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thinkingaboutjaedyn · 1 month

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my heart over yours | j.fleming x reader

prompt: everyone has always said the friendship between jessie and you was too intimate. that the two of you were too close, but you never believed them until you got a girlfriend.

author notes: trying a slightly new style for this fic. i don't know rather to make this into a series or just a oneshot, so you can read this as a prologue or just a stand alone. anyways here's a fic for my canadian babygirl jessie 🙇🏽‍♀️ enjoy!

contains: ucla!jessie x reader, childhood bestie!jessie, homoerotic friendship low-key, jealous!jessie if you squint, aj not understanding shit about canada, slightly messy timeline sorry y'all 💔, super long grab a snack lay back relax

part two

playing thinkin bout you by frank ocean 🎵

you have known jessie since she was seven years old. with her moving into your neighborhood in elementary, at first you didn't try to interact with her. she was just the girl with freckles who was always outside. the shy girl in class who you would sometimes be paired up with for meaningless assignments. jessie just didn't stand out to you; she didn't talk much during class and usually kept to herself.

it was your mother that pushed you towards being friends with her. during summer vacation, your mother thought it would be an amazing idea to put you into the local girls soccer club. you have always been an energetic kid, but that summer when you turned eight was when she had enough of you running around the house.

"it will be a great opportunity. you can get all that energy out of your system," your mother said one night when you were helping her cook; standing on a stool next to her at the counter. she pinched your cheek when she mentioned your chaotic-ness. you had scrunched your nose back then. due to the sharp pang of pain from her pinch and the internal disagreement you had with her decision.

you didn't know the first thing about soccer. you hardly watched it, only when your father would tell you to come and cuddle with him while he watched chelsea matches. "they're just kicking around a ball.." you would mumble, your head resting against his chest, and he would always playfully scold you. going on and going on about how soccer is much more than just kicking around ball. you would just nod in agreement with his words when deep down you didn't have a clue what he was on about.

that girls soccer club is what sent you right into jessie's arms. the fellow canadian was excited when she spotted you at the first practice of the summer. she didn't even know you would be coming to play soccer this summer; jessie has been meaning to talk you all school year. too intimidated to say anything. you were loud, always raising your hand in class, and had tons of friends. where would she even fit? now that jessie had the opportunity to get some type of close to you, she was ready to take it.

"we have the same cleats," she said when she approached you. a bashful smile on her lips as she looked down at you on the ground. you giggled, glancing from your cleats to hers. the two pairs of cleats were the same exact ones; a nice white base with a blue nike sign on the shoes. it seemed like you two had the same taste or at least your mothers did.

you sat up, dusting off the grass from your t-shirt. jessie offers a hand to help you up that you accept. "yeah. sorry for copying you, freckles," you joke. jessie lets out a giggle. she didn't get why being called freckles by you almost made her blush back then. she's been called it plenty of times by others at school, why was it different with you?

"it's fine. to gain my forgiveness, you just have to be my friend," the freckled girl joked back. you two fall into a conversation full of nothing while waiting for practice to start. the conversation may have been meaningless at the time, but it was the start of something great.

the friendship between jessie and you grew quickly. with you carpooling with her to practice and every game that entire summer since your parents had schedules full of work. sometimes you would even sleepover jessie's house. leading you to get to know her older brother tristan; you soon grew a sister-brother like relationship with him. with you having no siblings of yours at the time, you clung to the teasing words of his and all the extra snacks he let jessie and you get at midnight when you two were supposed to be in bed.

when school came back around, there was a small fear in jessie that you would ditch her. all of your other friends were way louder than her and seemed more interesting, but that would be the furthest thing from the truth. you keep her around, introducing her to all of your friends who already knew about jessie due to her being a champ in cross-country for the elementary school.

jessie and yours friendship grew even deeper as you two became older. not just the relationship between you two, but also the relationship between your families. your mother would always invite jessie's over for her girl nights when she had the chance. jessie's father sound found out about your father's soccer obsession and they became close over that. when jessie's mother was pregnant with elysse, jessie's younger sister, your mother was the one who threw the baby shower.

you two become so apart of each other's life that it didn't make sense for the friendship to ever falter. y'all were always together to the point that some of your friends would question your friendship.

"is jessie like your girlfriend?" said clair, one of your close friends in eighth grade (not closer than jessie and you but still), while walking to class one day. you stop in your tracks. glancing at the blonde girl who's a few steps ahead of you. she looks back at you with a questioning look, "what?"

"what do you mean, what?" you look around to see if anyone else heard her words. the hall wasn't too crowded, but it definitely wasn't empty. "no. jess is not my girlfriend, just my bestfriend," you say. shrugging off her words as you walk up to catch up with her. clair gives you a look that says i don't believe you but you ignore it because what is she on about? you aren't dating jessie. she's your bestfriend, nothing more.

clair's words stuck with you for the rest of the day. why would she even think of something like that? how could she just get the guts to ask a weird question like that?

at the end of the school day when you met up with jessie at the school doors, so you two could leave, you wanted to bring it up. fortunately you don't. instead listening to jessie ramble on about her recent non-fiction obsession that she was able to read in class. her hand is interlocked with yours as you two walk towards her mother's car. she only lets go of your hand when she slips into the backseat of the truck, patting the spot next to her to signal you to hurry up and get in.

"i was going to get in regardless," you giggle, sitting down next to her in the backseat. you shut the door once settled, saying a few words of greeting to jessie's mother before focusing all of your attention on her.

"you weren't going fast enough for me," jessie immediately grabs your hand after you snap in your seatbelt. she couldn't help herself. the feeling of your hand against hers made her feel grounded. "sorry, princess. i'll go faster next time," you joke. leaning your head against her shoulder as jessie ignores your teasing and goes back to rambling.

it takes only fifteen minutes to reach jessie and yours neighborhood. her mom pulling up into their family driveway before hopping out. telling jessie to do her laundry once jessie gets out of the car, bringing you along with her. she holds onto both of your backbags, something she always does, claiming that she doesn't want your back to be hurting from the weight.

"okay, i got it, ma," jessie says. waiting for her mom to go into the house before following after. you're still a bit drowsy from drifting off in the truck, so you just follow along. briefly waving at your mom who you catch a glance of down the street before fully being dragged into the house. jessie drops you two's backbags near the bench in the entrance hallway before pulling you to her bedroom upstairs.

the girl has been missing you all day since you two unfortunately aren't in the same class this year. not being able to hear your voice or play with your fingers when she was bored in class has been driving her insane all that; she didn't really get why, but who cares for reasoning when it's not important in the moment?

"are you going to come to my next cross-country meet?" the freckled girl says, letting go of your hand once you two are in the privacy of her bedroom. you give a tired nod, walking over to her bed to sit on it. she gives you a sharp look, not wanting you to sit on her bed with your outside clothes. you groan but still get up and move over to her closet to look through her clothes. it was a casual thing to wear jessie's clothes. she was your bestfriend, you guys share everything.

the room falls into silence as you two change. it doesn't feel awkward to change around jessie; she has seen you get changed before in the girls soccer club locker room at away games. nothing ever felt awkward with the girl. she never made anything weird; she was jessie, your jessie. you can do whatever around her without judgement.

you slip into some cotton shorts and one of jessie's weird space t-shirts while jessie changed into a tank top and pajama pants. she moves to cut on her tv. scrolling past the different apps on the smart tv before landing on youtube; throwing on some gaming video that would just be background noise for you two.

"hm, can you pull down the blackout blinds, please?" you pout at her. coming close to give her a half hug that makes her scoff.

"only if i get a real hug," jessie says. you roll your eyes in playful annoyance before pulling her into a full hug. swaying slightly as you rub at her back. jessie lets out a content sigh, taking in the scent of your coconut bodywash. the smell always calms her, she don't know why and doesn't really care to know. the hug lasts for a long moment with neither jessie or you wanting to pull away.

but unfortunately, jessie pulls away first. you give her a mock sad look before moving past her to go lay on her bed. she pulls down her blackout blinds before laying in bed beside you.

you pull her close like you always do when you two take your daily afterschool naps. it always feels like your body slots in perfectly against hers. jessie plays with your hair, letting the silence between you two settle.

you nearly drift off, but the question from clair earlier interrupts your peaceful dip into the world of sleep. is jessie like your girlfriend? rings throughout your mind. why would clair ask that? does jessie wonder the same sometimes..? you have to ask her.

jessie is already half asleep. you can tell by her slow breathing and the way she's trying to keep her eyes open, but just keep failing. she lets out a soft hum when you start to speak,

"do you think we act like girlfriends?" you ask softly. your question makes jessie open her eyes in surprise. she narrows her eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness in the room, before her glance stops on you.

"who said that?" she mumbles. it wasn't the first time someone had suggested that jessie and you were anything, but friendly. she hears the rumors around school about how people think you two are lesbians; for some reason that thought doesn't bother her much, but she would never mention that to you. it's the one thing she keeps a secret from you, locked away in the back of her mind.

you slightly shrug, your legs tangling with hers. "clair.. she gave me a look after too when i said you were just my bestfriend.." you trail off, frowning, "like i was some liar."

jessie lets out a chuckle before pressing her face against your forehead. "just your bestfriend? wow i thought we were closer than that..." she playfully says. trying to lighten the mood and get that frown off of your lips. she can hear in your voice and she hates it.

you laugh softly, "shush. you're proving their point." you give her arm a gentle pinch, making her let out a soft ow. you two joke around for a few moments before the tiredness from the day starts to really set it in. soon enough jessie stops talking, letting her eyes close and you follow soon after. happily drifting off in her arms.

once secondary school came around, the thoughts around jessie and your friendship got even worse. the other students at school saw jessie holding your hand while also holding your bag on the first day of school and ran with it. even when you both actively denied it, nobody believed you two. in everyone else eyes you two were dating or at least on the way to that step.

even people within your friendgroup were skeptical. especially your closest friend (outside of jessie) sabrina who didn't get how you two were so attached. the friendship between jessie and you just felt deeper than she ever seen before.

when jessie got her first senior national team call-up, that's when sabrina's skeptical boiled over. while you have given up soccer near the end of eighth grade, jessie had kept going. she was always more serious about the sport than you were. it was just an outlet for your energy and when you slowly found other ways to get all that energy out, you didn't find the need for soccer anymore; that feeling was back in sixth grade, but you held out on leaving the girls soccer club until two years later because of jessie. soccer felt like y'all's thing and you wanted to keep it that way, but you couldn't keep playing it when you wanted to do other things, so eventually you left.

instead you started to work during the ninth grade school year and have been saving up to go to a concert for the following year in tenth grade. however when tenth grade year came around and jessie told you that she got a senior national team call-up, you were quick to use that money to get a ticket to brazil and a ticket for the first game where canada plays at the tournament. keeping it a secret from jessie to surprise her. you of course had to get some help from tristan since your mother wouldn't allow fifteen year old you go to an completely different continent, but still you were going.

"do you think she's going to like it?" you asked while studying with sabrina for a math test. it's two weeks before jessie had to go to camp in brazil; you have been keeping your surprise a secret for a while now and was ready to tell her the next time you saw her.

"i mean yeah, it's you we're talking about," sabrina replies. looking up from her notes to look at you. a frown grows on your lips as you notice her tone; like your question was dumb. "what do you mean it's me we're talking about?" you give her a confused look.

"you know what i mean. jessie would like anything you give her because she likes you," she says. empathizing the she likes you part. the frown on your lips deepen. her words carry some sort of annoyance. you don't reply, going back to reviewing your notes. when you don't say anything back sabrina quickly tries to make the situation better by saying, "it's not like i'm homophobic or something. i don't care that you're dating jessie."

"i'm not dating jessie!" you shout, quietening your voice after realizing how loud you were, "she's my bestfriend and i can't believe that you of all people would say something like that."

"stop lying to yourself, y/n! would you spend your money on going to an entirely different country for anyone else? for me? or serena? or any of our friends? i think not."

"they aren't jessie! sorry, but she's more important to me than anyone else. i want to be there when she first gets to be on the pitch," you reason, "it's not because i'm like inlove with her." not looking at sabrina afterwards, already knowing she's giving you a look of i don't believe you.

sabrina starts to fight against your words, but can't even get a sentence out before your phone starts vibrating; jessie's contract showing up on your screen. you look at sabrina before answering the phone.

"hey jess," you say as you get up and leave out of sabrina's room. not wanting her to hear the conversation between jessie and you after her weird.. accusation? you didn't know what to call it. you just knew you didn't want her to hear a word you were going to say to jessie. you go to sit on the top of the stairs. leaning your head against the wall as jessie speaks, "hey. i was missing you.. where are you?"

"sabrina's. we have this big math test, so she asked to study together," you say. jessie lets out a sigh on the other line. "oh.. i was going to ask if you could come over. i feel like i haven't seen you all day and we haven't taken our daily nap yet.. so," she says.

you giggle, jessie would never directly ask you to leave someone else's place to come to hers, it's rude but you can tell that's what she wants just from her voice alone. "i'll come over. we were almost done anyways," you say.

you can hear the smile on jessie's lips on the other line. "really? you don't have to.. but thanks," she says. you hang up afterwards. going back into sabrina's room to put your notebook back into your bag before texting your mom to come pick you up. sabrina was annoyed when you told her you were leaving, with her saying something about how you would blow off anyone for jessie. you just shrug her words off and went outside to wait on the porch for your mom. not wanting to stay in sabrina's house any longer.

it takes ten minutes, but you get from sabrina's to your own house. putting your backbag away in your room before running off to jessie's house. greeting her mother and father on the way to her room. letting all the tension from sabrina's fall from your shoulders as you step inside of her room. before you can say anything, jessie gets off of her bed and comes close to you. pulling you into a hug, she lets out a content sigh.

"been missing you all day," she mumbles into your neck. you smile, one of your hands rubbing at her upper back while the other is on her waist. you let out your own content sigh; you have been missing jessie the entire day as well. it wasn't normal for the two of you to go a few hours without eachother unless it's when jessie would get called up to youth national team camps and tournaments. even then she would call you every time she had the chance to, claiming she missed your voice.

she pulls towards her bed without letting you go. taking her arm from around your waist to push the covers on her bed over before pulling you down onto the bed with her.

"so clingy.." you whisper against her ear. she just chuckles, moving so that you both are fully on the bed before pulling the covers over you two. you're laying on top of her now, your thighs hugging her hips.

"told you i missed you.." she whispers back. closing her eyes; with you finally in her arms and the darkness of her room, jessie was getting sleepy.

the earlier conversation with sabrina is still on your mind, but you decide against bringing it up. jessie was used to people making assumptions about you two, so it would be no use to bring it up. instead you just let out a hum of acknowledgement, slowly becoming sleepy as well.

"missed you too.." you murmured before letting yourself drift off.

the rest of highschool was a whirlwind for jessie and you's friendship. when you surprised her at the chile vs canada game at the tournament in brazil, she nearly cried when she saw tristan and you after the loss against chile. you were wearing one of her old soccer jerseys, the letters on the back of it basically faded away. you had even bought her flowers that she took gratefully. that night you didn't go back to your hotel room, but to jessie's. after the loss she needed the comfort and you were the right person for it. thankfully her roommate wasn't staying in the room that night, deciding to go out with the rest of the adults in the team.

you held her in your arms, reassuring her that she played well and that the loss wasn't based off her performance. chile just played a better game than canada that evening. jessie had finally let herself cry, burying her face into your chest. she only let herself cry around you; finding it too embarrassing around others. you are the only one who can truly comfort her, it was just different with you.

that following morning, jessie slept in with you. too tired from everything that happened yesterday. the rest of the day was spent in that hotel room mostly with jessie being too tired to leave her bed and refusing to let you either. you left brazil a day before the canadian national team did, with a bunch of texts from jessie coming in when you landed back in canada.

in the same school year is when jessie got recruited by ucla. she was so confused about the recruitment process and you two spent a good hour or two looking at youtube videos about how these types of trips usually go a few days before she was meant to leave. you two spent an entire week (before jessie was even getting recruited) talking about what colleges you two wanted to attend; with you thinking about going over to england for university or maybe closer to home, right next door, in america. while jessie was unsure about where she wanted to go. the soccer college scene in america was interesting to her and made the most sense for her career. also american college sounded fun, at least that's what she got from the movies and vlogs she watched over the years. jessie didn't want to be stuck in canada forever; she wanted to branch out and see new things.

when jessie went on the trip, half of her time was split between looking around campus and getting to know the team and the rest was spent talking to you on the phone. she wished you could be there with her. the freckled girl just wanted to share every experience with you; that's what bestfriends do. you missed her dearly as well while she was away. coming over to her house three times out of the week she was gone. laying in her bed in her clothes while calling her. thankfully jessie's parents didn't care if you slept over even when jessie wasn't there, they found the closeness between jessie and you cute. your parents didn't really care either. just telling you to come down the street for dinner before letting you go back to jessie's house; knowing just how much you are attached to the freckled girl.

when jessie came back to canada, you two spent nearly two days just stuck to eachother's side. jessie telling you all about what she saw and showing you all the pictures she took, for you.

the biggest hurdle of highschool was definitely when jessie made the decision to move to vancouver. nearing the middle of eleventh grade, she told you about the decision she's been pondering about ever since her first senior call-up. just thinking about the distance that would be between you two almost made her reconsider, but she realized she needed this if she wanted to further along her career. since tristan have been living in vancouver for a good few months now and training for the national team happened there, everything fell in place for jessie to go. her parents agreed once she explained why she wanted to go. now it was time to tell you.

the day she was planning to tell you, the atmosphere felt strange between you two like you knew something big was about to happen. jessie had dragged you to the park around the time of sunset, letting her mom know that nothing would happen and that two of you would be safe. she's barely swinging as she sits on the swing. her mind lost in thought about how to bring up her leaving.

however it wasn't jessie who started the conversation, but you. the young player had been acting strange all day and even the day before that, so you knew something was up. "what is it?" you ask softly, sitting on the swing next to her.

jessie bites her lips out of nervousness before saying, "i'm leaving for vancouver in a month and i'm sorry i didn't tell you, but i want to be a pro player so bad, i have to do this." her jumbled explanation makes you let out a soft laugh; jessie is intelligent, but always struggles to explain our thoughts. when her words sunk in you let out another soft laugh, this time out of disbelief. jessie's leaving..?

"what do you mean? like for a camp right? that's fine, i'll see you in a few weeks, it's fine," you look over at her. she refuses to meet your eyes and just looks down at her feet. "i mean like.. until college," she says. you fall silent, unsure on what to say. what could even be said? what were you supposed to do? beg for her to not go do something important for her career? you couldn't, so you just shut your mouth.

looking away from her to hide the tears starting to swell up in your eyes. jessie's fighting back tears of her own. jessie and you have shared practically every moment of your lives together since elementary, while away in vancouver, would she share moments with someone else? the thought makes your stomach turn.

jessie finally gets up and comes close to you. her hand moves to wipe away the tears on your face. you look up at her before standing up, grabbing onto her hand to interlock it with yours, using it to pull her close. you hide your face in her neck, still crying.

"we still can be bestfriends right?" you sob out. you don't even understand why you asked that question. of course you two can still be bestfriends, distance may make that harder but that doesn't make your bond any different. you don't get why jessie leaving feels like a piece of your heart is being cut out; why it's so painful. jessie obviously wasn't doing much better than you as she replies, "yeah. i would never let you go." you can hear the sadness in her voice.

it takes a few moments for you both to calm down. you are the first to pull away. looking at jessie to see how she was doing. the freckled girl has tear strains down her cheeks, but also a small smile on her lips. when you two's eyes meet she starts to giggle.

"you look like a mess," she pokes your cheek. you roll your eyes before saying, "you aren't much better." you playfully poke her cheek too. jessie acts like she's going to bite your finger, giggling when you pull it back.

"just don't go around making new bestfriends, okay?" you say. jessie nods before looking around you two. the sun has already set and the streetlights are now on.

"let's go before the buses stop running," she pulls you away from the swings, towards down the street where the bus stop is. you two stand side by side, holding hands, until the bus come.

you slept over her house that night. neither of you wanting to be away from eachother after something so emotional.

the next year and half don't go as badly as you imagined. you two find time to always call and even visit eachother when able. whenever the canadian national team had games close to london, you were always quick to go if jessie was on the roster (which she usually was). time flew past quickly. with you focusing the rest of your time on doing well in school, so you could be prepared for college admissions. you decided on going to an american college after jessie told you one day that she committed to ucla. when it came time to apply to colleges, you applied for around six. with your top pick being ucla.

all of your hard work was worth it as you got into ucla. opening up your acceptance email on facetime with jessie who was ecstatic and slightly sad because she couldn't be there to celebrate with you in person, but still you two would soon be together so it was alright.

that following fall when you arrived on the ucla campus, you found jessie right away. the now eighteen year old having decided on a spot for you two to meet on campus. you two found a way to be roommates. having a blast while trying to decorate the dorm with all the stuff you two bought along; already planning to go get some more later on in the month.

getting settled into college was a challenge for you. it was different from how canadian schools worked and the ucla campus was way bigger than the secondary school you, and once jessie at one point, attended. finding all of the classes you needed to find was stressful and the huge class sizes made you uncomfortable for a small moment before you got use to it. everything wasn't all bad. ucla has a beautiful campus with tons of fun things to do. you would join a club if your major wasn't having you run around campus nearly everyday or writing papers that would lead you into the depths of the night. all the free time you had was spent with jessie.

when soccer practice started, you were always in the stands at the practice grounds. snacking on some fruit while watching some netflix show, taking your attention off of your entertainment when jessie would call for you.

"you're here to pay attention to me! not watch some show," she would say from the bottom of the stands. you always roll your eyes, but would listen to her. looking at the team push a ball around, do suicides, and other exercises wasn't the most interesting but it was fun to watch jessie be in her element. she always moved so well across the field like the movements were programmed into her. it was absolute pure skill.

the entire soccer season you somehow found a way to come to every home game. wearing one of jessie's ucla jerseys that she left in y'all's dorm. she always smiles when she spots you in the stands, giving a quick wave if it was half time. you were like her lucky charm. she played the best when you were there; maybe because she wanted to impress you? not like that's something weird, you're her bestfriend. who wouldn't want to impress their bestfriend?

jessie was one of your only friends for the majority of the first semester and half of the second semester. your major kept you busy and jessie filled in all the empty spots left over. you had two other friends outside of the canadian. a spanish exchange student by the name of gabriela who you befriended after helping her find a book section in the library one day. after that, she was determined to be your friend and you weren't going to stop her. happily studying with her when you had time which meant when you weren't studying with jessie. the other girl you befriended was a law student by the name of eva. you two always somehow ran into eachother on the huge ucla campus, so at one point you just asked her for her instagram and the rest is history. she tries to make time to hangout with you, but law school takes up so much of her day that you two usually just text. occasionally waving when you saw eachother on campus, but that was it.

jessie was still your best friend and closest friend. living in the same space strengthened the bond between you two; it just felt natural to come back into the dorm and hug jessie after a long day or for jessie to demand cuddles after a grueling practice.

it wasn't until the middle of second semester that you branched out from jessie and your other two friends. there was this huge project in one of your classes that counted towards an exam grade that you could do alone or with a partner. with how much work would be needed to be put into the project and how little time you really had to focus on just one project for one class, you decided on the partner option; much to jessie's dismay.

when you told her about how you needed to find a partner in your class for the project, she had let out a sigh. leaning back on the pillows on her bed before looking at you. "so you're going to like bring someone here?" she questioned. the soccer player cringes at the thought of someone being in y'all's space. sitting on your bed or even on the floor was too much. it wasn't like it really bothered her, the canadian just doesn't like people in her space.

"we will probably work in the library or in their dorm. i feel like ours is always a mess," you shrugged. rolling your eyes when jessie let out a sigh of relief. it wasn't really one of relief as internally jessie didn't feel so good about you spending time in someone else's dorm; she didn't get why, but does it really matter? you always studied with her and did most projects with her. of course she wouldn't be used to you having to do one with someone else.

back then jessie just shrugged off her thoughts and changed the subject to talk about how her day went. not wanting to dwell too much on a topic that now made her cringe.

you found a partner the next day. the tall blonde, sasha, who always sat next to you in class. it only made sense to ask her since you were already familiar with her. the woman had quickly agreed, claiming she didn't want to do all of that work by herself.

the rest of the semester was spent doing the project in sasha's dorm most of the time. your time was quickly consumed by her; cutting into your time with jessie, annoying the both of you. not being able to spend all of your free time with jessie was messing with you. sasha was very sweet and bubbly. way louder than jessie was. being with sasha was always a fun experience, but at the end of it you were always thinking about when you could go home.

jessie wasn't liking your attention not being on her. who would listen to her non-fiction book rambles? or stay up to three am watching 2000s classics? who else would ever play soccer with her at the park closest to ucla? no one, well no one she wanted to do those activities with. those endless moments belong to jessie and you; no one else.

"i just don't get why you're always with her," jessie says over the phone. she's in your sweater and shorts while sitting on your bed. you were out late with sasha again to finish that project. jessie hates that project; it's the reason why you weren't in bed with her right now, cuddling.

you sigh, looking at sasha who was besides you before saying, "this project is taking up much more time than i thought. wish i was there with you, i miss my bed."

"just your bed?"

"you too. shush it, freckles." jessie laughs softly after hearing you drop her childhood nickname. your short conversation is cut short by sasha who told you to help her find some more research papers to use in the project. you give jessie a small apology before hanging up.

the canadian groans when you hang up. dropping her phone down on your sheets. she lays back and just thinks about what you could be doing right now if you were here with her. your body against hers as she holds you. talking about a bunch of nothing, but it was something when it came out of your mouth.

jessie misses you; that's one thing she knows for sure.

nearing the end of the semester when sasha and you were doing the finishing touches on the project, there was more free time for you both. you wanted to spend those few extra hours with jessie since you have been mostly seeing her in the mornings before she head off to the class and late at night when you would come back to the dorm, exhausted. you miss your bestfriend dearly. too bad for you, jessie was called up for a national team camp for two upcoming friendlies.

jessie was just as disappointed as you, clinging to your side the entire day before she was meant to leave for camp. good thing you had a rare day off. it felt like old times that day, just jessie and you. after she left, you started to hang out with sasha more just because she was someone you had the most access to. eva was drowning under exams while gabriela was living her best party girl life and you were all up for partying, but not nearly every night. that left sasha who would see almost everyday without a doubt. wanting to finish the project at least three days before the deadline, so it didn't feel you two were rushing things. with jessie gone, things got weirdly deep between sasha and you.

after finishing up the work needed for the day, sasha would ask you to stay with her for an extra hour or two. just to talk while eating. you always agreed since you didn't have nothing else to do and jessie unfortunately couldn't facetime much. you and sasha would go into deep conversations about whatever came to mind. it was fun just like anything else with sasha.

however one day the energy between the blonde and you felt different like she was holding something back. you weren't shocked when at the last session of working on the project, she stopped you from leaving after two hours of talking. what you didn't expect was what came out of her mouth,

"i really like you, y/n. would you like to go on a date with me? maybe this weekend" she asks, her hand holding onto your wrist. you stay silent for a few moments before saying, "sure."

when you got back to your dorm, you didn't even understand why you said yes. it wasn't like you were particularly interested in sasha. she was great, fun, bubbly, even quite smart, she was sasha. in your mind she wasn't super attractive. not as magnetic as a certain freckles canadian in your life, but that was an unfair comparison since no one could compare to jessie in your world.

you thought to yourself that a date with sasha wouldn't be so bad. having a casual college romance wouldn't be so bad; you want to experience college love too. while you were stuck in your thoughts, your phone vibrated. you pick it up to see jessie's contact on your screen, immediately answering the call.

she's laying on her hotel bed with her face squished against the pillow. it's dark in the room with the only light being the light from the phone screen shining on her freckled face. jessie smiles when your camera shows you. "hey.." she says, sounding almost half asleep.

"hey freckles. how was training?" you ask softly. getting comfortable on your bed.

"it was alright, but uh.." jessie licks her lips before saying, "i was wondering if you were going to come to the game this weekend. it's in san diego, you know, against the usa and if you were going to drive or fly down." you let out a soft gasp of surprise as you realized you forgot; jessie asked you to come at least one of the friendlies happening between the the north american rivals earlier that week. you have even put the date down in your calendar for the san diego one. the swamp of your usual college work and that huge project must have burned that little date from your brain.

"god, jess. i was planning to but.. sasha asked me out today and said she wanted to go on a date this weekend.." before you can finish explaining, jessie is furrowing her eyebrows at your words.

there is badly hidden irritation in jessie's voice as she says,"sasha asked you what?"

author notes: okay, i lied! this will actually be a series, ending it off on a cliffhanger for right now 💔 i didn't proof read this so don't care about any grammatical or spelling errors, thanks!

#jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming #woso x reader #woso fanfics

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hiraya-rawr · 1 year

Text

but i knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

characters !! al haitham, kaeya, tighnari, ayato, zhongli

synopsis !! spoilers/ you know nahida's story quest where people dreamt of people they miss? so they didn't wanna wake up? yes. you're their greatest source of grief.

contains !! gn reader, grief themes, angst/comfort? or is it angst/angst. messing with the original plot of nahida's quest but the idea remains the same. team dynamics! can be considered sagau /playable au. character death mentions aka me exploring all the ways to make mc gone

inspo !! cardigan by taylor swift 🎵

AL HAITHAM

// cause I knew you / steppin' on the last train / marked me like a bloodstain, I / I knew you / tried to change the ending

All he did was blink. He knew what he was getting himself into when the traveler and the dendro archon explained the situation; people in grief didn't want to wake up. He knew they were entering a dream realm that targeted the vulnerable. He knew he might see you— but it's been years and this dream version of you is simply a fake, this means little to him now, right?

Yet, in one blink, the city of Sumeru disappeared and what he saw instead was—

"(Name)." He mutters under his breath, barely.

"Who's that?" The traveler turns to him.

"Haitham!" You greet, voice cheery, unchanged, the exact replica down to every detail. He feels his face shift in expression, his hand raises, reaches out before he could even realize it himself and—

He blinks again. You're gone.

"Huh? They disappeared!" Paimon squeaks, flying behind the traveler, "Like a ghost! That was sooo scary."

The blonde looks on thoughtfully, "Was. . that someone you know, Al Haitham?"

Snapping out of his daze, he takes a step back.

". . . someone I knew. Yes." He straightens himself, looking away. "Let's keep going. There's no time to waste."

KAEYA

// peter losing wendy, I / I knew you / leavin' like a father / running like water, I / and when you are young, they assume you know nothing

Jumping from portal to portal, trying to find the dream host with the traveler was exhausting. Kaeya was beginning to question why, of all the characters on the team, he had to come along (then again, such events were always fun).

It was a relief when a portal landed him in Starfell Valley. The breeze ruffling through his hair, sweet flowers and cecilias gently leaning to the wind, and—

You, holding onto your wind glider, waving at him from a distance.

"Well? Aren't you going to teach me how to fly?" You yell out, huffing theatrically.

Ah, yes. Kaeya remembers this. His footsteps take him forward, closer to where you are. Grass brushing against him with every step.

"Kaeya?" You tilt your head.

He remembers this. He was supposed to teach you, you were supposed to take your license exam in a few days, you were nervous—

Archons, you were nervous and a little scared and he brushed it off. He was a natural at gliding and he believed you'd get over it and glide as easily as he could.

Then he looked away. Just for a second —a single second— and an updraft lifted you higher than you were used to. And you struggled to control your wings. And you tumbled. And there was a cliff—

Oh, Stormbearer Point used to be so lovely until he lost you.

"Kaeya, are we going to start glidi— oomf-"

His arms wrap around you, bringing you close, holding you to himself. He lets a hand rest on the glider you held on one hand, pushing it away, aside, further from you –because how dare that wretched thing fail you– until it falls to the grass.

"Kaeya? What's wrong?"

"Can we–" He nearly sobs, a lump in his throat as he holds back, ". . . Can we not do this today?"

He feels your own arms wrapping around him. It's the closest he could get to remembering your warmth.

"Alright. . . it's alright, Kae, I'll learn to glide on another day," You whisper softly, "There's always next time."

TIGHNARI

// but I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss / I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs / the smell of smoke would hang around this long

"Even if they resemble their loved ones, it doesn't change the fact that it's a figment of their imagination cultivated by the Akasha. They shouldn't be swayed." Tighnari said this to the Traveler on the very day they started exploring the dream situation.

Yet, as he rests in bed after a long day of investigating, there's you.

"Nari! You're back!" You greet, holding up a tea set as he enters the tree-like house.

He's quiet. Quiet as he sits on the chair he always sat on (the one practically reserved for his visits), quiet as you pour him tea (the one you brew whenever he comes over), and quiet as you sit across him with a small smile.

"How is it this time? Too bitter?"

". . . it's fine."

"Will you stay longer this time?"

". . . no, I'll leave soon." He places down the teacup, "Once my investigation with the traveler is done, this will all be over."

He stands up, the chair scrapes against the wooden floor (like it always used to do), you look up at him curiously (the same way you used to).

"Do you really want that?" You ask.

Tighnari knows that it's the dream trying to keep him asleep, trying to tie him down. You're not you, this is all fake, therefore it shouldn't matter. He doesn't need to entertain you any more than he should.

So he diverts the question because archons, once upon a dream, you were all he wanted. You are all he wants.

"I'm leaving now. Thank you for the tea."

"You stay a little bit longer each time you visit," You smile, "Maybe if I brew even better tea, you'll actually stay."

He freezes. Has he been staying longer?

He bites his lip, continuing to walk away from the tree house. It's a figment of his imagination, he shouldn't be swayed.

AYATO

// 'cause I knew everything when I was young / I knew I'd curse you for the longest time / chasin' shadows in the grocery line

He was expecting it, actually. The traveler had already explained that it's a phenomenon happening to those with losses, and he's aware -with losing his parents at a young age- that he was vulnerable to the dreams.

The minute he falls asleep, the moon high over Sumeru, you appear in his dreams.

"Ayato!"

"(Name)."

No matter how much he expected you, the surprise must still be on his face as you laugh.

"What's with that look? Do you miss me that much?"

Should he entertain the dream? Or ignore you? Then again, what does he have to lose by at least answering your questions. he misses you, how you talk, how you laugh-

"I did. I do." He replies, a calm smile on his face.

"We can't have that! If you miss me already after such a short time, how much more when I'm sent away to get married?"

Oh, so it's that part of the timeline.

Perhaps the sourness of his thoughts reflected on his expression, or maybe you guessed it on your own (you were always so good at understanding him), but you sighed and gave a sad smile.

"I. . . I have to be honest. I'm kind of scared," You chuckle, "It's two boat rides away from Narukami, and the rumors about my fiancé is. . . not so great."

Ayato knows that. Your fiancé killed you on your second year of marriage and attempted to frame it on a servant. Despite knowing all this, the only reply he could muster was a monotonous "I see. . ."

"But we promised each other, didn't we?" You stand straight, facing him with enthusiasm, "We'll make our clans great again. I'll give honor to my clan, and you'll redeem the Kamisato name! Who knows, maybe next time we meet. . . "

There's a glint in your eye and he understands what you're trying to say. Maybe next time, the two of us could be together. It was a childish dream— one that didn't consider divorces or politics or death. Maybe next time, the Kamisato clan would be powerful enough to whisk you away. Maybe next time, Ayato would be enough to marry you without shaming either of your clans. Maybe next time, it could be "us".

The dream turns hazy as Ayato feels himself being shaken awake, the high pitched voice of Paimon floating above him and the traveler next to him, shaking him, "Ayato! Ayato! You have to wake up, the dream isn't real!"

But it was real, wasn't it? It happened so long ago.

ZHONGLI

// I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired / and you'd be standin' in my front porch light // and I knew you'd come back to me / you'd come back to me / and you'd come back to me / and you'd come back

The dream realm was turning dangerous, the host lost all control and everyone's loved ones were beginning to turn into horrible beasts.

Beasts were easy, though. For Zhongli, all he had to do was maintain his shield around the traveler and the other party members, ensuring everyone's safety. This was easy enough- for what being could actually penetrate the shield of an archon?

"Morax?"

It was you, standing amidst the chaos, as beings turned to monsters and the traveler fought back in defense. An echo of a nightmarish past— of the archon war and of dying gods. You looked no different from that day you stood next to him, ready to protect each other's backs.

He mutters your name so lightly, it fades into the noise around him.

"Morax, listen to me–" You try approaching, only to be stopped by his shield. For a second, he thinks of letting it down, but this wasn't you— this was a dream, a memory.

"Morax, you have to win, it has to be you," It's a desperate sound coming from your lips as your hands rest flat against his shield. He wants to hold you. Why is this nightmare coming back now? Why must he see you here? The logical part of him, the one trained through years of mental and physical warfare, understands that the dream wants him to take down his shield.

"You have to be the Geo Archon. You have to kill me, Morax–"

Ah, yes, he did kill you to become the Geo Archon that day. He remembers it as clear as gold in his memories.

"Get away from Zhongli!" He hears the traveler yell, a sword slashing between him and you, as you back away.

"Are you okay?" The traveler asks, posed in the defense.

"Yes, don't worry about me," He replies, composing himself as his polearm manifests in his hand, "Rather, allow me to deal with this myself."

Because how dare this dream taunt him. How dare this dream imitate you.

note // for the holidays, im extending commissions at a special price! it's $1/character scenario and $3 minimum in fics 😋

consider support me on ko-fi or paypal! // general masterlist

taglist // @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @ro-river @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrades @starforecasts @stygianoir @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @klutzkat @stygianoir14 @shizunxie @bluriie @aestellia @abyislan08 @scooterscoob @lordbugs

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lvndrdaaze · 25 days

Note

OMG HI MY FAVORITE TUMBLR CREATOR I have an idea >>:D WHAT IFF Your favorite Genshin Men (Diluc) come home extremely late ((2:00 am late)) and you are MAD. So- after you express how you feel (NICELY OFCCC❤️❤️) they feel so bad that they spoil you ROTTEN. Anddd if you doo— then uhh I'll sing... SWAY BY MICHAEL BUBLÉ!!!

(Honestly— Micheal Bublé reminds me so much of Diluc idk why) ALSO TYY FOR TGD WRIOTHESLEY ALPHABET!!!

——🎵🎶🎼Anon (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

aaaaaaaa i'm sorry this took so long to get out (つ﹏⊂) i hope you like it!! i put my whole pussy into this one just for you <33

(also i've never thought about it but now that you mention it...yeah diluc does give michael bublé vibes ._. and now i'll never un-notice it)

Warnings: SMUT, includes use of 'pussy' and 'cunt', light hurt/comfort, crying, insecurities, oral (f!receiving), p in v, missionary, mating press, breeding kink (if you squint), biting, squirting

(fem!reader, NSFW so no minors!!)

Wc: 2.6k

The Dawn Winery was always quiet at this time of night, though you weren't usually awake to notice it. With the maids asleep and all other business concluded for the day, the only sounds in the manor's entrance hall were the crackling of the fire and the rush of blood in your ears.

Diluc was out again, fulfilling his self-imposed duties as he did every night.

Not once had you ever complained, knowing that the Darknight Hero was something of a coping mechanism for Diluc, but tonight, something about the quiet of the manor caused all of that repressed loneliness to well up from deep within your bones, streaming out in sorrowful trickles from where it had been locked away for so long.

You sat at one end of the sofa, staring into the fire. It reminded you so much of him, not only for the obvious reason of his pyro vision, but because of the burning intensity of it. Once, he would have been beside you, red eyes crackling with that same passion that few others recognised in him, hands exploring your skin like a new world made just for him.

But now, you were alone. All you wanted was for him to come home and take up the other seat, to take his place beside you and stay for a while. There were no doubts in your mind as to his adoration for you, you saw it anytime he spent so much as a few moments by your side. It was his dedication to protecting the city that drew him away from you, forcing more and more distance between the both of you.

If only his feelings of guilt weren't so much stronger than his love for you.

When the door to the Winery suddenly swung open, you were startled out of your reverie. Shooting a glance over your shoulder to watch him enter, you read the exhaustion written in every movement he made like a story you had read a million times before. His claymore was propped against the wall and his coat hung on the rack before he noticed you sitting there.

As soon as he did, his eyebrows furrowed. Even with such a look of concern, it felt good to have his eyes on you once again.

"Love?" He called out to you, consternation tinging his low voice. "What are you still doing up?"

How could you answer that? The truth, that you had been aching for him to return and spare you even a single glance, would only weigh him down further. The worst thing you felt you could possibly be in this moment was a burden to him; that would only push him further away.

"Just couldn't sleep." You lied easily, giving him what you hoped was a convincingly relaxed smile.

However, Diluc's frown only grew deeper.

"Love…you're crying." He pointed out gently, not yet moving from his spot in front of the sturdy wooden doors.

With a swipe of your fingers across your cheek, you found that he was right. They came away wet, glistening in the warm firelight.

"Oh…" You hadn't even noticed them until now, but suddenly, your lip trembled with the emotions just barely being held back. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

But your placating words only seemed to make him worry more. In an instant, he had crossed the room, kneeling before you and cupping your damp cheeks in his hands with a troubled look in his eyes.

"Please don't lie to me." He requested quietly. His thumbs swiped delicate lines beneath your eyes, clearing the tears that collected there.

His intense gaze was filled with such deep concern, such apparent care, it felt impossible to hide your feelings from him any longer, despite not wanting to cause him any more strain.

With a light sniffle, you dropped your gaze from his to your lap, staring down at your fidgeting fingers as they twisted around each other fretfully.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trouble you, I just…"

Your words faltered, and tears clouded your vision once again, streaming down your cheeks in hot rivulets. Diluc stroked your skin soothingly, waiting patiently for your words.

"I miss you, Luc." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "You've been so busy recently, and I don't want to take up your time when you've got so much on your plate already, but I just feel so…lonely."

The air was still for a few seconds after your admission, until you chanced a look up at his face. His expression was stormy, clouded with irritation, causing your stomach to drop. Of course, you were demanding too much of the man who already had so many people depending on him. With a shake of your head, you pulled away from his gentle touch.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to be a burden. I'll be fi-."

"No." Diluc cut you off with a firm shake of his head, taking your hands into his with the utmost conviction. "Don't apologise. Never apologise for taking up my time."

Your lip quivered once again, the vehement tone of his voice only making your guilt feel that much stronger. Of course, Diluc would be understanding. Why had you even tried to hide your feelings in the first place?

"No matter how busy I am, you are always my priority. I apologise for failing to show you that, my love." He spoke in a low voice.

One hand released yours as he wiped the tears from your eyes again, tilting your gaze up to meet his fiercely passionate one.

"Allow me to make it up to you, love." He murmured in a voice so gentle the steady crackle of the fireplace almost drowned it out.

His gaze was heavy on your rapidly easing expression as he approached slowly and grazed his lips over yours faintly. The aching tenderness of his mouth, the smoky scent clinging to his clothes, the warmth of his body so close yet so far, everything about the moment was so overwhelming. A soft whimper escaped you as he coaxed you into a careful kiss, easing your sadness with every reassuring brush of his lips against yours.

In your desperation to prolong the feeling, your hands gripped his shirt tightly, wrinkling the fine material in your fists. With his gloved hand cradling your jaw, he tipped your head back just slightly, providing him a better angle to glide his hot tongue against your lips as he deepened the kiss.

His free hand came down to rest on your thigh, skimming over the shape of your leg beneath your dress in a way that made you tremble with barely repressed want. Diluc noticed the shiver that ran up your spine at that slightest touch, and with a low rumble from deep within his chest, his wandering hand groped more firmly at the plushness of your thighs and his tongue tangled with yours in a display of his own growing need.

