but just because I’d hate to have people I know giving me shit.”

“I completely understand,” you say softly. “I would die if someone I knew saw me doing this… Whatever this is.”

“I’d say we can put off putting a label on it until we’re sure, yeah?” Bradley looked over at you with a smile. “No pressure, no fakery, no stress.”

“I love the sound of that,” you said sweetly, looking at him with a smile.

Soon, you arrived at a small brunch joint on the outskirts of the city. Bradley had assured you he’d never seen his buddies here, and you assured him that your friends are too broke to afford this kind of place. Sharing a laugh, Bradley cuts the engine and gets out of the Bronco. He walks to your side and helps you out before linking your arm with his.

“I’ll treat you right, okay?” He said sweetly as he walked you in. You only smiled in response and allowed him to lead you inside. He gave his last name coolly to the hostess and she ushered the two of you to a more private booth at the back of the restaurant. Bradley pulled your chair out for you and let you sit first. What a gentleman. He took his seat across from you and removed his aviators.

Those eyes were mesmerizing. Beautiful brown that you swore had little flecks of gold in them. You could get lost in those eyes if you weren’t careful, so you quickly picked up the small menu and looked it over. Yikes. You for sure wouldn’t be able to afford this.

“So, I can tell this is not something you usually do,” Bradley said softly. “Me neither, if I’m honest.”

“Honestly? My friend made me do it. We were… Drinking last night. And she convinced me this would be a good idea.” You admitted candidly. “I didn’t know what to expect.

“Hah! Sounds exactly like what my friend did to me,” he admitted right back. “I forgot the app even existed until you messaged me last night. Then, I just got this… feeling. Like, if I let this slip by, I’d regret it the rest of my life.”

“Hence, why we’re sitting here having brunch together,” you finish for him. “I have to admit, Bradley, you don’t seem like the type to go for… younger women. You’re mature, put together, and seem like a zero-bullshit guy.”

“Yeah, well, the Navy sort of beats that into you,” he laughs softly. “Women are usually deterred by the military thing. They automatically think you’re looking to get married, or they think you’re active duty and are going to lose you. So they don’t even bother trying.” He looks up at you. “I’m just trying to find someone to spoil. Someone to care for, and someone to care for me right back.”

You appreciated his honesty. You liked skipping around the nervous chatter, the lies, the embellishments. This was a far cry from some of the dates you’d been on in the past - boys pretending to be men that they’re not. Bradley clearly went through that when he was your age. And he clearly realized it doesn’t work long-term.

“You’re saying all the right things, Bradley,” you chime. “I just want you to know… I’m not after your money or whatever else it is you have to offer me. I’m not sure what I’m after here, but I’d like to explore this. Whatever it ends up being, or not being, I’m interested to see where it goes.”

You’re surprised to hear those words coming from your mouth. An hour ago you were just about ready to call this whole thing off. You were sure this would make you lesser than; lump you in with all the other desperate girls your age just looking to get rich and not work for it. But, honestly, you didn’t care about money - your friend did. If this all worked out, if Bradley ended up being more than just a Seeking Arrangements date, you’d have to thank her for being such a gold digger.

Oh, the misery.

"I do too, sweetheart,” Bradley said sweetly. “No pressure, no fakery, no stress.”

Brunch went exceptionally well. Bradley told you stories from his time in the Naval Academy, TOPGUN, and even a few missions you were pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to share. He told you about his parents and how he followed in his dad’s footsteps. He told you about everything. He was a man who’d lived. You couldn’t grasp, still, how a woman his age wouldn’t want him.

You shared stories from your years in college, your job, and from your childhood. Absolutely nothing compared to the nearly twenty years he had on you. You felt silly telling him about yourself, but he was genuinely interested. He asked so many insightful questions, held your hand, and maintained eye contact. You thought maybe, just maybe, he was falling for you.

You’d be remiss if you didn’t admit you may be falling for him, too.

When the bill came, Bradley snatched it away from you with a mischievous grin. You playfully pouted at him and he just waved you off. He took his wallet out and slid a credit card into the book and held it until the server came back. Clever little devil.

“I told you I’d spoil you, sweetheart,” he mused. “This is me spoiling you. But, I should warn you. This is only the beginning.”

You grinned at him and nodded, relaxing back in your seat. He was just so cool. His entire demeanor, his attitude - devil may care kind of air about him. You enjoyed his youthful aura, especially since you knew he was not quite as youthful as he used to be. It was truly a breath of fresh air.

The bill was paid, you’d successfully drank three mimosas, and Bradley was looking at you with stars in his eyes. He walked you out of the restaurant and to his Bronco. He looked down at you once the two of you were on the passenger’s side. Brushing some hair from your face, he smiled softly and pulled you just a touch closer.