Your heart was racing faster than you thought was possible, the sound of blood rushing in your ears all you could hear. No thoughts made their way past the overwhelming feelings he caused to blossom within you. Eager fingers found their way to his nape, tugging the hair tie from his hair and threading through the fiery red locks. Diluc let out a groan at the feeling, and in an instant, his arms were looping under your thighs, scooping you off the sofa easily.

"Apologies, my love, I had not realised just how long it had been." He murmured, pressing one last kiss to your lips before heading towards the stairs with you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist tightly.

"Allow me to make this right, yes?"

The heat in the bedroom was sweltering, radiating from where the both of you laid together for the first time in several days. Your clothes had been long since discarded, and your shivering body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

Diluc laid between your legs, sweat gluing a few red strands to his forehead in a way that was almost lewd on its own from your vantage point among the luscious pillows of his bed. Strong hands pinned your quivering thighs to the bed insistently, preventing you from closing them whilst his tongue explored your folds as though it were the first time he had ever done it.

Archons knows how many orgasms he had pulled from you so far; your throat ached with every keen and whimper you let out, and dull heat throbbed in your stomach with every dip of his tongue into your wet entrance as yet another high approached steadily.

Diluc's eyes were clouded with a lustful haze as he paid attention to every reaction you made and the lower portion of his face glimmered wetly with your slick, but he showed no signs of stopping yet. Even by tugging on his loose hair, you were unable to draw his lips away from your aching cunt- in fact, the action only spurred him on, drawing deep rumbles from his chest in response to the sharp sensation in his scalp.

"Luc, please…" you whined, though you weren't certain what it was that you were pleading for. The stimulation was too much, the thought of another orgasm overwhelming, but the idea of him retracting his tongue was even worse.

"Shhh…just one more, love." He mumbled huskily, his eyes slipping shut in contentment.

His lips lowered to your entrance, lapping up the essence of your arousal whilst his nose nudged against your clit, sending electric waves up your spine. Wetness soaked the sheets beneath your hips, and the fine silk was rumpled messily from your writhing.

Wet sounds filled the room as Diluc slurped obscenely on your pussy, every action he made undignified and animalistic with his need to taste you, to feel the way your walls clamped around his tongue as though desperate to keep him there forever.

He dragged the hot muscle of his tongue against your core slowly, swirling around your clit once, twice, then fusing his lips around the bud and sucking. Your back arched and your eyes clenched shut, a clamorous wail tearing through you at the same time as your pleasure peaked, every muscle in your body spasming in euphoria as another orgasm crashed over you. The whole room seemed to fade away, until all that was left was Diluc's mouth, working you determinedly through the peak of your pleasure.

The sensation was so intense, it took several seconds for you to come down. His lips withdrew, peppering light kisses along your inner thighs until your eyes had fluttered open again, searching for him blearily in the darkness.

He appeared almost smug, smiling contentedly as he kissed his way back up your body, lathing his tongue over marks that he had left on his way down. He worked slowly, his hands sliding up your sides and coming to fondle your breasts greedily, rolling your nipples between his fingers whilst he ran his sinful tongue over your damp skin.

By the time he reached your lips, you were whining and bucking against the mattress once again, still not quite satiated after all of the pleasure he had given you. Lying atop you like this, his cock pulsed with need between your bodies, and the slight twitch of him was all it took to get you going again.

"Do you think you can handle one more?" He murmured against your lips, his hips rocking against your stomach, staining your skin with pearls of precum.

"Yes, gods, yes. Please, Luc, need to feel you." Your words came out as desperate sobs, and he breathed a shaky exhale as he leaned his weight onto his elbows above your shaking body.

"Archons…" Diluc whispered, his head dipping into the crook of your neck to nibble softly at the skin there. "You are simply irresistible."

Quickly, he aligned himself with your entrance, running the warm head of his cock through your folds to collect the combination of your juices and his saliva, before pressing it against your tight hole with a groan.

The stretch of him, so thick and hard as he pushed his way into your cunt, was almost more than you could handle this soon after such an intense orgasm. His pelvis ground up against your clit when he bottomed out, stuffing you full with his aching cock whilst you cried out for him.

He held himself there for a few moments, short, gasping breaths leaving his parted lips as he steadied himself. The lushness of your walls wrapped around him was too delicious to be over so soon.

"I promise, I'll never leave you alone again." He whispered, fixing his gaze on your cock-drunk expression as he delivered one slow thrust into your heat.

"I'll keep you satisfied from now on, my love. Never going to let you go without my touch again. I'll dedicate my whole life to you, okay? You'll never be lonely again, I swear."

Diluc was babbling unconsciously with every thrust he gave, all sweet words and promises in a deep, velvety voice that pushed you further into those blissful feelings.

All you could do was moan and sob incoherently in response, tears of ecstasy wetting your lashes as the shivers running up and down your spine grew more and more violent, wracking through your body in tremorous waves in time with every wet slap of his hips against yours.

Strong hands found their way under your hips, lifting them off the mattress slightly so that he could press your thighs upwards and practically fold you in half against the mattress. The tip of his cock reached even deeper inside you in this new position, and your walls pulsed around him in response to the intense sensations.

"Archons, you feel too good…" He moaned, leaning down to lathe the sensitive skin of your neck in hot, sloppy kisses that were so unlike the tender way he usually kissed you. "Gonna cum for me again, love?"

Frantically, you nodded. The invisible string in your stomach tightened until your entire body felt like a piece of elastic ready to snap as his pace only grew more animalistic. White blind spots began to grow in your vision with every invasion of his thick length into your aching hole, and your symphony of moans were surely waking up the maids on the other side of the mansion by now.

"Gonna fill you up, my love. Gonna cum so deep, you'll always have me in you." Diluc growled. His pace was faltering, each drag of his cock inside you losing their rhythm but gaining strength in his wild desperation.

Your responding whine was music to his ears, and he panted hot breaths against the sweat-slick skin of your throat.

"Luc, 'm gonna cum-" Your words came out slurred, as though drunk on the pleasure. Even your eyes could hardly stay open, so overwhelmed with extraordinary pleasure that every muscle inn your body seemed to be clenched tight.

"Me too, fuck- cum for me, darling. Let me feel you, need to feel you." He groaned, sinking his teeth into the column of your throat. "Cum for me, and I'll give you everything."

That was all it took to send you crashing over the edge into impossible pleasure. Your back arched and a loud scream of ecstasy tore out of your throat. Wetness coated his stomach as you squirted with the force of it, finally pushing him over the edge until he was crashing down to his own climax. Diluc let out a loud moan at the same time as yours, and your synchronised cries of pleasure filled the once silent Winery with the sound of your devotion.

#diluc x reader #diluc x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader smut #diluc ragnvindr x reader

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starrtiny · 2 months

Text

Can't Help Myself No More

a/n this is my first fic so i hope ya'll enjoy :)) I had this idea planned but it took me almost a month to write... i hope it's worth it for y’all

summary: To put it plainly, the guy was a nerd. A hot nerd you wanted to fuck! Chris is eye candy to everyone in the office - including you. Only, he doesn't see it. He's too sweet and innocent to see the flirting and the hidden intentions of everyone around him, or is he? Maybe he's not who he seems to be... words - 6.5k general - explicit content, chan + female reader, mutual pining, colleagues to lovers, semi-public sex, he's kind of a virgin, praise + degradation kink if you squint

🎵 007 - Tabber

You let out a loud sigh and sat up in your seat as you looked at the clock on the wall across from you. It was a Friday night and way past the end of shift, but you’d been given so much work this past week that you had no choice but to work overtime. And it just so happened to be with non-other than Chris.

Most of the lights had been turned off and it was just you two left in the office. You had barely spoken to him since the start of the week and the tension lingered heavily in the room. You didn’t know why, it’s not like what you had seen was a big deal, but for some reason it still weighed on your mind and no matter what, you just couldn’t shift it.

You didn’t know how to speak to him, after all, he wasn’t the person you thought he was anymore.

No! Stop being overdramatic!

He was the same person – he just wasn’t how you perceived him to be. He wasn’t a sad loser, he wasn’t weak, and he certainly didn’t rely on you.

You were bitter.

You needed him to need you and god did it pain you to admit it.

Monday morning. You were sat at your desk, still half asleep, praying for it to be Friday already. Your ears had pricked up at the mention that Chris had arrived. Pulling your head up off the table, you groaned at the thought of him being finely polished and his cheerful self this early in the morning.

‘How are you so happy on a Monday morning?’ you had questioned him as he arrived at the desk opposite yours, placing his bag on top and wrapping his jacket around the back of his chair, your eyes hesitating on his arms as his biceps flexed.

Chris was fit. Physically.

He loved working out and you were in awe of how strong a man like him was. Chris was eye candy around the office too, and it always made you laugh at how oblivious he was too it. The younger girls were constantly bringing him snacks and drinks, offering to do the littlest things for him, twirling their hair whenever he walked by or spoke to them to turn them away (extremely politely of course).

‘They’re just being kind,’ he had always told you.

As far as you knew, Chris was single. He had been the whole time you knew him. He had never shown any interest in anyone at work either, whether he knew pretty much the entire office was hitting on him or not. It did surprise you, but in a sad way, you kind of liked it. He was hot but you also found him incredibly adorable. The way he sought your approval on every piece of work he did, even though you two were on the same level. The way he would get you anything without you needing to ask. The way he would scrunch his nose as he pushed his glasses up at the bridge…

To put it plainly, the guy was a nerd. A hot nerd you wanted to fuck!

‘Guess I’m just a morning person,’ He smiled at you, and you felt your heart melt. It happened every time and it never got old. ‘I was about to go grab coffees for everyone, you coming’?’

The sun glared in your eyes as you walked down the street, side by side next to Chris, and you could feel your face burning, cursing yourself for not putting on sunscreen that morning. You laughed with him as he attempted to shield your face, bumping into each other multiple times due to lack of vision and personal space. Anyone walking past on the street would assume you two to be a couple and it made your heart ache. You ignored the pain and forced yourself to block that idea from your head. You didn’t have a crush on him, you just didn’t object to the idea of being with him... You were just curious what it would be like… Right?

He held open the door for you as you entered to store and you watched from a distance as he ordered your drinks, oblivious to the women behind the till writing her number on his cup.

That was when it had happened.

You blamed yourself for being too obsessive.

If you weren’t insistent on hanging from his every word and move, you would have missed it. You wouldn’t be in the position you are now.

Chris had pulled his wallet from his back pocket, using his card to pay for the drinks for the office. Your eyes were caught by the light being reflected from a packet inside and your heart sank, a pit growing in your stomach making you feel more nauseous by the second.

You spent the rest of the day, the rest of the week, fighting yourself on it, deciding whether to care or not. He was a grown man after all, and it wasn’t really your business, but it was Chris. You couldn’t argue that he was extremely hot so him being with other people wouldn’t really be a surprise, but this was the man who was blissfully unaware of the flirting he received from his colleagues for two whole years.

Maybe you just wanted him to be innocent. Maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did after all…

What you did know however, was that this only made you want him more!

“Have you finished for tonight?” you hear Chris utter as he looks up from his computer.

“Yeah, I think so,” you moan. “I’m not going to get very far with this tonight. I’ll have a fresh start Monday morning” you let out a weak smile in his direction.

“Give me a few minutes, I’ll drive you home”.

What the fuck…

You gave him a slight nod, caught off guard.

Chris had never offered anything like that before, what did it mean? Maybe you were reading too far into this, but then again, you’d known each other for years and didn’t even know where each other lived. What was with the suddenly change...?

Your thoughts were interrupted by noise of Chris rapidly tapping against his keyboard, your focus being instantly drawn as his slender fingers were lit up by the moonlight shining in through the crack in the blinds. You let your eyes wander as he reached for the mouse and delicately scrolled…

You cursed yourself for letting your mind drift, plagued by your newfound information about Chris’ sex life, only to get cut off once again by Chris fiddling with the buckles on his bag.

He’s your co-worker

“I’m ready if you are” You look up and he was returning the gaze towards you cheerfully and you instantly noticed the absence of his glasses. Your heart throbbed as your colleague had suddenly become 10x more attractive and a deep pit formed in your stomach, wondering how you are meant to survive a car journey with him while he looked like that.

On the drive home, you found yourself basically gripping the car door, begging for oxygen. Chris had once again removed his suit jacket and had leant over to throw it onto the backseat. You found yourself rushing to look away before he turned back in case you couldn’t control yourself and kissed him there and then. To make matters worse, he had proceeded to roll up his shirt sleeves, accentuating his thick forearms that made you almost break a sweat. He had one hand carefully gripping the wheel and the other placed gently on the gear stick. You watched intently through your peripherals, the way Chris’ arm flexed every time he changed gear or turned the wheel using the palm of his hand – you had learnt something new about yourself that day and as much as you wanted to be mad, you were enjoying it just a little bit too much.

Once you arrived home, you fought yourself on asking him inside.

He’s you co-worker you repeatedly reminded yourself, before thanking him and getting out of the car. You took your time however, hoping for a sign that he might want this too, only, it never came.

You went to home that night, your chest heavy with guilt and regret.

Chris knew exactly what he was doing. He felt disgusting and he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help himself.

Chris had known he wanted you since the day he first lied eyes on you, and it only grew by the day. Watching you around the office pained him. You were so kind-hearted and caring to everyone there, he couldn’t help but want it all to himself.

He wanted you to himself.

He often found himself pretending to not understand something just so you could stare into his eyes while you slowly explained it to him, just so he could get a brief glance down your shirt and at your cleavage as you bent over his desk, just so he could see your skirt slightly lift as you leant over, and just so he could watch you walk away.

He found his slacks tighten every time you switched persona and dominated the office, assigning roles and complaining when work wasn’t up to standard. It was a shame though, he thought, that he was the only person you never seemed to be mean to.

This is my punishment he had decided. His fantasies were disgusting, and the universe was taking it out on him for being a pervert.

He had to take his jacket off as soon as he got into the car. Chris had caught himself looking as you lifted your bare leg to fold over the other, skirt lifting and briefly showing your underwear (which Chris had accidently noted matched your bra that day). He felt his chest tighten and his cheeks grew warm. He felt suffocated, needing to calm and cool himself before you noticed something was wrong. Chris had worked so hard to keep up his sweet persona, hiding how truly disgusting he was from you, and he was not about to let it slip now.

He didn’t know what had come over him 10 minutes prior asking to give you a lift – a sudden wave of confidence. Never before had Chris had the courage to ask you out, not that this was a date, but it counted for something. Maybe it was because you had joined him earlier in the week for the coffee run and he had deluded himself into thinking you wanted him too. Maybe it was because he had noticed you strangely drifting away recently and needed to win you back. Maybe he finally was finally going to make a move…

“You’ve been avoiding me this week” Chris shocked himself when he noticed he was the one who had just spoken.

You shifted anxiously in your seat, “I’ve just gotten myself tired… too much work I guess”.

You looked over to Chris, sending him a smile, hoping that he believed you.

He didn’t.

But the way you looked at him caused him to forget to care.

15 minutes later, he pulled up outside your house after what felt like the shortest car journey of his life. The rain pattered on the windshield as you gathered your belongings and Chris racked his brain for any excuse to come in or to not let you leave the car.

He couldn’t find one.

You bid him goodbye and wished him a safe journey home before running inside to escape the rain. You threw your bags onto the floor as you entered your house, sighing, kicking off your shoes and falling back against the door. You rubbed your face, wondering how much longer you had to suffer like this and what you had to do to get over him.

Your thoughts, however, didn’t last for long as they were cut off by the panic caused by the feel of your coat pocket feeling strangely empty, where your phone once was. You ran over to your bags, rummaging through and finding nothing.

Shit

You knew exactly where it was.

Of course it is

Chris’ car. It must have fallen out. You wanted to scream at the universe for this. No matter what, everything just circled back to him. You were not getting over him anytime soon…

You picked yourself up off the floor and rushed towards your door. He might still be outside you had convinced yourself – you prayed. You were prepared to run out into the rain bare footed, only to be stopped by a figure as you pulled open your front door.

“You, um, left this in my car” He spoke, so quiet it was almost a whisper.

You didn’t realise how badly you needed to see him in that moment. He was like a drug, and you were having withdrawals. Nobody had ever made you feel like this, and it scared you. Your fingers brushed as you took the phone from him, not breaking eye contact once and you were convinced you saw a darkness flash over his eyes. Did he want you too? Did he feel the same? Your brief touch left you needing more, feeling empty without him and all you could think about in that moment was having his soft skin back on yours again.

Your hands had a mind of their own; you felt them reach towards Chris, dropping the phone that brought you two together onto the floor, and pulling him towards you. It didn’t take much, he was already moving you backwards, his hands on your waist and yours on his tie.

You felt him push against you hungrily while a hand snapped round the back of your head to protect it from the wall behind you. His other hand remained on your waist, caging you in and unknowingly keeping you up when you felt like your knees were about to give way.

His kiss was passionate and soft, but you could tell he wasn’t holding back. There was determination in his actions, and you let him. You swallowed your pride and any nagging thoughts in the back of your mind and just let him have you. You just wanted to enjoy the moment you had waited years for.

Only it didn’t last long.

It was over just as quickly as it started.

You felt Chris pull away, running his hand through his hair, aggravated, and muttering a shitty excuse about being sorry or how he shouldn’t have done it. You watched as he backed out of the door you two had conveniently left open and the deafening silence pulled you back to reality; you were abandoned against the wall, frozen in place.

You spent that weekend rearranging your house, putting any furniture you could against the empty wall in hopes to disguise it. Every time you looked over, you couldn’t help but relive your moment together, making you feel nauseous and yet, no matter what, you just couldn’t look way. You eventually decided on a pot plant, one you had found at a market you had dragged yourself to as a distraction. (It hadn’t worked)

The metaphor was ironic – something was growing and it wasn’t your love. You dreaded going back to work. You were used to the tension between you two over the past week but god, this was too much. Maybe you could hand in your two weeks’ notice? Do you think they’d accept two days? You wrote it up and printed it off nonetheless.

Maybe it’s for the best you considered. This could be your way out. He tried it with you, he made it blatantly clear he didn’t want it and you certainly couldn’t face him again after that. If you quit and got a new job elsewhere, maybe you might have a chance of getting over him.

You can’t run away from your problems! You ignored that thought. You weren’t really in the mood for thinking logically today.

You had shown up late to work Monday morning. At least you were there though, it was more than what you expected of yourself. Thankfully no one had picked up on the distance between you and Chris – metaphorically and physically. You were convinced he’d furthered himself from you…

You spat out some lie of coming down with a cold to anyone who questioned your tardiness and to your surprise everyone bought it. Well, so you thought.

“Hey, can I speak to you when you get chance?” you had called out to your boss as she rushed past your desk, mid task.

“If this is about you quitting, then the answer is no” she pinched the bridge of her nose and stopped in her tracks. You two had a great relationship and were extremely close, considering that she was your boss. Your friendship allowed you two to be completely honest and tell each other things exactly how they were; you only realised this was a curse in disguise as she saw straight through you.

“W-what?”

“You left your notice on your desk,” she sighed, and you whipped your head round to your desk, panicked. To your surprise, there sat Chris, adamantly watching the conversation unfold, a sad look glazed over his eyes.

You reminded yourself to laugh about that later.

“If you’re going to quit, can you at least wait and do it at a time when we’re not so busy?” She turned back to her assistant and proceeded to continue their prior conversation, walking off and leaving you frozen in your tracks. You tried calling after her, but you knew that was as far as you were going to get with her. Defeated, you made your way back over to your desk where Chris had decided to finally look away.

If the tension between you two wasn’t obvious to everyone in the office, it sure was now.

He wasn’t sure how he had ended up in this situation again. It was Monday evening, and everyone had left – except him and you. Every time Chris was left alone with you, he struggled to contain himself. The weight on his chest was a constant reminder of how badly he had fucked up at the weekend by letting his impulses take over and as a result, ruined one of the only good things in his life.

“You’re quitting because of me?” Jesus Christ, he needed to learn to stop talking whenever there was an awkward silence. You looked up from your paperwork and glared at him.

What a dick!

“Not everything is about you Chris”.

“You’ve been quiet all day…” he pushed.

“I’m just tired that’s all”.

“You’ve used that excuse before” he smirked at you from across the table.

“Why don’t you just mind your own fucking business?” You stood up, slamming your hands on the table in front of you and hovered over Chris. Silence echoed throughout the room, and you instantly felt a deep pit growing in your stomach.

“Shit! I’m sorry,” you rushed out, looking away. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that”. You were completely oblivious however, to Chris tucking his chair in as close as possible or finding anything he could to cover his crotch after your sudden outburst. Was it wrong for him to want to keep going, to keep pushing you? He knew you felt guilty for your actions, but he saw red and from then on, could only think with his dick...

The guilt, however, overcame you. You knew Chris didn’t deserve for you to shout at him like that and that you were taking your own emotions out on him. He was only teasing you, probably trying to lighten the mood and rid of the heavy tension lingering between you two and you went and ruined it – again!

You couldn’t take it anymore. You reached down to pick up your bag from underneath your desk and began packing away any files you may need.

I’ll finish it at home you thought to yourself. You couldn’t stand to be around Chris anymore and needed to get out before you did anything else you regretted. That was until your thoughts were cut off by the feeling of being harshly spun around until you felt the backs of your thighs hit your desk. You were faced with the man you were trying so hard to avoid, caging you in and giving you a sense of déjà vu to the Friday evening you had spent together three days prior.

“What are you doing?” your voice small.

He had bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know” he croaked out. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell he was fighting with himself, and it pained you to go through this for a second time.

“You don’t want this” you let out in a whisper. His eyes suddenly snapped open, and his head whipped up.

“W-what? No, of course I want this”. He had shrunk his head down to your level and looked you straight in the eye.

He was genuine.

“Why did you run away last time then?”

“I was scared. I thought you didn’t want this”. He broke eye contact and backed away again.

You couldn’t help but smile, “I want this”.

“I want this too” He leant back onto the desk behind you and hesitantly left a peck on the corner of your mouth, feeling him smile against you. His body swallowed yours and you wanted to stay in his warmth forever.

That was until you felt it against your thigh.

You looked down and Chris felt your body shake against him as you giggled; his face flushed when he realised what was going on. He’d gotten distracted from his problem during your sudden confession that he forgot the reason he stopped you from leaving in the first place.

He leant behind you and swiped everything off your desk (a bold move for him), barely giving you chance to argue before pulling you towards him by the waist, spinning you around and pushing you forward, leaving you to catch and hold yourself up on the desk, now in front of you. Your button up shirt hung lose, exposing your shoulder, allowing Chris to pull it down where he began to leave a trail of kisses down your back as he lightly dragged his index finger up your thigh, underneath your mini skirt. You could image him smirking as you let out a gasp and arched your back slightly at his cold touch. “Do you do this to all your girls?” you snarked, breathlessly.

His touched stopped at your sudden comment and Chris spun you back round to face him, picking you up and placing you onto the table.

“What girls?” He asked, a look of confusion spread across his face.

“I don’t know, I just thought… you know,” you hesitated “I saw your wallet.”

“Oh”

You stared at him blankly as he worked up the courage to explain himself. “My friends put it in there as a joke on a night out,” He squinted at you, as if he was scared to see your reaction. “Something about hyping myself up to actually get laid” His voice faded out towards the end of his sentence.

You grabbed his tie, slowly bringing him closer to you. “Have you ever...?”

“Just once” He blushed.

You giggled into his mouth as you pulled him into a kiss. “Cute”

For someone with such little experience, Chris sure knew his way around your mouth. Your little pecks quickly turned into a heated make out where his hands began roaming your body, eventually finding your shirt buttons, and beginning to undo them. His lips followed, making their way down your neck and eventually to your chest. His hands found their way to your breasts, cupping them and causing you to question whether he really was as unexperienced as he said he was…

You watched as Chris’ eye line changed to your cleavage and you couldn’t help but adore how innocent he was, getting distracted so easily, which corrected your previous train of thought. You brought him back to reality by directing his lips back to your chest and you felt a pair of large hands grip your thighs, pulling you forward and causing you to fall backwards as Chris continued his way down your stomach.

The remains of his kisses sent chills throughout your body as they went cold, causing you to seek warmth in Chris, edging closer towards him and placing your legs over his shoulders as his warm breath heated your core. You choked out a gasp as his nose brushed against your clit and he laid soft kisses against the top of your underwear in an attempt to tease you.

‘Your wet…’ he spoke, almost surprised.

‘It’s all you’.

You felt Chris suck in a breath and pause beneath you, you could sense his nerves from above. You grabbed him by his curls, pulling his head up and forcing him to make eye contact with you. You begged him with your eyes before forcing his head back down, granting him permission.

You felt him leave a soft lick down your centre and waited for your protests. He was met with comfortable silence allowing him to repeat the motion, eventually picking up the pace and soon leaving longer strips that caused you to thrust your hips forward, pushing you even closer to him. You felt as he peeled your underwear off of you, letting it dangle around your ankle, and his tongue gently slipped between your folds, licking a few strips before finding your hole and began tongue fucking you. His free hand had moved down to your hip where his thumb reaching down to toy with your clit. Your hands were still in his hair, and you couldn’t help but pull at it, reassuring and guiding him as he began to go down on you. He peeled his last hand away from your waist and was brought it up to your core, feeling your slit before he slowly entered a finger. Your deep groan cause Chris to twitch in his jeans, encouraging him to push it in deeper before pulling out and entering a second. You felt his lips kiss at your nub where he started to lick and kiss. Chris vibrated against you as he let out moans, almost sending you into overdrive and you couldn’t help but grind against him; his thrusts speeding up to match you.

“Cameras” you had managed to make out in between moans as you felt yourself grow closer to finishing, shooting up and disappointingly pushing Chris away. You had suddenly been brought back to reality by your moans echoing in the empty room and you realised where you were. There was a very high chance that you two were going to get caught and as much as you loved this new side of Chris, you knew that even he wasn’t kinky enough to properly do you up against your desk in his place of work. Yes, you had tried to resign from your job only 5 hours prior but now everything seemed to be sorting itself out and you didn’t really want to lose your job this way.

Chris pulled away from you, horror spread across your face and you internally panicked, wondering if you had ruined your one and only chance of being with him like this… He trailed his hands up your hips before picking you up and helping you off of your desk. You both giggled as you wiped his mouth for him and he gave you a reassuring peck on the cheek, as if he could read your mind, before grabbing both your bags and quickly leading you out of the office by the hand.

The silence left Chris in his own thoughts, replaying the events of the last 5 minutes on repeat in his head. You were currently stood side by side with him in the elevator, the slight touch of your arms driving him crazy, and he used everything within him to hold himself back from finishing what he had just begun. He knew that if anyone saw anything, then both your careers would be ruined, but the memory of how you sounded and tasted underneath him was fogging his brain and he found himself struggling to stay focused.

He felt your hand reach into his trouser pocket, placing something inside. It didn’t take Chris long to realise it was your underwear and in return, you felt his hand begin to trail up the inside of your thigh. You bit back a gasp, knowing exactly where this was going and what Chris was trying to do. You felt his fingers play with the hem of your skirt and back to the inside of your leg. You tilted your head slightly to find Chris facing forward, straight faced, as if he wasn’t the one currently with his hands up your skirt. You took note on how he had angled your belongings to cover his actions from the camera in the corner of the elevator and remembered to reward him for it later.

The lift opened after what felt like forever and Chris led you out towards the car park, his hand on the small of your back and further positioning himself behind you as it gradually got lower. He didn’t know what had gotten into him but no matter what, he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. You were a magnet and the connection between you two was so strong, he couldn’t leave you alone. Once you eventually reached his car, he held open the passenger door for you, reminding you how easily he could switch personas and you struggled to believe this was the same man who was between your legs, ready to devour you, just moments prior. Chris threw your belongings onto the backseats in a hurry before rushing into the driver’s seat, removing his jacket, and pushing his sleeves up. He suddenly seemed anxiously frantic, and you would find him adorable if you weren’t pent up.

You gave him little to no time before you were reaching over to him, grabbing his hand, and pulling it underneath your skirt. Your eyes rolled back, your head hitting the seat behind you at the relief the slight touch gave you, “Just do something Chris!”

The way you spoke his name was like his own personal porn, and the sight of you being so needy for him and him only made him weak in the knees, willing to do anything you asked of him. You felt the way he froze in place, shocked by how direct you were; his fingers moving only slightly, hesitant to touch you. You sighed and leant over, grabbing him by the chin and smashing your lips into his to close the gap between you.

You pulled away, “You just had me over a desk and edged me in an elevator, and now you’re too shy to actually touch me?” you giggled against his lips. Obviously, you were exaggerating, but you knew Chris had put on a façade and it was beginning to crack.

‘I don’t want it to be here’.

‘I don’t think I can wait any longer’, you whispered in his ear before beginning to kiss down his neck, sucking slightly and leaving a trail of marks. You were proud of yourself, excited about your female coworkers seeing the mess you made tomorrow and finally being able to claim Chris as yours.

Too in the moment, you failed to notice a hand wrapping around your legs and pulling you into Chris’ lap. Your lack of underwear caused you to gasp as you moved against the bulge in your colleagues’ slacks, also receiving a deep groan from Chris that could’ve made you come undone then and there.

The sound was music to your ears, causing you to repeat the motion and begin grinding on his clothed cock. Chris threw his head back as he let out a string of moans and you proceeding marking him, down his Adams apple to his chest. His hands found your shirt, still partially unbuttoned and loose around you, and reached underneath, pulling your breasts from your bra and toying with them. Eventually, he frantically reached underneath you and pulled down his trousers. Your actions continued but the only fabric separating you now was the thin layer of his boxers. You could feel him. The outline, shape, width… You felt dizzy and didn’t know how much more of you two teasing each other you could take.

‘I need you’ You croaked out. ‘Now!’

He nodded aggressively at you, unable to formulate any words as he reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. You couldn’t help but share a giggle as he took out the item that got you into this mess in the first place.

You struggled to stop yourself from staring as he rolled the condom onto himself and didn’t fail to notice the slight smirk on Chris’ face. You had felt he was big, but you hadn’t expected this and your mind ran with ideas of what you wanted to do to him. You’d have to save that for next time however, because you felt yourself throb at the sight and you needed him inside you ASAP.

You rested your hands on his shoulders, pulling yourself up off Chris’ lap and positioning yourself.

‘Are you sure you’re ok with this’ Chris had asked, nerves lacing his voice, worried you would change your mind last minute. Internally you groaned; you were hovering over his cock, tits and pussy out, practically begging him to take him and he was still worried.

‘Yes yes yes,’ you managed to mumbled out, struggling to speak as you threw your head back at the friction from brushing against his tip. You appreciated him asking for consent and found his nerves adorable, but you were too inpatient to care anymore. ‘Just please… do something’

Your statement lit a flame in Chris, causing him to pull you down and push himself up, meeting you halfway and thrusting into you. The sting hurt so good, and you fell forward, leaning your forehead against his as you tried to adjust to his size.

‘Halfway there’ Chris groaned against your lips, kissing down your jaw as he waited for you to move again.

Picking yourself back up, your hands fell to Chris’ chest as you sank further down. He swallowed a moan as he watched you take all of him where you waited a few moments before moving, rocking against him. You rushed to remove the hand that Chris used to cover his mouth in attempt to muffle his moans, replacing it with your mouth. The kisses were sloppy, your tongues fighting one another but it didn’t matter to you, you just needed him closer to you in any way you could. You picked up the pace, starting to move up and down, and his naïve moans turning you on even more than any of your partners before. His pelvic bone brushed against your clit, causing you to whimper as he matched your actions, thrusting upwards and bouncing you on his cock. Chris reached out to hold your breasts still hanging loosely out of your clothing, not knowing what to do with himself and still aware of his lack of knowledge surrounding the act.

His lips left yours and instead, sucked onto your skin, returning the favour and leaving marks down your chest. You found your hands returning to his hair and you couldn’t help but play with the soft curls hanging down the back of his neck, tugging on them in surprise when Chris’ teeth grazed your nipple. He let his tongue swirl around your areola a few times to tease you before sucking on your nipple and squeezing your other with his free hand. He made sure to swap over, taking even turns on both your tits and you fell back, hands resting behind you on his knees as you grinded forward.

‘I don’t think I can…last…much longer’ Chris coughed out. You watched as mixed emotions flashed across his face, but you had known him long enough to be able to read him like a book. Due to his lack of experience, Chris was annoyed he couldn’t last longer for you, keep you in this moment for longer, see you like this for longer. You felt a grin spread across your face, once again adoring how cute you found him.

‘That’s ok,’ you reassured. ‘Doing so well for me anyway’.

Your hair tickled your back as you tipped your head back in pleasure as he thrusted harder at your praise, and you both began to pick up the pace. Beads of sweat rolled down Chris’ scrunched up face and you had never found him sexier before; the urge to corrupt him only growing stronger.

The sound of your skin slapping together rang in your ears as it echoed throughout the now fogged up car. You were thankful for the empty car park as you were sure the car rocking would give you two away to any passerby. You reached out to hold onto anything around you as you felt yourself growing closer, your hand smearing the condensation against the glass window.

‘I think I’m going to…’ Chris whined out, his head dropping to your shoulder and his large hands returned to your waist.

‘Me too baby’ giving him permission, you cut him off and grabbed onto the headrest behind him as you felt him harshly thrust into you a few more times before tensing up and letting out a loud, deep moan as he climaxed, one causing you to do the same. You continued to ride him through your orgasms before collapsing into his arms, too tired to move.

You pulled him into your apartment, his lips attempting to find yours in the dark as you stumbled around trying to remove each other’s clothes.

‘What the fuck is that?’ Chris had pulled away and you couldn’t help but giggle when you saw his silhouette fighting your new plant. ‘It’s in my spot!’

‘I had to cover it up after our previous rendezvous’ you muttered, guiding him back to your lips in hopes of changing the subject.

You felt Chris frown against you. ‘I’ll be moving that in the morning,’ he spoke in between kisses. ‘I liked having you against that wall’.

‘Oh… Staying the night, are you?

‘I am’ he gave you one last peck on the lips before picking you up bridal style and carrying you towards your room for round 2…

a/n if y’all read this far… i hope you enjoyed :)) Ellie-mai… this is for you pookie bear <3

🤍 please consider reposting or commenting if you like my work!!!

#smut #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #skz #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bangchan smut #bang chan imagines

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blueywrites · 1 year

Text

I Will Wait

a soulmate!fakemarriage!au with rockstar!eddie and personalassistant!reader (also featuring ronance)

cowritten by @abibliophobiaa, @blue-mossbird, @breddiemunson, @myosotisa, and @fracturedarkness

18+ only for mature themes and eventual sexual content. fem!reader, alcohol consumption

three (15.3k) | next | masterlist | AO3 | 🎵 shmackin' tunes

in this universe, there is no upside down, the year is 1995, and corroded coffin = nine inch nails. enjoy! 🐝

The next few months are an absolute whirlwind. Corroded Coffin was in the last legs of producing their new album when you were hired, meaning the period of time when they were gearing up for the debut was just getting started. Photoshoots, interviews, preparing press releases, scheduling future appearances, and a million other things all seemed to be happening at once.

In addition to being the middleman between Eddie and the powers that be, which mostly consisted of Steve sending you constant emails of new appointments, you also were quick to learn some of the other expectations that comes along with being a PA for a celebrity. Mainly: house work.

At first you had thought they were fucking with you when Eddie mentioned that he needed you to come to his brownstone in the morning to do his laundry. As it turns out, he was both completely serious and incredibly amused with your ignorance of all the things you had technically signed up to do for him by taking this position. So you found yourself letting yourself into the Munson brownstone in Greenwich Village a few times a week to do menial tasks for your client.

Today, you’d walked in around 10am, much to Eddie’s displeasure, and were greeted with a bag full of laundry thrown at your feet. “Good morning to you too, Eddie,” you offer, albeit a bit dryly as you place your pocketbook on one of the stools at the kitchen island. “Did the maid I hired not get around to laundry this week?”

“Fired her.” Eddie sounds way too chipper for this time of day, and you can only guess it’s because of his smug smile as he forces you into doing things you’ve tried to work around. “Kept looking at my underwear weird; thought she was gonna sell it or something.”

Not believing it for a second, you still give him a tight smile. “I’m sure. I’ll work on finding another maid to clean the brownstone. Again.”

“You do that!” He calls over his shoulder as he walks further into the bright and airy kitchen. In his black sweatpants and bleach-stained tank top, he looks completely at odds with his own home. It sometimes makes you wonder if his wife, Robin, picked everything out or if they had just gotten a designer to come in and make it like a show home. The first floor is beautifully decorated but stale, like no one actually lives there. It gets a bit more personal as you ascend but it still seems strange to have a home feel so disconnected. “Oh—” he looks back over as you lift the bag of laundry into your arms with a huff, “I have a pair of silk boxers in there that need to be hand washed, so don’t even think about putting them in the machine. And, uh… don’t worry about the stains.”

Oh, how you wish you could smack the cheeky grin off his face sometimes. You mumble an acknowledgement as you carry the bag through the first floor and past the kitchen, passing through an open door frame that leads into the laundry/mud room. Sorting lights and darks, despite the very intense lack of white articles that need to be cleaned, you start shoving black fabric after black fabric into the top load washing machine. When the tips of your fingers brush silk, your teeth clench tight together as you clutch it in your fist and throw it towards the deep sink a few feet away.

Once the machine is started, you walk back over to where the bundle of black silk now rests at the bottom of the plastic basin. Upon first examination, there are no suspicious ‘stains’ to be seen, but you still don’t trust it. Pinching one of the hems between your fingernails, you lift it up to eye level to inspect further, wanting to know exactly what you’re getting into before you get started.

The french door behind you pulls open with a stream of sunlight and a brush of floral perfumed air. Still holding the offending garment between your fingertips, you spin toward where Robin has just entered the mud room, a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose and a book in her hand. “Uh…” Her hand slowly drops from the door handle, a smile stretching across her face as her eyebrows raise. “Whatcha doin’?”

Embarrassment wells up to warm your face, which you assume was Eddie’s goal all along, while you give Robin a tense smile. “Eddie fired the maid again. Said his silk underwear needed to be ‘hand-washed’.”

Robin’s sigh is one of long-suffering acceptance as she crosses over to you, grabs the boxers, and throws them into the running washing machine. “He’s fucking with you; you know how he is.” The sunglasses are pushed up into her hair so she can fix you with her blue-eyed stare. “You can just… push back a little. Don’t let him walk all over you.”

“It’s my job to—”

“Your job is not to just do whatever the fuck he tells you to do. Like, hiring the maid was a good move. He probably would’ve had you over here everyday dusting his little trophies if you hadn’t outsmarted him.” Her smile is warm, almost like she’s proud. “Your job is to make sure he can do his job. That’s all.”

Since meeting Robin 3 months ago, she has been nothing but sweet and kind to you. Despite being your client’s wife, she very often put herself in your corner, facing off against some of Eddie’s more unreasonable requests. While you don’t necessarily need her intervention, it still is nice to have sometimes. Her reassurance has your tension easing, a deep breath expanding your lungs in slight relief. “Thank you, Robin.”

“No prob,” she taps the cover of her paperback against your bicep as she moves past you and out into the kitchen. “Eddie!”

You follow her through the entry just in time to see Eddie spinning toward her shout, an open gallon of milk in his hand and a white stain on his upper lip. “Hey Rob, what’s the move?”

“God, Munson, you’re so fucking gross.” She pushes his shoulder out of her way to reach into the fridge and pull out a decanter of orange juice. “Remind me to never drink the milk in this house again.”

He sets the jug on the kitchen island and leans on his elbow to keep himself in her sideview, a cheeky grin lighting up his face. “And you married me anyway.”

“Don’t remind me,” she groans, although it betrays a certain level of amusement with her husband as she places her palm on his forehead and pushes him away again. Watching the easy interaction of their back and forth, always acting more like best friends than a more formal married couple, has a pang twisting in your chest. You can only hope for such an easy and comfortable relationship with your soulmate one day.

Two days later, you’re once again standing in the Munson brownstone in the early hours of the morning. Or, Eddie’s version of early, which happens to be anytime before noon. You hadn’t had time to find another cleaning service yet so you were elbows deep in the sink in their kitchen, bright yellow silicon gloves protecting your hands from the hot, soapy water as you washed bowls and coffee cups.

Eddie appears at the bottom of the stairs, yawning loudly as he stretches his arms skyward, shirt lifting to show a peek at the ink beneath. You pay him no mind as you continue your methodical cleaning of ceramics, keeping your eyes down even when he walks right up beside you and leans on the counter. Fully content to ignore him until your task is done, you can’t help but startle away when his fingertips ghost against your temple, pushing the hair back.

“What are you doing?” You finally glance over at him, your voice pitching up a bit in surprise. His smile is mischievous, eyes shining in the light, leaning over further to rest his chin on his fist.

“Oh, I was just fixing it for you. Your hands are wet and soapy.”

Exhaling through your nose, you go back to focusing on scrubbing the burnt eggs from the bottom of a frying pan. Over the last month or so, Eddie has gone from barely tolerating your existence and trying to make your life miserable, to being very pleased with your existence so he can continue to push the envelope on making your life miserable. It has become more and more like a game for him – testing the boundaries on what you will tolerate. Both what you will do for him and how much he can flirt with you until you get terse.

After a moment of awkward silence, at least on your end, you move to break the tension. “We should go over your schedule for today.”

He gives an exaggerated sigh, turning to lean both arms back on the counter beside you. “If we have to.”

“Your stylist asked you to be on site by 10am so they would have time to get you ready before the photographers arrived.” You’re barely halfway through your sentence before Eddie is groaning, sinking a bit lower onto his elbows. Mustering a flat look, you turn your head in his direction. “Why are you pouting?”

“I forgot the fucking photoshoot was today.” A ringless hand comes up to rub at the side of his face, still a bit swollen from sleep. “The only thing worse is those stupid press interviews.”

You turn back to the soap filled bowl in your gloved hands to hide your smile. “Good thing that’s not today. The interview is later this week.” Eddie’s reaction is instantaneous and dramatic – he moans in outrage as he slides all the way down to the floor beside you, leaning over to lightly hit his forehead against the side of your outer thigh over and over.

“I swear, it’s like you hate me,” his voice is muffled from below, face directed down. “You hate me when I have been nothing but nice to you.”

An amused snort leaves you against your will at the idea. His head whips back to look up at you in surprise and you barely manage to school your expression in time. “It’s not personal, Eddie. I’m just doing my job.”

“Speaking of your job,” he picks himself up off the floor in a less-than-graceful fashion, his sweatpants running much lower as he rises. You keep your eyes in the sink as you wipe down the last coffee mug left and pretend you aren’t seeing him adjust the fabric around his groin. “I need you to walk my lizard today.”

Halfway through removing the stopper from the sink to drain the used water, you freeze with your forearm still in the slowly lowering water. “Excuse me?”

He’s leaning on his elbow again, a smug smile on his face as he watches your reactions. “My lizard. You know, the one upstairs?” You make a noise of acknowledgement that you know what lizard he’s referring to. “He needs to be walked once a week. Specifically on sunny days. Normally around noon when the sun is highest, so he gets the most of the heat, y’know?”

You feel your eyebrows drawing together in confusion, trying to think back to what you know about lizards. Which, admittedly, is not much. Still, needing to walk a lizard sounds incorrect. You’ve never seen someone walking around with their lizard on a leash. You’re about to start to question him more when you catch sight of his expression. He has his lips drawn in between his teeth, his eyes pinched tight as he tries not to laugh. “... You’re fucking with me.” The laugh escapes as a bark, his palm slapping down on the counter beside you as it echoes out into the high ceilings of the brownstone. “You almost fell for it too!”

Bristling in annoyance and just a little bit of embarrassment, you take a deep breath and hang the damp gloves over the edge of the now-empty sink to dry. “I think it’s time for you to get ready to leave.”

His mirth dies down fast, his head rolling back to sigh at the ceiling. “But, and here’s the thing right, I really don’t want to go.” You make another noncommittal noise, not looking to encourage his antics right now. Neck rolling toward you, that cheeky grin that you’ve come to loathe is back. “Beg me and I’ll do it.”

Another exhale out of your nose to remain calm, you weigh your options. If you beg, you are playing into his games and encouraging antics like this. But, you also get the result you want faster. If you refuse, you are technically standing your ground, but could end up with a bigger fight to try to get him ready and out the door in time. Deciding to play his game, you give him the flattest expression you’re capable of. “Will you please get ready to leave for your photoshoot?”

This time the sigh he lets out is satisfied, his shoulders falling and eyes closing in what looks like relief. When his eyes meet yours again, they’re accompanied by a lazy smile. “Love when you say please.” He taps the tip of your nose, shocking you still, as he turns back toward the stairs. “I’ll be ready in no time!”

He is not ready in no time.

You’re standing at the bottom of the stairs at 10:10am and have still not seen head nor tail of Eddie since he traipsed back up. The car outside has already honked twice, letting you know it’s waiting, but you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Eddie, we’re already late!” Your voice echoes through the multi-floor space, definitely loud enough for him to hear, but you get no response. Patience running thin, you raise your voice again. “Eddie!”

You finally hear him reply, voice far off. “I got stuck in my pants, maybe you should come up and help me!”

Pressing your fingertips to your brow bone hard enough to pull the skin of your eyelid, you call back, “If you’re struggling to put your own pants on, I should probably call a medical professional.”

The soles of now-familiar boots appear at the top of the tall staircase, your eyes trailing up their occupant as he begins to slowly lumber his way down the stairs. He’s in his usual attire. Scuffed Doc Martens, a pair of black jeans stretched tight over his endless thighs, leather jacket fitted against his frame, those chunky rings adorning his fingers. Around his neck he wears multiple silver chains of varying sizes, dipping low into the collar of his shirt. “Y’know you could stand to be a little more fun.”

You remain firm, arms crossed as you wait for him to hit the final step. “I don’t think I understand your version of fun.” He blows a raspberry in your direction as he crosses the foyer to start shoving things into the already-tight pockets of his jeans. “We’re already late, and that means we are just delaying further when we can get to your preferred portion of the day at the studio.”

He meets your eyes through the mirror before him. Both of you showing an attempt at nonchalance. “I swear, sometimes when you talk it’s like a fly buzzing around my head and I just,” he swats once, “can’t,” twice, “get it,” three times, “to stop.”

“Maybe you should get better aim,” you offer coolly as you cross behind him to hold open the front door, hoping to get him to finally walk through it. “Or, better yet, you should consider actually listening to me instead of letting it go in one ear and out the other.”

“But it's like a buzzing little bee in my ear. Gets so annoying whenever you’re droning on and on about responsibilities and my to do list and shit.” He walks past you as he continues his rant, bouncing down the small set of stairs leading to street level. You’ve just turned back from locking the door when he whirls on you. “Maybe if you wore something a little more easy on the eyes, I’d be able to focus more on what comes out of your mouth.”

When you grit your teeth, his grin only grows, backing up towards the black sedan waiting for you both. Your voice is a thinly veiled warning when you start to say, “Eddie –”

“Careful, little Bee,” he opens the door, lifting a boot to rest on the frame. “If you get too aggressive, you’ll lose your stinger for good.” Then he falls into the darkened car, leaving the door open and sliding across so you can get in next to him. With no other option, you stomp down your frustration and climb in after him.

You’re not sure what to expect as the car pulls up in front of an abandoned warehouse out on Long Island. At first glance, it’s a dilapidated looking hole in the wall. From where you’re sitting, you can see the rusted metal roofing, the smashed in windows, exposed beams standing erect to hold up the exterior of the building. You knew the team intended for a grungier, broken down scene to represent the lyrics of the band’s latest album portraying a man’s downfall; however, you hardly anticipated something such as this in the seemingly middle of nowhere.

Eddie’s knee spreads further right from where he sits next to you, jean-clad thigh brushing yours ever so softly. Your head shifts to take him in, gaze trailing instantaneously to where you’re connected, stamping down the feeling that wells up and lingers behind your ribs with every fleeting moment such as this. His amber eyes are shrouded behind a pair of sunglasses today, tattooed hand nearest to you sprawled over his bent kneecap. There’s a thought burgeoning in his gaze, ever present before he ever even opens his mouth to speak out his reluctant drawl of, “Guess it’s now or never.”

The two of you slide out the car in unison on opposite sides of the respective vehicle, winding around the exterior and meeting to join in the center of the uneven, grassy ground. His lip quirks upward as he takes in the sight of you like a newborn doe on heels that insist on sinking into the ground, head tipping your way in the only acknowledgement of your presence you’ll likely receive. Inside, you’re immediately greeted by rusted over conveyor belts in the center of the room. There are steel beam stairs leading to an upper deck overlooking the central portion of the interior. To your left is the wall least eaten away by rust throughout the years, silver metal spanning from floor to ceiling, with endless lights positioned around the edges of the parameters to illuminate the set.

Your head tips to Eddie, standing there disinterested as ever, head tipping up to the sky, visible through the broken up ceiling. Like this, you can see every dark wave of hair that dances along the leather of his jacket, the ridges on the column of his pale throat, the tattoos that creep up high along the neckline of his collar, hinting at intricate detailing beneath. And then that left hand settles over the bridge of his sunglasses and pushes them upward, the glint of his wedding ring catching in your field of view, and you set your gaze on the glowing set before you as you edge closer to your destination.

The room itself is bustling. People shift and mill about the warehouse, carrying various pallets and crates in hand and positioning them strategically around the room in order to create impactful angles for the intended photos. Workers chat amongst themselves with cameras draped around their necks, clipboards in hand as they mark down a list of tasks you’re not privy to. Once nearer to the group, a woman comes barreling over in a flurry of movement. She’s gorgeous. Deep russet skin, dark hair styled to perfection, a tape measure over her shoulder, and a pair of leather pants curled over a forearm. You catch the glint of her artful gold hoops in either of her ears and the bright makeup covering her eyelids. You admire the rips in her jeans and the fabric of her oversized hoodie as she tuts audibly and glares Eddie’s way. You assume this isn’t the first time Eddie’s run behind schedule, try as you might to get him there as close to on time as possible.

“You’re late!” She admonishes, hand dropping to a popped out hip. For the first time since you’ve been working for Eddie, you catch the slight drop in his steely facade. It’s barely noticeable, just the slightest downturn of his lips, but you capture it all the same, knowing this woman intimidates him in a way no one else seems capable of doing so. She turns to you then, flashing you a megawatt smile. “Erica. Erica Sinclair. I’m Corroded Coffin’s stylist. I’m sure you tried your very best to get him here on time, but you see Edward wouldn’t be Edward if he wasn’t late to everything.”

“Fashionably late, Sinclair.” She glances him up and down, clearly unimpressed by his excuse, and curls a hand around his shoulder.

“Says the man who would wear the same ugly ass Hellfire shirt to every fitting when I first started working with you all. It’s a miracle by my own doing that you know how to dress yourself now. Come on, the team is already paying for your lateness,” she says, and without another word your way, she ushers him to a trailer standing just outside of the warehouse, where you anticipate the rest of the band to be readying for their photoshoot within.

You’re left to stand in the back of the warehouse, trying to keep out of the way of those working around you. With a low sigh, you wander over to the furthest wall covered in sheet metal and broken in windows, looking out into the grassy landscape. A bird flits on by, drawing your attention, just as a voice sounds from behind you. Jolting, you whirl on the heel and spot none other than Steve himself, and beside him, a man you’ve yet to meet before.

The man’s bearded face is twisted in a scowl as he shouts into his brick of a cell phone. He’s gesticulating wildly, dark curls bouncing with every angry movement. You can only catch snippets of his impassioned rant, but you’ve gathered enough to know that he does not suffer fools gladly.

Steve stands awkwardly beside the man, wincing on occasion at his booming voice. The scene is not entirely inviting, but you have no choice but to approach when Steve’s gaze catches yours. His face lights up in recognition, and he waves his hand to beckon you near. As you approach, Steve steps forward and briefly pats your upper back in greeting.

“Glad to see you made it! I want to introduce you to our band manager, Murray Bauman.” Steve motions you over with a warm smile until another shrill taunt from the man in question has him flinching away. “But let’s just give him a minute, shall we?” You agree politely and turn with Steve to observe Murray closing out his phone conversation.

“I don’t care how busy you are, get it done TODAY!” Murray’s barking demand echoes throughout the warehouse, and you stare as he rips the phone from his ear and takes out his frustrations by repeatedly smashing the end call button. He lets out an annoyed breath before pushing his wireframe glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“Fair warning, he can be… bold.” Steve whispers this warning for your ears only. Just another hothead for the collection, you snort to yourself. You deal with Eddie Munson on a daily basis. How much worse could Murray Bauman be? Steve walks ahead of you to serve as the bridge during introductions. Before Steve can offer an explanation, Murray’s annoyed face takes in your approach with suspicion.

“Who are you? Harrington, why are you bringing this person to bother me?” Murray interrogates you immediately. He regards you skeptically, assessing whether you are worth his time or attention.

“Murray, this is the assistant I was telling you about,” Steve explains, offering your name as he beckons you forward. “You know, the one who is currently working with Eddie.”

“You mean the one you forced me to hire?”

Steve casts a furtive glance your way before his gaze whips back to Murray, the stare holding weight as he replies, “She’s lasted four months, Murray.”

Murray looks back flatly as Steve tries to impress some knowledge upon him with a combination of wide hazel eyes and bushy brows. Behind his wireframe glasses, Murray squints. “Four months?” He replies skeptically, and Steve nods slowly.

“Four months,” he enunciates slowly, and you watch the men communicate through shifting facial expressions: Steve’s eyes implore Murray to be civil, while Murray appears exasperated by the prospect of niceties. Eventually, Murray lets out a groan before forcing his face into a perfunctory smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Murray offers, insincerity lacing his every word. His dark eyes cut to Steve as if to ask - happy now? All at once, his mask crumbles and he returns to his brash self. “Do me a favor, yeah? Keep Munson in line. I’d prefer to not clean up any more of his messes.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” you reply. “It’s very nice to mee–”

“What the hell are you wearing?” Murray sounds appalled, disgust written all over his face. His question makes you stutter to a stop. You look down at your outfit and see nothing untoward - white blouse, black cardigan, plaid pleated skirt, dark tights, and chunky heels. It’s simple and professional. It’s safe. Or so you thought. Confused, you look back up to see that Murray isn’t making eye contact with you. Instead, he’s glaring at something or someone behind you. That’s when you register the sound of heavy boots thudding your way. You turn to see who has inspired such a visceral reaction from Murray, but instinctively you know who you’ll find.

Eddie.

He strides toward you with Erica by his side. She looks proud of her work, and you can’t blame her. Eddie looks… well, he looks hot. To put it bluntly. Erica has given Eddie a monochrome look that’s enhanced by different textures and accessories. His black suit is striking with its satin lapels and tailored fit. The suit jacket is unbuttoned, revealing the pièce de résistance - a mesh top that leaves little to the imagination.

“You look ridiculous! Where’s the rest of your shirt?” Murray’s question is directed at Eddie, but his scowl is aimed straight at Erica. Any other person would have withered under the intensity of his glower, but Erica seems emboldened by it.

“Where’s the rest of your hair?!” Erica counters without a moment's hesitation, arms crossed in defiance. “Leave the dressing to the experts. Seriously, Murray. You look like a sad, middle-aged hack going through a divorce.”

“Oh, spare me, Sinclair.”

Erica and Murray’s jibes muddle with Steve’s pleas to stop, eventually fading into background noise as you observe the man standing before you.

You have to hand it to Erica - it’s a daring look. The mesh hugs Eddie’s torso in a way that flatters his lithe frame and provides just enough of a glimpse of his tattoos to captivate any onlooker. His pale skin is heavily decorated in ink, and you can’t help but try deciphering what you’re seeing through the mesh. Eddie’s collection of tattoos seems to pay homage to his love of music and fantasy. On his left side, you spy an unusual string instrument with the word bard etched underneath. Just below that, you see artwork of a dagger with a blade made of uniquely shaped dice. By his right ribcage, Eddie has a tattoo of a mighty dragon with wings poised for flight. The dragon’s claws seemingly tear into the supple skin of Eddie’s toned abdomen. You follow the dragon’s scales down, down, down until its tail disappears beneath Eddie’s suit trousers - along with a little patch of sparse hair below his navel.

I wonder where that tattoo ends. The thought jolts you back to reality. This is your client— your very married client— whose wife has been nothing but kind to you. The guilt and shame overwhelm you.

You become very aware that you’re still ogling Eddie’s body, and your eyes race upwards to find a more appropriate location to settle. Unfortunately, your retreat to safety is foiled by the glimmer of metal you spot by Eddie’s nipples. You feel flustered by the sudden warmth blossoming within you. Eddie Munson has his nipples pierced. You had been too distracted by his tapestry of tattoos to notice them at first, but now you’ll never be able to forget that the piercings exist. Great going, you think to yourself, you try to avoid staring at your client's happy trail only to stare at his nipple piercings instead. Well done, very professional.

To your horror, Eddie has caught you staring. He sports a look of faux disappointment with his plump lips pushed into a pout. His tattooed hand points to his face, and he teases, “Tsk, tsk, little Bee. My eyes are up here.”

Your mind races to find a suitable excuse for your staring, or better yet, a way to deny it happened in the first place. Eddie is looking at you like he’s a spider that has caught you in his web, and you break eye contact to save some face. It ends up being the wrong decision because your mortification only deepens when you realize that Murray and Steve have witnessed Eddie’s accusation. Erica has long since departed after her verbal sparring match with Murray. Without her there to act as the target for his irritation, Murray is now laser-focused on you and Eddie. “Hmm… that’s interesting,” he observes, his head tilting to the side in curiosity.

“What’s interesting?” Steve asks.

“Keep up, Harrington,” Murray offers no explanation and instead dodges Steve’s question with a dismissive wave of his hand. Steve places his hands on his hips looking utterly bewildered. He goes to speak again, but Murray beats him to the punch. “So, Munson… I hear that your assistant has lasted four months working with you. Is that right?”

Murray’s inquiry has an instant effect on Eddie’s body language. His playful pouting has dissipated, and his stance now appears guarded. He crosses his arms over his chest— over the distracting nipple piercings, thank god— as he eyes his band manager cautiously. “... why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason at all. Just curious,” Murray replies nonchalantly. “You must be getting along.” You don’t know Murray well at all. However, you do know Eddie well enough to take his weariness as a signal that things could soon become uncomfortable.

“I haven’t scared her off, yet. If that’s what you mean,” Eddie scoffs. “But don’t worry, I’m still working on it.” It’s a classic Eddie move - making a joke of something to avoid showing any hint of being rattled. He throws a coquettish grin in your direction, which does not go unnoticed by Murray. Steve looks uneasy, as if this conversation will upset whatever balance you’ve struck with Eddie.

“I sure hope she isn’t stroking your ego too much.” Murray’s tone is blasé, but his implication is clear. “And you better not be giving her a mouthful.” Steve can no longer stand idly by now that he has finally caught onto what Murray found so intriguing. He swoops in to intervene by physically placing himself between Eddie and Murray.

“Well this has been fantastic,” Steve forces a laugh out and runs a shaky hand through his brown locks. “Murray, let’s continue that chat about merch, yeah?” He is practically vibrating with nervous energy as he tries encouraging Murray to move.

Allowing himself to be led away, Murray offers a farewell over his shoulder, “Good luck, kid. If you need anything, anything at all, do not contact me. Bother Harrington instead.” At the mention of his name, Steve turns briefly to mouth I’m sorry as the pair exit.

Mind spinning off kilter from everything that occurred in the last few minutes, you turn yourself back toward Eddie for a sense of stability. Since when is Eddie something constant in your life? You find a very tense-looking man. The muscles in his jaw are pulled tight as he glares at the spot once occupied by Murray. The moment ends quickly as if he can feel your eyes on him. Eddie annoyingly seems to have gained a sixth sense for knowing when you’re staring. His crossed arms fall along with the seriousness of his expression, hands tucking into his front pockets. The action only causes his pants to inch lower and, for a split second, your eyes are instinctively drawn to the patch of skin now on show.

My eyes are up here.

The echo in your brain rings out and has your glance jumping back up in horror. Eddie watches every movement and his lips pull between his teeth again, the same face he made this morning when he was trying not to laugh. All you can offer in defense is rolling your shoulders back to look taller and making your gaze sharper, daring him to say something. He lifts his hands in surrender, his lips popping out into a self-satisfied smile as he turns on his heel and saunters back toward the set, whistling all the while. You begrudgingly follow after him.

Eddie’s pace is unhurried as he drags his feet in a clear display of apathy. You spot the rest of the band gathered around a petite woman speaking animatedly and pointing to various spots on the set. She’s captivating with her high cheekbones, loose brunette waves, and eyes like the ocean. Those eyes narrow upon seeing Eddie’s dawdling.

“Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence,” she chides. “We’ve been waiting on you. Hurry it up.”

“Hello to you, too, Wheeler. I didn’t realize you were so excited to see me. I’d hate to disappoint a fan,” Eddie teases with a roguish grin wide across his face. Much to your surprise, he picks up his pace and joins the others in listening to Nancy— whose first name you learn indirectly, thanks to Eddie’s habit of calling everyone by their last names— detail the aim of today’s photoshoot. She explains that the media team will be experimenting with several looks in order to use the photos for both album promotion and touring purposes.

Eddie turns to you as Nancy begins guiding the others to their spots on set. “Enjoy the show. You sure seemed to earlier.” He winks and turns on his heel to join the others.

Deny! Deflect! Do something!

“I was only admiring Erica’s work! It had nothing to do with you.” You can see Eddie’s shoulders shaking with laughter, and you know he’s not convinced. To be fair, you haven’t convinced yourself either. It sounds weak even to your ears, like a last-ditch effort to save your dignity. Feeling defeated, you slump over to the chairs lining the wall where you can watch the photoshoot concealed behind the photography equipment.

Two hours pass and the band is still preoccupied with taking pictures. You watch as they’re pushed and pulled into different poses and settings. The process feels overall repetitive, but Nancy does her best to keep energy levels high. She directs the photographers to get solo shots, which leads to hilarious chaos as the band hypes each other up behind the camera. “Yeah, Harry! Rock out with your Cox out!”

Despite the momentary amusement, you find yourself mostly bored watching from the sidelines. You’re both surprised and grateful when you see a familiar face enter the set. Robin peers around at the flurry of activity before making her way over to you.

“Finally some good company,” you breathe out in relief. Robin is delightful to be around, and you mean it when you share your appreciation for her presence. She gives you a sympathetic look before taking a seat beside you.

“These things can take forever,” she commiserates. “But Nancy will keep them on track. Don’t worry. They’re lucky to have her. She’s brilliant.” Her husky voice sounds especially warm with adoration.

Just as Robin said, Nancy is brilliant in her precise and methodical approach. She directs the crew in adjusting the lights and backdrops with ease. Her critical eye allows her to observe each shot and offer valuable posing guidance. It’s impressive to watch someone be so in her element.

You and Robin sit together and make small talk until there’s a break for a set and wardrobe change. Robin excuses herself and makes her way over to Nancy. You notice Nancy’s focused demeanor melt into one of warmth upon Robin's approach, and the sight of their friendly affection for one another brings a smile to your face. Quite honestly, it makes you miss your friends; you’ve been so busy since starting this job that you haven’t found much time to see them.

Eddie walks past the pair on his way to meet Erica, briefling nodding at his wife in acknowledgement. He stops abruptly and looks around at the crowded set before swiveling back to face them.

“Hey Wheeler, did Robin tell you she’s getting new headshots done for her upcoming play?” he asks. “Do you mind giving her some pointers while we break?”

Nancy brightens at the suggestion, “That’s a great idea. I’d be happy to help!”

“Why don’t you two go somewhere private? I don’t want all these people leering at my sexy wife when she’s posing.” Eddie winks at Robin, who whispers a quiet ‘thank you’ before leaving with Nancy. You’re touched by what you’ve just witnessed. Eddie is actually a supportive and loving husband. The longing hits you unexpectedly. When will it be my turn? Soulmate, where are you?

It’s exhausting to pine for someone you haven’t met yet. You have all of this love to give without a person to receive it and reciprocate. It feels aimless, like being adrift in the dark ocean with no light to guide you home. You’re too lost in your yearning to notice that Eddie has returned and is standing beside your chair.

“Everything okay, Bee?” The question physically jolts you from surprise. You wait for the inevitable teasing from Eddie about catching you off guard. Instead, you look up to find Eddie eyeing you closely. Whatever he sees in you in that moment must cause him concern. His brow is furrowed, and there’s an unexpected tenderness in his gaze.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I got distracted by my thoughts.”

“Well, that’s no good. What did I tell you this morning about having more fun?” Eddie hold his hand out for you to take, and he gently coaxes you to stand. His calloused hands feel rough against your gentleness, but you find it comforting. Once upright, he drops your hand and offers out his arm out as a replacement. “Come on, I’ve got just the idea to break you out of your shell.”

The two of you walk side by side comfortably, and Eddie guides you to where the band and Nancy have reconvened. The guys are looking up at one of the warehouse walls in deep observation. You squint your eyes, searching for something on the wall that might be drawing their attention. Having no success, you look back to the band and realize they’re each holding something. Are those spray paint cans? Your ears perk up at the sound of rattling as Gareth shakes the can he’s holding. Yeah, definitely spray paint. You send a quizzical look Eddie’s way.

“Murray thought we needed some more edgy photos. He suggested we graffiti the wall for the next set,” he explains. “Wheeler was all worried about it, but… Murray knows best.” He mutters the last part bitterly, shaking his head with distaste. “He might actually be right about this, though.” Eddie steps forward, breaking your linked arms, and snags two spray paint cans from the ground. He holds one out to you, his face alight with mischief.

You look around self consciously, noting that Steve and Murray are both within view. You fidget nervously and contemplate whether you can let your hair down while on the job. No one else appears to be partaking; only the band members have been given spray paint. “Are you sure about this? I think it’s just meant for you all.”

Eddie throws his head back with an exaggerated groan. “Come on! Live a little.” He snaps out of his dramatics when he hears the sound of hissing fill the air from the spray paint cans in use. Gareth, Jeff, and Harry have already begun doodling on the wall without him. “See?! We’re missing out on the fun because you’re overthinking.”

He extends the can out to you once more, gently nudging you to partake. He grins widely when you take the simple black paint from him reluctantly. You can do this. Show him you’re not always so uptight.

You slowly approach the wall and think about what to paint. You need to show him that you can have fun and keep up with his jokes. The idea comes to you easily, and you get to work on your masterpiece. It’s a simple piece that only takes a few minutes for you to prepare. .

Eddie is intently focused on drawing a large, crimson devil’s face, and you need to wave to get his attention. When his eyes meet yours, you point to your painting and await his reaction. Previously blank, the wall now sports the image of a humble bumblebee. The bee has two basic stripes, fluttering wings, and most importantly - a stinger. Eddie’s warning from this morning is fresh on your mind. If you get too aggressive, you’ll lose your stinger for good.

Your artistic choice has the intended effect, and Eddie lets out a hearty laugh. He smiles at you, and those brown eyes crinkle at the corners with joy. He looks proud, and it stirs something unexpected inside of you. You find that you like pleasing him.

“Atta girl.”

You suppress a shiver that the hum of his voice conjures despite the flippancy of his words.

That photoshoot, though chaotic in and of itself, somehow ended up becoming the calm before the storm for you. A demarcation point beyond which your days became filled with the relentless pursuit of planning a multi-month tour for a moderately famous industrial metal band. Days that had previously been spent ushering Eddie around to meetings with some semblance of timeliness and bringing him snacks when he gets cranky are now consumed by filling a thickening manilla envelope with neat documents, each marked with your precise handwriting as you plan and record each aspect of the trip logistics: contacting venues as per Steve’s direction, managing their hospitality riders, tracking expenses and budgeting for food and accommodations, as well as other minutiae that, frankly, has begun to make that vein throbbing in your neck a near constant companion by the end of the workday. The hours feel long, longer than they do when you’re trying to wrangle Eddie; though the days aren’t physically taxing as you spend them holed up at a desk fitted snugly into the closet you’d reorganized, they are mentally exhausting as those dates, dollar amounts, and contact names begin to tangle up in your head. You spill them out onto your trusty desk calendar, collecting them there as you stretch the strands and detangle them in order to begin weaving together Corroded Coffin’s first tour. It’s a feat you take no small measure of pride in.

Thankfully, during the weeks you spent taming this beast of a task, Eddie and the guys had been occupied almost entirely with rendering the final mix of their album. They’d worked closely with Argyle in refining the balance and levels of instruments and ambient sounds that would create the dirty industrial feel they were seeking with this upcoming release. You’d popped out of your stuffy little closet occasionally to check on them, though they didn’t seem to need much beyond being fed. Eddie, in particular, seemed quite consumed by a desire to see the vision brought to life, and was as serious and engaged as you’d ever seen him with a chair pulled up next to Argyle. That’s where you’d almost always see him when you emerged— long fingers idly twisting chunky rings, his eyes closed and his brow furrowed while he listened carefully and assisted in tweaking such small changes that you hardly could tell the difference with your unpracticed ear. He had a beeper to page you, but through your months of working with him, you’d begun to anticipate what he needs to sustain him daily in this routine— a hot to-go cup of black coffee first thing in the morning; at least half a box of cigarettes in the pocket of his leather jacket, on call for a smoke break; a salty snack around his lull time of four in the afternoon, which you rotate to keep him from getting bored; and next-to-no interruptions except a quick meeting of your gazes a few times a day in case it reminds him to ask you for something.

And now, finally, as late August adorns the New York streets with haze rising from the asphalt and paints sidewalks with the frantic bustle of summer tourists, your strands of dates and locations and prices and contact names have now been woven together to form a complete tapestry: Accommodations for Corroded Coffin’s ‘95-’96 Album Tour. All the knotted muscles in your shoulders, the bloodshot eyes, the late nights and early mornings had been worth it to get to this point— the point at which the final picture of what exactly that tour would entail has been tied off into neat and tidy knots of thorough efficiency. You stretch your arms above your head and your spine pops with relief; despite the fatigue you feel fuzzing between your eyebrows, you push back your chair almost cheerily and pull the headphones from your ears, prepared pop from the closet and join the men whose tour you’ve just planned.

When you emerge, you expect to see them all in some approximation of the same position as usual— Argyle and Eddie sat in front of the mixing board, Harry hovering close behind, and Gareth and Jeff either mucking about in the studio or sprawled on the couches in the corner where they call out their contributions. Instead, you’re surprised by the presence of an unexpected figure, who acts as the nexus point around which the rest of the band hovers. He’s got his hands stuffed under his armpits and his hip jutted out, one loafer tapping against the floor, though behind his wire-rimmed spectacles he looks less irritated than the last time you’d seen him. I suppose having the tour booked and the album finished would put any band manager in a decent mood, you think, eager to join the throng of smiling men who gather around him.

“What’s on the menu? Anything good? ” Gareth is asking as you walk up.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is free food not good enough for you? You eat Smarties in Yoohoo as breakfast cereal. Get a grip,” Murray snipes, and laughter rumbles through the group.

“Oh!” All eyes turn to you at your little sound of surprise. “What promo event are you discussing? Did Steve plan something? I don’t remember seeing it on my weekly agenda notes from him.”

There is a beat of uncharacteristic silence from everyone before Jeff speaks— not quite tripping over himself, but with an extra edge of enthusiasm you don’t typically hear in his voice. “No, no,” he assures you quickly. “You didn’t miss anything. It’s a celebration for finishing the album, not a promo event. Just a get together Murray planned for us tomorrow.” He lifts his brows, eyes warm and sincere, if not a little too wide. “You gonna be there?”

That familiar feeling in your chest— that subtle deflating that sinks into your stomach, reminding you of cafeteria tables lacking in saved space and friends reminiscing over shared experiences you hadn’t even been aware of— weighs you down inside as you look into Jeff’s kind face. It stings, the knowledge that you hadn’t quite been forgotten or excluded, but only just— only because you’d emerged from your makeshift office and wandered into the conversation at just the right moment. Had you not, you would have been none the wiser, and it makes Jeff’s question— ‘You gonna be there?’ — feel awkwardly like you’ve invited yourself.

Still, you choose to save face. “Oh, gotcha!” you say, turning to Murray. “Where is it?”

The neutrality in Murray’s expression in place of his typical sardonic scowl almost makes you feel worse. “My place. You been to the Upper West Side?” You nod. “You can show up anytime after seven. I’ll have Harrington shoot you the address, kid.”

You brace yourself against this second blow— being called ‘kid’ as if you really are just Eddie’s babysitter, as if you hadn’t just single-handedly coordinated an entire tour’s-worth of hotels and restaurants and activities— and smile. “Thank you,” you say, avoiding the dark brown eyes of one curly-haired menace.

Because if there’s pity there, too— pity like the kind you felt in Jeff’s too-wide smile or Murray’s soft nod— you think you might just burst into hot, utterly humiliating tears.

On Friday night, it takes some time for you to dress and even longer for you to resolve to actually attend the celebration party. That last-minute invite has rocked your sense of self, manifesting most clearly in the lack of clarity regarding your outfit. Clothes are strewn across your typically-orderly room like a cyclone of indecision has torn through it, and what you’ve chosen feels barely adequate: silver jewelry, simple mary janes, and a black silk blouse that flows like water against your skin, tucked loosely into the waistband of your bootcut blue jeans. You’d settled on the blouse chiefly because of the color, as if with some subconscious desire to blend in with the men you work with so that maybe next time they won’t forget about you.

After a good nights rest unencumbered by that looming task still hanging over your head— since you’d finally completed it, to your relief— and some consideration, you’d reasoned that the reason for your late invitation was probably not malicious. And when you’d checked your email to see that, not even twenty minutes after your conversation with Murray had Steve emailed and sent you details and the address, it essentially confirmed it. Sure, it certainly still stung knowing that you hadn’t been thought of from the get-go, but you chalked it up to your newness and the fact that you’d been cloistered in your ‘office’ so often lately.

You’d concluded the mistake was likely innocent, and as you stand outside the front door to Murray’s apartment hesitating to knock, you find yourself desperately hoping you’re right, and that you haven’t made a mistake by coming after all. This job is already so different from any you’d had before— nowhere else had you spent so much time intimately intertwined with the details of your employer’s life outside of a professional context. Spending time at Eddie’s apartment to wash his dishes, coordinate his meals, take him to his appointments, fetch him the things he needs… look after him… it all feels more domestic than professional, though in this role, really, those things are one in the same. It blurs the lines and leaves you strangely yearning for inclusion, leaves you feeling more vulnerable, as you finally press your index to the doorbell, than you’d honestly prefer.

A flash of panic hits you as you hear the approach of footsteps beyond the door. You prepare yourself for the sight of Murray’s face half-twitched into a reluctantly-polite smile as the rest of the men stare at you from their seats, drinks dangling from their hands as their eyes turn quickly from you and back to one another.

But when the door swings open, you’re instead greeted with the sight of Gareth’s poofy brown bangs and pink cheeks as he smiles so widely at the sight of you you’re sure his face must ache from it. “She made it!” he exclaims into your face, breath puffing loose and acrid with alcohol as he hooks an arm around your shoulder to pull you inside amidst a rousing chorus of elongated ‘ay’s from the rest of the band.

Your apprehension dissolves like seafoam as he pulls you eagerly inside.

The interior of Murray’s apartment feels as though you’ve walked into a time capsule. You aren’t sure whether the mid-century modern theme is because Murray is partial to the style or because he hasn’t bothered updating the furnishings since the seventies, but judging by his half-unbuttoned ‘party’ shirt striped with deep brown and cream— displaying no little amount of bushy chest hair within which a gold chain is nestled— you figure it’s probably the latter. You look around with interest at the furnishings, intrigued by the design’s ability to feel both high end and also warm, quite a contrast from the modern crispness many favor nowadays. Gareth doesn’t give you much time to sight-see as he leads you towards the party’s epicenter in the living room, though you do notice that the walls are a bold burnt orange, accented by geometric wallpaper and bookshelves filled with vintage books and knick-knacks likely gathered on Murray’s travels. As you pad over the shag carpet in your mary janes, your gaze is drawn to the men crowded on the low-slung sofa around a sleek, glass-top coffee table. The air is hazy with smoke, which wafts from a cigar resting in a crystal ashtray near Murray’s elbow, and the record-player in the corner is crackling with jazz— Miles Davis, if your memory serves you correctly.

All-in-all, it’s nothing what you expected Corroded Coffin’s album-completion party to look like, down to the way they all perk as Gareth leaves you to hover near the side of the couch while he plops back down in his spot on the floor. It’s all the familiar faces you would expect, and no one else. Murray, Steve and Argyle sit on low-profile armchairs pulled up beside the coffee table where cards and poker chips clearly indicate they’re in the middle of a game; Jeff and Gareth are seated together on the floor, and they lift their drink glasses to you when your eyes pass over them; and finally, Harry and Eddie are on the couch, knees spread wide and comfortable as they slouch, though they straighten at your approach. The mens’ greetings become a cacophony of friendly voices you can’t possibly discern as they overlap happily, and you accept them with somewhat shy nods but a pleased smile. Harry immediately shifts over towards the couch’s arm, and when he notices, Eddie does the same, narrowing his knees and shuffling over to the opposite side to make room for you.

It’s a clear invitation, one that makes warmth bloom in your chest as you step carefully over Harry’s shoes to sink onto the low velvet couch between them.

“Did you find the place okay?” Steve asks, and you meet his hazel eyes as you reply,

“Yes, thanks. Actually, my aunt lives—” You find a cup suddenly thrust into your fingers, and you close them hastily around textured glass, glancing down at the amber liquid inside. “What is this?”

“Whiskey, my dude,” Argyle replies, settling back into his chair with a lopsided grin. “Bottoms up.”

You stare at it for a moment skeptically, already balking from the burn in your throat. But, like sharks in the water, they sense your hesitation; as if with one mind, the guys lean forward to goad you with some light ribbing, flashing brows, and wide grins. All except Murray, that is, who seems more impatient to get back to the poker game as he grouses and sighs impatiently.

In the end, it’s Eddie’s elbow in your side and his brown eyes catching yours that do it— his gestures are loose with alcohol, and yet more gentle than you typically see him. “C’mon, little Bee.” He smiles, and something catches in your throat as it brightens his flushed face. “Time to get buzzed.”

Your head tosses back of its own accord as you laugh, tickled by the pun; when you look at him again, Eddie looks inordinately pleased with himself. “All right,” you concede; the guys cheer as Murray shakes his head. And though it burns just as much as you knew it would, when you clink that glass down against the coffee table, coughing slightly as Harry claps you jovially on the back, all you feel is warm. Warmth in your belly, warmth against your sides where Harry and Eddie sit beside you, warmth in your cheeks as you settle back against the cushions and look around at the friendly faces that surround you.

Now that you’ve been christened with your first drink, the group turns back to the game of poker your arrival had interrupted. You watch with interest as they take up their hands again, hiding your giggle behind your hand as Gareth dramatically flops backward in a sprawl on the floor when he loses to Jeff, who rakes the pile of chips in the center gleefully and dramatically into his corner of the table. “I put thirty dollars on that hand; come on, man,” Gareth whines, but Jeff pays him no mind nor offers any mercy.

“D’you know how to play?” Eddie asks you, and you shake your head.

“We can teach you,” Harry offers.

“Oh, I’m fine watching—” You begin to protest but it’s cut off almost as quickly with a sharp movement from Eddie, who snatches a handful of chips from his pile into his broad fist, heedless of the way some bounce to the shaggy carpet below. You’d felt warm in your belly, at your sides, and in your cheeks, but more than anything else, you feel that warmth in your heart as Eddie presses some of his poker chips into your open palm.

“Doesn’t matter if you don’t know how to play,” he says matter-of-factly. “Just have some fun.”

You smile at him, a gentle curve of your lips to match the way he pats your wrist before lurching forward to pick up his fallen chips and receive his next hand.

Throughout the games of poker you play, you find yourself both having the fun Eddie had instructed you to and simultaneously watching him, marveling at the way the haze and jazz and laughs and velvet couch have… softened him, almost. He's clearly drunk— more than a little glassy-eyed, with flushed cheeks and loose, heedless swinging of his wild curls and his limbs as he celebrates victories and laments losses— but it’s accompanied by more easy smiles and cackling laughs than you’ve heard from him in the last few months combined. He’s full of life tonight, but without as much biting edge. And you can’t help but think that to see him like this, so relaxed, so happy…

It’s nice. Nice in a way that makes that feeling bloom again— the one you’d been feeling more often since the photoshoot. You shake it quickly away.

His joy fuels the others, you notice. You suppose it makes sense; Eddie’s boisterousness and overwhelming energy tends to dictate the tides despite others’ attempts to direct situations otherwise. And as the night wares on, that easy looseness eventually devolves to become a bit more wild. Of course, it doesn’t take much for some of the others to follow suit.

Somewhere between the umpteenth hand of poker and your third round of drinks, Argyle wanders into Murray’s kitchen and helps himself to the bottle of champagne chilling in an icebucket, most likely prepared by Steve— you can’t see Murray bothering with that. Steve perks up when he comes back over, rubbing his hands on his trousers and rising as he reaches to take it from Argyle.

“Thanks, Arg,” he says, but his gratitude ends up being a little hasty. Because rather than passing the bottle into his waiting hand, Argyle instead begins to shake it with a jerky flail of his arm, forcing Steve to retract his fingers, who huffs affrontedly. “I was gonna say something,” he protests, and while the exasperation is easy to read there, it’s overshadowed as Eddie leaps suddenly off the couch, crouching slightly, face alight with mischief as he circles Argyle on the rug. Once Eddie’s up, everyone follows suit— Jeff and Gareth scramble to join him, and you and Harry follow close behind, your hands clasping your elbows as you eye the proceedings with cautious amusement.

“Yeah, yeah, Steve, we all know what you’re gonna say,” Eddie drawls, but the wide smile on his face takes the edge off the sarcasm. “‘What an incredible accomplishment, we’ve worked so hard, the culmination of many months of effort—’ blah, blah, fuckin’ blah.” Eddie cackles as he flings his arm out to smack Steve companionably in the stomach, making his PR manager stumble slightly due to the accidental force behind the gesture. “Allow me.”

Eddie flourishes and bows dramatically, his wild curls splaying around his shoulders as he jerks his head up to address the group— his face is flushed, pink rather than pale, with a vein popping on his forehead, and you can’t help but shake your head in reluctant, wry amusement as he declares, “Fuck bitches, get money, make metal, and raise fucking hell, boys!”

And with that— without any forewarning, really, besides a slanted smirk— Argyle pops the cork from the champagne bottle, spraying Eddie directly in the face with it.

You don’t know why you wouldn’t have expected it, but you stiffen with a little jerk as Murray roars, “Fuckin’— dammit, Argyle, not on the goddamn rug—!”

His ire is quickly overtaken by joy that fills the room as Jeff and Gareth jump towards the spray, mouths open wide in wait; ever obliging, Argyle coats their faces, too, directing most of the alcohol into their mouths but playfully directing it toward you and Harry too. You squeal and giggle as fizzy drops coat you lightly, turning into Harry’s broad shoulder for protection as the spray gradually weakens until it’s nothing but a dribble dropping to the shag.

In the ensuing silence, Steve looks at Murray sympathetically. “I’ll bill him for the carpet cleaning,” he promises, wringing his hands until Murray’s face calms from apoplectic to merely deeply aggravated.

You’re briefly worried he may pop an aneurysm until Argyle— the only one of you still bone dry— distracts everyone by pulling something casually from his pocket. “Oh, brochachos. Almost forgot. I got this advance copy of the album finished last night.”

The boys explode in a flurry of potent outrage and glee. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell us sooner?!” Jeff shouts, and you’re taken aback to see the most even-keeled member of Corroded Coffin shake his producer by the shoulders.

“Relax, dude,” Argyle drawls. “S’not fully mastered yet, but it’s close enough.”

And when the needle scratches to a halt on the record player, replacing smooth, dulcet jazz with the rhythmic drum beat of what you know is the boys’ favorite song on the album: ‘Closer.’

It also happens to be one of the best tracks to dance to, and the boys take advantage of that, though their movements— mostly just flailing limbs as they jump and headbang— are really just some crude approximation of dancing. Yet that doesn’t detract from the glee of the moment as, at some point you get pulled in, too, finding yourself in the middle of it all— laughing and swinging your head and shouting along with them. “I wanna fuck you like an animal!” you scream, chest effusive with bubbling joy as Eddie doubles over in wild, joyful laughter at the crudeness of the lyrics shouted in your alcohol-hoarsened voice. You find yourself swung by hands, twirled under arms, spinning and sing-shouting until your throat goes scratchy and your head a little fuzzy from all the activity.

As the song ends, Eddie steadies you with a hand on your shoulder, and you smile up at him appreciatively but are surprised when he doesn’t remove his hand. Instead, he tips his head, jerking it toward the kitchen. “Come on,” he says, and you see his lips move but barely hear his words underneath the booming of the next track, which echoes so loudly it nearly rattles the knick-knacks on Murray’s shelves.

You trail after your employer as he leads you to the kitchen, sloppily filling an empty glass with water from the sink and handing it to you without any explanation. The intuitiveness of the gesture surprises you, as does the way he hovers nearby while you take tiny sips to soothe your parched throat.

Eddie leans a hip against the counter, stuffing his hands in the back pockets of his dark jeans and looking you over appraisingly. It’s the first time you’ve really gazed at him all night, and as he appraises you, you don’t feel that instinctual need to hide, the impulse dulled by the warmth buzzing in your veins. Instead, you just appraise him back, eyes trailing over the silver of his handcuff belt buckle, the chain at his hip, the soft, faded black of his band t-shirt, your eyes lingering where he’s clearly torn the sleeves off, evident by dangling threads that tickle the alabaster of his pale biceps. His curls are frizzier than before, still damp and sticking to his neck from the champagne, and his plush lips are pinker than they typically are— shiny and wet as he licks across them with a swipe of his tongue.

You feel a distinct stirring deep in your belly and wrench your gaze from his mouth to his eyes, face heating as you anticipate a smirk and a crude remark, or perhaps a pointed comment about your wandering gaze. Yet Eddie’s face is calm, almost a little hesitant as he opens his mouth to speak— seemingly entirely consumed by what he wants to say. “So, you know we’re going on tour,” he says matter-of-factly, and you can’t help but snort at the ridiculousness of it.

“I think I’ve gathered that. I mean, I’ve only been working out your accommodations for said tour for the past few weeks now,” you retort with a little smirk, and his lips curl in a lopsided grin at your sass. You anticipate a rebuttal, but Eddie continues without comment.

“Well, I know it might come as a shock that I’d be admitting this, but, ah…” He scratches the corner of his lips with one dark-painted fingernail, mouth stretched wide before he continues abruptly, “things have been running a little smoother since you came around. ‘Specially once you got the hang of washing my silky drawers right.”

Your growing pleasure at the praise flattens along with your expression at that final comment, though it eases when he smiles at you, crooked but wide, as eager as you’ve ever seen his smile be. “So,” he says with an air of dramatic finality, “how’s about you take that laundry service on the road?”

In what is almost more to goad him than in genuine disgust, you wrinkle your nose, and your chest warms again when he chuckles huskily, knocking you with his elbow lightly again. "What I'm try’na say is... you wanna come on tour with us?"