“Well, I’m dying for your review, sweetheart,” he said with a grin. “Did I live up to expectations?”

Your mouth felt dry all of a sudden. Did he? Did he? You’d just spent three hours chatting with a man nearly twice your age about his life, your life, and genuinely enjoying each other's company. And he wants to know if he lived up to expectations? You smiled widely, no longer able to conceal the excitement you felt in your gut about this.

“Very much so. I’d even be so bold as to say you’ve surpassed them,” you took his hand in yours gently. He responded by squeezing your waist a little tighter.

“Then,” he said in a lower tone than he’d used earlier. “You wouldn’t find it uncouth of me to do this?”

Before you could even think of a witty response, his lips were on yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. Your initial shock washed away quickly as your lips pressed back against his. He was gentle, nothing extravagant, nothing lying beneath the surface - just a kiss. His hands slid around your back and upwards, pulling you impossibly closer. Your hands found purchase on his large biceps, squeezing as he drew you nearer.

Like in the movies, you felt an instant spark. Little electrical pulses all over your lips, your cheeks, and wherever he touched you. His hands seemed to be made for you. They seemed to know exactly how to hold you, how to caress you, and how to make you forget all except him and this moment.

And all too quickly, he was pulling away from you. He looked down at you with gentle eyes, a small quirk of his lips. You stared back up at him with your mouth hanging open ever so slightly. He brought his hand up and swept his thumb over your bottom lip. You almost had to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the mild ache that warmed your core.

Bradley let out a soft chuckle and opened the door for you. Like earlier, he helped you into the Bronco and then got in himself. He started the vehicle and started driving away from the restaurant. Your mind swam with the possibilities. He could be your father, but you wanted him. You wanted him to be the man in your life. Just from this one little encounter. You were sure you wanted him.

It really was like the movies.

You noticed eventually that you were nowhere near your apartment, or his. In fact, San Diego wasn’t around you at all. You’d traveled north, and then west. To a small little shopping center away from town. You looked at Bradley curiously and he met your gaze as if on cue.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart,” he said coolly. “I’m taking you to the beach. But you need a bathing suit. And, honestly, so do I.” He grinned at you and pulled into a parking spot. Just great! He was already blowing his money on you. Part of you felt guilty, but the other part of you - the part that was still listening to your friend - wanted to see this all through.

He pulled you into a store that sold probably the most revealing swimsuits for the most outrageous prices. You cringed every time you looked at a price tag even though Bradley had assured you nothing was too expensive. Finally, after looking at a one-piece suit that was anything but “one piece,” you pulled Bradley to you.

“I cannot let you spend this kind of money on such little fabric, Bradley,” you pleaded. He simply smiled down at you and nodded.

“I understand completely,” he looked around at the options and narrowed his eyes. “Let me find something worthwhile then.” He kissed your cheek and walked off to search for a suit for you. Dumbfounded, you stood back and watched for a second. Then, without even thinking, you started looking for one for him to wear. Like some kind of girlfriend would.

You picked up a red pair of trunks, the shorter kind that have come into style recently. You weren’t sure if these would make him look younger or just plain silly. You didn’t really care, though, you wanted him to wear them. You figured this would be a good color on him.

When he eventually found you again, he had his hands behind his back. A shit-eating grin on his face, you’d notice. You held up the trunks you’d chosen for him, a small smile on your face.

“How are these?” You asked sweetly. He nodded in approval and then brought a one piece suit out from behind his back.

Your eyes bugged out of your head when you saw it - bright red, just like the trunks you’d chosen for him.

You let out a genuine laugh and smiled up at him. He pulled you in for a quick kiss before taking the trunks from you and walking to the register to pay. You followed behind him but quickly tucked yourself against his side at the counter. He’d picked up a pair of aviators for you, a couple of towels, and some sunblock. Once he paid, he took your hand and led you out of the shop.

“Let’s change into these before we head out. I wanna get right into it when we get to the beach,” he handed you the swimsuit and gently pushed you in the direction of the bathroom. He went to the men’s room to change, and you changed as instructed.

When you arrived at the beach, you were in awe at how gorgeous the scenery was. Not a person in sight, either. Perfect, you thought. Bradley hauled you to the sand like a little kid and laughed at your protests.

“The water is fine! Come on, let me see that suit I got you.” He pinched your sides and tickled you into submission. You shoved him off of you with a wheezing laugh and tore your clothes off to reveal the swimsuit. His eyes traveled down your body in a very uncharacteristically obvious way.