When you think back to the way this party began for you— with a split second of awkward silence and a hastily extended invitation, clearly late-to-come— you hadn’t anticipated the way it would end up. In that moment at the studio, you couldn’t imagine being welcomed in so readily, sprayed with champagne, twirled underneath their arms, and cared for with poker chips and glasses of water. You hadn’t thought you’d be here, standing with Eddie Munson in his manager’s kitchen, being invited by him personally to go on tour with the band.

It’s confirmation that you do have a place amongst them, and it’s also exactly why you took this job in the first place— the opportunity to explore beyond the limits of your current world.

"Yes,” you reply, and you can’t help it when your voice comes out honey sweet. “I'd really like that."

"Well, good,” Eddie huffs good-humoredly, “‘cause you kinda have to whether you like it or not. But I'm glad I don't have to twist your arm after all."

You nod, and something small— small and tenuous, trickling like briny water— flows between you and Eddie as you gaze at one another. "Well... thank you," you say, your voice soft and almost shy as you look up at him.

Eddie blinks, looking a little taken aback by the gratefulness in your expression. Quickly, his eyes jump from yours to track around the room as he says distractedly, "Sure, little Bee— Hey, Murray!” His hoarse voice rises in a shout as he skirts around you, trailing out of the kitchen as he calls wolfishy, “Where's your top shelf shit? I wanna get fuckin' blasted tonight."

You watch him lope off toward the living room again without sparing you another glance. Quickly, you drain your water glass, leaving it in the sink and wandering back into the fray until you find yourself elbow to elbow with Steve.

“So—” Your eyes find hazel as Steve regards you with a friendly, knowing smile. “You ready for that travel I promised you?”

Another wild cackle— one that, after tonight, threatens to haunt you in your sleep— draws both of your gazes. For a moment, you and Steve watch as Eddie sneaks up behind an unsuspecting Gareth, grappling him around the neck and tugging him into a headlock as the other man sputters and kicks at him. All at once, they seem to you much younger than their years, and it makes you consider the question.

Are you ready for the travel Steve promised you— travel where wrangling these unruly rockstars, and one in particular, is about to become even more of your daily existence?

You find, as Eddie shoves Gareth into Jeff and licks across his bottom teeth with a manic grin when the two recover and face him, readying themselves to retaliate, that you have no damn idea whether you’re ready or not.

Dear Soulmate…

The early morning of the first day on tour, your feet carry you around the familiar walls of your apartment, taking in the comforting sights you’ve woken up to for the past year. Angela watches from the kitchen island, eyes full of unshed tears, an unspoken awareness settling over the room. Your life has changed since becoming Eddie’s assistant. It’s a reality you’ve accepted for some weeks now, but it feels real now—more than it ever has before. Because now you’ll be traveling on tour with the band, with him, moving across state lines you’ve never roamed. It’s a world of endless opportunity ahead, new sights to see, places to explore. It dawns on you that your home in New York City will be a far and distant memory for the next months you’ll be following Corroded Coffin around the country.

I’m leaving on tour with Eddie and the band today. Isn’t that crazy? I’ve never been this far from home – traveling was just never something I had time to do. I was always so focused on school, on trying to make my parents proud, on trying to be perfect. And now, I’ll be traveling with a metal band across the country! I never thought this is where I’d end up, but I’m trying to learn to embrace the unexpected (it’s so scary though!). I definitely didn’t expect Eddie to be the one inviting me. Although, he acted like he really had no choice in the matter, it’s still strange.

Angela helps roll your multiple suitcases out into the main living area, mouth a wobbly line as you push them over onto their side and make sure you have everything you need one final time. Heels and other shoes, boots and sneakers in one duffel bag, each one a proper pair, freshly wiped down for any imperfection or defects. Another bag holds all your toiletries, makeup products, and hair tools should you ever need them. You unzip your suitcases next, peering in at various tights, dark skirts, dark colored sweaters, dark wash jeans for your off days.

Eddie is… well, we’re still working on our relationship. I think most of the time he feels like I’m annoying him on purpose, but I’m really just trying to do my job. He’s not used to being on a schedule, which is a little wild to me because that’s all I’ve ever known. And maybe that’s what makes him push me away so much. His wife says I need to push back a bit, but I’m worried about keeping my job… I think I’ve grown to like working for him.

Angela walks you down to the street, helping roll one of your bags down and onto the pavement. Cars and taxis speed by in a kaleidoscope of color, but your eyes latch solely on the rolled down window of the car sitting on the curb’s edge.

Eddie’s thre with a cigarette held loosely between his fingers, those dark sunglasses of his shrouding his eyes, tattooed arm on display in the bright sun of the morning. An inky tapestry of intricate detail, etched with countless stories and meanings he’ll never divulge. In the front is Hopper, his usual bored demeanor in place as he opens the driver's side door and walks around to join you and your roommate. The back trunk of the vehicle pops open with a small beep, your heart hammering away as the heftier man helps hoist your things into the back and latches the car back into place.

“Ready?” Eddie calls from the car.

You’re on the clock, sure, but you still remind yourself to quench the desire to raise your middle finger in a vulgar gesture, annoyance writhing in your gut. Instead, you focus your tangle of nerves on the girl standing before you on the street, with her shiny blonde hair and mournful expression on her face. She takes a slow step forward, arms coming to curl around your shoulders. There’s a suddenness of the realization you won’t see her until you return to New York for the holiday season. For the last year you’ve woken to the comfort of the four walls of your bedroom, the warmth of your apartment, and your friendship with Angela.

“Go crush it,” she says, smoothing a palm up and down your spine, head close to your ear. “Take all the pictures. Try and enjoy yourself. New York will be here when you get back. I’ll be expecting as many phone calls as possible, and postcards of all the places you travel to! I want to hear about it all.”

He’s challenging, and yeah he calls me Bee (which I am STILL certain is short for Bitch despite his reassurances otherwise) but the work genuinely feels rewarding. Also, I am really enjoying getting to know the other guys in the band. They’re not friends, no, but they’re kind enough. And who knows? Maybe Eddie will come around. We don’t need to be friends, but I would like it if one day we could become colleagues, at the very least.

Eddie regards you with little interest, still unchanging in his distaste for any time before 12pm, as you clamber into the back of the car with him. He does not shift whatsoever to accommodate your presence, only haphazardly flicks his cigarette onto the concrete below and dips his head at Angela. The blushing blonde raises her hand in a nervous wave, an uneasy smile crawling across her features as he glances along her frame, telling her to have a nice rest of her day. It’s almost comical, though no laughter bubbles up from you, the easy kindness he shows her way; meanwhile, he regards you most days as though you’re no more than a pest when he’s not relentlessly flirting with you. Hot and cold, dependent on his mood on any given day. A bee to be swatted away. You suppose it’s understandable—knowing your mere presence is a reminder of the mistakes he’s made in the public eye. Huffing audibly in your mild upset, your fingers lift to wiggle in the air to wave goodbye to her as Hopper slides the tinted windows up to keep the air conditioned temperature within the vehicle, obscuring her from view.

I wonder about what you’re doing a lot these days. It’s summertime, the season of endless possibilities. Are you traveling? Maybe you’re on a beach somewhere tropical. Maybe you’re celebrating some good news. Or, maybe you’ve taken up a new hobby. Angela and I tried hot yoga last week (never again), so I suggest you stay away from that one. To be honest, and maybe it sounds silly, I just think about you a lot. With everything changing, it seems like knowing you’re out there is one thing I can rely on. Even if I haven’t met you yet.

Your fingers drop and curl around your notebook tucked within your pocketbook for safekeeping, trailing along the pages littered with words meant for the one person in the universe who will understand you better than anyone. It brings you comfort as Hopper peels away from the road and into the bustle of New York City traffic.

Outside, taxis speed in and out of lanes, regardless of bodies surging forward in intersections, heedless in pursuit of their destinations. The car jerks and thumps over numerous manholes and metal grates around street corners, Hopper’s fingers reaching across the center console to raise the volume on the radio.

One of Corroded Coffin’s songs is playing through the elaborate speaker system. There’s a spark of pride that springs to life within you. It’s not one of the newer, to be released singles—no; but there’s a sense of excitement for them, knowing how hard they’ve worked to get where they are, especially because you’ve witnessed the effort they put into their craft first hand.

Eddie seems unphased by his own voice on the radio — as if it’s a normal occurrence for him, and you suppose it is. While you’re still adjusting to your new life following alongside a public figure, he’s had some time to become acclimated. He’s experienced sold out concerts, screaming fans singing along to his songs, crowds surging forward to try and get closer to Corroded Coffin. He’s been on the receiving end of good and bad press that paints him in a caricature of himself; one that’s larger than life and not entirely accurate.

And you’re once again reminded you’re here with him because you’re his assistant when his thigh accidentally brushes yours as the car jolts over a particularly large bump, skin burning at the point of contact, seated beside him in the quiet space around you, watching as the city blurs behind your eyes.

“Remind me of what you have planned for the day,” he drawls, and you’re grateful his stare is presently focused on looking out his window and not on your face. He doesn’t capture the deep inhale, nor does he catch the slight gathering of tears on your lashes that you swat away with the pads of your fingers, brought upon by the suddenness of your change in scenery and leaving Angela.

It's as easy as breathing after that. With his cold, quiet words a distraction from the sadness swirling in your gut, you swiftly breeze through the mental list you woke with. You remind him you’ll arrive on schedule at six, where you’ll get on the tour bus around seven after having a meeting and breakfast with Murray and the rest of the band. After that it’s a two and a half hour drive into Philly. It gives you all enough time to get situated once in the city and for the band to relax a bit to get into the proper headspace before getting ready for their soundcheck in preparation for the first concert scheduled later in the evening.

You tamper down and try to hide the thrill of excitement that buzzes in your veins at the prospect of seeing the guys all perform together. It’s been one thing watching them in the studio for the months they’ve been working on the album, and another all together to see the culmination of all their hard work come to fruition. However, it also brings up a new bout of anxieties over what exactly will be required of you while on the road. Thus far you’ve run errands and kept Eddie on schedule for meetings, interviews, photoshoots and other appearances. Following him across state lines and watching him on the stage, however, seems like a new, daunting task you’re hoping to tackle head on.

“Ever been to the exotic Philadelphia?” Your head jerks as the words break through the silence, those dark eyebrows of his furrowing in confusion when your mouth opens and closes, no words falling freely from your lips. “I’ll take that as a no.”

You swallow thickly, pushing aside the indignation that burns and builds at his words. His inked fingers reach up to grasp the sunglasses perched on his nose, sliding them down slowly to fold them away beside his thigh. You’re no stranger to Eddie’s features at this point. Those amber eyes of his, emotive and magnetic, immediately capture your attention. You regard him carefully, just as he is you, his gaze trailing your features in a slow perusal. When you finally speak, it’s a soft utterance of, “I haven’t really ventured too far out of New York.”

He chuckles gleefully, mouth drawn upward enough where your eyes catch on the dimple in his cheek. He’d be prettier, you think, if he scowled less. Like this he’s vibrant and bright, and appears much younger than his twenty nine years. For a moment you wonder what he was like before all the fame, before the party lifestyle, before the allure of the industry sunk its greedy teeth into him and spat him right back out. His head shifts toward the streets, and your eyes drop down to your lap, fingers toying with a frayed edge on your pocketbook. You hear him then, voice a husk of, “Looks like it’s time for my little worker bee to finally leave the hive.”

My first stop is Philadelphia. I’ll definitely be sure to take a bunch of pictures to share with you someday! I’d like to try and draw a bit too while I'm gone, but who knows. I haven’t really had much time for that lately with the new job. If I create anything worth keeping, I’ll definitely save it so I can show it to you.

You offer him an easy smile, returning your gaze to the world outside the vehicle, exhaling deeply when Hopper pulls up into a parking garage. He mutters briefly that he needs to go check on the tour bus and leaves the two of you to your own devices. You can hear the echoes of voices closer to the tour bus, whoops and calls from the other band members reach your ears through the softly parted window as they catch sight of Eddie’s vehicle. Vaguely, you even catch the utterance of your name in the midst, teasing in nature, urging the two of you outside.

Before you can even say a word, Eddie’s opening his passenger side door and getting out of the car, leaving you behind with your things. Exhaling deeply, you move to open your own side and nearly fall out when the man in question tugs the door open and extends a hand in your direction. There’s a brief clash of stares while your eyes drift from his to his palm, uncertain as to what he’s doing.

Unamused, Eddie huffs out, reluctantly explaining, “So you don’t bust your ass like you did your first day working for me.” His eyes drop to your largely inconvenient heels. You’d only worn them because you weren’t sure what one would wear before heading off on a concert tour. Noting your apprehension, he continues, “Bee, I’m not going to pull my hand away at the last second. I can be a gentleman, you know?”

You snort, wrinkling your nose. “I didn’t doubt it.” It’s not the fullness of truth, but you suppose for your client, it’s better to abstain from telling him that most days he is quite determinately, or at least it seems that way, driving you to the brink of hysteria. It’s probably also best to not remind him how not very long ago, before you hired him another maid you insisted he keep this time, he would make you clean his brownstone top to bottom. A task that also included tending to his clothing and highly suspect underwear on more than one occasion.

Deciding to appease him, you envelop his palm within your own and allow him to help you down onto the concrete below. Your feet wobble a bit from the drop, but he’s there with a gentle hand at your bicep to steady you, before the moment fizzles and he pulls away all together. You walk side by side, though not together, to join the rest of the band where they stand in an excited huddle around the tour bus.

Even the vehicle itself is larger than you anticipated. It looms above you, imposing and impressive, signifying the success the group has seen in the time they’ve been in the media spotlight. You have little opportunity to think about it, however, because the boys greet you with warm welcomes and hellos, trading their normal handshakes they’ve given you for hugs. A recent development, brought about merely by spending as much time with them over the months as you have. Jeff in particular lingers a little longer just as Murray calls the band into a circle for a meeting, muttering a “Happy you’re here,” before rejoining with the rest of his band mates.

You’re not left alone long in that parking garage, luckily enough. Steve’s there to urge you off to the side when he pulls up in his car. He’s a little worse for wear, acknowledging his lateness with a wave to the guys and a pleading look shot your way. He requests you follow him, putting yourself out of earshot from the rest of the men. For a brief moment, you worry you’ve done something to muddle your position. Stomach dropping at the thought you might have unintentionally said the wrong thing to Eddie, a vendor — maybe even Robin, but that fear is quelled immediately when Steve clears his throat, his hand coming to cup around the back of his neck, kneading the muscle beneath his fingertips.

“Look, you’re doing great. I’ve told you more times than I can count on two hands how grateful I am you’re here and everything, but I need you to know that the Eddie you’ve seen thus far is nothing like Eddie on tour. He’s — ”

Your mouth opens briefly to ask what his meaning is behind the clear warning, just as Eddie appears out of the blue and claps Steve on the shoulder, chuckling brightly as he asks, “Ready to go, Bee?” He looks to you imploringly, and you haltingly meet his stare before shifting back to Steve’s kind features. He tips his head, dismissing you, and you join at Eddie’s side, following him in the direction of the vehicle. Murray shoots Eddie a stern look as the two of you walk along by, your eyes darting to the Corroded Coffin logo stretched across the entirety of the exterior. “Here is your home for the next few months.”

You’re uncertain as to what you might expect. You’ve never been on a tour bus before. The closest thing you can attribute it to is a coach bus for a school field trip back in your early education days. What greets you as Eddie turns back to extend a hand once more and assist you in climbing up onto the first step is greater than anything your mind might have conjured.

He’s not kidding by his assessment that the bus will quite literally be your home for the duration of the tour. At the head of the impressive vehicle belies Hopper’s station, full of buttons and displays you’ve never seen before, and a dashboard with a hanging Corroded Coffin logo dangling from his rear view mirror. The burly man raises his hand in a wave as you and Eddie pass, heading into the lounge area that follows immediately. Your eyes are drawn to dark red couches, like that of a red wine, with black pillows strewn about. Nestled in front of the couch is a table pressed against the corner wall, new magazines displaying photos of the band and a headline that details the upcoming tour.

Deeper into the vehicle is the adjoining kitchen, all in the same color scheme of dark black furniture, with red and silver accented bits. Eddie shows you around the space, opening the fridge for emphasis, showing you how to use the different amenities, before moving on down to point out the bathroom. Lastly, you’re brought into the bedrooms. Or rather, one spacious room lined with bunk beds on either side of the bus.

“Normally I like being on top, but when it comes to sleeping I prefer the bottom." Eddie says suggestively, gesturing to the bed on his right. Your head shifts his way, taking in the little alcove he’ll be sleeping in for the night. He waves his hand to your left, smirking. “That’ll be yours. In case of an emergency.”

“In case of an emergency,” you repeat slowly, placing your pocketbook down on your assigned bed as you settle down beside it, positioned specifically across from Eddie’s in the event he requires you for anything. You quickly reach inside and jot down a few sentences in the unfinished letter, affixing a bright floral sticker to one of the corners.

I have to go. We’re about to leave, but I just wanted to let you know what I’m up to. I’ll talk to you soon. Wouldn’t it be fun if we met in Philly?

As you shut your notebook, you realize you never heard the rest of Steve’s harrowing warning. I need you to know that the Eddie you’ve seen thus far is nothing like Eddie on tour. Your eyes narrow in piqued curiosity as you take in Eddie, that now familiar lanky form of his flopping down against his own mattress. He nods his head in your direction and you wave back numbly.

You hear it then. That soft howling in the distance, a creeping sense of something looming with no name to place on it.

You offer him a soft smile, and he throws a pillow over his head, settling down to nap.

Steve’s warning is suddenly very far away from your mind.

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 4 months

Text

I Can Fix That... Pt. 3 | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

notes: And the plot and smut continues hehe. In this installment I used Lady Arkham as inspiration. She is originally a DC character/villian. The backstories that I included here are all based on the original DC comicbook/nolanverse lore. I literally used Batman wiki for additional research.

Summary| Crane brought a woman home. That was definitely not something he ever anticipated that he would ever do. He needs to trust her and she's starting to have second thoughts. Was leaving Gotham the right thing for her to do? Yes, she likes Crane but does she like him enough? What is he hiding from her? Oh honey, he was hiding a lot...

Warnings| Fire, mentions of a gun, drugs, smut- fingering, teasing, masturbation, dubious consent, the word "r*pe" is used once, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving). Violence, death, insanity, overdose (no death), infidelity, murder, police violence, trauma, abandonment, general unpleasantness.

word count: 8086k

Lonely Day- System of a Down 🎵

Love Song- Jack Off Jill 🎶

Superstar- Sonic Youth 🎵

Please please please read warnings for this one- we're going over childhood trauma

The helicopter landed in an open field in the outskirts of the city. She and Crane climbed out and ducked beneath the blades as they crossed the pasture.

“We’re outside the city now. We’re safe here and depending on how Ra’s plan goes, we can stay here.” Crane looked down at the girl beside him. She watched the helicopter, distractedly, as it rose into the air and flew away. The field around them immediately quieted without the presence of the aircraft and they could hear the other breathe for the first time in a while.

“Where do we go now?” She looked around them at the expanse of pasture and wild flowers hidden in the dark.

“Over this hill.” Crane started walking and she followed, staying a few paces behind him. When they reached the top of the hill, she saw an old scarecrow standing in a field, empty of crops. The man was made of burlap and covered with rags. Straw exploded out of the scarecrow’s body. She looked at Crane who’d stopped to look at the scarecrow. Sensing her beside him, he glanced back at her and clenched his jaw. He gave no explanation or story and she didn’t want to ask because she didn’t want to cause him more pain. They walked a little farther and as they did, a large house came into view. Crane pointed it out to her with a sneer, directed at the house, not at her, “and there’s my father’s house.”

The lights inside the mansion were on and it leaked light across the landscape that separated them.

“Is your father home?” She asked and he chuckled darkly.

“No, I had the housekeeper open the house for us. Just like with the helicopter, I find it is always useful to play your cards carefully. I was suspicious of Ra’s because I’m suspicious of everyone, even you,” he nodded down at her and she frowned slightly. “I don’t make friends easily, they often disappoint me.” He smiled at his own self-effacing humor.

“Have I disappointed you?” She asked him. He turned his icy blue eyes to her and shook his head.

“No but we aren’t friends,” he laughed lightly and looked back at the house in the distance.

“No? Then what are we?” She pouted a little, looking down at her feet and then to his face.

“We’re more,” he answered evenly and began to walk again. She blushed and hurried to follow him, hiding her smile. Crane even smiled, blocking out the bad memories of the place they now found themselves in. He was no longer scared of the scarecrow but the memories he associated with the figure in the field did little to comfort him. They walked on until they reached the front gate and Crane typed in a passcode on an elaborate screen. The gates were black iron with sharp spikes fixed to the top and they opened with a long and droning squeak. The driveway changed to gravel as Crane led her up to the front door and he pulled on the lion’s head door knocker, releasing a loud door chime inside the house. One wing of the house, she noticed, was burned.

“You’re right, I’m starting to realize that I really know nothing about you.” She looked up at the large gothic mansion above her.

“That,” Crane turned his head to her and sighed as if it were obvious, “is what a second date is for.”

The front door opened and a man in a tuxedo greeted them coldly, reminding her of Crane.

“Welcome back, doctor.” The butler deadpanned and Crane pushed past, wiping his feet in the entryway. She followed suit and nodded to the butler, smiling excitedly.

“This is Miss —; Miss Y/N Y/L/N.” Crane gestured his hand carelessly between them and continued on into the reception hall. All the walls were carved from solid wood into even square panels.

“Welcome to the Crane House, ma’am.” The butler bowed his head briefly and followed them. She nodded her head in thanks and became immediately enraptured by the spooky house. “Shall we serve dinner now or would you like to change?”

Crane turned and cleared his throat, his eyes trying to focus on the room without his glasses. “We’ll change first, Hobbs.”

“There are clothes laid out in the bedrooms.” The butler bowed and disappeared behind a swinging door. She turned to Crane and laughed.

“What the hell is this place?” She asked in a bewildered whisper. Crane chuckled, finding the girl adorable in her amazement.

“This is my childhood home.”

“So this is where the famous Dr. Crane was raised. I’m intrigued.” She batted her eyelashes and ran up some of the stairs, her fingers trailing the thick banisters. Crane smiled and followed her.

“Do you like seeing this side of me? Does it thrill you?” His voice prodded her heart and her legs became wobbly.

“Everything about you does that,” she stood one step above him and cupped his face. She ran her finger down his angular cheekbone and swiped across his wide chapped lips. She kissed his neck and beneath his jaw before finally kissing his lips.

“For now,” he whispered as she pulled away. They climbed the rest of the stairs up to the second floor and Crane led her down a tight hallway. Animal heads were mounted on the walls and she studied them with a mixed sense of appreciation. Crane pushed open a door with a crystal doorknob.

“This is your room,” he swept his hand through the room and she gasped in awe. The one room was nearly the size of her entire apartment in Gotham. The walls were painted with elaborate murals. She stepped hesitantly into the room and twirled, wanting to see every inch of the place. Crane looked on from the door, his lips spread into a smile.

“I’m glad you like it,” he laughed and she ran into his arms, smiling.

“I love it! I am officially living out one of my dreams.” She pulled down on his collar and kissed him. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and kissed him deeper, her fingers now brushing across the soft skin on his neck. Crane sighed through his nose and found her waist, resting his hands on the indents of her hips. The excitement of the day prompted a sense of adventure and need inside her and she communicated that through her kiss. She bit playfully on Crane’s bottom lip and moaned (intentionally) against him to fluster him. She felt his body shutter from the suggestive sounds she made against him. Her cunt throbbed wantingly and she could feel her heartbeat in her upper thighs.

“Mhm!” She hummed and caught her breath as Crane’s hands slipped to the base of her back.

“You never get tired, do you?” He muttered against her huskily and she shook her head.

“No, Dr. Crane.” She whispered with a soft whine and licked his bottom lip before kissing him harder. She felt his cock twitch on his pants as he pressed himself against her.

“Good, because neither do I,” he bit the point of her jaw gently and kissed over the hickies he had already made on her neck the night before. He looked all rumpled and hot in his suit after the action of the day and she desperately wanted to undress him. She wanted to fuck him like a normal couple, not tied down to a mortuary slab where she couldn’t even touch him. God, she wanted to touch him. She dragged one hand down to his crotch and cupped his cock through his pants. She rubbed her hand against the half-hard bulge and moaned pitifully as if she were the one getting touched.

“You’re pathetic,” Crane smirked and pulled her head back gently by her hair. She nodded with a pleased smile, happy that he saw her for what she really was and what she really wanted. He kissed her hard, taking her breath away, and sucked on her tongue so deep she felt like she might choke. When he pulled away and dropped his hold on her neck, his lips were pink and his eyes heavy with lust. She knew her face was flushed and that it turned him on but instead of acting on it, Crane leaned back against the door jam and jerked his head at the bed.

“Hobbs laid out some clothes for you. I hope they fit, I went through your closet to find your size but I trusted Hobbs and his wife with the shopping.” He smirked, proud of himself for leaving the girl so horny, it made him even harder. He left the room and closed the door, his erection still pressing against his pants.

She went down the stairs and looked around for the dining room, turning her curious head left and right. The clothes that had been laid out for her were simple and elegant. A long black dress with a boat neck that she wore with the burgundy stockings set beside it. She’d worn her black mary janes and run a brush through her hair, knowing that would be enough to help her look put together. She followed the sound of a crackling fire and polite conversation through a far door. Crane looked up as she entered and looked her up and down, his eyes sticky against her curves.

“What do you think?” She gestured to her dress and gave a slow twirl. The butler and his wife stood to the side, watching her with small, pleased smiles. Crane leaned forward, resting his elbows on the white tablecloth.

“Apparently, my housekeepers have extraordinary taste.” He smirked and stood as she walked to her place at the table on his right.

“High praise,” she smiled at Hobbs. As they sat together, Hobbs served their dinner of smoked ham. She took a long sip of the gin martini from her glass and swirled the stem with her wrist.

“It’s hard to believe that we were in Gotham just an hour or two ago.” She took in his body dressed in a black suit without his usual tie. His face was clean and he’d refreshed his hair with some gel, the smell was comforting.

“Tonight could have ended very differently…” he looked at his food. The butler and his wife left the room, going back into the kitchen.

“Thank you for what you said this morning,” she flicked her eyes up to his. He looked back and caught his breath. She looked stunning and he felt the need to pinch himself to remember where they were and how they’d gotten there in the first place. He remembered telling her to do as he said because he wanted her to live and he worried that Ra’s would go back on his word, and as he suspected, Ra’s had, just not with her.

“I’m just glad that we came to our agreement when we did, before Ra’s. I’ll admit that my desire to keep you alive was more selfish than chivalrous because I needed you for my own reasons.”

“Like what?” She raised her eyebrow and cut a piece of meat. It melted on her tongue and she swallowed it slowly, watching him.

“I have plans for Gotham, plans that would involve you,” he cocked his head towards her, adding, “of course. I don’t know yet how Ra’s plans will play out but I suspect that he will fail. Batman will think that he’s saved the city from ‘bad guys’ but,” he leaned in closer, “I’m not so easily defeated and I suspect that we’ll run into each other again.”

“Are you sure that you can trust me with these plans of yours,” she opened herself up to him and stood, looming over Crane in his seat,” these plans that also include me?” She rested her knee on the edge of his seat between his legs, straddling his thigh. Crane looked up at her calmly, unmoved by the position of her knee against his crotch or the heat of her cunt hovering above his thigh. Crane watched her for a moment, letting a heavy silence fall between them before inhaling and shifting his torso closer as if he were going to whisper something to her.

“Like I told Ra’s,” he started quietly, his eyes dark and harsh at the candlelight table. His hand squeezed the bottom of her thigh above her knee, she gasped quietly, “I’ll make sure that I can trust you…” his hand snaked up the inside of her thigh beneath her dress. He pulled the edge of her stocking away from her thigh and let it snap painfully back against her skin. “Won’t I?” He asked darkly as his forehead creased slightly. She gasped again as his hand found her underwear and stroked her clothed cunt. “Won’t. I?” He sneered and she remembered to nod. “Answer me,” he snapped and brushed his fingers past the crotch of her underwear, spreading the wetness between her legs with the pads of his fingertips.

“Yes,” she hissed breathlessly, closing her eyes as he rubbed her cunt, creating a dangerous friction.

“You’re pissing me off, detective.” He growled and roughly began to finger her, shoving two fingers harshly inside. She yelped and looked down at Crane, his eyes flashed.

“Why, Dr. Crane?” She wrapped her fingers around the base of his neck, her thumb sitting right below his adam's apple. She smiled when his other hand gripped her thigh harder. She moved her hips on his fingers and he watched with interest as she dripped around his fingers. “How can I fix it for you?” She purred against his cheek, moaning softly as he fingered her and teased her clit with his thumb. She began to pant and instinctively moved her thighs together as the pleasure became too much. She squeezed around his fingers and her hands tightened around his throat, about to cum.

“Behave,” he whispered seriously and removed his fingers before she could finish. She groaned in frustration and held his face between her hands.

“You’re such a tease, Jonathan.” She scolded him and he smiled.

“And you’re a horny little slut.” He whispered close to her lips and she shook her head, smiling giddily.

“I’m just a horny little slut for you.” She ran her tongue across his lips, dragging it up to his nose. She let go of his face and plopped back into her chair, crossing her legs pointedly. Crane rolled his eyes and raised his fingers to his mouth. He sucked her juices from his hand as she watched and then finished his drink, ignoring her when she whined with lust.

“You’re like a dog,” he rested his elbow on the table, “you think you’ll get what you want if you whine enough.” He delivered the sentence with a knowing look and returned to his food. She didn’t want to admit to herself how much that turned her on. She huffed and tucked her hair behind her ear and finished her martini hungrily. She finally had a moment to glance around the room and when she did, she saw a beautiful fire burning in a stone fireplace.

“That’s beautiful,” she gestured to the fireplace carved with cherubs. Crane looked and nodded.

“I think so too. We haven’t had fires in the fireplace since I was a child. You may have noticed that part of the house was destroyed.”

She nodded.

“That’s because the house almost burned down when I was…” he frowned as he thought, “five or six?” He shrugged and sighed, looking into the blazing fire. “My father never let us use the fireplaces after that. It made for cold winters,” He flicked his eyes up to hers and she shivered.

“I can imagine,” she thought back to her childhood in the orphanage, freezing at night during any season that wasn’t summer.

“The house will be a lot warmer now,” he said casually and allowed a small smirk to tug at his lips.

“What happened to ‘behaving ourselves’?” She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow in fake disapproval. Crane chuckled and leaned back in his chair.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he lied and they went back to eating when Hobbs entered with dessert.

iii

It was nearly 2am when they finally climbed the grand staircase to return to their rooms. There was a large common room that separated the two wings of the house on the second floor. The wing to their right was burned and stood empty.

“Where’s your room?” She furrowed her brow as they walked down the hallway, passing the laundry chute. Crane pointed to a room at the mouth of the hallway, near the top of the stairs. Her’s was at the opposite end of the hallway. She smiled and spun around, facing her side of the hallway. She let him watch her walk away, moving her hips as loosely as she could manage. When she opened her door, she turned slightly and gave him a closed-mouth smile, her eyes teasing him. He crossed his arms and leaned against his door, his expression unreadable. She closed her door and did a few extra happy-spins for good measure. She kicked off her shoes and explored the bathroom, finding herself in a mood for a bath after not showering the night before. She turned on the bath’s faucet and filled the large tub with hot water. As she undressed, she spotted a row of cosmetics set out for her use, and included in the assortment was the shampoo that she used at home. A small part of her found it scary that Crane had obviously gone through her home to find the things she liked but more than that, she felt honored that he had planned his backup plan with her in mind. He’d asked the housekeepers to prepare her a room and stock it with clothes and shampoo, all just in case she came with him. He’d imagined her coming with him, and that nearly made her cry. She slipped into the hot water and scrubbed every inch of her body, trying to remove all of the sweat, dirt, and debris that had stuck to her skin over the past 24 hours. She washed her hair with the mint shampoo as Crane had guessed she used correctly before. The suds ran down her hair and between her shoulder blades as her hands worked the shampoo into her head. She ducked her head beneath the water and watched as her hair floated out around her head. When she came up for air, her hair stuck to her back and she sighed pleasantly.

The bathroom was cold when she left the security of the hot water so she quickly wrapped herself in a thick towel and brushed her hair. She rubbed lotion into her dry skin and toweled off her hair. The housekeepers had given her numerous sets of pajamas in different styles. She guessed Crane had decided against going through her underwear drawer, what a gentleman. She liked soft lounge pants and t-shirts so she changed into the dark blue set they had provided for her and unmade her bed. The wide windows on the side wall looked out on the field and she could just barely see the outline of the scarecrow. The house itself had a strange and suffocating feel. She wondered what Crane may have endured here, what secrets he hid inside himself.

She bit the inside of her cheek and found the gun that she’d brought with her from Gotham. She hid the gun behind the headboard of her bed and sat with her knees pressed up to her chest on the mattress. She wrapped her arms around her legs and shivered, goosebumps rose on her legs and she rocked back and forth, resting her head on her knee like a child. Should she feel guilty for betraying her precinct? Should she worry about Sgt. Gordon and Gotham itself? What had Gotham given her? How had it protected her? She felt torn between a route of righteousness and one of passion. Crane offered her a path to her own future set outside the laws of society where she could create her own identity. She didn’t want to be the good girl cop anymore, she wanted to be everything else and she wanted Crane.

Crane was testing her. He wanted to see how badly she actually wanted him, how much she would fight to be with him. He needed her to be obsessed, foaming at the mouth at the thought of him. Maybe he was psychotic, sure (he was). His father certainly was and it usually runs in families. Crane’s manic obsession was her and he needed her, but before he could trust her, he had to be sure that she was totally and completely loyal to him. He knew she had her gun and he assumed she’d suffered more internal dialogue since escaping Gotham (he was a psychiatrist, so of course he knew these things). If he pushed her away would she cling to him more or feel the need to betray him? He had to admit that this test was grueling for him too. He didn’t think that he was capable of love or real attraction, he was a psychopath, literally. He’d studied himself as much as he had the subjects in his textbooks in school and he checked all the boxes but this- this- was a new development that he didn’t quite understand. It almost made him angry when he thought of the power she could wield over him if he got too close. She’d spoken so much of trust and he wanted to trust her. He did. But he’d trusted Ra’s, he’d trusted his father and at one point in his life he’d trusted Sgt. Gordon. Those relationships had not ended well. Then this prissy young detective comes along and confronts him with feelings he didn’t think he could have. That was why she was the subject of his fear toxin reaction. She’d found a way to matter to him and losing her had already become his worst fear. He wanted… oh god there were so many things that he wanted from her. He hoped that it wouldn’t take much longer because he was starting to lose patience.

She stared at the ceiling above her bed and tried to touch herself. She didn’t have her vibrator and Crane had made a point of pushing her away, so she was left to rough it out with her hands. She hadn’t been stuck with just her bare hands since college. Her vibrator had obviously spoiled her and she felt nowhere near as much pleasure without it, though Crane had come extremely close the night before. She dug her heels into the mattress and bit her lip, concentrating as hard as she could on Crane. She remembered the way he spoke to her as he fucked her, how calm and direct he’d been with her body. They both had needs and desires and he hadn’t let insecurities or formalities stand in the way. Her body was craving a release that she’d teased it with twice already that day and she couldn’t fall asleep without trying to appease it. After ten minutes of heavy breathing and a sore arm she collapsed in frustration across her bed. She desperately wanted him and nothing was going to cut it unless it was him inside her. Something- anything. She groaned into her hands and kicked the blankets off of her.

The door handle creaked and Crane shifted in his half-sleep haze. The bed moved around him and he was startled awake by the girl, straddling his hips. He kept a smile from his lips as he looked up at her.

“What the hell are you doing?” He got out before her hand clamped around his mouth. She shushed him.

“Listen here, Crane. Since we have an understanding,” she used his word for their relationship, “I’ll tell it to you straight. I want you. I need you. I have very few needs because I’m a simple girl, but right now, you’re one of them. I’ll ask you nicely and if you humor me, I won’t cause trouble.”

“Trouble?” His voice was muffled against her hand as he raised his eyebrow.

“I have a whole round of trouble tucked away behind my headboard.”

“Nice threat. So, you what? Want to rape me?” He propped himself up on his elbows.

She hooked her finger around the collar of his black t-shirt and sighed.

“You have such a dirty mind. Why do you have to make it sound so perverted?” She held his chin tightly in her hand and dragged her other hand down his chest stopping at the waistband of his pants.

“That’s what it is, detective.” He cocked his head to the side and rested it on his shoulder. “Are you really going to do that to me?”

“Says the man that strapped me to a slab and drugged me three times,” she held up three fingers to stress her point and shifted her hips on his crotch.

“We both have problems, what do you want me to say?”

“That you’ll fuck me,” she started to grind her hips and he withheld his sinful exhale.

“Oh?” He said instead, “what if I’m too tired? Fucking is hard work.”

“Then let me do it,” she shrugged with a smile, “I’ll make us both feel good.” Crane raised a skeptical eyebrow and smirked.

“You really didn’t get enough at dinner did you?” He teased and she shook her head.

“You have no idea.”

He watched her rub herself against him and then slowly allowed his eyes to meet hers. She moaned just looking into his eyes and he laughed.

“Ok, let’s see how you do.” He allowed her casually and watched as she bounced happily on his lap and scooted down to his knees. She pulled down the blanket and worked her hands below his waistband. He was already hard and she scoffed, pissed that he hadn’t admitted how turned on he was too. He smirked as she pulled his cock out of his pants and rolled her tongue around the tip. When she took him in her mouth he sighed softly, his mouth open as he watched her give him head. She swirled her tongue around his length and she bobbed her head up and down. She sucked and dragged her mouth slowly over him until he bucked softly into her mouth. She felt her stomach get hot with excitement and she worked harder, humming against him as she took him deeper. Crane clenched his fists and groaned. She pulled her mouth to the top of his cock and sucked hard, teasing his climax which she could tell was fast approaching. His forehead was creased and he squeezed his eyes shut, allowing his head to fall back with a low gasp.

“Fuck alright, that’s enough,” He sat up again and smirked, “get what you want out of me.” He panted and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. She licked her lips and crawled off the bed. Crane watched her as she stepped out of her bottoms and straddled him once more, naked from the waist down. His erection rested against her stomach and he swallowed, staring at her bare cunt.

“I hope you like what you see,” she whispered and removed her top. Her breasts shifted slightly against her skin as she moved and her hair fell around her in a sultry mess. “Because it all belongs to you now,” she pressed her hands against his stomach for balance and leaned closer. “But this,” she looked him up and down, landing on his beautiful eyes and smiling, “this belongs to me.”

“Silly girl,” he barely shook his head as his eyes trained on her, “I don’t belong to anyone.”

“We’ll see about that,” she shrugged and bit her lip as she lowered herself onto his cock. She whined in relief and moved her hips slowly. She was so wet he could her himself move inside of her as she fucked him. Crane’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he released a tight breath.

“Fuuuuck…” he hissed and she squeezed around him, nearly orgasming just by hearing the pleasure in his voice. She panted breathlessly as she started to move up and down, her hands balanced on his navel where there was a thin dusting of hair. He thrusted up involuntarily and they both moaned. She sped up slightly, moving her hips back and forth. Crane’s hands found the fleshy handles of her hips and dug his fingers into her skin. He had laid back completely making it so that he had to raise his head when he wanted to watch how she snapped down on him. She let her head fall back and moaned loudly as his cock hit the right place each time. The pleasure was so good between her legs that her release felt like the desire to pee. When her climax snapped, her eyes rolled back and she gasped, riding it out and enjoying the pressure of him inside her as it carried her through the high. Her climax triggered his as he felt her cum around her.

“You’re going to cum inside me,” she panted and whimpered through the sensations.

“Is that an order?” He gritted out, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips. He was trying to hold off his orgasm but as she nodded and squeezed him again, he let himself cum inside her with a loud groan. She sat for a second longer as he finished and finally moved off. She cleaned him off, sucking his swollen cock and swallowing all of the excess cum and discharge that had collected along his length. He covered his face with his hands as he tried to catch his breath.

“Are you going to leave it in?” He asked in a deep, tired voice.

“Your cum?”

“Yes, are you going to leave it in you?” He removed his hands and watched as she crawled up the bed to sit beside him.

“Do you want me to?” She let her hair fall around them and he twirled the end of one of the pieces.

He thought for a moment before nodding his head, “yes.” She curled up beside him and draped her leg between his. He exhaled slowly and wrapped his arm around the back of her head, resting his hand on her shoulder. She rubbed her nose against his chest, breathing in the clean smell of his t-shirt. Crane closed his eyes and waited as her breathing became more regular and slow. She started to fall asleep, her hand clasped against his ribs. When she was asleep, he propped himself up on one arm and watched her. Words couldn’t describe how good that was, what she did for him. It was better than their first time when the roles had been reversed. He liked that she could touch him and explore him with a needily innocence like a horny teenager. Crane thought about his cum still sitting inside her, collecting around her inner-thighs. He kissed her as she slept deeply, licking the salty taste from her lips and swallowing. She made a noise in her sleep and he drew his hand around her perfect breast, admiring her body in the dull glow of the moon. Gotham would be no match for them once they were united. No one could stop them, not even themselves. Once they started they could never stop, they had to take everything from each other. His head fell back into his pillow and he kissed the curve of her throat before allowing himself to fall asleep beside her. He’d never slept with a woman after sex. She was the first.

They woke up late in the morning and dressed warmly, both wearing sweaters and long pants. Crane had traded in his suit for more casual wear though his attire was always oozing with old money aesthetic. After a breakfast of eggs benedict and black coffee, Crane asked if she wanted to see the house.

“Of course,” she smiled and nodded excitedly. There were some questions she still had for Crane and she had her own list of theories and thoughts that the house inspired inside her. She worried what the house would reveal and more importantly, what it may say about Crane. She wondered if he had lived a childhood similar to hers, one of trauma and violence, even if he had lived in a huge mansion with every monetary item he could ever desire.

They started outside the house, walking the grounds. The exterior of the house was set in elaborate stone carvings. The roofs were made of dark terracotta, framing widow peaks at the top of many of the towers. Crane watched her reaction as they rounded to the side of the house with the destroyed wing, still black from the burning. She could even still smell the charcoal made from the house’s old paneling.

“Your father never rebuilt it?” She asked, curious. Crane studied the crumbling structure and shook his head.

“No, he died before making plans for a renovation.” She looked at him quickly and met his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“But you understand.”

She nodded slowly, “I was an orphan, I never knew my parents.”

“So was I.” He clenched his jaw and looked down at the ground.

“Your mother?” She asked hesitantly.

“She died, here, in this wing.” He pointed to the second floor of the burned wing. “That was her room.”

“You were young then too,” she remembered and he nodded. “Do you remember your mother?”

“Some things but nothing that brings me much comfort. I remember how she died and I remember how my father mourned her.”

“So she died in the fire?”

“Yes,” he nodded and folded his arms across his chest, “she was trapped inside after the fire started. They weren’t able to save her. My father was never the same after that.”

“When did your father die?”

“Before I went to college…” he trailed off and they stood in silence for a moment. “He was a chemist, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know. Did he teach you?”

Crane chuckled darkly, “I guess you could say that. He used me for his experiments.” He scowled. What he had said back in Arkham came back to her mind and she risked asking more.

“Jonathan?” She started.

“Yes?” He asked, his voice hard and protective like a layer of ice.

“What did he do to you?”

Crane swallowed and turned away from the house, forcing her to hurry behind him to keep up. His hair was tousled by the wind as he walked through the icy field. As the slope curved downwards, he finally started to speak.

“He was the one who first came up with the idea for the fear serum. After my mother’s death he became obsessed with it and started to test it on himself like a lunatic. It messed with his head and made him relive my mother’s death over and over again until he finally had to stop and find a new subject. His new subject became me.” He darted his eyes angrily around the ground as he spoke, spit flying from his lips. “He would give me the toxin and at the time, it was 10x more dangerous. He used me to gauge the body’s reactions to fear and kept track of what the brain imagined during that state of panic. He wanted to create a cure for fear, a way to remove the body’s reaction to it. At some point he made a breakthrough in the case using people he’d kidnapped and found a way to remove a person’s ability to be afraid. He used it on himself and after that, his natural instincts became mute. When I was sixteen he brought me here,” he stopped suddenly and she looked as he gestured at the scarecrow hanging from its perch, “and he administered the drug one last time.”

“What happened?” She whispered, her blood going cold.

“I overdosed on the serum and hallucinated that the scarecrow was alive but the fear I felt was multiplied from the large dose of toxin. Your old boss, Sgt Gordon, found us out here having come to arrest my father for kidnapping and murder. Because my father no longer feared anything, he charged Gordon and Gordon shot him. He died where we’re standing… and I watched it. I watched it all happen.” He stared at the scarecrow, his face set. He didn’t show any emotion as he recounted his father’s death, his own trauma.

“What did Gordon do?” She stepped closer but left him a small circle of space, a safety net.

“He took me to the hospital and once I recovered, they brought me back here.”

“You were so young,” she whispered sadly, wanting to cry for him.

“So were you, weren’t you, when you were left at the doors of Gotham’s orphanage?” She nodded.

“I was a baby.” She hugged herself and stared down at the ground beneath them.

“That’s why I think we’re so similar. We raised ourselves- you and I.” He smirked, “it would explain our similar psychology.”

“The fact that we’re both deeply disturbed? Sure, I’ll give you that,” she laughed lightly, her nose burned in the cold air.

“Mm… deeply disturbed,” Crane sounded out the words with a soft hiss.

“Psychotic?” She offered.

“Psychopathic.”

“Deranged.”

“That’s not a medical diagnosis I’m familiar with,” he looked down at her, taking in the profile of her ruddy cheeks blistering in the wind.

‘But not far off is it?” She smiled and looped her fingers in the front of his sweater, her hands brushing the hard muscle beneath.

“Hmmm, I don’t know. I’ll have to conduct more thorough examinations.. I’d kill to have a look inside your head.” His fingers traced her hairline and pulled gently on her hair.

“I have a few ideas for other places you could examine,” she teased and he smirked, coming back from his temporary emotional lag.

“Intriguing offer, detective.”

“Thank you, Dr. Crane,” she returned his smirk and pulled him away from the scarecrow. He followed her. “Why did you choose the scarecrow as your alias?” she brought the conversation back and his forehead creased again as he thought.

“I was forced to face my fear and after I returned here with just Hobbs and his wife to keep me company. I decided to take back the power that the scarecrow took away from me that day. Embracing my fear made me stronger, more powerful,” He answered seriously and she nodded.

“Why did you improve your father’s fear toxin if you knew what it was capable of?” She asked quietly, watching for his reaction.

“I made it because I knew what it was capable of. People like us have suffered, we’ve been wronged, we’ve been abandoned and ignored. There are people in this world who have the privilege of never being afraid because they have nothing to fear. I made it originally to use on the city’s elite, the people who think they’re better than me because they think they’re wealthier than I am, smarter than I am. Ra’s distracted me from my plan and I know now that I was right from the very beginning, Batman and his like need to be dethroned. We can be the ones to do it.”

She looked into his eyes and kissed him, drawing his face down to hers by the rough collar of his sweater. His lips were dry from the wind. When she pulled away he held her face between his hands and looked at her seriously, his nostrils flared.

“Do you still trust me after everything I just told you? Do you still want to be with me?” He asked her calmly, a dark glint in his eye. She dropped her head to the side and he caught it easily in his palm.

“Yes, yes.” She nodded.

They walked in silence, their hands brushing against each other and their hair blowing in the short gusts of wind.

“There’s still something you should know,” Crane began as they crossed through the door into the grand entry hall.

“Like how you learned to ride a horse?” She joked but Crane didn’t smile. His face was hard again as it had been before. Her smile faded slowly and she felt her heart shutter and drop. “What?” She whispered and Crane left without another word, so she followed him hesitantly. He led her down into the basement, taking a stone staircase hidden behind a wall panel that also served as a door. Their steps echoed in the small space, electric sconces burned along the creepy passage. Finally Crane stopped at the door at the bottom of the stairs. The door was made of solid steel and Crane had to enter a passcode to open it.

“Through here,” he guided her through the door and closed it behind them. The room was large and cave-like, lined with bookshelves and lab equipment. She gave an appreciative gasp, taking in the room that served as Crane’s office and private lab. “This was my father’s lab and when he died, it became mine.” He walked around to his desk and rummaged through one of the bottom drawers, removing a few small folders and placing them on his desk. He rested his knuckles on the cherry wood surface and sighed, finally meeting her eyes since they got back to the house.

“Back to our topic of trust, I should tell you that I did a little snooping, if you will, into your past when we first started crossing paths. I wanted to know who I was dealing with, which is why I did this and now that we’ve ended up here together, I feel that it’s only right,” the word tasted bitter on his tongue, “to show you what I found. I’ve always told you that we’re alike, that we understand each other but I’ve never explained why. This is why I know we’re alike, Y/N.” He opened the front flap of each folder and pushed them down to the front of the desk. “You should know what happened to you as a child, the things they never told you at the orphanage.” He waited as she swallowed and looked between the papers and Crane.

“What do you mean?” She whispered, “the things that happened to me?”

“How the Wayne family ruined both of our lives.” His voice was slow and dark like syrup and it took her a few seconds to process what he was saying, what he was implying. She looked down at the folders again and took a step closer. When she reached his desk, she scanned the documents with blurred vision. “What… what do they say?” She rubbed her eyes and stepped away. Crane took the first folder, his jaw clenched.

“Y/L/N, Y/N was born into the Arkham family, the founders of Arkham Asylum. Her parents were known to have had numerous disagreements with the Wayne family over the inappropriate use of the criminal justice system by moving people whom the Waynes didn’t like into the asylum. The Arkhams did not believe that the Waynes should have had the right to imprison their political enemies and opponents and tried to inform the public. The message to the press and other government officials was intercepted by the Wayne administration and destroyed, though one draft of the letter was salvaged from the Arkham’s trash and archived in the police station, it was never investigated. The Arkhams, both in their early 30s, were found dead a week later in their home. With no other living relatives, the baby, named Matilda Y/N Arkham by her parents, was discreetly handed over to Gotham orphanage by people closely connected to Wayne following the murder.” He paused, his eyes flicking up. She had gone white and her hand was clamped around one of the shelves on a nearby bookshelf. She looked up at him when he stopped and tried to speak but nothing came. He still waited, giving her time to speak but when she didn’t, he continued.

“My private investigator found this from government records, including records still housed in Gotham orphanage. They knew this whole time and never informed you even after you became a legal adult. They never investigated your parents’ death and Thomas Wayne, the father of Gotham’s famous playboy, Bryce Wayne, never paid for his actions. He continued to imprison his enemies and without your parents there to run the asylum, it fell into its current state. Nothing I could have done with Arkham would have ever salvaged it after what Wayne’s administration did. So, you see now why I said that we were alike in so many ways. The Wayne’s have too much power even now and someone needs to do something about it.” Crane sighed and walked back to the front of his desk and leaned against it, his eyes lowered to the ground. She inhaled deeply.

“You said something about Wayne ruining both of our lives. What did he do to you?” She asked him, her face red from stress and emotion.

“He killed my mother,” he answered evenly and they met each others’ eyes. Her questioning eyes prompted Crane to explain. “He visited my mother whom he’d been seeing for a few months. She wanted to end things because she had me and I was getting older, and her marriage was starting to improve; she no longer wanted to be his mistress. He got angry and locked her inside her bedroom and then he lit a fire, right outside her room. He left before anyone realized what had happened. They found the key in her bedroom door, still inside the lock, locking the door from the outside. They knew that something had happened and the people in the police department knew the rumors, the secret love affair between Mrs. Crane and Mr. Wayne. There was a whole case but the police commissioner closed it and it was never solved. My father was a good man before that day, my mother’s murder drove him insane. For years it led him to do things that he shouldn’t have done. Wayne had a hand in my fate too, setting up my parents’ demise. I would have ended up alongside you at Gotham’s orphanage if Hobbs and his wife didn’t agree to look after me for those last two years before I was old enough to be my own guardian. Thomas Wayne died when I was eleven and yet, he still managed to kill my father from the grave. So, we’re connected by a chain of discord welded together by the Wayne family.”

“Yes…” he whispered and sank down into a dusty armchair. “So my real name is Matilda Arkham?”

“Technically speaking, yes.”

“And so that means Arkham Asylum also belongs to me?”

Crane smiled with his wide lips closed, “technically.”

Realization clicked in and she couldn’t help but laugh. She covered her mouth with her palms and laughed hysterically. Crane smiled down at his feet and scratched the side of his face. Though she suddenly realized that her entire life had been a lie, she laughed because now, everything made sense. And by some disturbed twist of fate, she and Crane had been bound to be together all because of Thomas Wayne. She pulled herself from the chair and looked at the family picture included in one of the folders. Crane leaned over her shoulder, breathing calmly against her neck. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she studied the picture. Lying in the arms of a woman with strawberry blonde hair, was her. Her father held her foot in between his fingers, smiling down at her with brown eyes. She’d seen their portrait in passing in the asylum and yet she’d never placed why they managed to look so… familiar. They’d been celebrated psychiatrists in their time. She looked at Crane, still leaning against the desk beside her, his blue eyes were trained on her face. So that’s why she had a thing for psychiatrists, she realized.

“Are you ready to hear my plan now,” he asked her with a smirk, “... Miss Arkham?”

#cillian murphy #cillian fanfic #smut #fanfiction #cillian x fem!reader #young cillian murphy #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane x reader #batman begins #dc scarecrow #hot scarecrow #lady arkham #dc comics #dr crane

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mattsturniolosmuse · 2 months

Text

My Girl

Part 2 of Meant To Be: A Heartbreak High fanfic

Cash's POV

Synopsis: You and Cash advance in your relationship, and he asks you out. He has very morbid thoughts about you, and he finds himself struggling to keep himself in his pants.

Warnings: Masturbation, Swearing, alcohol use, making out, slight porn use, fluff, pet names

Song: Sun To Me by Zach Bryan

🎵♥ sweetest of the sunflowers, yeah, you're the sun to me ♥🎵

➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽

"Nan!" I yell, clutching Y/N's shoulders, trying to hide her from view. Nan sees her anyways. She used to tell me that she has eyes on the back of her head, so one time, when she was sleeping, I poured bleach on the back of her head to blind her.

I stare at Y/N as she leaves. Saying that she is hot is an understatement. I know everybody is always talking about how Amerie is hot, but, I just don't see where they're coming from. They must be blind if they prefer Amerie over Y/N.

The way those leather shorts hug her ass perfectly, the way her breasts are practically spilling out of her shirt. Everything about her is just so... stunning.

I didn't realize I was hard until nan shoved me into the wall while walking past. I lock myself in my room, grab my laptop and flip it open while sitting on my bed.

I hesitate. I've never used porn before, but I was desperate.

I open the website, and type hot girl porn.

I reach into my pants and grab my throbbing cock. I gargle as I fist it softly. The girl in the video starts moaning, and I imagine Y/N moaning my name.

"Nnng, Y/N..." I moan quietly, making sure nan doesn't hear. I fist myself faster, knocking over the lamp on my bed frame as I throw my head back.

I finish in my hand, and I breath heavily as I head to the washroom.

➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽

"Thanks for dinner, nan, it was great." I say, excusing myself from the table.

"Where you goin' now, shag that girl of yours?" Nan says, chuckling.

"Nan..." I say, drawing out the 'a.'

My phone buzzes. Speak of the devil.

my bunny💕: you comin to the cemetery

me: idk, now?

my bunny: yes sir

I cringe inwardly as blood rushes to my dick.

me: sure, omw

I grab a coat from the hanger at the front, slipping my phone inside the pocket.

I bike towards the cemetery, and it suddenly dawns on me that I might be awkward in front of Y/N, after what I did earlier.

Whatever. I think to myself. It'll be fine.

I dropped my bike on the ground, looking around for Y/N. I finally see her with Dusty and Harper over by the drinks. She holds a red cup in her hand. Her outfit changed; she was wearing neon pink leggings and a black long sleeve crop top, the chest saying "angel" in small diamonds.

I rush towards her, needing to be close. I grab her waist from behind.

"Hey, bunny." I say into her ear. She spins around with a smile.

"Hey." She says, hugging me. I sniff her hair. She smells like lavender and vanilla.

"So, did your nan get mad at you?" She asks me. I chuckle.

"No. In fact, she asked me just now if I was leaving to shag you." I say.

"Oh..." She says, blushing.

"Where's your sister? Didn't you have to babysit?" I ask her. She nods, taking a sip of her drink.

"She's having a sleepover with Amerie's little sister tonight." She says, gesturing lamely towards Amerie.

"Hey, Harper. Dusty, my bruh." I say, dapping Dusty up.

"Hey, man. You two a thing now?" Dusty asks, looking at Y/N, who was in conversation with Harper, then back at me.

"Well, I don't know, I think so? I'm not sure. We haven't really said anything about dating." I say, scratching the back of my neck.

"Should I ask her?" I ask.

Dusty shrugs. "Depends, how much do you love her? Like, you want to shag her, or you just want to kiss her?"

I turn red. "Um, both." I say, looking at my shoes.

"Tell her, man. Just earlier, she was just talking, then Harper mentioned you and her eyes lit up and she seemed happier." Dusty says, looking at Harper and Y/N.

"Right, bruh... off I go." I say, grabbing Y/N's arm and leading her away.

"Cash? Is everything all right?" She asks once we stop, rubbing the tattoo on my arm gently.

"Yeah! Of course. I just-" I start. I throw my head back and squeeze my eyes shut.

"Willyoubemygirlfriend?" I ask quickly. Y/N raises her eyebrows.

"I beg your pardon?" She asks.

"I love you and want you to be my girl." I say, looking her in the eyes.

She answers by smiling and bringing her face to mine. I smile and press my lips to hers. No matter how many times she kisses me, I'll never be able to get enough. Her lips are soft, and she slow but demanding.

She uses a lot of lip gloss, so her lips often taste like strawberries; her favourite, I've noted. Now, they taste like vodka and chocolate. I lick her lips, trying to save the taste to memory. She sighs, opening her mouth and letting my tongue enter her mouth. I whimper as she bites down on my tongue.

"Of course I will." She says, pulling away, a string of saliva connecting our mouths, and resting her forehead against mine. I smile, looking into her pretty eyes. She giggles, causing me to laugh. Soon enough, we are both full on laughing, holding on to our stomachs and hunching over. I look at her. Her eyes are so full of light and joy, her smile so big that I was afraid it might split her face in half.

➽ ➽ ➽ ➽ ➽

*A few days later*

"I don't got the money, bruh." I say, gritting my teeth.

"Why?" Chook asks, matching my anger.

"Because I don't! What the fuck don't you understand?!" I snap, immediately regretting it. The second the words leave my lips, Chook's fist makes contact with my face. I close my eyes, slowly looking back at him.

"I'll get the damn money." I say, spitting at his feet before I leave.

I would leave the eshay's if I could. But I can't. It's the only thing that can afford my nan's medications. I send Y/N a quick text.

me: where u at

my bunny💕: home, you comin

me: not yet, be there in half n hour or so

my bunny💕: ok

I rush home, throwing my bag on the floor. I head into my bathroom and look in the mirror. A huge bruise is forming on my right eye.

"Fuck!" I say, swiping my hand and sending pills and cups flying. I search around for something; an eyepatch, glasses, anything. I find a pair of sunglasses in a kitchen drawer.

Good enough. I say, taking a look in the mirror before heading out the front door.

I knock at Y/N's door, and her little sister opens it.

"Dougie!" She screeches, hugging my waist. I chuckle.

"Hey, princess." I say, hugging her monetarily before she pulls away and runs back into the kitchen. I knock on Y/N's door before coming in. I gasp when I see her. She has only a white t-shirt on- which happens to be mine- and what I'm assuming is a pair of panties underneath. That's it.

"You ok?" She asks, noticing my gasp. I nod gamely.

"Yeah, just remembered that I have a school thing due tomorrow." I lie. She nods. She reaches up over her shelf to grab some Oreos. As she does so, her whole bottom half is revealed.

My eyes feast upon her body, and her pink thong that rides tightly up her ass. It's got frilly lace along the border, and when she turns around, I notice a bow on the front. My eyes shoot back up to her, but I knew she caught me staring. I knew from the smirk on her face.

"I'm sorry! I just-" I say, but she places a finger to my lips.

"Don't worry about it." She says. She walks back to her bed, her hips swaying. Fuck.

I follow her, and she pushes me down onto the bed. She straddles me, removing my glasses. Now it was her turn to emit a gasp.

"Oh, babe, what happened?" She asks, caressing my cheek.

"Nothing, bunny." I whisper. I was too busy focusing on my cock that was straining to get out of their confinement. She kisses my eye, then kisses my lips. I sigh into the kiss, grabbing her waist.

She grinds into me, and I moan loudly. She pulls away.

"Someone's horny." She says, kissing me again. She pulls away quickly, looking at me as if she was expecting something. I stare back.

"So! Have you started the school project?" I ask her to help the awkwardness. She rolls her eyes and gets off of me.

"No. Have you?" She asks. I shake my head. Just then, her sister barged into the room.

"Y/N! WHERE IS MY COOKIE!" She yells.

"I don't know! Ask mom!" Y/N says calmly, shooing her sister out of her room. She lays beside me and cuddles close.

"Goodnight, Cash." She whispers. I smile.

"Goodnight, bunny." I say, stroking her hair till she falls asleep. I slowly leave the house, making sure to lock the door behind me.

#heartbreak high #Cash piggott #Douglas piggott #Douglas Cash piggott #x reader'#18+#smut

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animesmolbean · 4 months

Text

A World of Pure Imagination

Author's Note: This is my first story. It's a Wonka 2023 x Male!Reader. Let me know if you want a female version of this story, too! Just message me! Also, I'll refer to the reader as Yin instead of Y/N. It'll still mean your name; it's just a different way of writing it. This might change later. Let me know if you like the 'Yin' idea or not.

Enjoy the first chapter!

Summary: Yin is a runaway after his parents died before he turned 18. He meets Noodle, and when he needs a place to stay, she sneaks him into Scrubbit's and Bleacher's. Yin wishes for change. His wish seems to come true when an eccentric and very cute chocolatier comes to town, ready to sell his chocolate.

Chapter 1: A Chance Encounter

Yin walked around the Gallery Gourmet, his (hair color) (straight/curly/wavy) slightly messy from the wind. He looked around at all the shops and restaurants for what felt like the hundredth time. It's the same old thing over and over again.

As he got closer to the center of the Gallery Gourmet, he saw where the three titans of chocolate resided. Arthur Slugworth, Felix Fickelgruber, and Gerald Prodnose. The sight of the three buildings made him tense, and he looked away.

But just before he could turn and walk away, he heard a voice. But not just a speaking voice. The voice was singing.

🎵At last, the Gallery Gourmet

I knew that we'd see it one day

It's everything you said, Mama

And, oh, so much more🎵

The voice was tenor like and sounded very optimistic. It drew Yin in, and he followed the voice. He weaved through people, excusing himself as he followed the voice.

🎵Each way that you turn, another famous chocolate store

Here's my destiny, I just need to unlock it

Will I crash and burn or go up like a rocket?

I got nothing to offer but my chocolate

And a hatful of dreams🎵

The voice got louder and more clear, signaling he was getter closer. Now, he was in the center of the Gallery Gourmet, and what he saw surprised him.

It was a man, a man around his age; maybe a little older.

He was dressed in a magenta coat with faded gold embroidery, a fuzzy vest over a striped button-up shirt. He also saw a bluish gray scarf around his neck. Beige striped pants that looked like mailman pants, tall worn brown boots, and a brown lumpy top hat. He also had a cane with him. From physical features, Yin could tell he was lithe and pale but not in a sickly sense. He couldn't see his face too well where he was, but he could tell he had dark brown curly hair underneath the top hat.

It was an unusual attire to see, but Yin quite liked it, even feeling envious because he was dressed similarly to the man; minus the coat, hat, cane, and scarf. But the unusual outfit wasn't what took him him off guard. It was the fact he was dancing in the middle of the square.

He looked ridiculous, but Yin couldn't help but find it endearing. He let out a couple of giggles before covering his mouth, a blush blossoming onto his cheeks. Since when did he giggle like a girl with a crush?

Then, he saw Officer Affable tap on the mysterious man's shoulder, reaching his hand out. Yin could only sigh in annoyance. He hated the 'no daydreaming' rule. It was stupid. Not to mention, you have to give three sovereigns for it?! He rolled his eyes. Whoever made the rules needs a good smack on the head.

The man reluctantly gave the officer the money before he left. Officer Affable made eye contact with Yin before giving the boy a nod. Yin nodded back respectfully. Officer Affable was a decent guy; better than some of the other officers.

Yin went to leave, but as he turned, he accidentally made eye contact with the top hat wearing man. He let out a soft gasp. He saw that the man had some sharp facial features but still managed to look childlike.

He quickly recovered and gave the man an apologetic look with a nod before quickly running the opposite way before the man could respond. Once he was behind a building, he inhaled and exhaled softly, his cheeks warm with embarrassment.

'I can't believe I embarrassed myself in front of him. God, I'm an idiot. But.... he didn't judge me when I was blatantly watching him. He actually looked friendly and really cute.' He thought to himself.

Yin bit his bottom lip shyly. He couldn't wait to tell Noodle this later.

(Time Skip to nighttime)

Yin sat in the room in the back of the lobby of Scrubbit and Bleacher's, leaning against the wall. Next to him was Noodle, his one and only best friend. She was reading a book as he read silently next to her. He would occasionally point at a word, silently asking Noodle what it meant. He was intelligent, but Noodle reads more than he does.

The scratching at the entrance to the wash house caught their attention. He heard Mrs. Scrubbit scolding Tiddles, the wild guard dog. They heard Bleacher talking to Ms. Scrubbit. Then, they heard they had another guest.

'Oh no. Not another guest.' Yin thought to himself.

They listened to the two talk, along with the voice of the new guest, a voice Yin swore he recognized.

Mrs. Scrubbit then called for Noodle to pour glasses of gin, which she reluctantly did. Yin took the opportunity to take a peek out into the main lobby. He saw the two pigs known as Mrs. Scrubbit and Bleacher, but when he saw the new guest, he had to hold back a gasp in worry.

'Oh no. It's the cute man from earlier!' He thought to himself.

Yin took Noodle's hand and dragged her into the backroom again.

"Yin? What's wrong?" Noodle whispered.

"It's him." He whispered back.

"You mean..."

Yin nodded. "The man from the Gallery Gourmet."

The pair watched the three converse.

"You see, I'm something of a magician. Inventor and chocolate maker. And first thing tomorrow at the Gallery Gourmet, I plan to unveil my most astonishing creation yet!"

Yin felt his body tense up again. He planned to sell chocolate?! Here?! He's up against the Chocolate Cartel, the only ones who sell chocolate in this town. He can't compete with them.

Yin watched the man remove his top hat. He got a better look at the curly haired man. Sharp jawline, tall nose, his eyes were big and wide, paired with a set of bushy but straight eyebrows that matched perfectly. However, he couldn't see what color his eyes were.

He wondered what color they were.

He watched as the man reached into the hat to seemingly pull out his creation. Instead, he pulled out a teapot.

"A teapot."

"No. That's just for making tea. One second."

He put the teapot back into the hat and went for a second time. This time, he pulled out a bunch of carrots.

"That's for my stew."

Noodle and Yin giggled as the curly haired magician got flustered and tried a third time, but instead continuously pulled out an assortment of scarves. Yin placed his hand over his mouth to prevent a particularly loud giggle that was about to escape his mouth; also, to hide the soft blush that was starting to bloom onto his cheeks.

After Yin calmed down, he saw the man, which he learned was named Mr. Wonka, revert back what Yin assumed was his usual demeanor as he thanked Mrs. Scrubbit. Then, Yin saw Scrubbit take out the thing that he and Noodle dreaded. A contract.

"I have to stop him from signing that. Yin. Go to my room and hide before Mrs. Scrubbit and Bleacher find you." Noodle instructed in a whisper. She pointed up the stairs from her hiding spot in the backroom. "You know where it is."

Yin, knowing the drill, nodded and quickly but quietly jogged upstairs to where the workers sleep. He got to Noodle's room and slipped in, closing the door. He sighed and sat on Noodle's bed. The room was dark, with only a few beams of soft blue moonlight shining through the window, bars on the outside of said window.

'I hope Noodle managed to convince Mr. Wonka into not signing that contract.' His thoughts then wandered to the very adorable magician. 'He seemed so optimistic and driven about his creation. I hope it’s as astonishing as he says it is.' He thought to himself with a soft smile.

Yin removed his boots and laid on the bed. He pulled the threadbare blanket over him. As he drifted off, he thought more about the optimistic and aspiring chocolatier. He was very excited to see what would happen tomorrow.

#wonka #wonka 2023 #wonka movie #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #willy wonka #willy wonka x reader #fanfic #timothee fanfic #x reader #x male reader #x male y/n

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sanaxo-o · 9 months

Text

Bet U Wanna (Lee Juyeon)

Inspired by Bet U Wanna by Sabrina Carpenter 👍

Warnings: ex 2 lovers, Juyeon is a bit toxic in the starting but he realises that later 👍, kissing, mention of alcohol, a bit of angst, fluff, happy ending hehe

Word count: 2765

|| I'd recommend listening to Bet u wanna by Sabrina Carpenter when reading 👹. It will get you in the feels lol ||

|| A special thanks to @winterchimez for helping me while I wrote this 😭. If not for Ally I would have quite literally just left it as it was because of the fact that I am not at all confident in writing these things lol. Also thanks to @o-onikix for reassuring me all the time telling me that my writing is good when I needed to hear it the most 🤧. If not for Nara I would I have left Tumblr the moment I started losing hope in myself. Love you guys a tons 💗||

🎵Told me, told me I'm your only🎵

Staring off into space, you remember when you and Juyeon sat on this very couch as he told you about his day. You reminisce back then how he said that you were the only one for him—how this whole relationship felt right, and how he was convinced that it just felt so right for him. Being absolutely head over heels for him, you obviously believed everything he said without questioning it.

Only now did you realise that all he said was just a lie. The way all of the events before this were unfolding now, this relationship did not matter to him as much as it did to you. He really must have thought that the relationship you both had was such a waste of time.

"Y/N?? Are you there?? Hello?" You flinched hard when someone pinched you on your arm. Slapping the arm away harshly, you rubbed the part where it hurt.

"What?" You asked rather harshly your friend, Olivia.

"Still thinking about him?" She asked with concern. She took your hands in hers, and rubbed them comfortingly. "Come on. Cheer up. Juyeon does not deserve your attention. You know it." She trailed off.

You looked at the corner of the classroom where Juyeon was. He was alone, and none of his friends were there. You couldn’t help but feel bad for him as you knew how much he hated being alone—he had always dreaded emptiness.

Turning your attention back to Olivia, you decided to speak up.

"But...look at him. Even he looks miserable..." You were now staring at his lone figure. He still looked like he was alright when you were probably going through the worst times of your life. And you hated that. You hated everything that involved him, yet you longed for him. How his touch always lingered on your skin, and how you missed him. Yet, you couldn’t help but also loath him with all your heart, especially with how badly he has treated you since the beginning of your relationship.

"Y/N. He has never thought twice before letting you down. You have to agree with me. He was an asshole while you were dating him. Yes, he's a great friend, but as a boyfriend, he is not. He literally misused you just to hang out and be around his useless friends. It wasn’t just a one-time thing, it was way more than that."

Honestly, you couldn’t blame Olivia for her ramblings because whatever she said was valid and backed up by all of the unhappy memories you’ve had with the man himself and how there’s no actual need for Juyeon to be in your life ever.

However, you just know that he’s the one you need the most in all aspects of your daily life.

—x—

Flashback

It was freezing cold right now as you stood outside the restaurant doors. The cool night breeze makes you shiver occasionally while waiting for Juyeon to arrive.

He was supposed to be here by 8:00 p.m., but it was 10 right now. He was two hours late. You decided to think nothing much of it and waited a little longer. Could there be an emergency? Or he got stuck with some urgent work.

You sighed as you removed your phone from your handbag and redialed Juyeon's number.

*Ring ring-*

"Hello?" A soft voice spoke out, but it was not Juyeon. It was one of his friends.

"Hi, um...could you pass the phone to Juyeon? It's an emergency..." you said in a soft voice. Walking around, you spotted a bench nearby and sat there while waiting for Juyeon to speak.

"Hello.." you heard Juyeon's muffled voice.

"Juyeon...where are you? We were supposed to meet at the restaurant at 8. It’s literally 10 right now..." you say with a gentle voice, but it is clear that you are frustrated

"Shit! Was it today? I am so sorry, Y/N I came over to my friend's house, and I don't think I can make it there in time anymore. Could we possibly reschedule our date?"

You scoffed hearing his words. "Reschedule? Juyeon... you have clearly forgotten about it. How many more times are you going to do this? I am tired of it." You did not even wait for his reply and hung up the phone.

—x—

End of flashback

As much as you were constantly reminded by all of the uneventful situations that Juyeon has always put you in, you knew that the memories and chemistry you had with him were different, something you had never experienced with anyone else before. Frankly, you were pretty satisfied with everything you’ve had with him. If only you could go back in time, you would have ensured that he would have stayed with you, in your arms.

It hurts to see him so close to you yet out of your reach. Gosh, only if your ego was not that huge, you would have just gone towards him and kissed him. His lips always made you go feral, no matter how often you kissed him. How it always comforted you when in need, and how soft his lips were all the time.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you paid attention to Olivia again. She was talking about some upcoming party happening this coming Sunday.

"I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. I am busy." You voice out your thoughts. You saw how Olivia stopped what she was doing to look at you with her eyebrow raised.

"Busy with what exactly? Are you reminiscing about your time with Juyeon? Come on, you can do better than that." She said as she nudged you on your shoulder with her pen.

"Not exactly. Hey, I am not that—" You could not even finish your sentence when you saw the look Olivia had on her face. She knew damn well that you would binge-watch your comfort shows with a tub full of ice cream and cry while thinking about Juyeon. She did not want that. She wanted you to enjoy your life again, just like how you used to. She wanted you to stop thinking about Juyeon for once, pay more attention to your personal life, and socialise more.

"Oh, come on. I’ll let you in on a little secret. Show up to the part all dressed up, hell even put on the most glamorous outfit you own, and make Juyeon jealous. If he sees you in that infamous red dress of yours, I bet he’ll most likely drop whatever he’s doing and make his way towards you and kiss you senselessly. I am convinced that he’d give up the whole world just to be able to touch you again.”

You sighed as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You did not even know why you tried so hard to get Juyeon's attention. He did not even care about you.

His world was way too different from yours. He was on the other side, far away from your reach. His kind of people surrounded him, ones who were way out of your league.

"Y/N!! Are you done!?" You heard Olivia's voice shouting for you. Taking your things, you exited your room to see her on her phone.

Upon hearing your footsteps, she looked up only to have her jaw drop as she looked at you from head to toe.

"Are you really the same person who was planning on crying today? Because...how?" Her voice sounded so genuine that you were confident enough to make Juyeon jealous just by seeing you. But at the back of your head, you asked yourself again once more.

Why are you even doing this? Are you just getting your hopes to high? What if Juyeon really does not care about you? What if he had already moved on? Unlike you, who was still stuck in the past.

"Stop daydreaming, and let's go. You're gonna have so much fun! And I cannot wait to see Juyeon's face when he sees you!" You rolled your eyes when she said that.

Entering the place where the party was held, you hated yourself as your only thought was to look for Juyeon amidst the crowd.

It didn’t take long for you to land your eyes on the person you were on so desperately looking for but what you saw made you freeze on your spot. You saw Juyeon kissing a random girl. She was pretty, and for some reason, you felt so disappointed. It's not like you both were in a relationship. You had no control over who he was with—who he was touching and kissing. Even he had no control over who you kissed or slept with. So why?

You freed yourself from Olivia's grip and immediately went towards the kitchen where all the alcohol was kept.

Picking up what you guessed was the strongest of them all, you poured yourself a glass. Looking around the room while taking slow sips of the drink, you took the whole sight in.

The room was packed, even suffocating. But that was none of your concern right now. You just wanted to kiss someone, get your mind off of Juyeon for once in the last few weeks and not think about his pretty face, which would always make your day better.

How his small gestures would always comfort you no matter what—how your heart and stomach would literally do somersaults whenever he was close to you, and even to feel a spark between you two.

Maybe it was just you who felt it.

You then noticed a figure approaching you from the corner of your eye.

"What are you doing here all alone? Where is your friend?" Sunwoo asked when he came in front of you.

You were familiar with him. He was acquainted with a couple of your friends. You never really got to talk with him one-on-one like this. Perhaps coming here tonight could make you socialise again.

"I just wanted some alone time, that's it. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with your friends?" You asked.

"What? I could not hear you! The music is too loud!" Sunwoo shouted at the top of his lungs, trying to clarify his words.

"Shouldn't you be with your friends right now!" You shouted back. Sunwoo reluctantly leaned down to hear you more clearly.

His face was so close to yours. His perfect plump lips were coming so close to yours, and how they were parted apart from each other. Your eyes travelled across his entire face, taking in his perfect nose. His big eyes were now staring into yours.

Both of you were leaning forward slowly, noses touching each other, and both of your breaths fanning against each other. You saw Juyeon staring in your direction from the corner of your eyes.

Wasting no time, you attached your lips to Sunwoo's. The kiss was slow, sensual at the very least. It was completely different from when you used to kiss Juyeon. However, you felt nothing when you kissed Sunwoo. There were no feelings. It was just two people kissing each other, and there was no spark. You did not feel yourself getting giddy like you would always do when with Juyeon.

—x—

Juyeon’s POV

I was sitting on the couch with a drink in my hand. All of my friends were gone somewhere, probably getting high or something. As I looked around, my eyes fell on a figure not so far from me.

Squinting my eyes, I came to realise that it was Y/N.

My eyes travelled all over her body. She was wearing a red dress—how it hugged her body perfectly was driving me insane, and how her hair was perfectly falling over her shoulders. Her pretty smile made her stand out from the crowd. All I ever want is to go over to her, grab her, and kiss her senselessly.

I was dying to touch her, hold her again in my arms. Without her beside me, it felt so cold and empty. I hated and regretted the way I left her in the past. I noticed how her eyes were not shining like before. They were not as bright as before—they looked dull, or rather, she looked dull. It was as if she had no life left in her anymore. It hurts to see her like this—knowing I might be the reason behind this hurts. I just wanted to go over to her and keep her in my arms where it would be warm.

When I returned to my senses, I saw that Y/N was no longer alone. She was talking with a guy. Oh, how I wish I were there instead of him. How I wish she were talking with me instead of him.

Seeing him so close to her—talking, laughing, and even touching her. My hand tightened around the drink in my hand when I saw them so close face to face. Their lips were almost touching.

I saw how Y/N crashed her lips on his—kissing him like she used to kiss me. Seeing her do that to someone else made me feel some things I shouldn’t. It's like...I did not want anyone close to her but me, but then again, I was also the reason our relationship broke off.

I immediately stood up when I saw that guy grabbing her hand. Taking big steps towards them, I pushed the guy away and dragged Y/N with me outside.

It was quiet between us. None of us spoke a word until I finally mustered up the courage to speak up.

"Who was that?"

"Just a friend." She replied softly. God, how much I missed that soft voice of hers. I stared at her with so many emotions in my eyes. I wanted to let her know that life without her beside was pointless— I wanted to tell her about how much I missed staring into those eyes while we both talked about our day and laughed at silly things.

"You don't kiss a friend." I replied, trying not to show how affected I was.

"Well, you're not the one to say that." I scoffed at her words.

"I told you! That kiss between that girl I had meant nothing."

"Juyeon, that's not the reason why I broke up with you! Why can’t you understand that!"

She then proceeds to take a step towards me. "You never thought about me when you let me down! You always expected me to act fine the next day when, in fact, I was not! I hated how you always left me like that! And then, you won't even tell me why you did all of that."

She screamed in my face. I noticed how she was starting to breathe heavily. I hugged her, hoping that would calm her down.

"You don't know how much I hate the way I left you. I hate the way I said my goodbye to you. Y/N. Every day, all I can think about is you. Your laugh and the way your eyes always shine when you see me. You don't know how much I missed you the past few weeks. I missed holding you close to me in the comforts of my apartment. I am sorry I made you feel like I did not think about you. I love you so much. I am always reminiscing about our time together. All I wish is to be a better boyfriend and a better version of myself. Can't you just...give me one last chance? I promise I won't let you down." I pulled away from our hug and stared into her eyes. I saw the way her eyes were glistening with tears. I kissed her just below her eyes and tenderly wiped away her small drop of tear.

"One last chance. Don't fuck it up, Lee Juyeon..." I gave out a big smile and smashed my lips on her. I moved my lips along with hers and how our lips perfectly moulded together, kissing in sync. Gasping for air, we both pulled away. I brushed my hand on her hair.

"I bet you missed this." She joked with a smile on her face.

"Oh baby, you don't know how much I missed this." I kissed her again. Entangling my fingers with hers in one hand, the other grabbed her chin and deepened our kiss.

🎵Bet you wanna love me now🎵

I hope it was good enough 🤧. I am still in the phase of exploring new genres and trying to expand my writing skills which don’t revolve around yandere at all.

Tagging: @deoboyznet

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maddogofshimano · 13 days

Text

The Tiger’s Repayment of a Favor: Saejima Boss Rush

Spoilers for Y4

Hell yes a new Saejima event! I’m always so excited for these, even if things are almost always going VERY poorly for Saejima in one way or another. He’s just a trouble magnet

Given the glut of resources I’ve accumulated over the years I blew nearly all of them on this event so that I could finally have a top 500 placement and get a fancy title plate 😎😎😎

Anyways, on to the event!

Summary: Shortly after the events of Y4, Saejima gets lost and is helped out by a kind stranger. When he finds that same stranger in trouble, he will go to any lengths to return the favor.

[On a certain day in 2010] [Almost immediately after Saejima Taiga, on the recommendation of Kiryu Kazuma and Majima Goro, launched the Tojo Clan Direct Line Saejima Family...] [Saejima was visiting the grave of his sister, Saejima Yasuko, and arrived in a town outside of Kamurocho.]

Saejima: ...Shit. I ended up gettin' lost. I ain't got a clue about places like this...

Saejima: I figured I'd stop by that restaurant Majima was talkin' up... Saejima: ...Oh. Now that I think about it, I got that smartphone Majima gave me. Is there a way to see a map on it?

<phone beeps> Saejima: Now where... is the map... supposed to be on this thing? This it? <phone beeps> Saejima: Nope, it ain't here. Is this it? No... maybe this? <phone beeps multiple times> Saejima: Oh, looks like this is it. Then, to search for a store... ya do this? Nah... is it this one? <phone beeps even more times, followed by thuds(?)> Saejima: Woah! The screen ain't workin' all the sudden!? I-Is it broken!!??

Glasses Wearing Man: Ladidadida~ ...Hm? Is something the matter?

Saejima: Ah, nah, I just went 'n' busted this smart phone... Man: Busted? ...Ah, it's actually just frozen. I could fix it for you if you'd like? Saejima: ...Is that alright? Man: Sure. I'm in a good mood because my work is going well, you know? Well, I suppose I don't actually do that much. Man: Hmm, just force-close the app... Huzzah, you're all good to go! Saejima: Oh! Ya really did it! Ya made it work! Saejima: I'm in your debt! What's your name?

Man: Oh no, I didn't do anything worth remembering my name for! See ya! Ladida~ 🎵 (tl note: I have no idea if this is less of a bizarre thing to say in Japan) <he leaves> Saejima: ...Heh, I had no clue how that was gonna go. Well then, let's check out that restaurant Majima mentioned... <Saejima finally gets his meal in Definitely Not Kamurocho> Saejima: Whew~! That was good food! Wouldn't expect anythin' less from a place my kyoudai recommended.

Saejima: Now then... I oughta get headin' home. ...Hm? Chinpira: Raaah!!!!

<the punk punches the man> Man: Guh... <he drops to the floor> Beefy Yakuza: ......

Chinpira: Oi! Don't fall over already Kosakai! We're not done here... (tl note: the name is 小酒井 with other readings being Osakai and Kozakai. Kosakai seems the most common) Saejima: Stop.

Chinpira: Ah, who the fuck are you? Saejima: I got no clue what this is about, but if ya wanna take it any further you'll be facin' me. Kosakai: U-.... Ughh... Y-You're... Saejima: It's alright. Stay back. Chinpira: ...So you're protecting that thief? Saejima: ...Thief? Chinpira: Don't ya know? This here Kosakai's made a killing off of petty thefts and swindling. Chinpira: He got carried away though and swiped our aniki's wallet, so we gotta teach him a lesson. Saejima: The hell? Is that true? Kosakai: ............ Saejima: Sure looks like he's tellin' the truth. Saejima: Don't tell me that when ya said work was goin' good... ya meant ya pulled a scummy job like that? (tl note: extremely funny for Saejima to get offended about stealing wallets. you are a crime boss) Kosakai: ...Yes. Chinpira: Now you get that he's not worth sticking your neck out for, right? So hurry up and move. Saejima: ...Nope, ain't movin'. Kosakai: !? Chinpira: What was that? Saejima: I'll take the punishment in his place. Leave him be. Kosakai: Umm... What are you... Chinpira: This isn't a fucking joke!!!! <Saejima gets punched> Chinpira: ...How's that? Still feeling the same?

Saejima: ...I ain't gonna hit back, so you're free to hit me as much as ya like. Teach me a lesson to your heart's content. (tl note: holding my head and trying to cobble together a wording that is accurate but doesn't just read as totally obscene in a masochistic kind of way but Saejima is making this so difficult) Chinpira: Tch... Fine, have it your way!!!! <a whole lot of beating sounds> Chinpira: Haa... Haa...

Saejima: ...Haa ...Haa... Are ya... satisfied now...? Chinpira: There's still more! <another punch> Saejima: ....Gh! Chinpira: Haa... Haa.... Saejima: If you're determined to do this, ya gotta do more. This ain't gonna take me down. Kosakai: Wh-Why are you letting yourself get this badly hurt... Kosakai: All because of one little chat on the street? Doing this for my sake... when you're a total stranger to me... why on earth... Saejima: Well, why did ya help me out earlier? Kosakai: Eh? With your smart phone, you mean...? That was... I mean, I was in a good mood and just sort of felt like it. Saejima: Y'see... I also "just sort of felt like it". Kosakai: M-Mister... Chinpira: Haa... Haa... You just sort of felt like it? Stop fucking around... I'm gonna kill you... Beefy Yakuza: ...Wait. Chinpira: Eh... a-aniki... Beefy Yakuza: ...You're a stand-up guy, aren't you? I like you.