“Wow, sweetheart,” he grunted. “Red is definitely your color.” He took his t-shirt off and tossed it aside. He was surprisingly muscular for someone his age. It added to his charm, you decided, that he was able to stay in such great shape. “How about me? Red a good color on me? Someone my age?”

“Yeah, actually. Those make you look at least ten years younger,” you teased. He laughed and watched you take off towards the water. He followed behind you and let his feet get wet from the waves.

You, on the other hand, were the young sprite who was going deeper into the water. You let the water lap at your thighs before traveling out a little further. The cool water felt amazing on your skin, even better with the sun beating down on you. You closed your eyes and let the waves rock you from side to side. You surely could get used to this.

You suddenly felt hands on your hips, a firm grip. You jumped slightly before turning around to come face-to-face with Bradley. The sun made his eyes sparkle just as you’d predicted in the restaurant. You looked at the age on his face and sigh softly. It’s not as obvious in the sun. Not something you expected.

“You forgot something,” he said softly. He propped the pair of aviators he bought on your face and gently pushed them up the bridge of your nose. He poked the tip of your nose with a boyish grin. “Perfect.”

“You’re gonna let me get a sunburn, too?” You chide with a poke to his ribs.

“Oh, never,” he said with a scandalized look on his face. “Here, turn back around.” He produced the bottle of sunscreen and smirked.

You turned around without hesitation. You felt his hands all over your back as he spread the sunscreen around your skin. He rubbed up and over your shoulders, kissing them gently when he was finished. He traced your spine on the open back of the swimsuit he bought you. You shivered ever so slightly when his hands brushed your skin so gently. He worked the sunscreen into your neck before gently turning you back around and working it over your collarbone. You saw the hesitation in his eyes when he went to drag his fingers lower, but your lack of protest replaced his hesitation with determination. He massaged the sunscreen into the swell of your breasts slowly. Your breath caught in your throat at the touch. The familiar ache between your legs returning.

He moved on to your arms and the tops of your ears. He then put a silly little stripe of it on the bridge of your nose, making you giggle. You took the bottle from him and repeated the gesture on him. He grinned proudly and pulled you close again. His lips crashed onto yours in a hungry kiss, more intimate than the last.

You knew then that you could get used to this.

You grinned widely and charged at Bradley, jumping into his arms. He laughed and caught you with ease, spinning you around as you wrapped your legs around him. He playfully tipped you backwards so your hair brushed the water. Your squeal of excitement rang out clear as day, making him smile brighter than you’d seen.

He pulled you back up and you buried your face in his neck. His skin was slick with sweat and sunscreen, and he smelled still like the subtle cologne he wore. He held you securely against him, never daring to drop you.

You pulled your head back and kissed him again. It came easier now, kissing him. It was more exciting, less anxiety-inducing. You liked the way the walls had been dropped and the affections came easier. He gladly kissed you back, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth. A soft, more needy than intended whimper left your lips at that.

Instead of scaring him away, it only spurred Bradley on. His hands cupped your rear possessively and he carried you back to shore. And you knew where it would go from there.

He set you down on one of the towels and crawled over you. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he explored your skin with his mouth. Your hands slid up and into his hair, whining softly as he ravaged you with that perfect, experienced mouth.

“I need you to know, sweetheart,” he grunted. “This isn’t a one-off.” You tilted your head, sweat on your brow.

“I’m going to take you out, bring you home, make you mine,” he explained further. “I’m not ready to let you go yet. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” you breathed. “I’m not ready to let you go yet either.”

“Good,” he said before kissing down your stomach, dangerously close to your aching cunt. “Because I don’t want to go too fast.” He kissed back up your stomach and to your lips.

A pitiful little moan left your lips in protest. He chuckled softly and looked down at you.

“We have time,” he said simply. You wrapped your arms around him and laughed softly. His lips connected with your collarbone before he lifted you back up.

“Let’s order something and eat dinner here. Sound good?” He suggested. You nodded with a grin, kissing his cheek. As he was busy ordering something for dinner, you looked down at your phone for the first time since that morning. You opened it up and looked at your conversation with Bradley on the app. You bit your lip and closed the app. Then you took a leap.

You deleted the app.

Bradley was the only one you cared about among the list of men you’d chatted with. And in a stupidly short amount of time, you started picturing yourself with this man. This real man. He turned to you and smiled as he spoke on the phone with the place he was ordering from. The look on his face when he looked at you was enough. This, eating dinner on a secluded beach, was enough.

Tagging people who may enjoy: @roosterscock @cherrycola27 @roosterforme @roosterbruiser @beardedladyqueen @seresinsweetie @sebsxphia

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