Saejima: ...You the boss? Kasagi: Yeah, Kasagi's the name. The owner of the wallet Kosakai tried to make off with. (tl note: name is 笠木 which can also be Kasaki but I went with Kasagi so it was a little more different from Kosakai) Kasagi: But after witnessing your manly spirit, I'm willing to forgive him. Saejima: Really? Kasagi: Yep. But, I'd lose face if I just let ya go back home like this. Kasagi: You know a lot about fighting, don't you? I'm actually one of those kinds of guys... Seeing someone strong gets me aching. (tl note: jesus fucking christ this really is just a BDSM scene) Kasagi: What do you say, will you fight me? Saejima: A fight, huh? Kasagi: A one-on-one fight, and if you win I'll let him walk free. If I win, then you'll hand that guy over like a good boy. Kasagi: ...So how about it? Saejima: ...I'll do it. Since it'll make ya feel better. (tl note: the verb here is 気がすむ which is "to be satisfied" or "to feel good" which. look I'm trying really hard here to not make this all sound like dialogue from a porno but they're not helping me out!!) Kasagi: Good. And sorry about the damage, I'm not very good at holding back. You'll have to forgive me. Saejima: Ya better not go easy. Now hurry up 'n' come at me...! Kasagi: Heh, I thought you'd say that. Let's go all out then!

Kasagi: S-... Strong...

<he hits the floor> Chinpira: A-Aniki!?

Saejima: ...Whew... Well then, I'll be takin' this guy.

<they start to leave, Kasagi pulls himself off the ground> Kasagi: Guh... W... Wait a minute.... Saejima: What d'ya want now? Kasagi: ...Who are you? Don't tell me... you're yakuza too? Saejima: ...I'm simply someone who got in a fight with ya. Who I am's got nothin' to do with that. Kasagi: I'm not trying to start shit again. I just... want to know who you are. Saejima: ...Saejima Taiga. Of the Tojo Clan. Kasagi: Saejima Taiga... You mean from the Saejima Family...? Saejima: ...We're leavin'. Kosakai: Y-Yes sir. <they leave> Kasagi: ...No wonder I wasn't a match for him.

Kosakai: ...U-Um... Thank you very much. If there's anything I can do to repay you...

Saejima: I was just returnin' the favor. No need to repay me. Kosakai: No way! But that's... but you... you didn't just help me out there. Kosakai: Thanks to you, Saejima-san... I've decided to stop with the petty theft and swindling... Saejima: Huh? What d'ya mean? Kosakai: Having seen you trying to return a tiny favor with no thought as to the risk you were putting yourself in... I realized how pathetic I was, preying on the good intentions of others. Kosakai: So... I'm going to live a respectable life, so that I can become the kind of man you are, Saejima-san. Saejima: ...That's just swell. If that's what ya want, then go for it. Kosakai: Yes sir! So, I want to repay the favor of you teaching me that! Saejima: I see... But don't worry about payin' me back. I've got an awful lotta favors I never managed to return. Kosakai: Eh... but... Saejima: If you're really determined to repay it, then pass the kindness on to someone else. Saejima: ...Just like ya did for me, back then.

Kosakai: ........Gotcha. I understand. Saejima: Well then, see ya. <Saejima leaves> Kosakai: Thank you so much! Saejima: Favors, huh... I've got a debt to Boss Sasai... I really wonder if I can pay it back.

Bonus stuff!

we do get the fun bits of lore that Kiryu recommended Saejima for a patriarch position, Majima is the one who gave Saejima a phone between games, and Saejima considers Majima a trustworthy foodie. along with one more thing...

I think we might have to consider if having dudes wail on him is some sort of fetish for Saejima and he’s just not quite aware of it. how many times has he just let someone beat on him when he really did not need to. really shines a new light on that whole thing with Kugihara

so just a few weeks ago they added a new rarity to the game beyond KSR, we now have UR. please take a look at the stat disparity going on here. it’s hurting me

the banner for the event had UR Majima and UR Saejima, so obviously I blew all my diamonds on it. I ended up with............ 4 Majimas!!!! the odds were 50/50!!!!!!!

in other news this blog is getting real close to 1,000 followers(!!!!) so I will have to update my event list in preparation for another translation give away. look forward to it!

#yakuza #Ryu ga Gotoku #ryu ga gotoku online #like a dragon #yakuza online #Saejima #Saejima Taiga #Taiga Saejima

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thinkingaboutjaedyn · 1 month

Text

ex [a.bonmati x reader]

prompt: aitana pushes you away after the break-up, but you want to be more than just past lovers.

author notes: a full fledged fic? who would have thought 🙇🏽‍♀️ anyways this fic is angsty, but i swear it's not anything toxic. enjoy it 💕

playing ex by kiana lede 🎵

hey, hm

we went from 2 am calls to

zero communication, yeah

we spent too long in heaven that

we felt the elevation

just 'cause it's different and

we're not the same

doesn't mean things have to change

i got no trouble with my pride,

got trouble cutting ties

friendship breakups are bone-crushing, worse than actual relationship breakups most of the time. if you knew the moment aitana left out of your place that day meant to the end of a years long friendship, maybe you would have figured it out. aitana was a constant figure in your life since you were only eleven. with you both playing at a youth academy a friendship was bound to emerge and that it did. the spainard should became one of your closest friends as the years went by.

by your late teens, she was basically a part of your family. coming over to your family home almost everyday and even staying overnight when it was too late to make the trip back home. you two watched each other change from awkward eleven year olds to established adults. the bond between you two was special; aitana always said so. you were her bestfriend, her soulmate, practically the love of her life. eventually that deep friendship blurred into something more, but the short spainard didn't address how intimate the friendship has gotten by the time you were both twenty-two, so you didn't either. what's the point of ruining a good thing over feelings you don't even know are repiocated?

when you went overseas to the wsl, aitana was heartbroken. she was planning on confessing to you right on your twenty-third birthday, but no, you just had to take a different direction in your career.

the night before you had to leave for manchester, you and aitana were sitting on the beach. side by side. shoulder to shoulder. it's around nine pm, so time was ticking by. you would have to head home soon to get a good amount of rest for your morning flight and by the silence between aitana and you, she didn't like that fact.

"why are you leaving?" she breaks the silence, mumbling. her head leans over to rest against yours. the question sounds so sad coming from her lips that you almost want to tell you that no, you weren't leaving. weren't leaving barcelona. weren't leaving her. but you couldn't so you just sigh.

"i want to try something new. you know, see a new style of football," you try to explain but the words don't sound that convincing. you didn't add in how you wanted to get away from aitana so you could settle your feelings. you didn't add in the fact your contract was only for a year and a few months, not even the media mentioned the length of your contract with manchester city.

"you can try new things here, no?" aitana leans away before turning her head to look at you. her eyebrows are furrowed; showing the slight annoyance in her mood. "barcelona has been trying new things, so why won't you stay?" she says, no, nearly begs to know.

you interlock your hands with hers. giving them a gentle squeeze before saying, "i swear i want to stay. i would never want to be apart from you, but it's not just that.."

"then what is it? i'll try to fix it, i'll help you fix it. just tell me and we can figure it out. we always do," her eyes glance into yours. the sad pout on her lips makes you want to just cancel your flight and stay here in spain, but you can't so you just pull her into a hug. the tears start to flow from her the moment aitana stuffs her face into your neck. "it feels like i have never been without you.." she cried into your skin. you fight your own tears, rubbing her back gently.

some may say that display of emotion was dramatic, but they just didn't understand how deep you and aitana's friendship went. you two spent nearly every moment together, off the field and on the field. without each other to be physically around all the time, who would fill that empty spot in you two's lives now?

maybe aitana would react to the news better if you confessed your feelings then, but it was too late to even try to in the moment. you just let her cry as you comfort her. inviting her over to your place afterwards to spend one last night together.

when you did come back to barcelona after your contract with manchester city ended, aitana cried again in your arms. this time out of happiness instead of sadness. the spainard became determined to keep you in spain for the rest of your career; she couldn't deal with just facetimes and texts anymore.

the rest of the barcleona team welcomed you back with open arms. teasing you about how you better not leave home ever again. you didn't ever plan to anyway, so you would just joke back.

your plan to leave spain and get over your feelings for aitana was an absolute fail. everytime you heard her voice over the phone your feelings just got bigger. you would rather endlessly want more with her than be away from aitana any longer.

you slip right back into your role in the team and in aitana's life. going over her house after practice everyday, cuddling while watching movies, becoming a great duo on the pitch again, and all the other stuff you two always do. your feelings were still there but you always pushed them away. not wanting to ruin a good thing. you had just got your best friend back.

fast forward to aitana's twenty fifth birthday. the short spainard had a large dinner with her family and her barcelona teammates. afterwards, it was her and you, a little tipsy on the balcony of her apartment. she was getting horribly handsy, but it didn't bother you. people in spain are just naturally affectionate and this was also your bestfriend, your aitana. she could touch you however she liked. it wasn't until she pulled away from you, but not too far, her hands holding onto your hips.

"y/n.." she says softly. looking up at you with a nervous look in her eyes. your heart races at not only how beautiful she looks in that moment, but also the nervousness in her eyes; aitana is never nervous around you. she doesn't have to. you are her bestfriend, her y/n, her rock. she can be whatever she wants around you. however she wants.

"what is it?" you whisper out, moving your hand to push some of her hair behind her right ear. she leans in closer. eyes a little dazed from the wine she drank earlier.

"i like you.. a lot. no, i love you a lot," she says. you chuckle before saying, "of course you do. what would you do without me." your heart races so fast hearing her speak. her words carry a different tone than before when she usually says those three words. why did it feel different now?

aitana pouts before furrowing her brows. obviously annoyed you haven't caught on to the different meaning behind her words. this i love you wasn't the same one she first said back when she was thirteen, when she realized she wanted you to stay around in her life forever as her best friend. this was more than that. "no.. i love you. i just want to kiss you.." she says.

you widen your eyes before smiling. aitana actually returned your feelings? before you can fully react she pulls you into a kiss. too impatient to hear your verbal response. the kiss is pretty messy with aitana being drunker than you, but still you savor it. your first kiss with aitana is worth remembering.

when she pulls away she pouts away, "i didn't ask you if you liked me back or if you even wanted a kiss." you giggle and peck the pout off of her lips, "of course i like you back."

after that you two got together. your relationship didn't feel that different though, just with more kisses and more than before. whenever you got jealous you actually had the right to act on it. there were many perks that came along with being consider aitana's girlfriend rather than just her best friend. however there were some setbacks as well.

you realized people were right when they said just because someone is a good friend, doesn't mean they would be a good girlfriend. not to say aitana was a bad girlfriend, but she struggled to understand why you would get jealous when she would be incredibly touchy with others. she didn't want to reveal your relationship to the public, perfectly fine with only the people in you two's personal life knowing about the change between you. which wasn't so bad until you see how many people think she's dating someone else and have to fight the urge to post about how she's yours. she was the worse at arguments. quicker to do the silent treatment than to try to work anything out. it was a bad habit from your friendship that you knew she had and just dealt with because she was your bestfriend, you knew how to get around it, but in a relationship with her you didn't want to. you wanted to communicate like a healthy couple should.

everything came to a head a few days after your twenty-sixth birthday. almost a year after aitana confessed to you.

the barcelona team have dragged you out for a good time in the club since your birthday was on a match-day, meaning you couldn't go out like you wanted to. aitana was clinging to you the entire night until she was swept away by some blonde stranger.

you were sipping on your drink, a glare directed right at the blonde whose hands were on your girlfriend as they danced. why did you let her pull aitana away again? because your feet were hurting? yeah well now your heart was. when you finally had enough at the sight of that stranger moving her hands down from aitana's waist to her hips, you pull her away. ignoring the spainard's complaints as you pull her all the way outside. quick to take your jacket off to make sure she didn't feel cold in the paris winds; you may be annoyed at her, but you still love her.

"why were you letting her be all over you?" you want to shout badly, but instead just talk calmly. not wanting to draw attention to the fact two barcelona players were outside about to argue.

"it was just a dance, amor."

"it wasn't just a dance. she obviously wants you," you grab onto her arm, holding in a soft grip before saying, "why can't you act like you have a girl? that you aren't single."

aitana frowns hearing your words. where was this coming from? she quickly tries to deny your statement, "i do. it was never going to go further than dancing."

"that was already too far."

"then why didn't you say anything?"

"why should i have to? you should know that nobody would be fine with some woman dancing with their girlfriend like that!" you say in a hushed tone. pulling aitana closer so that nobody would hear the conversation between you two. the confused look on aitana's face makes your heart hurt. why didn't you communicate your feelings? you always hated how she goes straight to silent treatment, but you go straight to being angry every single time.

"you have never been angry about this before," she replies. fighting the instinct in her to just shut down and go back into the club. she can't even if she wanted to with you holding onto her.

"before what? before this situation or before we got together? i'm not just your bestfriend anymore, i'm your girlfriend, act like it!" you finally let out all the frustration from previous times where aitana just didn't get it. aitana glares at you before shaking her head. "don't tell me what to do. don't yell at me! yes, you're my girlfriend and i'm yours but you don't control me. i'm an adult, so treat me like it!" she argued back. pulling herself out of your grasp harshly before rushing back into the club. leaving you by herself outside.

aitana ignored you for nearly two days. it felt like a year with no texts from her, no calls her, and her refusing to hang out with all the other barcleona players who went to brunch right after the night at the club. even when you all went on the plane to head back to spain, she sat next to alexia. sleeping the entire flight away and being the first to get off. you knew you screwed up and it was your entire fault for her behavior even if it wasn't the healthiest. you should have communicated better even with your frustration.

finally when the silence all got too much, you went over to aitana's apartment. it only takes two knocks for aitana to open up. she sighs once she sees it's you, but doesn't turn you away. instead letting you inside silently. walking over to her couch while you slip your shoes off at the door. your eyes noticing your jacket from the night at the club hanging on a hook near the door.

"aitana.." you move over to the couch, sitting beside her with some space left between you two. she scoots closer which is a good sign that the anger from before isn't still present, but still the silence made you nervous.

"aitan-" you don't get to finish your sentence before aitana speaks. "i'm sorry.." she says with her head down, "i get what you were saying that night. i shouldn't had let her just be all over me and at the time i didn't understand, but after thinking about it, you're right. i'm so used to thinking about you as my bestfriend rather than my girlfriend that i overstep."

the genuine regret in her voice makes you want to reconsider the reason you came over here; to break up with aitana. it has been on your mind for a while now, but that day in paris was just the last push you needed to go through with it. that's not the only reason you're here though. you wanted to come check up on aitana and make sure your words didn't hurt her too deeply, you still love her but it feels like you're slowly falling out of love with her.

"aitana, listen. i love you, okay?" you smile when she lifts her head up. a happy look on her face as she listens to you. "it's just.. i don't think we were meant to be more than best friends. you're my world i swear and i love you but not like this.. anymore," aitana's face immediately drops after you finish speaking.

when she saw you at her door she thought, yes, i could fix it but instead this visit is just the death to the relationship she's been craving from you for a while now.

"so you want to break up? why..?" aitana's voice cracks, "why are you leaving me again? i don't get it."

tears start to flow from her eyes before she could stop them. this break up reminds her of when you left for manchester; she felt like she lost you. now she's losing you again.

you sit there awkwardly, not knowing what to say. seeing aitana cry makes you cry as well. you pull her into a hug that she accepts quickly; even when you're breaking her heart, she clings to you. as her bestfriend you have always been her source of comfort, but now you're her source of pain as well. a condiaction that she's not willing to think about.

for the rest of the night, aitana clings to you. not allowing you to do anything without her by your side and eventually you two fall asleep in her bed. with her face nuzzled into your neck, her arms wrapped around your waist, her legs tangled with yours.

the next day you didn't leave her apartment until three in the afternoon. aitana almost begged you to stay, but she just lets you leave. she loves so much that she will respect your choices and if that means breaking up than she will respect that.

after the break-up, it's like aitana continued on the silent treatment. hardly replying to your texts or answering your calls, she stopped sitting by you everywhere, no more cracking jokes while in the locker room, she just disappeared from your life. it was just like when you left for manchester expect that she didn't try to stay connected.

and you understand why, you would never hate her for it. she's trying to get over you and can't do that if you two are acting like the closest people ever but still it hurts. hurts so bad. you have never been without aitana since you were eleven years old. she was always there, being her cute self. and now she's gone; it feels like your world is collapsing.

you may have broken up with aitana, but you still love her. you're just not in love with her.

you want your best friend back.

i don't wanna be your ex

we way too good at being friends

can we still hangout

on the low, get wild

i don't wanna be your,

i don't wanna be your

hit ya girl up with a text,

when you're alone and feeling stressed

i don't gotta be in love with you, to love you

i don't wanna be your, so

don't treat me like your

e-e-e-e, e-e-ex

i don't want to be your

e-e-e-e, e-e-ex

without aitana, you felt lonely. you have tons of friends outside of aitana of course. you're close with all of your fellow barcelona teammates and have made a reputation of being friends with many other women footballers. then there are your childhood friends from your schooldays that you cherish with your entire spirit. but none of them could compare to aitana. she has been and still is your number one.

all those nights where you held eachother, the daily ice cream trips you two would go on, the endless movie nights could never be replaced by anyone else. it just wasn't the same.

the rest of the barcelona team realized you two broke up as the days went past. when aitana who would usually jump up at the first opportunity to pair up with you for training exercises instead choose to pair up with ona, everyone knew something was up. their suspicions were confirmed when you left before aitana. unlike before when aitana and you would leave together, either going to get food together or going home together.

nobody wanted to be one to ask the question they knew the answer to, so everyone acted like everything was fine. aitana and you still connected on the pitch, but off of it that connection was dead and cold.

aitana wasn't doing any better than you mentally. she felt alone, even when she was hanging out with alexia or ingrid. her mind always drifted back to you, but the hurt you caused to her heart makes her want to resent you. to punish you for leaving her. she's know this is unreasonable, childish, and partially true because you love her.

aitana knows you love her dearly, she can see it in your eyes but it isn't the love she holds for you. it's just as deep, just as intimate, just as special but not romantic anymore and that kills her.

her own romantic feelings were slowly fading though and the yearning for you was getting stronger. not as her girlfriend, but as her bestfriend. she's used to waking up to either you cuddling her or a text from you saying good morning. now she has neither, she hates that. she wants you, but feels too stubborn to do it just yet.

whenever aitana felt down, she would go through you two's messages. her mood getting better just thinking about all the moments attached to the texts. she scrolls through her photos of you, trying not to just call you and hear your voice. she craves you deeply, but won't let you know.

a month passed then two then three.

aitana ignoring you was becoming old. you want to be back in her life, you need to be. she's your soulmate; has been since you were both eleven. a life without her doesn't sound right, so you become determined to make her come back to your arms. seeing aitana be so loving to everyone else while giving you the cold shoulder was incredibly annoying and heartbreaking.

you aren't sure on how to get aitana to pay attention to you. she seemed set on ignoring you for the rest of you two's careers, but you weren't going to allow that.

one day you just decide to take a leap of fate by calling her. the phone rings for so long you almost think she isn't going to answer, but she does. aitana doesn't say a thing, but you can tell she's on the other line. her breathing clear as day.

"tana..?" you say softly, slightly nervous. it feels strange to feel nervous when talking to aitana. it reminds you of the first time you two met as children. feeling too shy to speak to the talented eleven year old that was aitana. she took the first step by handing you a freezepop after practice one day, scooting closer to you before eating her one. you felt it in your spirit that she was made to be your bestfriend then.

"yeah?" she replies. her tone not being venomous like you thought it would be.

"can we hang out or just talk? i miss your voice.."

"but you hear my voice everyday, no?" aitana jokes. you roll your eyes at quick she is to make the conversation light, but it's an endearing trait you love about her. quickly she gets more serious, "why? why would you want to be around your ex?"

you groan at hearing the word ex escape her mouth. in your mind that small relationship was just a chapter in your friendship with aitana, not anything that holds any impact. you want her to think of you as her best friend, not her ex.

"because you aren't just my ex, aitana. you're my best friend and i can't stand another day without spending time with you," you say. aitana goes silent on the other line. her silence makes you frown; was she going to grow angry that you aren't fully acknowledging the fact the feelings between you two were very much real?

it takes a minute but aitana eventually says, "i miss you too. can i come see you..?"

the smile on your lips was probably the warmest you have ever smiled. "yeah. let's meet at that ice cream shop, you know, the one we always go to," you say. aitana hastily agrees before hanging up.

you couldn't wait to see her.

let's skip the awkward run-ins, or

pretending like we're strangers

and get back to how we started, yeah

don't pour water on fire

just 'cause it's different and we're not the same

doesn't mean things have to change

i got no trouble with my pride,

got trouble cutting ties

seeing the familiar ice cream shop that aitana and you have been regulars at since you were eleven brings back the best memories. the first time you two became super close, the first time aitana comforted you, the first time you and aitana considered eachother bestfriends. it all rushes back as you walk through that simple white door where the paint has been peeling off for years now, but nobody ever fixes it.

you arrive twenty minutes before aitana is supposed to meet you here, wanting to have some time to breathe and figure out what to say. this would be the first time talking face to face where you weren't saying soccer related things in three months.

"been missing you," the old lady behind the counter, esperanza, says. she's been here since forever. you don't remember a moment where she wasn't working the counter. she knew all of you and aitana's favorites.

"missed you more. sorry for not coming around as much," you say. happily accepting the vanilla ice cream she hands you. esperanza doesn't let you pay, saying it's on the house since she's been missing you.

"it's okay. where is your little friend?" she questions. you just shrug before shaking your head, "she's coming. she would never miss seeing you."

esperanza chuckles at that before gesturing for you to go sit down, so your ice cream wouldn't melt. you sit at one of the tables near the window. the shop wasn't huge, but it was homey. with various decorations that have been up since you first came here. everything was same it felt like expect for the relationship between aitana and you. the rest of your lives seem to be frozen in time while the friendship between you two was speeding past.

you look out the window, thinking about what to say. would aitana even show? hopefully, she isn't the type to just blow someone off even when angry. she cares about others time. your question is answered when aitana passes by the window before coming through the door.

"hi esperanza! i have missed you, you know," she says with a huge smile on her face. not even noticing you near the window as she comes over to the counter. it isn't until she finishes her conversation with esperanza and gets her strawberry flavored ice cream before she spots you. turning to see you at the window. the way her body tenses makes you cringe; is this how everything is going to be for now on?

you stand, half eaten ice cream in hand, and walk out of the shop. why were you moving away from her like she's some stranger? you couldn't help yourself, seeing her stand there awkwardly makes you want to scream. however you don't go far. sitting down on the pavement in front of the shop; this street doesn't allow cars and it wasn't really busy on thursdays, so there was no one to bother you or spot a top footballer sitting outside of some quaint ice cream shop.

aitana is still standing in the shop. frowning as she looks out the window and see you just sitting there on the pavement, like you always do when it's too hot to stay inside of the shop, but you weren't out there because of the heat this time around. it was because of her.

she didn't mean to just fall silent once she saw you. aitana had so much to say, but hardly the words to express it. seeing esperanza than you seriously brighten up her day that she froze up a bit. hopefully you won't shut her out.

"go talk to her. she misses you," esperanza says, leaning against the counter. before aitana can question her words, esperanza says, "i'm an old woman. i know these things. do you know how many people come in and out of here with love stories? she loves you. talk to her and make whatever this is right. you guys almost made my shop chillier than the ice cream."

esperanza's words make aitana really realize she wants to make this right. her feelings for you were still lingering in her mind, but she could care less; she needs to talk to you.

aitana walks out of the ice cream shop. sitting down right next to you on the pavement, shoulder to shoulder. your ice cream is completely gone by now, aitana takes that as an opportunity to start up a conversation. "you just couldn't wait?" she jokes, gesturing to your hand that had a lack of an ice cream cone in it.

you look at her in confusion before giggling loudly. "not my fault that you are such a slow eater," you joke back. pointing to her strawberry ice cream that was half melted by now. aitana tries to eat the rest of her ice cream quickly, but that doesn't really help as her ice cream melts away.

you two fall back into your roles. easily getting comfortable again despite the obvious conversation that needs to be had. you want to bring up what happened, but can't, worried that it will ruin the atmosphere between you. aitana seems to worry about the same thing as she says nothing about it, but that doesn't you two don't enjoy yourselves and sorta apologize in your own little ways.

aitana brings up how you know she can be really stubborn sometimes as a joke and you easily tease her about it before she teases you about your anger issues.

you two don't get to fully apologize that day, but you do rekindle a friendship that almost went stale.

i don't wanna be your ex

we way too good at being friends

can we still hangout

on the low, get wild

i don't wanna be your,

i don't wanna be your

hit ya girl up with a text,

when you're alone and feeling stressed

i don't gotta be in love with you, to love you

i don't wanna be your,

so don't treat me like your

e-e-e-e, e-e-ex

i don't want to be your

e-e-e-e, e-e-ex

don't act like i don't care for you

cause you know i'd always be there for you (oh)

don't act like i don't care for ya

cause you know i'd always be there for you

i don't want to be your ex

we're way too good at being friends

can we still hangout on the low get wild

i don't want to be your, i don't want to be your

i don't wanna be your ex

we way too good at being friends (yeah)

can we still hangout

on the low, get wild

i don't wanna be your, i don't wanna be your

hit ya girl up with a text,

when you're alone and feeling stressed

i don't gotta be in love with you,

to love you (love you)

i don't wanna be your, so

don't treat me like your

e-e-e-e, e-e-ex

i don't want to be your

e-e-e-e, e-e-ex

i don't want to be your

e-e-e-e, e-e-ex

it takes a while for aitana and you to fully become comfortable with eachother. you two start to hang out more outside of soccer just like before; visiting that same ice cream shop nearly everyday.

those unsaid feelings still hang in-between you two, but you refuse to be the one to address them. even though you said you would fix it, if things are going well, why mention it? you were afraid of ruining what aitana and you have again. running around the topic wasn't doing either of you favors either. you couldn't bring up new crushes like you used to because you didn't know if aitana had moved on fully yet.

aitana was having a mental challenge of her own; she wanted closure. the break up to her felt so sudden that she had no time to process it even when she spent months not talking to you. during those months all she did was yearn for you, so it wasn't that beneficial. her feelings for you had definitely faded into something small; aitana will probably always like you in that way for a tiny amount but the platonic love she has for is even stronger. she just wants to be apart of your life as your best friend. the one you can always trust.

how can she get to that point fully if she doesn't express how she's feeling? aitana ponders about this for nearly five days. the question becoming larger and larger in her head everytime she saw you until she had to say something.

"y/n, want to come over to my place today?" aitana asks as you two walk around on the practice field. she's holding her waterbottle in one hand and yours in the other. you shrug before saying, "what do you think?"

right after practice you two go to aitana's apartment. she convinces to hold her bag all the way up to her apartment floor, reminding you that she held your waterbottle earlier. you jokily grumble about how you will never let her do something for you again. the atmosphere between you is light for nearly a full hour. aitana makes a large salad for you too even though you begged for her to add chicken pieces in it; she refused.

"tana, stop," you groan softly. your eyebrows furrowed together as you push her with your shoulder. currently you are trying to beat her in fifa, but she's been distracting you the entire game. laughing loudly during a game should be a crime with how loud aitana can be when she wants.

"but y/nnn. i wanna win," she giggles. pushing you back which lets her win the game. you roll your eyes, setting your controller down on her coffee table. mentally you remind yourself to tickle her for revenge later on. suddenly as aitana sets down her controller, the air around you two feel so serious.

she gives you a nervous glance, you thought you two were over this awkward phase? why is she acting so nervous now?

aitana grabs onto your hand before resting her head against your shoulder. you rest your head against hers, squeezing her hand gently to let her know to not be nervous. "i have something to say.." she says. you let out a sigh; now it's your turn to be nervous.

"why did you break up with me? i just want to know.." she trails off, glancing at you to see your reaction. why does it feel like you two are walking on eye shells around eachother? it's annoying.

you sigh before saying, "because i realized we weren't meant to be more than bestfriends and that's not in a bad way. i love you so much. i can't live without you. when we weren't friends, i lost my mind. all i want in life is to be with you."

aitana stares at you for a moment before smiling, "i love you too. let's promise to never push each other away again?" she holds out her pinky to you. just like back when you two held out your pinkies and promised to be friends forever at eleven. "promise," you say, linking your pinky with hers.

you pull her close into a hug, just relieved you now fully have your best friend back. you may not be in love with her, but you do love her.

#aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati #woso x reader #woso fanfics #fc barcelona x reader

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n0v4t33z · 1 month

Text

The Syndicate - Chapter 8 : Complications & Whiskey

Pairings: Choi San X Female Reader, Park Seonghwa X Female Reader, Ateez X Female Reader

Genre: Lots of angst, Romance, Crime Fiction, Psychological Drama

Word Count: 15.9k

Tags/Warnings: For Mature Audiences, Mentions of Illegal activities (i.e Kidnapping, extortion, assassination etc.), flirting, kissing (yk that cheesy stuff couples do) Mentions of San's past lover being not so cool. (Not edited properly, I'll come back to it when I can)

Nets: @newworldnet

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Spotify Playlist🎵 | Series Masterlist📝

Author's Note 💌: Hi! It's been a while since I updated this story, unfortunately I had really bad burnout and kind of struggled writing this chapter. Luckily one of my readers reached out to me which really motivated me to finish this chapter. The beginning is a little bumpy but it gets better! Like always I hope whoever reads this enjoys this chapter and if you didn't keep it to yourself! Again, thank you for remaining patient! (It's 2 am and I'm tired but I still wanna post this rn because I need to get it off my hands asap so I can work on the next chapter) - N🌙

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How did this happen? How did he get my number? Did he bug the hospital room somehow? Maybe Chris’ phone? Fuck. There was a long silence of me trying to process what just happened then Captain Lee continues “I was just calling to let you know you’re more than welcome to come back to the police force.” My blood runs cold causing me to slightly stutter “So how’d you get my number?” He chuckles which gives me a horrible case of my whole body feeling cold “Ah, don’t worry about it Detective I have my methods.”

I nervously laugh and my grip becomes increasingly tight on my phone while I carefully look around making sure no one was watching. Making sure "he" wasn't watching. “Ah well, I’ll think about it Captain but I was just hoping you keep my anonymity since Aurora Syndicate is currently out looking for me.” I’m hoping he doesn’t suspect anything “Oh yes, Detective Bang told me earlier and don’t get me wrong I’ll grant it for you but I’ll let you know that I’m also aware that you know I worked with The Obsidian Dragon. So naturally, if you tell anyone I’m afraid I’ll have to get rid of you. So to keep tabs on you, you’re coming back to the police force whether you like it or not.”

I put my hand on my forehead and push my bangs back and hold back tears “What do you mean Captain? Why am I being forced into this? This is why I disappeared, to distance myself from this. I can't go back.” Captain Lee clicks his tongue a few times and says “Well, I’m sure you do know investigating these Mob bosses will get you killed so you should know that once you step into the world of corruption and ghost money your only way out is death whether you’re involved or you’re investigating it.”

He isn’t wrong, every single word he’s saying is right. I got myself into this mess and now I’m stuck. The only words that manage to leave my mouth are “Okay then, when do I go back?” I’m going to regret this. I could hear the smile in his voice “Anytime you want, preferably on Monday but don’t worry you’ll be doing desk jobs until you’re cleared. or until I feel you're good to go” I silently nod then I say in a very hushed tone “Alright, see you then Captain Lee.”

I hang up and clench my phone in my hand trying to blink back tears. I can’t cry here. I wipe away the stray tears before I buy the groceries. Once I've paid for them I put my phone on factory reset and throw it away into a trash bin outside the grocery store and head back to the tattoo shop. This is not good, I'm worried as to how he got a hold of my phone number. I didn't even give it to Chris. I'm terrified he probably knows more than what he leads on.

When I arrive to the hideout I notice everyone was still asleep so I stand in the dark kitchen and silently cry for a few minutes. I know everything will change after this. They’re all going to stop trusting me, not that they trusted me much anyway but what worries me the most is San. I might as well enjoy the calm before the storm.

Once I start cooking I notice Seonghwa sleepily rubbing his eyes and says “Hey, good morning no wonder I smelled sauteed meat and garlic, you’re in the kitchen.” I smile and nod “Yes, you’re spot on. I decided to cook for you guys since your cook isn’t here. I’m afraid it won’t be as good though.” Seonghwa raises his hand and shakes his head “Nah, it can’t can’t be worse than Hongjoong’s cooking. At least what you're cooking smells edible so I’m sure it'll taste just as good as it smells.”

He washes his hands and walks over to me “Need a hand?” I shake my head “Oh no you don’t have to, I was hoping you guys wouldn’t wake up until I was finished” He pats my head “Hm, I’ll help you. I’m awake so I might as well make myself useful” I giggle “Alright, please peel the potatoes?” He nods “Yes, ma’am” after we prepped and cooked everything I exhaustedly sit on the couch then I space out.

I want to tell Seonghwa but I’m scared he’s going to get upset. How do I tell him? Seonghwa soon follows and sits next to me and looks over at me waiting for me to say something. Worriedly he says “y/n? Are you okay?” I look over at him “Hm? Oh nothing I just have alot on my mind as of recently. A Lot has happened.” He nods “I agree, that attack from the feds hit us hard but don’t worry. Everything will fix itself eventually.”

I sigh and reach over to nudge Seonghwa’s arm “Hwa, I need to tell you something. I know I need to tell San right away but I’m scared.” He furrows his eyebrows and looks at me with a huge concern “Did something happen?” I hide my hands under my thighs “Captain Lee called me out of nowhere when I was grocery shopping this morning and he told me I have to go back to the police station again to keep tabs on me or else he says he’s going to take me out. I honestly have no idea how he even got a hold of my phone number, I had no choice but to say yes. I fucked up. I’m so sorry.”

I bite my lip to keep myself from bursting into tears while he silently stares at the ground for a moment then he cautiously looks back at me “No, no. This isn’t your fault, but you do have to tell San. This isn’t good at all. ” I nod “You’re right, this can’t wait can’t it? I was going to wait until everyone finished eating. Forgive me please don’t tell anyone else about this I’ll tell San myself.” I get up trying my best not to start crying in front of Seonghwa. Before I even have the chance to walk away he stops me tugging on my hand so that I turn to face him. He looks up at me from his seat "Remember, everything is going to be okay even if it seems like there's no way out of it." I force a smile and nod "Right, thank you for being such an amazing friend Hwa." Seonghwa slowly lets go of my hand and nods. "Always." I'm grateful to have a friend as caring as Seonghwa, someone who will comfort me and reassure me when i'm in doubt. I just hope one day i'll be able to return the favor.

When I open the door to San’s room and slowly close the door behind me. I carefully sit down on his bed and gently shake him “San, I have something to tell you.” He quietly hums and sleepily turns to face me trying to blink away his sleepiness “y/n? What’s wrong? Are you okay? You’re awake?” I shake my head trying to hold back tears. I’m so scared. He sits up and grabs my hand and gently kisses my knuckles “What’s wrong?” My lip slightly quivers “I have to tell you something. It’s something kind of serious.” He sits up and gently rubs the back of my hand with his thumb “Well, whenever you’re ready angel eyes.” I tighten my grip on his hand and put my other hand over his and take a deep breath then silently exhale “Well, Captain Lee called me and said I have to go back to the police station again or he’s going to kill me and whoever else knows about him working for The Obsidian Dragon and that he was the true reason why The Phantom died.”

San stays silent for a few seconds then in a low tone he responds “Why?” I stare at his hand then I look over at his body language and I could feel how angry he is right now which is what scares me the most because I know how impulsive he is. As much as I don’t want to look at how angry he is I look up at him meeting his eyes “He wants to keep tabs on me.” He lets out a long sigh and gently kisses my forehead “I promise you’ll be safe.” I look into his hypnotizing dark brown eyes “So you’re not mad at me?” His demeanor quickly changes and gives me his cute dimpled smile “Hey, why would I be? This isn’t your fault at all.” Part of me felt like it was, I feel like a burden now that I know Captain Lee is unknowingly threatening San with me.

“I don’t know, I just feel like somehow it was my fault because I told Chris about Captain Lee being corrupt. Despite that I know deep in my heart that Chris would never say anything.” San’s smile disappears and raises his eyebrow “Are you sure? How do you know it wasn’t him?” I bite the inside of my lip second guessing my previous statement now because of his serious demeanor. “Well, because I know him and he always keeps his word no matter what. That includes secrets. He'd never put me in harm’s way, he’s always protected me so it can’t be him.” He lets out a quiet sigh “Babe he’s a cop what do you expect? He’s going to open his mouth if it benefits him. Especially now since you no longer work at the police station that lead is probably a huge opportunity for a promotion.” I shake my head “No, he’d never do that especially not if it ended up hurting someone.”

He looks at me with a straight face almost like what I was saying is a bunch of nonsense “I’m sorry, I love you but I don’t trust that partner of yours.” I frustratedly put my hands on my forehead “Hear me out, when I told Chris I specifically told him to ask Captain Lee not to release the news of me being alive and to grant me anonymity. Which yes, Captain Lee acknowledged and said he’d agree too if I went back to the station but another thing I told Chris was that Aurora Syndicate was after me and that I needed my anonymity because of that. Captain Lee didn’t know that and he never once mentioned it until I said something about it so if Chris did tell him he would have known that and would have mentioned it first.”

San's eyes slightly narrow “But what if he didn’t mention it on purpose? He’s a cop so he’s great at being able to convince someone with words by conveniently leaving things out.” Okay, as a cop this is embarrassing how I’m forgetting my own methods now. I sigh and lay back onto the bed “Ok you know what?" I frustratedly run my fingers through my hair. "Fine who cares how he found out, the problem is that he found out and now I’m fucking scared to go back knowing I’m only there because he’s going to wait until I fuck up so he could kill me. Even then I still don't want to lose you either.” A big knot grows in my throat, feeling the tears begin to sting my eyes “This is why I'm telling you, because I need your help. I don’t know what to do, and I didn’t want to leave without a word and leave you wondering whether I’m okay or not.”

San lays next to me and wipes the tears away then gently pulls me close to him “You won’t be alone I promise, Seonghwa will be my eyes. I have a plan but that will be all up to you if you want to do this.” I nod “Of course, anything.” He smiles and kisses my forehead “Good girl, the plan is you will be my informant on what the police department is up to regarding Aurora Syndicate. Of course you’ll be under observation so evreytime you do have Information I’ll have Seonghwa send over the information via burner phone and dispose of it after each use to lower the chance of us getting caught.” San gives me the most gentle gaze and gently kisses the side of my head “This is going to end soon I promise, even if you’ll be someone else’s temporarily.”

I furrow my eyebrows and give him a confused stare “Uh what?” He smirks and lifts up my chin “You’ll have to pretend you and Seonghwa are in a relationship because he’s going to be living with you, even though it pains me. I have no choice at this point than to fool Lee for a little while longer while we gather up a plan.” What is this? Again with the fake boyfriend? I look up in disappointment while massaging my temples lightly “Really? How can you be so comfortable sharing me with another man like that? Can't we just be roommates or something?” He shrugs “The thing is if he's not related to you in anyway at all people will start looking into him a lot more, your supposed relationship to him might be a good distraction for them and much more convincing.”

He's really trying to sell me this, it's not a horrible idea but I don't know.. Kind of awkward after what happened between me and Seonghwa last night. “Besides when you went to your funeral with him and he brought you back home safely didn’t he?” I roll my eyes and jokingly retort “Yeah, what if I fall in love with him? Then what?” He smiles and takes my face in his hand “Hm, well then I’ll try to win you back no matter how many times it takes because like I said in the end you and I both know you’re mine. I know my place in your heart and you know mine, we are one. So, no. I’m not worried I'll lose you to him because I know it’s not going to happen. You’ll always be mine in one way or another.” Never have I seen a man so sure about how he feels towards me. How... Nice.

“You really feel that way?” I ask while I gently run my hand along his white t shirt clad chest. “I mean, do you? Because, I do.” he chuckles and raises an eyebrow giving me a dimpled smirk while I try to keep myself composed and nod “Of course I do.” he pulls me in a little closer and kisses me while he gently tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “No one will hurt you.” I poke his small dimple “I know, I believe you. I’ve seen what you can do.” San smirks devilishly hovering his lips over mine “I can do that and much more, just for you.” I giggle and clear the few stray pieces of hair from his face. His cat like eyes making me dizzy, for a second I forget how lost in his gaze I am until he leans in and kisses my forehead "My angel."

In response I rest my forehead on his shoulder and sigh "I'm tired of all of this San. I want this to stop." He gently presses his lips on the top of my head whilst he holds me close "I know you do baby. I want it to stop too, I want to be happy with you. Soon, okay?" Feeling a tinge of guilt, I bite my lip trying my hardest not to cry despite the huge uncomfortable knot in my throat.

San rolls onto his back and pulls me onto his chest "Let's lay here for a bit." I look up at him "So that's it?" San raises his eyebrow and hums "What do you mean? Was I supposed to say something else?" I shrug "I don't know, you don't seem shaken up over Lee's threat towards me." San runs his fingers through my hair "Well, how do you know I'm not scared?" He's right, maybe he's trying to keep me from freaking out. "Well, for one we moved on from this conversation way too quickly." He quietly stares up at the ceiling for a few moments his fingers now gently massaging my scalp until he finally speaks again. "Hm, well I am scared. I'm also angry and bloodthirsty, but I can't show you that part of myself. I don't want to scare you, I don't want to fuel your brain with ideas of me that might make you not trust me at all."

Okay so I guess I was right, he knows he still scares me to some degree despite loving him so much. I hate how conflicting this is. "I see, so you're trying to spare me from freaking out then?" He smiles gently booping my nose "You got it." I rest my head on his chest and sigh.I hate how my "fake" death ended up becoming pointless, and unfortunately it's probably something Captain Lee will end up blackmailing me with. I thought I was going to catch him by surprise but no, now I'm hoping I can find a way for Captain Lee to get blindsided while still under his observation.

I look up and notice San staring up at the ceiling again then I bury my face in the crook of his neck holding onto him tightly. He turns to me and gently plants a kiss on my temple then rests his head onto mine. “I really am going to miss you.” I lace his fingers between mine “I am too honestly. I wish we could stay like this forever.” Letting him go now seems like a crime, why is it that he terrifies me but yet makes me so happy? “I got so used to having you at my side for so long that I forgot what it felt like to not feel so- I don’t know, alone?” I giggle “That’s a nice way of putting it because I feel the same way.” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear and shows me his dimpled smile “Yeah?” My ears get hot and I bury my face in his chest causing him to quietly laugh “I swear you’re so cute when you get shy. I’ll miss that too.” I peek and look up at him “Hey, don’t be sad. I did a surprise for you and the guys this morning but I think maybe the food has gotten cold by now.” HIs eyes light up “Wait, wow. I get to try your food?” I nod and awkwardly smile “Yeah but if you don’t like it it’s okay. I honestly hate my cooking but my family strangely seemed to love it so I just wanted to cook for you guys because I trust my family’s opinion on it despite personally not really being a fan of what I make.”

San gives me a dimpled smile “I’m sure it’s delicious angel eyes, I know I’m going to love it so don’t worry. Also, I think we should go eat. I’m sure after everything this morning you’re probably really hungry.” He smirks and winks at me causing me to cover my eyes. Why is he always making my heart feel like it's going to jump out of my throat? “Stop it. Stop doing that thing with your face again!” He removes my hand from my face and chuckles "Wait, what's wrong with my face?" I shyly look in the other direction avoiding eye contact while my voice slowly trails "Um, nothing. You just.." San turns my face back in his direction "You what?" Stunned, I simply blink back in response until he chuckles and pulls me into a chaste kiss. Once he pulls away he gently runs his thumb along my bottom lip and for a few moments I recalibrate my brain until I finally respond "You're handsome...That's what I wanted to say." San hums and pulls my hand up to his lips gently pressing it onto his lips. "So sweet aren't we baby?"

When we walk to the kitchen we notice most of the guys were in the living room except Hongjoong, Jongho and Wooyoung who were in their respective rooms. I look over at San awkwardly knowing full well that some of them aren't too keen on me. I clear my throat trying to lightly bring their attention “So uh, is anyone hungry?” Yunho looks up from the game he’s playing “Hm? There’s food?” I nod “Yeah, I woke up early this morning to make it mostly because I couldn’t go back to sleep. Do you mind getting the others? I’ll bring Wooyoung’s breakfast later when he’s woken up.”

Yunho nods and walks over to go fetch the 2 others while everyone else takes their seat at the table meanwhile Seonghwa and I set the table while evreyone talks amongst themselves waiting for the others to come. Eventually Jongho, Hongjoong and Yunho sit down at the table with the only person missing being Wooyoung. Seeing everyone here except Wooyoung felt odd considering he was always very much present in the conversations but now that he wasn’t here the table was more at peace or so we thought. Seonghwa looks over at me and San “So uh, why are we here all together?”

San laces his fingers together “Well, something happened this morning.” Hongjoong narrows his eyes "The feds know where we are?" Jongho glances at San "Did they?" San shakes his head then pushes his glasses up "No. Captain Lee contacted y/n about going back to the police station. Of course he knows she’s alive now but blatantly threatened her to come back to the police force because he knows that she knows about his involvement with The Black Obsidian. He says he wants her working there to keep tabs on her which comes to my next statement. We’re starting a very important assignment regarding this issue. Of course the person who’s going to actually be joining y/n will be Seonghwa.”

Everyone is silent then Mingi slowly raises his hand “So it’s just him? What are we supposed to do then?” San nods “yeah, the reason why he’s going is because he’s the only one that that has no file under his name in the NIS data base” Hongjoong looks at San “Neither does Yeosang though.” San looks over at Hongjoong and smirks “That’s the thing, I’m sure Yeosang is not going to want to pretend he’s y/n’s lover. I also know y/n is definitely not comfortable with him either.” Yunho looks over at Seonghwa whose ears were a bright pink hue then back at San “Wait so are you saying Seonghwa is going to go with y/n and pretend he’s her boyfriend? Why though? Is it to keep an eye on her?” San nods then Seonghwa uncomfortably shifts in his seat “Yep, Seonghwa is also going to be the one communicating to us what’s going on at the station since I’m sure y/n won’t even have the chance to since she’ll be under a microscope with Lee.”

Yeosang frowns “So what does that have to do with us? Isn’t it just going to be a mission just for them?” San takes a sip of his warm tea and continues “No, it’ll involve you guys as well but that means you’ll have to lay low. Some will be tailing Lee and other officials working for him that includes y/n’s partner Detective Chris Bang, some of you will also be keeping watch the security cameras at the police station and the cameras near and around where y/n will reside in case anyone is sent by Captain Lee.” Everyone stays silent for a while then Jongho says “Wooyung isn’t part of any of this right? He’s still recovering from that punctured lung.” San bites the inside of his cheek “Yeah, he’s not. I just want him to get better and that means he can’t strain himself so please no one speak to him about this. Obviously I don’t know how long this will take but until he gets better please don’t say anything you all know how he is.” Hongjoong cocks an eyebrow “What about when he asks about y/n? You know how he is with his questions.” Yeosang then says “Just tell him she voluntarily left on her own because Lee found out she was alive.”

San leans back onto his chair “There’s your answer, with Seonghwa just say he went on an assignment abroad. Everyone understand? ” Everyone agrees and say in an untimed unison “Yes boss.” Meanwhile Seonghwa silently stares at the table then he looks at San “So you trust me enough let me pass off as y/n’s lover?” I look over at Seonghwa and can tell he’s probably not comfortable going through with this. San gives him a smile clearly showing him how much he trusts him “Of course, you’ve taken such great care of her when I wasn’t able to. Besides this is all fake anyway.” He understandably nods and says “Alright, I’ll do my best to make you proud again.” Seonghwa catches me staring at him and gives me a sweet smile “I promise I won’t let anything to happen to you.” I nod and try to act as nonchalant as I can “Thank you, I appreciate it.” Meanwhile San pats my head and says “Alright everyone can resume eating now, I heard y/n cooked this for us so let’s not leave anything on our plates.”

Everyone begins to eat and after a few moments I notice a few of the guys nodding in approval. Yeosang then looks over at me and says “Thank you for the food y/n.” Shocked he even complimented me I vigorously nod “Thank you so much but it wasn’t just me, Seonghwa helped me as well. I’m sure if he didn’t help the food wouldn’t have been as good as it was.” Could it be that a way to get to a cold man's heart is food? It's starting to ring true now. Seonghwa chuckles “I only peeled the potatoes and made the rice, it was all you y/n.” With his cheeks stuffed with food mid chew Mingi says “You’d honestly make a great wife, your cooking is immaculate and reminds me of my mother’s” San gives Mingi a stare and I nervously laugh “I’m sure your mother’s cooking is way more delicious Mingi” Jongho gives me a comforting smile “Honestly your cooking is amazing, even if you don’t feel that way. I’m saying that because these guys are so picky that the in house chef we had back at HQ quit after about a month of being there.”

I cover my mouth trying to cover up the big smile on my face then I say “Well, I guess I’m lucky to have such picky eaters like my food.” San puts his hand on my thigh and gently squeezes “See? Don’t forget to give yourself some credit sometimes.” I give him a small smile and nod then I look in the direction of the rest of the table “I know this is random but I just wanted to let you guys know I won’t be outing any information regarding the Syndicate if that’s what some of you are worried about, I’ll take that to the grave.” Jongho sets down his coffee mug onto the table “Don’t worry, I trust you. I’m sure the others do as well to an extent they just don’t want to admit it but I believe you y/n.” Yunho and Seonghwa both nod then Yunho responds while looking directly at Yeosang and Hongjoong “Even then for the ones who still don’t trust you they’ll see you’re not a bad person and you’re worth trusting.” Hongjoong tilts his head “You must be talking about Yeosang and not me. If I didn’t trust y/n I wouldn’t have let her touch a computer and much less suggest to San to let her have her own.”

My lips slightly part looking at the table then I look back and notice Hongjoong’s usual annoyed look replaced with one of a small smile “But also how could I not trust someone who likes Spongebob?” I giggle then I turn to Yunho “He’s right, he’s actually been very nice to me so no worries about that.” He continues looking in Yeosang’s direction “I’m glad to hear, although I was mostly referring to Yeosang here considering how many rude and tasteless things he’s said to you and that doesn’t even include the things he’s said while Wooyoung instigated.” I shake my head “Ah, no that’s okay don’t worry. I respect his reasons.”

He silently nods for a few seconds as if he was unconsciously doing it to calm himself down “You’ll see she’s not a horrible person, and when Wooyoung comes back he’s going to see for himself too.” Yeosang sits there staring at Yunho for a few seconds then stands up silently and walks to his room leaving everyone in shock. Why do I always cause these things, if someone isn’t getting upset over something I did someone else is getting upset over something someone did to me. I wish this wasn’t the case, it only comes off that I’m the one causing problems.

San glances at Yeosang’s empty seat then back at me “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine he just can’t stand being wrong.” I silently nod then San smiles and says “Everyone is dismissed for now, we’ll talk about everything in detail later…” A few moments later San’s cellphone rings and hurriedly gets up and says “I’ll be back, I’ve got to take this call..” Eventually evreyone finishes eating but San never comes back so once everyone leaves, I stay behind to clean the dishes while Seonghwa clears the table. He silently walks over to me holding a few plates gently setting them down onto the sink and walks back to the table to retrieve more. He’s awfully quiet.

Should I say something? I stare down at the bubbly water in the sink until I finally speak “Why’d you stay? I would have cleaned up, it’s fine.” Without turning in his direction I could hear the slight clinking of the glasses as he steps in my direction again. “I wanted to, besides it didn’t sit right for me not to clean up after myself.” I dryly laugh “You mean after your friends?” I turn to Seonghwa who walks up next to me and sets down the glasses next to the sink and gives me a smirk “Exactly, you need my help. Scoot over.” I roll my eyes and scoot over, giving Seonghwa room to stand next to me and begin to dry off the plates I've already washed. For a while he and I clean together in silence until unexpectedly I hear “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting the call to be this long but something came up.” Both Seonghwa and I turn to San and he continues “I know this is very short notice but do you mind coming to something with me tomorrow night angel eyes?” I glance at Seonghwa who looked just as confused as I then back at San who was standing at the entrance of the kitchen waiting for a response “Aren’t we supposed to lay low?”

I ask slightly unsure, San gives me a reassuring smile “We’ll be okay. I just wanted you to meet my mother and sister, you know since Seonghwa here knows them I think it’s a good idea you meet them as well. I’m almost positive you three will get along.” I can’t meet his family, what if they don’t like me and they send for me to get killed? Especially if they find out I’m a former cop. Seonghwa glances at me slightly concerned “What if she just stays home and rests? She’s been through alot these past days.” San lets out a sigh and pats Seonghwa's back turning his attention back to himself. “Jongho, you, and the rest are coming so we’ll be fine. Besides, if she doesn’t want to go she's more than welcome to stay home.” Well, I guess I have a social affair to attend to now. At least now I'll get to do a little familiarization with San's family.

"I'll go..I don't mind sounds fun. I'm kind of tired of being couped up." San gives me a small smile "There you go, you heard the lady. She's going." Seonghwa quietly washes a glass under the warm running water while I dry off my hands on the hand towel next to the sink “What exactly is this thing we’re going to?” San walks over to me holding back a big smile “It’s my sister’s birthday” He gently rests his hand on my uninjured shoulder “I wanted you to join us. I know you’re supposed to be resting right now but Jongho will be there, so I promise you’ll be okay. Besides I figured you'd like to know who works for us and how deep our business runs. ” I slowly nod “Okay sure, but what am I supposed to wear? I didn't bring anything with me, much less anything that covers up what happened on my shoulder..”

San shakes his head “Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of everything.” He glances over at Seonghwa and says “Make sure my mother doesn’t find out about the specifics with the police, I don’t want her to worry. There’s also a small job I need you to do for me. Mingi will be joining you.” Seonghwa nods obediently “Noted, but what happens if she asks why Wooyoung isn’t there? She knows he’d never miss anything like this..” San stares off into the distance for a moment “He had a family emergency and he wasn’t available.” San seemed to have become a bit haste to which Seonghwa seemed to pick up on and responds “Oh, okay that seems plausible.” San motions him in the direction of the living room “Mingi’s waiting.” Seonghwa sets down the dishes, wipes his hands dry on the hand towel next to the sink and excuses himself.

I notice there’s this weird tension between them but I can’t put my finger on why they feel that way towards each other or if it’s mutual. “You remember Nari? She’s coming over to get you ready for tomorrow.” Oh, it’s the same woman that did my hair and got me dolled up for my funeral. I guess it makes sense, she’ll probably know what the family approves of. “Sounds nice, she was nice..” I look down at the ground not wanting to meet his eyes. San gently turns my face in his direction with his eyebrows softly furrowed “What’s wrong angel eyes? Are you okay?” I sigh and lean into his touch “I’m scared. What if they hate me?” San gently caresses my cheek with his thumb “Babe, I promise they won’t hate you. I’ll just tell them you’re not involved in the business so they won’t ask you any questions over who you're affiliated with and who you work for.” Wait, does that mean he’s going to tell his mom about us? “Wait, why would you tell your mom that? Are you going to tell her about us?”

He nods and takes both my hands gently bringing them up to his lips “Of course, but I’m still going to tell her not to speak on it to anyone and to pretend you and I are simply colleagues in the eyes of others but she’ll know.” San lies alot, which worries me. If he easily lies over the smallest things like this does that mean he’ll easily lie to me? “You’re lying again.” He dryly laughs and pulls me closer to him “My mother won’t speak I promise, if she was able to keep my dad’s deepest darkest secrets I’m sure she can keep our relationship a secret. I felt like it’s something we should do before you’re gone, I want at least someone to know about us..” if only he knew that someone does know, just not who he thinks it is. He leans in and gives me a quick peck making sure no one was around then gently pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear “You trust me right?” Stupidly enough, like always my brain decides to completely betray me and respond without thinking “I do.” He gently kisses my forehead and softly says in a low voice “My beautiful angel.” Everytime he calls me that it makes me melt, and I think he knows that.

“I’m going to give you a more dramatic look today, obviously still within the likes of Mrs. Choi” Nari gently works in some sort of eye primer on my eyes using a soft brush and begins to work on my eye makeup. After a few minutes of her working her magic I have a sudden urge to ask her a question “Nari, I have a question..” She softly hums and I clasp my hands together “Do you know Mrs. Choi and San’s sister?” I concentrate on the gentle brush strokes to calm me down for some reason slightly afraid of her answers “I do, they’re very sweet. I work with them quite often actually. I just saw them this morning.” I quietly hum then Nari continues “How come? Are you worried about something?” I let out a soft sigh “Well, I’m scared they might not like me. I heard what the mother did to one of San’s exes and ordered for her assassination.”

The older woman clicks her tongue “Well, do you know what happened?” What happened? What does she mean? Does she mean that woman did something to upset San’s mother? “Uh, I mean no. Not really that’s honestly all I could dig up, besides San’s never mentioned any of his exes so I genuinely don’t know the full situation” Nari pops her gum followed by the smile in her voice “I can tell you, I’ve been working for the Choi family for years…” I softly gasp and open my eyes “Wait, for how long?” Nari gives me a soft smile “ I was hired personally by Mrs. Choi ten years ago, ever since then I’ve been doing her and her daughter’s makeup for public events..”

Nari gently has me close my eyes again and continues “Anyway, as you know her name was Hae Jihye she and San dated for a few years. I believe it was about 5 or so years but they eventually became engaged, both were pretty young but since the Choi family was so well off Mrs. Choi encouraged them to get married. She was very fond of Jihye up until San found out she was secretly seeing another man and stealing money from him and ordering shady dealings without double checking these were allies and not possible undercover cops. Up until her death she always said it was because San never gave her attention and because she felt lonely but everyone close to the Choi’s know he treated her like his princess. He would have brought her the moon if she so wanted, he gave her everything. Open.”

I open my eyes and see Nari begins to fill in my eyebrows and continues “Anyway, it so just happened the real reason was that she thought San was a huge pushover and was only planning on marrying him for his money and the Choi’s heavy influence. She wanted to be someone important since she came from a poor background.” Poor San, he gave his heart to this woman and she stomped all over it… “So when Mrs. Choi caught wind of it thanks to San’s best friend Wooyoung she began to conspire against Jihye. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned..” Nari smooths out some sort of face primer on my skin, her hands being gentle against my skin then quickly begins to work on my base “She got Kang Yeosang, one of San’s associates to carry out the assasination and right as she was exiting the beauty salon she was shot and killed. Just to add insult to injury Mrs. Choi sent the hand of Jihye’s secret lover to her grieving family along with a note that read “Hope you enjoy this small gift!” and that was that. ”

I look at Nari giving her a very unnerved expression “Wow that's…heavy.” Nari nods while gently powdering my face “So lesson of the story is don't be an opportunist and Mrs. Choi will be kind.” I know Nari and San said Mrs. Choi is nice but I can't keep myself from thinking she's going to find something she doesn't like. What a great time to overthink. “Actually, San doesn't want to tell her about me being a cop..” Nari begins to gently apply my lipstick with small gentle strokes “Sweetheart I think you should just be honest, I mean you've been all over the news recently. I'm sure Mrs. Choi knows exactly who you are.” Oh my gosh how could I forget about that?! She's right, it's going to be a horrible look if I lie to her right from the start.

“I should let San know, you know like about me not wanting to lie to his mom not what happened with Jihye. I'll definitely never mention her ever.” Nari then raises her eyebrows “So, are you going to tell his mom you two are thing?” Her question catching me off guard I almost choke on my own saliva causing me to swallow quite hard. For a moment, I struggle how to answer until I finally but hesitantly respond “Well honestly, I think it’s a bad idea that I tell her we’re together especially if she knows I'm a cop. Despite how nice she is, she has too much history between my previous boss and her family, not the good kind either. Knowing she’s willing to kill I think I’m going to steer clear from her radar as cowardly as it seems.” Nari rests her hand on her hip “So, what do you plan to do?” I sigh “Well, continue to keep it a secret.”

Nari furrows her eyebrows and crosses her arms in front of her chest “But for how much longer? You know, Mrs. Choi isn’t getting any younger and eventually she’s going to ask San to marry again. You do understand right?” She’s right, Mrs. Choi is definitely going to ask San to marry only it makes sense for him to marry of someone of his status and the same lifestyle as his. As much as I love and I’m in love with him, we’re too different to be in each other's life in the long run and only confirms what I've been thinking this whole time which is to just enjoy it while it lasts. “I do, which is why I'm going to backtrack telling her about our relationship but not who I am. That I can't lie about, as scary as It is.” gives me a soft smile “Well, it's settled.. Also, we should get started on your hair. Your dress should be arriving sometime soon!” I nod and let out a nervous sigh. I have to brace myself for everything. I will try my best to look like a good person.

Later after Nari is done with my hair, makeup and dressing me I look in the mirror and honestly just like the first time I'm not disappointed in what I’m seeing just a little weirded out that I can look this good. My hair was loosely curled, like those gorgeous movie stars on tv, the makeup was light (For my taste at least) so that it complimented my features. Meanwhile the dress that was picked out for me was a satin strapless asymmetric neckline dress with a high slit on the right side of the dress luckily it was a long dress so it covered my legs really nicely and it wasn’t as showy as I thought it’d be considering how high the slit is. Finally to cover up my wound Nari carefully drapes a gorgeous white fur wrap over my shoulders. Nari steps behind me and hands me a black pair of designer high heels. It’s those shoes that movie stars wear, the ones with the red soles. I let out a gasp and carefully take the shoes as if they were made of glass “Nari, are you sure?” Nari smirks “Of course I’m sure, you’re wearing vintage Mugler.. You can’t just wear any old pair of shoes.” I give her a nervous smile and carefully put on my black high heeled shoes. Nari then steps back and gives me a proud smile “You look amazing y/n, I hope you feel as pretty as you look. “ I smooth out the soft fabric beneath my fingers and nod “I do, thank you for everything..” The older woman smiles and shakes her head “Thank San, he asked me to do this for you.”

Of course he did, this man is all about the details. Now it was about that time I look for San so that I could talk to him about what to say to his mother. Right after exiting my room I'm soon greeted by a dressed up Jongho who’s jaw immediately drops “Wow, you look amazing y/n. I uh- San is waiting up front, he asked me to guide you into the car.” I give Jongho a smile and tease him “You might want to pick your jaw up from the floor or a fly will go in there.” Jongho chuckles and leads the way while I silently walk behind him. Awkwardly enough I had to walk into that tattoo shop dressed like this but unlike before all eyes were on me which made me alot more nervous so I gently hold onto Jongho’s arm so that I wouldn’t risk embarrassing myself in case I trip over my dress. Once outside I realize it was beginning to get dark out that’s when Jongho opens the door to the expensive looking car and lo and behold San was there.

His hair was now cut shorter than before with a small strand of hair framing his face, whilst he wore a white dress shirt with a few buttons undone and a buttoned up black vest, a back blazer, with matching slacks and shoes. He looked so immaculate and perfect, that In the moment I think I almost forgot why I was even there to begin with until San gently grabs my hand and gently tugs on it. I blink a few times and it’s like I rebooted remembering where and why I was there. San gives me a small dimpled smile and I get into the car sitting next to him. His cologne slowly bringing me back to reality “You look gorgeous angel eyes.” I glance over at him, his eyes looking at me like he was devouring me with his gaze which was making me painfully shy, that is until I remember I needed to tell him something. San gently reaches for my exposed thigh and gently squeezes causing my ears to begin to burn and I mindlessly respond “And you look handsome Sannie..”

San leans in and gently kisses me whilst his hand squeezes my thigh a little harder leaving me to let out a soft sigh whilst he deepens the kiss. I only allow myself to indulge in the kiss for a few more seconds until I gently pull away while gently pushing him away. He gives me a confused look then furrows his brows “Angel eyes are you okay?” I nod and gently smooth out my dress “Yes, I just wanted to talk to you about something before we arrive at your sister’s party.” He gently takes my hand and nods “Sure, what is it?” I glance over at San whose eyes were soft again, a complete one eighty from a few seconds ago “We should just tell your mom that I’m a cop, you know it’ll be much easier than lying” San looks at me slightly worried and looks down gently rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand “Um, I don’t know about that..” I tilt my head “How come? Is it because I’m going back to the station next week? You know she’s probably seen the news..”

San lets out a sigh and stares down at my hand for a few moments before he briefly glances back up at me me then says in a lower almost worried tone “That’s why, because I’m sure she’ll like you but once she realizes you’re a cop she’s going to bombard you with questions..Assumptions.” I reach over and take San’s handsome face in my hands gently caressing his soft skin “And that’s okay, it’s valid on her part considering the previous history between cops and your family. I understand.” He gently takes my hand in his lovingly squeezing it “Are you positive you’re going to be okay with the questions?” I nod giving him a reassuring smile “Of course Sannie, let’s just be honest for once. This is something so important to me that I want to be honest out of respect to your mother and our relationship, please. Just this once I don’t want to lie about something I can’t hide. I don’t want to pretend to be someone I’m not even if your mother ends up hating me for it, it’s the risk i’m willing to take.”

San gives me a dimpled smile, takes my hands from his face and gently kisses them “You really do have a heart of gold angel eyes.. No matter how hard things get your intentions are always well intentioned.” I look down and press my lips into a curt smile “One more thing.” San gently turns my face to face him "What’s that?” Not wanting to meet his eyes I look down at the collar of his shirt “I thought about it and I don’t want your mother to find out about us.” San gives me a confused look “Wait- but..” I nod “I know, I just said that I didn’t want us to lie but I was talking about things I can’t hide.. Besides we’re technically not lying if you just don’t mention it.” slightly upset San takes my arm and tightly squeezes it but only enough to get my attention “But you agreed with me yesterday, why the sudden change of mind?” I shrug “I don’t know I just did a lot of thinking and it doesn’t make sense to come clean right now, it’s too soon.”

San lifts up my chin to meet his eyes while holding on to my arm, they were sad with a hint of anger. He looked genuinely hurt, but now it’s complicated. I need to see how his mom will react to the news of me being a cop, then I’ll know my answer. I need to tread lightly with this family because I truly don’t know their intentions. For all I know this is all a part of San’s plan to get me to trust him then get me killed once I do. Even then I doubt San will hold on much longer, Nari is right his mom is probably looking for someone he could marry right this moment which is why he wants to tell his mother. “As much as I strongly feel the complete opposite, I'll respect your wishes. I understand you’re nervous.” I sigh “I’m sorry but can you blame me? Any regular person would be terrified considering how powerful your family is. I don’t want to fuck up.”

San loosens his grip on my arm “I’m sorry I’m forcing you to do all these things so fast. It’s just-” He shuts his eyes and rests his head on my shoulder and lets out a long sigh “It’s my mom, she’s been looking into having me marry the Iceman’s daughter, Jisu.” I furrow my eyebrows “Why?..” He stares down at himself gently squeezing and holding onto my forearm “Business.. And because she’s close friends with Iceman’s wife.” Wow, yeah. I think involving myself even more will be a death sentence. What if she has me killed because she wants San to marry into her friend’s family? “Ah, I see.” I stiffly nod. I knew it, his mom already has eyes for someone. San raises his gaze and looks at me with concern painting his features “You’re upset aren’t you?” I shake my head and fake a laugh “No, I mean I saw it coming. I understand.”

San gives me a very unamused look then the driver driving our vehicle clears his throat and says “Sorry for the interruption boss, but we’re here.” San nods slightly detached still fixated on my expression “Yeah, okay. Thanks Woosik.” I feel horrible pissing him off but I think this is it. I’m so cowardly. Almost as if a switch went off he gently takes my hand and kisses the back of it “I’ll introduce you as a colleague okay? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable let alone feel like i’m forcing you to do things you don’t want to..” I nod and lean in to gently kiss his cheek then I give him a soft smile “Thank you..”

San’s expression brightens up a bit and gives me a small dimpled smile “Are you ready angel?” I nod and he gives me a sweet smile. Next to me the door opens and a very well dressed man helps me out of the car and soon after San steps out right behind me. He then gently rests his hand on the small of my waist and gently guides me to the big mansion, that house.. It’s huge. The Choi family is loaded. It’s everything you would have imagined in a mansion: the fountain, the gates, the two sculptures near the entrance, the beautiful decorative trees adorning the front of the house.

The times I’ve been to houses like this is usually when we’re going to arrest someone or when we’re investigating the murder of a high profile person which isn’t very often so to see this gorgeous house and being dressed in designer from head to toe, it makes me feel like I'm in some sort of movie. Once we’re inside the faint sound of classical music fills the air along with the high class ambience immediately making me straighten up my posture. All the people here look expensive, it also kind of freaks me out knowing that 90 percent of the people here are more than likely white collar criminals. I look over in San’s direction slightly worried only for him to give me a small reassuring smile. ”Follow me.” I grab onto the sleeve of his blazer following behind him quietly whilst he makes his way to presumably his mother.

We approach a gorgeous older woman who obviously didn’t look her age but could tell her age based off of what she was wearing, which was a long semi fitted dark blue dress with a high neck “Mother, I’m here.” The woman turns her attention away from the woman she was speaking to and gasps “Sannie, you made it..” San pulls the shorter woman in his arms and hugs her tightly “You know I’d never miss my sister’s birthday.” She pulls back gently cupping her hands on his face with a smile. “My son, my strong handsome son.” Both him and his mother chuckle then she pulls away and looks around us “Where’s Wooyoungie sweetie? Last time I talked to him he said he’d come..”

San takes Mrs. Choi’s hand “Ah, yeah about that. Wooyoung couldn’t make it tonight he had a personal emergency.” Mrs. Choi worriedly furrows her brows “Oh my- Is he okay?” San nods giving his mother a reassuring pat “He is he’s fine, he’s just dealing with a few private matters that couldn’t be postponed and were very last minute.” Wow, he’s good at lying to his own mother too that’s actually scary. He’s not even hesitating. The mother understandably nods “Well I hope whatever it is I hope he sorts it out soon..” Mrs. Choi then turns in my direction, for a few seconds she examines my face then she says “Oh hello, wow who is this gorgeous girl Sannie?”

I reach out and shake his mother’s hand politely smiling “Hello Mrs. Choi I am Detective y/n y/ln, I’m one of Mr. Choi’s current colleagues. His connection to the Ulwood PD. ” His mother’s eyes widen slightly then quickly composes herself before San says “She’s been a great help helping me track Lee and his other people..” For a few moments San’s mother stares at me “Are you really working for the Aurora Syndicate? Are you sure you don’t secretly work for the police to turn my son in?” San chuckles gently patting his mother’s back “She’s fine mother, I made sure of it. Besides she has her own grudges against Lee, I promise you she won’t betray us.” Mrs. Choi nods “You’re that detective that was found dead aren’t you?” I nod and lightheartedly chuckle “Yeah, that’s me. So you have no worries about me turning on anyone.” Mrs. Choi looks over at San and smiles “Look at you, giving that old bastard a taste of his own medicine. You’re definitely your father’s son.” San nervously laughs “Mom..”

A gorgeous long dark brown haired woman approaches us, her eyes were sultry and had a very mysterious and intimidating energy surrounding her. Her gaze looking straight at San, almost like he was some sort of target to her. “Hello, how are you on this lovely evening?” Mrs. Choi turns in said woman’s direction and smiles “Jisu sweetheart, hello how are you? I’m glad you could make it!” Jisu smiles and reaches for Mrs. Choi’s hand and gently pats it “Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I’m glad I could be here for Haneul’s big day.” Mrs. Choi smiles “Thank you” Jisu looks back at San and smiles in his direction “Is this the infamous Choi San?” Mrs. Choi chuckles and gently pats San’s shoulder then San responds slightly hesitant “Yeah, you must be Jisu. My mother’s mentioned you before.” Jisu reaches over to shake San’s hand and for a moment her hand shake lingers.

A bit shocked she’s holding onto his hand and not letting go until he pulls away his hand and puts it in his pocket. Mrs. Choi looks at both San and Jisu “I did, did I also mention you’re both the same age? I’m sure you two would get along very well.” Jisu looks in San’s direction tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear “Of course we will, San seems like a person I’d get along with perfectly. He’s so hardworking and it shows.” Jisu smirks then shifts her gaze over to me where her smirk slowly disappears then she softly laughs “Oh my- I’m sorry hello, who are you?” I give Jisu curt smile and extend my hand “Detective y/n y/l, I’m currently working for Mr. Choi.” She raises her eyebrow “My, my I didn’t know San was willing to be risky, you feds are hard to trust. Nine times out of ten you have ulterior motives.” I chuckle feeling the venomous intent behind her words. “Well then I guess I’m the 1 out of 10 who has no ulterior motives. Mr. Choi knows he’s in good hands trusting me. Am I right Mr. Choi?”

I turn to him giving him a small smile. San immediately picks up on what I was trying to do and responds “Of course, she’s shown me her loyalty multiple times. At the end of the day we both have the same goal so why not team up with someone like minded.” Jisu hums then shrugs “Well, as long as you’re confident that’s all that matters.” Mrs. Choi gently takes my arm and says “San, I need to have a word with Detective y/ln. Do you mind keeping Jisu company?” San looks at me sympathetically then back at his mother “Ah, yes mother.” Jisu looks in my direction, smirking almost like she knew this was something I couldn’t get myself out of. Almost like she expected the worst. I’m worried. Did I say something wrong?

Mrs. Choi quietly walks me out of the room the party was being held in and once outside in the hallway she lets go of my arm. Expecting her to maybe say something she continues walking in silence unnerving me even more as the seconds go by. I walk behind her until we enter the big marbled floor living room, she motions me to sit down on the expensive looking velvet couch which I oblige. She walks over to the small cocktail table and serves us both drinks, I'm presuming whiskey. At this point I’m beginning to get very impatient. What exactly was the reason I was pulled away from everyone else. What is she going to tell me? She sets my drink on the coffee table then sits across from me while she holds her whiskey in her hand. I clear my throat running my fingers along the soft fabric of my dress “So, uh what did you want to talk about Mrs Choi?” She takes a small sip of her drink the gently rests it on her lap ”So you said you work for the Ulwood police department correct?” I nod carefully clasping my hands together and gently resting them on my knees “Yes, correct ma’am” She swirls her drink in the heavy crystal glass whilst I carefully reach for my drink on the table “In the police department? I work under Captain Steven Lee Ma’am.”

She’s not going to like this..I know it. She slightly raises her eyebrow “Very interesting…You do know your Captain killed my husband right?” I nod looking down at my drink slightly bowing my head “Ah, yes Mrs. Choi I was the one in charge of the case. We arrested the people who were involved in the murder.” Like San, his mother has a very intense stare only this time making me very more nervous knowing the lengths his mother is willing to go for her son so I can only imagine what she'd do for her husband. “That you did. Unfortunately you missed the main culprit.” Her words felt like swords stabbing right through me. Words that immediately make my stomach drop.

“I’m aware Mrs. Choi, unfortunately when San showed me what Captain Lee was really up to everything finally made sense. He purposely would steer things away from anything that he thought would get him caught, at the time my partner and I didn’t really understand why he wanted to be so heavily involved in the case since usually he’d be the one to usually just assign them and just stick to focusing on the department’s strategy. So I assure you I didn’t know anything until I met San.” Mrs. Choi stares at me unmoved, a complete 180 from when she was with San and Minia. “I understand, I'm sure that bastard has everyone back at the station fooled..” I nod respectfully agreeing “Yes, unfortunately even the best one among us got fooled. Which is why I’m working with San to put that man down.”

God, I sound so pathetic saying it like that. “So what’s your reason for helping my son? What did Steven do to you?” There’s the question I was waiting for. I let out a long sigh then I meet Mrs. Choi’s eyes finally lifting my gaze to meet hers “Well, San kidnapped me to get Captain Lee back but unfortunately he gave up trying to get me back once he realized he was going to have to expose his crimes to everyone so instead he left me for dead in hopes San gave up threatening him and I’d get killed. Luckily San did the opposite and instead had me pretend I was dead, which unfortunately caused me to lose everything I had; friends, family, career, my home..” With the last words quietly being trailed off from my throat growing a huge knot. Is she going to sympathize with a cop? Someone who works under the man who killed her husband?

Mrs. Choi’s gaze grows a bit soft and sets down her half filled glass on the arm rest of her seat “I am so sorry this happened to you. I can only imagine how many more people are suffering at the hands of Steven.” She’s right there are probably quite a few people getting blackmailed to do his dirty work for him. No doubt. “I just want to make sure you mean well working with my son, because if your intentions are not pure- and please do not take offense but a mother will do everything in her power to protect her son no matter who it’s against.” Ah, just what I was dreading. Nice. “ I understand Mrs. Choi, you have my promise there will be no moves on my part against San. I’m fully on the Aurora Syndicate’s side, you have my word.” Mrs. Choi Smiles “ I have one last question for you y/n.” I nod, taking a sip of my drink, the warmth slowly trickling down my throat and to my stomach. Yep, definitely whiskey. “Sure Mrs. Choi go ahead.”

She gives me a mischievous smile her finger tracing along the rim of her drink “So y/n what do you really think about my son?” I run my finger under the crystal glass trying my hardest to stay calm “Hm, like as a person?” Mrs. Choi warmly smiles clearly trying her best to get me to open up “As a man sweetheart.” My throat tightens causing me to clear my throat. “Oh, uh I mean he’s very handsome, and of course very kind.” Wait, why is she asking me this? “He definitely is, he takes a lot from his father…” Wait that’s all she was going to ask? I mean yeah it’s kinda weird but that’s it? “There’s one thing I will tell you is that my son tends to be quite flirty sometimes and I want you to pay no mind to him” No mind to him? Like ignore him? “Uh- Could you elaborate Mrs. Choi?” She sighs “To be frank, I don’t want you to get involved with my son. I understand you’re working with him but just leave it at that. Nothing more.” Is she really starting to pin this on me? Like I know it's true but oh my gosh how does she know? What gave it away…I need to convince her otherwise or I'll be in big trouble.

“My apologies for asking Mrs. Choi but why?” Mrs. Choi scoffs then retorts in a venomous tone “Because I don’t trust you. No matter what Steven Lee did to you, you’re still working under him. I don’t want San to fall for the same bullshit my husband fell for with Steven. That tragedy is not going to repeat itself again.” I carefully set my glass back onto the glass coffee table and I shake my head “I assure you that’s not going to happen Mrs. Choi. San and I have grown to be very close friends from sharing the same hatred for one person and the last thing I'd ever do is betray him. If anything I owe him my life.” Mrs. Choi seems unconvinced from my plea. “Then know that your place here which is only to help my son get rid of the man who killed my husband and not being romantically involved with him.” I drink the remaining whiskey in my glass in one go to prepare myself “Again, my apologies but I never explicitly stated my feelings towards Mr. Choi. I only really said he’s good looking and has a great heart.”

The woman rolls her eyes at me like just told her the stupidest thing on Earth “You were the one my son was shopping for. I asked you if you were the deceased detective because my son was telling me he was shopping for someone special. The problem is one of his associates let it slip that the girl he was shopping for was “the detective” After a bit of pondering I put two and two together. The last time my son went out of his way to spoil someone like that he was engaged to his former sweetheart.” I’m guessing San is not the type to gift just anyone, they have to be special to him. In that case, I'm special to him.. Wow. “You’re not wrong about your son getting me things, that’s true. That’s only because I needed them. What’s not true is my relationship with him. We’re simply friends.”

Without hesitation Mrs. Choi throws her drink at my face and gets up looking down at me “Don’t get smart with me, stay away from my son.” Her heels clack away little by little becoming more faint while I blankly stare down at the marbled floor in disbelief, my eyes blinking rapidly from the alcohol burning my eyes. She really knows. It's like she stays out of San’s business in front of him but behind his back she gets rid of people she deems useless for her son.. It’s probably why San is insisting of only a few people knowing his true plans. Unfortunately I understand her fear of trusting a cop, it’s completely validated. The thing is I’m not liking how this played out, we’re off to a bad start. Judging from the small things San would tell me about his mother, she seemed nice but now not so much. At least not when you get on her bad side.

Eventually I manage to clear my eyes, my face and ears are burning out of embarrassment. My lap and chest wet from the whiskey, once I manage to stand up I walk back into the party. I let out a long sigh and look around, trying to ignore the wet dress against my skin and my hair and makeup feeling gross. Maybe I should get San out of talking to that girl. He didn’t seem too comfortable with her. I walk around looking for San not really paying attention ahead of me until I accidentally bump into someone with my shoulder causing me to hiss in pain tightly clutching onto my wounded shoulder. “I’m sorry, are you okay? y/n?”

I look up and notice a worried Seonghwa staring down at me whilst the other people he was talking to just silently stare at me. Gosh, I’m so glad to have found someone I recognize. Walking around with a bunch of people I don’t know was starting to make me really uncomfortable considering how horrid I probably look. “I’m fine, sorry I was looking for San. He was with a girl.” Seonghwa raises his eyebrow then he excuses himself from the people he was talking to and walks a few steps away from them pulling me aside “A girl?” I nod looking around trying to see if maybe San was anywhere close by. “Yeah, her name is Jisu, really pretty, looks like a model.” Seonghwa slowly nods “Ah, yes. His mother is trying to set them up..” He looks around and steers me in the opposite direction I was walking “I think for now it’s best you don’t interrupt them, you don’t want to upset Mrs. Choi.”

I glance over at Seonghwa and scoff looking away, feeling the tears in my eyes making them sting “I already did that, can’t you see my makeup is all runny?” Seonghwa turns my face in his direction and slightly squints, gently pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear inspecting my face “Your makeup is fine surprisingly, your hair though. It’s a bit-” I look down clearly embarrassed “I know, ugly..” Seonghwa warmly smiles and takes out the handkerchief in his breast pocket gently patting my face and hair dry “No- I mean your hair looks wet.. What happened?” I close my eyes for a bit to force my tears back into my eyes when I open them I pull his hand towards the exit “I can’t say it here.. Can we go outside?” Seonghwa gently rests his hand on my uninjured shoulder “Before we go, are you hurt? Do we need to get Jongho?”

I look under the fur wrap at my wound and shake my head “No, I’m fine. I just bumped it a little.” He reaches over and links my arm around his “Alright good, this is so you don’t fall by the way. Those shoes look like an accident waiting to happen.” I roll my eyes and laugh “You do know I wear heeled shoes to work sometimes, I have no issues walking on high heels.” He shrugs stifling a laugh “So? What if you fall? In front of all these people..”

Well he’s right, that would be embarrassing and I’ve been embarrassed enough tonight “Okay fine..” Seonghwa starts to guide me out the door until we step outside the chilly evening. “Geez, it’s kind of cold.” I slightly shiver and hug myself standing behind one of the statues at the top of the stairs leading to the door. Seonghwa unbuttons his blazer about to take it off before I panickily mumble “No please, it’s okay…” Seonghwa looks at me for a moment and asks “Are you sure? I don’t want you to catch a cold..” I shake my head forcing a smile “I won’t I promise.” He stands next to me clearing his throat “So, what happened?” I look down and let out a soft sigh and for the first time tonight I begin to really process what happened making my throat grow a knot again. For a few moments I struggle to get the words out until I finally blurt out “San’s mother, she hates me.” Seonghwa gives me a very concerned look “What? Mrs. Choi? How?..” Slightly frustrated I hug myself tighter, tears now rolling down my cheeks “ She found out about me and San, she doesn’t want me to be romantically involved with him because she thinks I’m going to get into his head and basically be the downfall for their business..”

Seonghwa lets out a sigh and pulls me into a hug “I’m so sorry y/n. Did she find out through you or-” I sniffle and pull away looking up at an uneasy Seonghwa “I tried to deny it, but she found out through a slip up with one of the associates, not sure who it was but they referred to me as “the detective” when talking to his mother over who San was shopping for..” Seonghwa lets out a long sigh and rubs his forehead slightly frustrated “San’s going to get pissed..” Once he lets out his small frustration he gently pats my head gently pushing it back onto his chest “Do you want to leave? We don’t have to stay here if you’re uncomfortable.” While my head gently rests on Seonghwa’s chest I look at the entrance for a few long seconds “I don’t know, I feel like maybe I need to go tell San over what happened with his mother. He seemed pretty worried when she asked me to talk.”

Seonghwa gently clears the stray hairs on my face “San will understand, don't worry. I can call him and let him know that I’m taking you home.” I worriedly look at Seonghwa “Are you sure? You don’t have to, you can just give me the keys and I can drive myself.” He chuckles and gently pats my head “It doesn’t bother me, I promise. Besides I can’t let a girl looking as pretty as you drive herself home alone.” Seonghwa pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolls on his phone for a bit then puts his cellphone to his ear, where you can faintly hear the dial tone until you hear San’s voice “Hey, y/n isn’t feeling too well. I’m taking her home.” San’s voice responds but I can’t make out what he’s saying, only that he sounded a bit annoyed. Seonghwa then responds “She’s not feeling too well being here-” Suddenly Seonghwa stops talking while San says something to which Seonghwa tensely responds “Ah, okay then we’ll be out in the front waiting.”

San curtly responds then the call ends rendering Seonghwa to awkwardly let out a sigh putting his cell phone away then slowly pulls back and looks at me forcing a smile “Change of plans, San’s going to take you instead. He asked me to stay and talk to some investors.” I raise an eyebrow “What? I thought he was busy.” Seonghwa gently pats my head and chuckles “Well, I guess he’s not too busy for you. Which is good, maybe he’ll learn to take time to himself instead of working all the time.” Seonghwa looked kind of upset now, although he’s really good at hiding it; his tense body language and his faint darkened mood replaces his usual warm and caring demeanor which is what gave it away. “I’m sorry, for bothering you Hwa.” Seonghwa gives me a faint smile then turns to look at the horizon.

The sky being painted a beautiful shade of sparkly dark blue now as opposed to earlier. “You don't need to, if anything I'm glad we bumped into each other. You needed someone after that encounter with Mrs. Choi, I know right now you’re holding back trying not to cry as much as you’d like.” Unfortunately he’s right, I can’t bawl my eyes out like a child here. Not only would that be embarrassing for me but I know it’ll be embarrassing for San as well. “Yeah, considering what my job is, I kind of have to keep it together even if I am a crybaby when I’m alone.” Seonghwa glances over at me “Just know with me you never have to hold back, I know we still don’t know each other very well but I’m here.” Seonghwa has always been very kind, although I feel weird confiding in him now considering how we’ve gone through the unfortunate situation of him seeing my true relationship with San. I guess it’s nice knowing I have a friend in these situations “Thank you, it means a lot.” Seonghwa gently nudges my arm “So are you going to tell San what happened with his mother?”

I stare at the ground for a few good seconds, before I’m even able to say anything the front door opens followed by “y/n are you okay?” I glance up and it’s a worried San hurriedly walking in my direction, Seonghwa steps aside letting him stand next to me where he reaches over for my arm. “Uh..” Seonghwa looks at the both of us then slightly bows in San’s direction “I’m off, I hope you make it home safely y/n” I give him a reassuring smile then Seonghwa looks in San’s direction “I was keeping y/n company but now that you’re here-” San pats Seonghwa’s back turns him towards the door “Yeah I’ll call you if I need anything, thanks for keeping an eye on her.” Seonghwa forces a smile and excuses himself without saying anything else. What was that?

“Why didn’t you let Seonghwa just take me home? Weren’t you on a date?” San dryly chuckles “What? No.. I mean I was with Jisu but I promise you it wasn’t a date. I was just appeasing my mother since I really didn’t want to upset her here.” San takes my hand gently pressing his lips onto the back of my hand “Enough of me though, what happened?” I let out a long sigh and start walking down the stairs “We have to get out of here, I’m not risking anyone overhearing us no matter how “Safe” it is here. “ San follows behind not letting go of my arm “Wait, is it really that bad? Was it some asshole that said something to you or was it my mother?” San’s last words render me to make the knot in my throat break knowing damn well I wasn’t going to make it without crying. “Baby?” San stands still causing me to be pulled into a complete halt “Look at me, it’s okay. I’m here, I'm not going anywhere.” He pulls me into his arms where he gently presses his lips on my shoulder “Don’t cry, please. We’ll go into the car and talk about this okay?”

San digs into his pocket where after a few moments I hear the sound of his car beeping which was luckily nearby. He pulls back cupping my face looking into my eyes, his usual intimidating gaze is now soft trying his hardest to comfort me “Come on baby, car’s over there.” He grabs my hand and we walk to the car whilst I quietly sniffle behind him. When we finally get to his car he opens the door to his expensive looking car and lets me in. Surprisingly it wasn’t a sports car but a luxury car that looked like it cost more than the average person’s yearly income. I better not let any tears fall onto the seat if that’s the case. Once San enters the car and closes the door behind him he turns in my direction and reaches for my hand “Okay, now tell me what happened?” Still teary eyes and without even letting silence run by that long I blurt out “Your mother knows about us San, the thing is she’s not happy about it.” San furrows his eyebrows “Wait? What? How?” I shrug blinking back my tears “From what she told me is that one of your associates let it slip.” San’s gaze darkens which is the look I was most afraid of seeing. “Who was it, I need names y/n..”

I shake my head my tears running down my cheeks while I slightly stumble. “I don’t know that’s just what she told me, she specifically said he referred to me as “the detective” and of course she pieced it together saying that you don’t usually go out of your way to gift anyone anything especially if it’s a woman. She said that when you asked her for advice on how find a dress she asked you who you were shopping for to which you simply responded “Someone special” which gave her a hint of what type of relationship it was” San stays silent gently rubbing his thumb on my hand whilst he listens. “She also said she didn’t want anything between us because she doesn’t want a repeat of what happened to your father which I understand and I guess to explain my wet hair she kind of threw her drink at me.” The air changed, he’s upset. I can feel it.

He clenches his jaw while he bounces his leg trying to dissipate the anger. He sits there in silence for a few seconds before he finally gets up and exits the car angrily. Terrified of making it worse I get out of the car and speed walk behind him “Please, don’t tell her anything..” He silently walks in the direction of his home most. I speed walk a little faster finally catching up to him immediately reaching for his hand with tears blurring my vision. “San! Please!” He comes to a halt once those words leave my lips and halts glaring at the Choi’s property, his eyes seething with anger. I stand in front of him and tighten my grip on his hand. “Please, let’s just go. It’s okay, I just need you to be with me that’s all..” San’s gaze stays fixed to the house in silence until he finally utters “I really am sorry y/n, I’m so sorry my mother treated you like this. You didn’t deserve this at all, you have no idea how much it pisses me off. I could have avoided this happening to you had I gone with you instead of obeying my mother. I trusted she wouldn’t pull something like this..” I walk into his arms, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my head on his chest. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll figure it out. We don’t want to ruin your sister’s day do we?” San’s eyes remain angry and cold while holding onto me.

Once I manage to get him to get back in the car San practically glares ahead of him then turns on his car anger seething through him. “Put your seatbelt on we’re getting the fuck out of here.” Obeying him I immediately pull the seatbelt over myself clicking it into place “Where are we going?” He grumbles “Somewhere that’s not here.” He pulls out of the driveway and the tires screech as we drive through the gates and back to the long pathway leading out of the Choi’s property. I notice San’s tight grip on the shift gear making the veins in his arms pop out that’s when I reach over and rest my hand over his “I’ll be fine, it hurt but I’ll be okay. I’ve been treated much worse.” San looks ahead keeping his eyes on the road but still very clearly upset “You don’t understand y/n , all my life my mother’s been like a saint to me. In my eyes she could do no wrong because that’s how much respect I have towards her. The thing is this time she’s wrong, you’re nothing like Lee, you’re a godsend, someone I was so happy to have met even if they were all under the wrong circumstances. My angel.” I gently hug San’s arm whilst holding onto his hand “See? All it matters is that you recognize it.” I still hate that his mom ended up hating me, but I saw it coming. “I know, I just wish she saw what I see in you, the sweet, hardworking and strong woman that I fell for.” I gently squeeze his hand on the gear shift and kiss his cheek “She will.” She won’t, and I know that because I know you’ll go on to marry someone who fits your lifestyle.

“So Mr. Choi, where are we going?” He gives me a dimpled smile while keeping his eyes on the road “Hm, is there anywhere in particular you want to go angel?” I hum watching the cars ahead of us pass by “I’ll go wherever you go Sannie, just being with you makes me happy.” He quickly leans in and kisses my forehead before he says “Take a nap baby, you had a long day. I’ll wake you up when we get there hm?” I adjust in my seat resting my head against the head rest and cross my arms in front of my chest. As soon as I close my eyes close San lets out a groan “Why’d you let go of my hand?” I open my eyes and look over at a pouty San “What? I was going to leave you alone so you drive comfortably”

He lets go of the gear shift and takes my hand lacing his fingers between mine “Who said I wasn’t comfortable?” I giggle “Okay fine, my mistake my pouty boy.” He feigns a pout trying not to smile but completely fails. “Ah, look it’s your dimples! Look, you're smiling!” San chuckles “No I’m not!” I reach over with my free hand and poke his dimple “Oh but Mr. Choi you are look I just poked your dimple..” San keeps his eyes on the road then gently brings my hand up to his lips and kisses my hand “Go to sleep detective or I'm afraid I’ll end up crashing this car if you keep distracting me with your antics.” I slowly nod stifling a laugh “Fair enough I’ll sleep, it better be good.. ” I close my eyes and pull San’s hand onto my lap, until the car’s movement lulls me to sleep.

“Wake up angel, we’re here.” San gently strokes my arm while I slowly stir awake, the distant sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the shore. I open my eyes and see a smiling San by now he had removed his blazer now leaving him with his vest and dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up like usual while resting his forearm at the top of the car door way “Ah, look at you. Such a beauty..” He looks over at the sand then back down at my shoes “Hm, I think you might want to take those off.” I kick off my high heels and throw my fur cover up in the back seat. “You’re right high heels in sand aren’t fun.” He gently leans in and and kisses my forehead before he helps me step out of the car. “We came to the beach..” He nods gently squeezing my hand in his “We did, do you like it? I know it’s dark right now but you can still see pretty well from the lights” I look at the waves being delicately illuminated by the soft glow of the moon.

“I love it, but why exactly are we here?” San brings my hand up to his lips and kisses my hand while we both walk towards the beautiful ocean “I wanted to cheer you up, what happened tonight was my fault. I shouldn’t have let you go alone with my mother so I wanted to make up for it somehow even though it doesn’t undo everything that happened.” I stop us a few feet before the shore and I turn to face San, he looks down at me gently running his thumb along my cheek. I lean into his touch and hold his hand onto my face “Don’t worry. Whatever happens, happens. I’m used to hatred coming my way.” His brows inch together “You shouldn’t say that though. You should always have love coming your way because you deserve to be loved.”

I look up at him and examine his face, he’s so beautiful, just like his words. “Your words are so pretty Mr. Choi, you always manage to remind me why I love you so much.” San nervously chuckles then cups my face with one hand and pulls me close with the other “My words are only pretty to resemble the one who receives them.” He leans in and kisses me, his soft lips very tenderly latching onto mine whilst he holds me close to him. My hands slowly run up his chest while my feet slowly sink into the sand below me so I tip toe to reach around his neck, San notices this and breaks the kiss. “Having trouble baby?” I pout feeling a bit embarrassed “No..” San chuckles planting a kiss on my cheek “You’re so cute..” I pull the front of my dress up “I bet you can’t catch me..” He raises his eyebrow and smirks “I think I can.. Go ahead and get a head start..”

I stick my tongue out at him and run ahead along the beach as fast as I can while giggling knowing he was dumb enough to give me a head start. Just as quickly as I ran a gap between us he quickly catches up to me and carefully throws me over his shoulder as to not hurt my injured shoulder and slaps my butt. I loudly gasp playfully smacking his arm “San, stop!” He chuckles and slaps my butt again and defiantly squeezes it “This is fun actually. So soft.” Catching me off guard I squeal and cover my mouth embarrassed that someone might see us and pat his back. He gently lays me down on the sand the crawls on top of me and places his soft lips on mine.

We kiss for a few moments before he lays next to me and lets out a soft groan. I reach over to hold his hand and we both look up at the beautiful glittery sky where he says “Are you happy with me y/n?” I turn to look at San who was looking up at the sky his lips pressed together anticipating my answer. “Of course I am. You have no idea how happy I am every time I see you. Although we can’t really hang out like a normal couple I still really like being around you.” He holds back a smile and nods, kissing my hand for the nth time today.

“Good, because I wish you were with me a little longer. I don’t want you to go.. You’re the only one who doesn’t force me to wear the mask I have to keep on every single day since my father died.” I bite the inside of my lip and silently stare up at the sky, for a moment I don’t know how to answer. How can I? So I stay silent for a bit trying to figure out what to say, maybe.. “So, are you finally admitting that San likes to be San and not an evil criminal?” San chuckles and lets out a soft exhale “Yeah, I do like being San even if I try to hide it most of the time, it’s better than having enemies you didn’t know you had and having to keep your guard up every time you meet someone new.” I’m surprised he’s not a paranoid mess all the time with the amount of people constantly going after him.

“I’ll be your safe space. Always, just find me when you need me.” He lays down on his side propping his head on his hand “Be careful, I might kidnap you from the station and this time I won’t return you..” I boop his nose and giggle “You have to return me silly, or we won’t get rid of our mutual enemy.” He pulls my face close to his and before he pulls me in for a kiss he says “Screw that man, I want my girl by my side..” He kisses down to my neck burying his face and letting out a soft sigh. I gently stroke his now shorter dark hair without messing it up too much “You know what’s funny?” San lets out a soft hum and I continue “This dress is a vintage Mugler and I got whiskey on it and now a bunch of sand is all over it..”

San lifts his head and looks up at me “So?” I scoff and a dryly laugh “It’s ruined..” San gives me a dimpled smile “Don’t worry about it, I’ll buy it. As long as my angel is happy I don’t mind.” I blink in confusion and shock “But it’s expensive-” He gently covers my mouth “It’s fine, I promise. Besides it got ruined because of me so don’t feel bad.” He kisses my neck one last time before he lays his head back down on his arm “So, do you want to go home?” I exhaustedly hum and he gets up “Come on, I’ll carry you to the car.” I shake my head “No wait, it’s okay. I want to hold your hand again.” San helps me up raising his eyebrow “You really are a softie Detective..” I roll my eyes and lace my fingers between his. “You like it though.” San sucks his teeth “I do. Alot. Do it more often.” I glance up at him, the moonlight hitting his features at just the right angle making my heart skip a beat. “Yes Mr.Choi..” I got whiskey thrown in my face today but somehow San made me feel better.

•································•································•

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#ateez series #ateez angst #choi san x reader #ateez imagine #park seonghwa x reader #mafia au #ateez x reader #fic: the syndicate #kim hongjoong x reader #jeong yunho x reader #choi jongho x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #kang yeosang x reader #kpop imagines #ateez scenarios

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year

Note

Congrats on the milestone! How about this lyric:

🎵 “Just give me a chance,” she said as I packed my things. “But I already did four times, don’t you remember?” “I won’t blow it again,” she said, with her fingers crossed. But she forgot about the mirror behind her - Plastic Promises by Set It Off

With Spencer x Reader ? Although I kinda picture Spencer messing up and reader packing their things haha

Hello! This one is a little on the shorter side but k think it gets the job done.

Plastic Promises

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary - Spencer finds himself in a toxic relationship. But you make it so hard for him to walk away.

CW - Age gap between consenting adults (reader is early twenties, Spencer is early forties), teacher / student, flirtatious reader, reader likes to push Spencer’s limits, mentions of spicy activity but no real detail, allusions to oral sex (m receiving), angst.

WC - 1.2k

Spencer Reid didn’t think he was the type of man to end up in this kind of situation. He was far too smart to keep giving you chances you were just going to throw back in his face time and time again.

He knew what you had together was toxic, that on an intrinsic level didn’t work, yet he still kept coming back to you.

You’d been a student in his class when you’d first met and over fifteen years his junior, which should have been the first red flag. He’d never been interested in younger women, he craved mental challenges in his relationships that he didn’t think he could get from someone of your age.

But boy did you challenge him, just not always in good ways.

You’d taken a shine to him, stayed later than his office hours most weeks while the two of you talked about literature and cinema and at first he’d thought nothing of it.

Until one night when your car wouldn’t start and he’d offered to drive you home. Upon pulling up outside of your apartment, you’d leant across the centre console and kissed him right on the corner of his mouth.

He’d taken you in the front seat of his car for the first time that night.

He’d never been the kind of man to get caught up in a pretty face or a good lay, but time and time again he found himself in the throes of passion with you, wondering how he’d succumbed again.

But you were the most alluring creature he’d ever met in his entire life. Staying away from you was like trying to keep a dog away from a juicy steak. He was powerless to stop it, even if he knew deep down it was a terrible idea.

But over time it started to become clear why a relationship would never work between two people with such a large age gap.

You liked to go out with your friends which he didn’t hold against you. What did rile him was the way you liked to flirt with any man who even so much as looked your way when you drank.

You’d never actually cheated on him, but sometimes he thought it was only a matter of a time.

You always managed to sweet talk your way out of it, usually whilst your hand was shaking inside of his pants. He was smarter than this, smarter than to believe you would change.

But he was also a complete sucker for you.

Your lips were the gun and your tongue the bullets. You knew every right combination of words, every perfect spot to press your mouth against his skin for him to forgive you and fall victim to you.

But enough was enough. And when he’d found you tonight at the bar with those cyanide lips pressing to the shell of another man’s ear, it was the final straw.

“Just give me a chance,” you said as he packed up his belongings he’d left in your apartment over the months.

“But I already did, four times, don’t you remember?” He scoffed, refusing to make eye contact with you because if he did it would be game over.

“I won’t blow it again.” You said, smiling sweetly at him, like butter wouldn’t melt.

When he did glance up, right at the mirror behind you, he saw your hand behind your back and your fingers crossed.

“Is this all some kind of joke to you?” He spat, dropping the armful of clothes onto the bed.

“Why would you say that?” You batted your eyelashes at him.

“There’s a mirror behind you, sweetheart.” He spat, with a roll of his eyes.

He tore his gaze away from you and focused on stuffing the clothes inside of his bag.

You rolled your lip between your teeth and started closer to him, puffing out your chest in the way he’d seen you do often.

“You know I wouldn’t have done anything with him, Spence.” Your voice was low and breathy, in the way he’d so often heard when you were trying to seduce him.

“Don’t even try it. My blinders are finally off, Y/N.”

“I’d never cheat on you, you know that.” You continued anyway, coming closer and running your fingers lightly up his arm.

“Do I? Do I know that?” He clenched his jaw, desperate not to give over to you. Not this time. “You’ve proven time and time again you won’t ever change.”

“Oh lighten up.” You giggled, a sound he’d always thought was like a slice of heaven. “We’re fine, we’ll be fine.”

“Please don’t tell me that we’re fine.” He’d stopped packing when your hand found its way to the base of his neck.

Your fingers toyed with the curls nestled back there, threading into his locks in a way that made him weak.

“Spencer, I promise I’d never do anything to hurt you.” You pouted your bottom lip, squeezing your chest together with your biceps.

He was only human, and he couldn’t help the way his eyes involuntarily glanced down at the cleavage spilling over your shirt.

“It’s all plastic promises, Y/N. I’ve heard them all before.” It was his voice that gave him away. You knew that voice almost as well as you knew your own.

Your eyes flicked downwards to confirm your suspicions and a smile blossomed on your lips when you saw the tenting in his slacks.

“Let me make it up to you, Doctor.” You breathed, causing Spencer to whimper at the use of his honorific.

You kept one hand laced in his hair while the other scaled down his torso until you were palming him through his pants.

“You can’t…you can’t…” he stuttered, unable to form a coherent sentence as you hand started to move. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. “You can’t keep treating me like this and then fixing it by seducing me.”

“Don’t you love it when I seduce you through?” You smiled at him in a way that turned his legs to jelly and brain to melt.

And then you were dropping to your knees in front of him and toying with his belt buckle.

Spencer thought he’d have more will power. He’d faced off with the likes of Cat Adams and came out on top. But you were his biggest weakness, you made serial killers seem tame.

So even though he knew he should stop you, that he should just walk away, he allowed you to free him from his pants and take him in your mouth.

You were the little thorn always hanging out of his side, one he couldn’t dig out no matter how hard he tried.

Somehow you had embedded your claws into him and the chances were he would never escape your clutches. Maybe he should just be thankful for the fact he was getting regular and earth shattering sex out of it.

If his younger self could see him, he surely wouldn’t even recognise him. Once upon a time before the world had swallowed him and spat him out, he never would have put sex above a normal, healthy relationship.

But he was trapped in your web and no matter how far you pushed him you always managed to pull him back in.

And unfortunately for Spencer, he didn’t see that changing any time soon.

For now he let the feeling of your lips around him consume him. Perhaps one day he’d be done with your plastic promises. But today wasn’t that day.

Tomorrow looked pretty unlikely as well.

#milestone celebration #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction

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offside-the-lines · 5 months

Text

tell me who i run to (if not you) | anthony beauvillier | Ep 5. Evie's Birthday

This is a completed series! Read Full Fic | 🧸 Series Cover Page/Masterlist 🧁 | 🎵 Playlist 🎶 << Previous Episode || Ep 5 || Next Episode >>

Chapter Summary: Sometimes the music moves you. Sometimes the bass pounding in your chest makes you do things you wouldn’t do. Fuck it, it’s your birthday. That’s what Evie tells herself anyway. There are gifts given, but there are also secrets kept.

A/N: You can refer to cover page for the series summary, author's notes, tropes, general warnings and other fun tidbits. This series contains mature themes. Minors DNI. Warning: mature content in the form of very sensual dancing, alcohol consumption. Disclaimer: This series is set in Chicago but does not mention the name of the team.

Word count: 5.6k // 44.5k

Requests (open) | Masterlist & Who I Write For | Join My Taglist

Evie’s Birthday

Tito — April 5

His conversation with Mat ran on a loop in his head; he had not thought about anything else for the last four days. Not on the flight back from New York. Not when he quietly crept into their— her bed. Not when he blankly stared at Instagram, rubbing her ankle that she had perched in his lap as she worked on her book. Not when they were cooking dinner together, working in practiced harmony. Not when she was cuddled up next to him on the couch, watching TV.

He could barely stop thinking about it during training, so distracted that he was missing passes and fumbling drills.

He curses Mat over and over again in his head for forcing him to think about the what-ifs. He curses Mat for making him question everything they do together and whether it’s just friendly. He curses Mat for making him look for signs in everything Evie did, any changes that might mean she may no longer think of him as just a friend.

Tito sighs, looking at the bartender pouring his drinks.

He should be careful not to drink too much; he has a back-to-back to play this weekend.

Tito downs both of the shots he ordered anyway.

PRYSM is a massive club filled to the brim with people on a Friday night. But no matter how crowded it is, when he walks back to the dancefloor, his eyes find her immediately. Tito can’t help that his eyes have been following Evie all evening as she dances with her friends; the way her body moves, so confident and carefree.

She looks happy. Tito’s glad that he decided to come to Evie’s birthday party despite his game tomorrow because he gets to see her look like this.

He stands to the side of the dancefloor, not ready to be pulled into her orbit again. She’s got her head thrown back, laughing easily at something Kelsey was saying. He thinks about the Evie he met on Christmas morning; she looks so much lighter now. It all but confirms for him what he has been thinking: he can’t tell her.

It would be selfish of him to tell her right as she’s starting to feel at home in Chicago, not after knowing how hard it was for her the first few months, how hard it was for her to feel like she belonged. But, here she is, with a small crowd of her friends, a mix of work friends, other writer friends, and even some of the couples from the team.

His thoughts are interrupted as he watches a man come up to her, whispering in her ear. He feels his guts twist and the vodka in his stomach taunting him.

Fuck— that’s new.

It feels like torture, but he can’t look away, even as they start dancing, moving closer together. The man’s hands are on her body— fuck. Tito’s thankful for the dulling blur of the vodka seeping into his mind. He thinks about just leaving for the briefest of seconds before he catches himself.

He’s only got sixteen more days with her. And he's not going to waste it on stupid, selfish jealousy. He made his choice, and he’s going to deal with the consequences. So, if that means being her wingman and feeling the pieces of his heart get torn out of his chest, it’ll be worth it for just a little more time.

Fifteen days and seven hours. The guilt rises in the back of his throat like bile; he still hasn’t told her he booked his flight. He swallows that down, too. Not on her birthday. He’s not going to ruin her birthday by making it about him.

Across the dancefloor, Evie’s eyes snap to him, and he has to breathe through the litany of emotions that bubble to the surface when she smiles so brightly at him. Having spotted him, she starts to push through the crowd towards him, her dancing partner forgotten. A small— evil— part of him rejoices.

“Tito! Oh my god, hey! Where the hell did you go? You were gone for fucking ages!”

“Bathroom, remember?”

She leans in close to his ear, her voice a low growl, “What? Were you getting a handy in there?”

He swallows and squeaks out, “What?”

She throws her head back and laughs, leaning into him, her hands landing on his chest. “You were in the bathroom for so long! I missed you.”

She beams up at him, and he fights the clench in his chest. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone for that long.”

She pulls away and studies his face, her eyes glistening in the club lights. “Hang on a second, did you get a drink without me?” she accuses, jabbing his chest lightly.

“Uh… yes?”

She gasps, “Anthony! It’s my birthday! That’s so rude.”

Her eyes are so wide, looking up at him so seriously that he can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, ma chouette. Tell you what, if you want a drink, we can go get you one now. I will pay for whatever top-shelf tequila you want.”

“You better!” she yells, dragging him away by his arm before he can even respond.

Evie —

Evie's pressed against the bar, protected from the pushing and shoving crowd by Tito’s solid body against her back. She’s waiting for their tequila shots when the thought occurs to her.

“Hey, Tito?” she glances back

“Yeah,” he leans in to hear her, filling her senses with his cologne.

“When did chouchou become chouette?”

He laughs, “Yeah, chouchou. Because you’re my cute little sugar-sweet owl. Big eyes, and so smart.”

She pouts, picking the only part she even remotely knows how to respond to. “I’m not that little.”

“To me, you are,” he says, tucking her under his chin. His body presses her into the bar, and the pressure sends a shiver down her spine. She’s glad that he can’t see the bright blush on her face.

“Fine, then. I get to call you something stupid, too.” She pauses as she thinks. “Solours. Like the yellow Care Bear.”

“Okay… The one with a smiling sun on its stomach? I’ll take that. It's so cute you remember his name,” he says, nuzzling her cheek with a laugh.

“At least you think I’m cute,” she tries to grumble.

She thinks she hears him say, “I really fucking do,” right as the bartender returns with their shots.

Tito spins her around and holds her hand in the non-existent space between them; he sprinkles some salt on it before handing her the lime and a shot. She waits for him to do his own hand but is caught watching his big hand move. She doesn’t realize she’s staring until her eyes flicker back up to meet his gaze, barely a foot from her face; his pupils swallow the normally serene blue as he focuses on her.

He holds her gaze as he licks the salt off his hand, slow and exaggerated, sending a prickling wave of heat through her body.

Her mouth dries up watching his throat bob as he swallows down the shot.

Her eyes snap up to his lips as they wrap around the lime, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucks on the juice.

When she follows a drop of juice roll slowly down his chin, she almost leans in to lick it away.

She’s able to snap herself out of it before she does something stupid. She quickly takes her own shot, blood rushing in her ears. Her whole body feels like a livewire, buzzing. She barely even tastes the harsh slide of the alcohol or the tart sting of the lime. Even though she’s been standing absolutely still, her breathing is heavy.

Although only the edges of her mind are hazy, it still feels like wading into honey as she tries to figure out what they're meant to be doing next.

She says the first sane thing that pops into her head.

“Did you know this place has another dance floor?”

“Oh yeah?” his mouth twitching.

“Yeah! I think it’s downstairs. It’s more for dancing; they move the tables on Fridays, so there’s more space.”

There’s something alight in his eyes as he takes a step back, taking her hand in his. “Let’s go then.”

His expression settles in what she can only call a smolder; it looks so sinful compared to his usual, sweet smile. Evie can’t help the nervous giggle that escapes from her. Seemingly satisfied, he leads the way, keeping her close to him as they move across the room, down the stairs, and into the thick press of bodies on the crowded dancefloor.

The music down here is different: dark and sensual. Once they’ve gone deep enough into the crowd, Tito pulls her close and loops her arms around his neck. She feels the tequila coursing through her veins; her body suddenly warm all over. She can’t help but lean into his space, breathing in the intoxicating concoction of his sweat and cologne.

The crowd around them pulses in time with the music. When he pulls her even closer, she's so startlingly aware of the broad expanse of his shoulders that her forearms are resting on. In front of her eyes, a deep sliver of his chest glistens with sweat; his skin glows in contrast with the black shirt. The soft hairs at the nape of his neck keep brushing her hands and she just wants to bury her fingers in it.

Tito’s arms, locked together on the small of her back, tug her in close. Suddenly, all she can hear is her own breathing; the music of the club sounds far away and muffled like she’s underwater. She refuses to look at him, instead fixing her gaze on a point over his shoulder. She second-guesses the shot she just took because her mind feels too hazy, out of focus, and out of control.

Or maybe she should've taken more shots, enough to get her out of her head like last time.

She promptly dismisses the blurry memories of last time. This isn’t like last time. Last time was just two people with alcohol coursing through their veins, getting lost in the heat of the moment. Neither of them had ever even brought it up again. She shouldn’t expect a repeat of their drunken misdeeds.

The next song plays, even more sultry than the last. She presses impossibly closer to him, their bodies slotting together perfectly. She presses her cheek to his and feels the small puff of air that brushes against her ear. It makes goosebumps erupt across her skin.

Evie tries to not think and just moves to the music, a small roll of her hips to the beat. Tito moves with her: hip to hip, chest to chest, cheek to cheek. She thinks about how easy it would be to move her head to the side and kiss him. She wonders if he would let her press their lips together again and just get lost in the overwhelming sensations, even without intoxication as the excuse.

She thinks she can feel the edges of his lips against her cheek where his hot breath tickles her skin, and it becomes all she can think about. What would those lips feel like on hers again? On her neck? On her shoulders? On every inch of her feverish skin?

Heat builds in her cheeks from that one minuscule point of contact, spreading south rapidly. She suddenly feels desperate and needy but unable to make a move, afraid of breaking whatever fragile balance they have at this moment. If this is all she gets, she’ll take it.

Her hands move as if magnetized to the curls at the nape of his neck that she can’t stop thinking about; when her fingers finally bury themselves in his hair, giving it a gentle tug, she shivers at the shaky sigh he lets out at the sensation.

Her head starts to turn of its own accord, her lips brushing against his cheeks as they seek contact, but he pulls away so suddenly her vision swims. He spins her around between one breath and the next so that he's pressed along her back, his chin hooked over her shoulder, and his hands firm on the bone of her hips.

She moves to make a comment but is unable to when her breath catches in her throat as she feels the heat of his lips pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across the top of her shoulder. He moves up the column of her throat when she drops her head back onto his shoulder, granting him more access.

He finds a sensitive spot right under her ear, drawing a whimpering moan from her lips as her hand flies back to grip his hair. The sound should be lost in the thrumming bass of the club, but she can feel him hear it when his fingers dig into the flesh of her hips briefly.

“Is this what you want?” he growls in her ear. The hand not in his hair reaches down to grasp the corded muscle of his forearm wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her flush to his front.

She nods weakly, her mind scattered as she tries to process every single point of contact. In the haze of tequila and adrenaline, it takes a moment for her to register the hard shape that's pressed lightly against her.

It becomes the only place she can focus on. She feels her frustration build; Tito isn’t doing anything, not rocking his hips into her or seeking any friction, just seemingly content to be glued along her back.

Evie can feel her heart racing to the loud thrum of the bass filling her chest; she starts to shift her hips to the music more boldly. There’s a sharp intake of breath before Tito freezes her hips with his arms, his teeth gently scraping the side of her throat.

“Chou,” he growls in her ear.

Sugar. Baby. Sweetheart. Her brain unhelpfully supplies in English.

God, she's going to think of this moment every time he calls her that from now on.

Her hand, the one still buried in his hair, fists the curls hard, pulling him even closer to her neck. He needs no further encouragement as he groans, scraping his teeth along her exposed neck.

His forearm ripples under her hand as he spreads his large hand, covering so much of her ribcage it makes her dizzy; his pressure is utterly unyielding as his thumb brushes under the soft slopes of her breast. His other hand snakes down her body, parting the slit of her dress, until she feels his hot palm digging into the exposed skin of her bare thigh, effectively pinning her to him.

She feels wild; her attention split between his firm hands, his wet mouth, his hot and sweaty body against her back, the thick bulge pressing against her ass. She can feel him everywhere. It’s still not enough.

She slides her hand down his forearm and interlaces her fingers over his, pressing lightly as she encourages him to slide his hand further north.

“Chou— We— Ah, fuck.” His voice is rough in her ear, a whine lacing the edges of his words.

The thing is, she doesn’t need him to say it. He’s right. They should tone it down, but she doesn't want to. In the back of her mind, the knowledge prickles at her that their friends could find them like this on the dancefloor at any moment. She can’t bring herself to care as his hand follows her lead. Pleasure zings through her body when his fingers brush over her nipple before coming to rest against the hollow of her throat.

There’s probably a limit to what she should ask of him as two friends overwhelmed by carnal sensations and the intoxicating atmosphere of the nightclub.

She grinds her hips meaningfully as he tilts her head, kissing her jaw and cheek.

She can’t tell where the line is anymore. She doesn’t care. As long as Tito keeps going.

“Chou, God, you’re so fucking— We probably shouldn’t—” he rasps in her ear.

Evie wants to hear none of it.

She surges up and captures the lips she’s been reluctantly thinking about night and day for the past three weeks.

Impossibly, it feels even better than she remembers. Tito's stunned for a second, but he goes easily when she turns in his arms to pull him closer by the collar of his shirt. It’s a relief when she feels him hum and melt into the kiss.

When they part, he just looks at her with a lazy smile that sends a jolt of fondness through her body. The longer he looks at her like that, the more she feels like a shaken-up Coke bottle. Waiting for what comes next. Building. Anticipating.

Her eye catches on a bead of sweat as it rolls down his face and neck, and she doesn’t stop herself from leaning in and chasing its salty path with her tongue. The sound he makes in response comes from so deep in his chest that she wants to climb into his body to see if she can make him do it again.

His hands, which were resting on her waist, slide down her back and over the swell of her ass— pausing for a quick squeeze— before they settle just below her cheeks, on the back of her upper thigh. She feels his fingers flex as he lifts her onto her toes, and she gasps when his hard length aligns with the valley of her hip.

“Oh my god—” Evie chokes out, throat tight with desire as she catches Tito’s smirk, his eyes so dark there’s barely any brilliant blue around the edge. They pause, lips barely touching, and breathing each other's air; it makes her dizzy.

Falling back into his embrace feels like a flaming star caught amidst the gravity of a black hole called desire, their lips pressing together in a desperate plea for more. There’s a hook in her ribcage that tugs so strongly towards him it makes her ache.

As their tongues swirl, she finds herself wishing that this was real. That this was happening anywhere but here: a few drinks deep in a nightclub. That this was different than every other hook-up they’ve both had on any number of generic, replaceable dance floors.

She wishes this was happening in their bed, in their home—

On her bed. In her home.

The thought hits her square in the chest. She pulls away; their lips separate with a wet smack. Her vision was fuzzy, and she’s gasping for breath as Tito kisses down the column of her throat, unaware of her sudden turmoil. Her head swims with the reality of who she’s doing this with.

This isn’t a stranger. Or an acquaintance.

This isn’t even just a friend—

This is Tito. Her Tito. Her Care bear, sunshine, as she had just called him earlier.

What the fuck are they doing? What the fuck is she doing? This time, she doesn’t have the inebriation as a justification to placate herself with. Just misplaced desperation.

Her mind suddenly feels too clear.

It’s when he gently nudges a thigh between her legs that she's struck by a need so strong that the feverish heat licks at every cell in her body, her skin crackling with it.

They have to stop— She has to stop before Tito does something she’s sure he’ll regret tomorrow. She jumps back so abruptly that she almost pulls them both to the ground.

Frantically, Tito searches her face, brows creased in shock and concern. He steadies her firmly, holding her a foot away from him, fingers digging into her arm desperately as if he’s unwilling to let go.

“Whoa, what’s wr—”

He's interrupted by the squeal of Kelsey calling to them from a few paces away in the crowd.

Evie jolts, eyes wide with panic as she pulls her arms away.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she says to the approaching group as she slips into the crowd.

She faintly hears Alandra say, “I’ll go with her,” before her hand is on Evie’s back, guiding her to the bathroom.

She’s grateful that they do not speak; Evie only suffers her assessing gaze for the time it takes her to wash her hands and freshen up. She carefully puts on a neutral face and shrugs at Alandra’s quirked eyebrow through the mirror.

When they get back to the group, Tito isn’t there. Before she can panic, Jason squeezes her elbow to tell her he just went to sit down. She doesn’t think she can face him yet, not while she can still feel the hot brand of his hands all over her body.

So she stays and dances with the group for a while before following the majority of the group back to the VIP booth, where she finds Tito sitting, hunched over and staring into a glass. She sends him a soft smile and watches his shoulders relax when she slides down the booth so she’s next to him. She nudges him with her shoulder amiably.

They both stay in their spots for the rest of the evening. Evie occasionally jumps into the conversation while Tito sits next to her, both uncharacteristically quiet. Eventually, she feels herself flagging, leaning more and more into Tito’s shoulder. When he finally speaks, it’s only to ask her if she’s ready to go home. She nods eagerly.

They wave goodbye to everyone, and he guides her gently outside to a waiting car, his hand never touching her back even though she can feel it no more than an inch away. They sit in silence, listening to the quiet radio, both looking out the window.

She tries to not let their slight jilted awkwardness bother her as they get ready for bed, moving around each other as they do every other night. There’s only one moment where her hold on herself slips: she almost tells him to just fucking come here when he walks into the bedroom shirtless, having forgotten to take it with him to the bathroom. She slams her mouth shut before any words can leave her lips.

“Good night,” she says instead, giving him a soft smile as she settles into the bed, turning towards the wall. She doesn’t even close her eyes and pretend to sleep, tension creeping back into her body.

After a moment or two, the lights turn off, and the bed dips beside her. She feels Tito lay on his back, stock still. For an excruciating minute, they both just listen to the sound of their measured breathing in the stagnant air of the bedroom.

It’s Tito who breaks; he sighs and rolls towards her. He slides an arm around her waist and pulls her close.

“I think it’s past midnight,” he whispers into her hair, “Happy Birthday, chouchou.”

“Thank you, Solou.”

“Good night.” He chuckles at the nickname and presses a light kiss to her temple before settling back down.

With the weight of his arm around her waist, she falls asleep fast.

Evie — April 6

Evie wakes up on the morning of her 29th birthday to an empty bed. Her stomach drops as the weight of last night hits her. For a moment, she looks at the empty pillow next to her and feels the panic seeping in.

Her chest loosens when she sees a note left for her on her nightstand:

Good morning! Happy birthday mon chou. Sorry I can’t be there when you wake up BUT!!!! I made you some tea in a keep-warm mug (first present) ◡̈ I’ll see you when I get back after morning skate. — solours ♡ ☼

She just stares at the note for a while, her finger lightly tracing the heart and sun Tito drew on the page. She smiles when she picks up her new copper-colored Ember mug. She has been looking at getting one for a while and never took the plunge; $200 was a ridiculous amount of money to spend on a mug, even if it keeps her tea at the perfect temperature. She supposes Tito noticed her opening and closing that tab on her computer.

She snaps a picture of her sitting in bed, holding the cup of tea, and sends it to Tito:

To tito 🧸🌞: [attachment: photo] I can’t believe you got this for me. Thank you. I love it.

Her tea is perfect when she finally takes a sip. She closes her eyes, head resting against the headboard, and just sinks into the feeling. The lingering remnants of the panic in her chest are replaced by a warm tingle that spreads from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

Some time later, she's still cradling her empty mug while scrolling Instagram when she hears her front door open. There's some rustling in the living room and kitchen before Tito quietly pokes his head into the bedroom.

“Hi,” he smiles brightly.

“Hi,” she whispers back.

His face disappears from the doorway for a second before he returns, holding a small bag and a bouquet of flowers. Evie feels the air leave her lungs as he sits next to her on the edge of the bed.

“Happy birthday, ma chouette,” he says, voice impossibly gentle as he hugs her. She has to breathe through the wave of emotion that hits her, trying very hard not to teeter towards tears.

“Anthony, what the fuck?” she scolds quietly, releasing him from the hug, “I told you you didn’t need to get me anything.”

He shrugs. “I know, but I wanted to,” he says, handing over the bouquet.

She picks up the bouquet of flowers and inhales their sweet scent; it occupies her so that she wouldn’t do or say something stupid.

“Well, thank you for the flowers. They’re so beautiful. How did you know I loved chrysanthemums?” Evie asks as she reverently brushes her fingertips over the spray of petals. It’s probably the most beautiful bouquet she’s ever seen, a bright contrast of colors between the mums, spray roses, peonies, and snapdragons.

“You mentioned it when you sent your mom a bouquet for her birthday. You made a terrible joke about ‘mums and moms,” he chuckles softly.

She looks up at him and searches his face. “That was in February.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs like it was no big deal. Like recalling the most inconsequential tidbit hidden in a joke months ago is a given.

“How do you even remember that?”

He smiles sheepishly, reaching for the bag and handing it to her. “Here. Open the box first, before the card.”

He helps her put the bouquet and mug down on the nightstand before watching her delicately unwrap the box, his leg bouncing in nervous anticipation. When she finally has it open, she gasps.

Inside the velvet jewelry box is a gold chain with three charms hanging down the middle. Evie’s fingers hover over them, almost scared to touch it as if the necklace would disappear if spooked. Eventually, ever so gently, she moves the charms so she can see them better: a tea bag, an ice skate, and a book. When she tilts it towards the light, she can see the title on the book is blank, but her name is engraved where the author would be.

She can’t bear to take her eyes away as she croaks, “Solours, this is…”

“Do you like it?” his voice fragile next to her.

Her eyes flicker up to meet his, “Yes, of course I do. This is— This is beautiful. I love it.”

The smile that lights up his face is blinding; her breath catches in her throat in response. He doesn’t seem to notice the effect he has when he reaches out to poke at the book charm. “The book charm is blank right now, but when you pick a title for your book, they can engrave it on for us. Right above your name.”

A small squeak slips out of her mouth as she fails to contain the tears that well up in her eyes.

“Woah, hey, hey, what’s wrong? It’s okay if you don’t like it. I can get you something else,” he says quickly, hugging her to his side.

Her hands tighten on the box on reflex, pulling it close to her chest. “No— That’s not. Tito, I love it. I love it so much. It’s just— The mug, and this— I think this is the best gift anyone has ever gotten me. It’s— It’s too much.”

He squeezes her tighter, “Don’t be silly. It’s not too much, okay? Only the best gifts for my best girl.”

She makes a noise somewhere between a whimper, a sob, and a groan. It makes Tito laugh, and she sinks into the rumble of his chest against her cheek.

“Here. Would you like me to put it on for you?” he asks, pulling away slightly.

“Yes, please,” she whispers, her voice barely audible as she hands him the box.

He stands and places the box on her nightstand, gingerly lifting out the necklace. She knee walks to the edge of the bed, her back facing him, and pulls her hair to the side. His fingers lightly brush her collarbones and neck as he gingerly puts the necklace on; every single hair on her body is standing on end as he works.

When he finishes adjusting the necklace so it’s centered on her chest, he places a tender kiss on the top of her head.

“Perfect. Just like you,” he murmurs to himself against her soft hair.

“What?” she says, looking up at him upside-down with a smile crinkling her eyes.

He clears his throat. “Go take a look in the mirror, and then you have one more thing to open.” She leaps off the bed and places a soft peck on his cheek before skipping to the bathroom.

When she comes back into the room, he's sitting on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with the envelope in his hand.

She beams, “It looks beautiful, Solou. I love it. Truly. Thank you.”

He shrugs and presses his lips together, holding the envelope out. “Here, open this.”

She comes to stand between his legs as she slides the card out of the envelope. A piece of paper flutters to the ground; she bends down to pick it up while she reads the card.

Evie— Ma chouette, I hope today can be at least a top 10 birthday for you. Because that’s what you deserve— the best. You are #1 on my list of favorite people (don’t tell Barz I said this, he will be fucking insufferable). You’re the best person I have ever met and I feel so lucky to call you my friend every single day. I don’t know how I would’ve done the past few months without you. You’ve done so much for me and my career, so I wanted to do something for you. I hope this isn’t overstepping. I know that you probably know plenty of people in the industry, but I figured a few more contacts can’t hurt. On the piece of paper are the contact details of Zach Hyman and his book agent. Zach— because he knows what it’s like to publish a book. And his agent— well. You know how I asked if you had a brief for your book? Well, I may have asked Hyms to pass it along to his agent and she wants to meet you!!!!!!!!!!!! Fuck, I’m so proud. I can’t wait to read your book. Happy birthday, chou. Love, Tito

She stands there, slack-jawed, just reading the card over again and again until the handwriting on the page blurs.

“Chou?” Tito’s worried voice asks. His hands come to squeeze her hips as she stands in front of him.

A tear escapes when she looks up at him, breaking the dam. She’s 99% sure it isn’t a pretty cry.

“Chou— Evie, hey!” his voice is increasingly urgent as he quickly grabs the card and paper and puts it to the side. “Woah, please— Please don’t cry. What’s wrong?”

“I— I can’t believe you did this for me,” she gasps out between sobs.

His hands reach up to wipe her cheeks. “Do what, chou?”

“You— I—” She takes a heaving breath to try to steady out the sobs as she looks down at his furrowed brows. She leans forward, her knees resting against the bed, as she smoothes them down and cradles his cheeks in her hands.

“I’m sorry I’m crying,” she laughs wetly, “I’m very happy. This just happens sometimes. I’m—”

Unable to form any of the words she wants to at that moment, Evie just envelops him in a hug so strong it knocks him back on the bed.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she chants as she crawls into his lap. They both hold each other tightly, unwilling to let go.

After a few minutes, she startles, becoming aware of the position that they've ended up in, and loosens her hold to roll off him.

Next to her, Tito asks, “You hungry? I was gonna make you some French toast for breakfast.”

Right on cue, her stomach rumbles, and she feels his laughs reverberate in her own chest. He taps her thigh gently, encouraging her to sit up, “Come on, let’s go.”

With an outstretched hand, he pulls her up.

“God, Tito, how are you such a perfect—” She catches herself, thinking back to his card, “How are you such a perfect friend? It’s ridiculous.”

He chuckles tersely. “Practice,” he mumbles. Evie misses the bitterness underlying his tone.

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