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springseasonie · 1 year

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Hate me more | LMH (M)

Enemies to lovers, Camp counselors Mark x Fem reader

Summary: You really dislike Mark and you're pretty sure he dislikes you too. Ever since he came to the camp last year, he's been nothing short of a headache to you. And now you're forced to work with him this summer, and his mission is clearly to piss you off.

Warnings: sexual content, heavy dubcon/cnc themes, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), kissing (shocker), Mark is annoying, so is the reader tbh, may be errors even though proof read

Word count: 7,7k

Song recs: kiss by NCT dojaejung (this is my way of promoting the unit go stream)

A/N: I was gonna write something for the release of golden hour but this took a bit longer than expected 😭 10 days later an I finally finished it lmao please give feedback if you want it's always appreciated

"Okay kiddos make sure you have all your things before we go back to the cabins okay?"

"Yes Ms. Y/N!"

You gave them a thumbs up as you leaned on a tree, waiting for all the kids to pack up. This was your life every summer for the past 4 years. Being a camp counselor was a lot of work the first time, but by the end of the summer, you had to come back. You loved your kids and they loved you. The staff was always so welcoming and nice. That was true until Mark started the third summer.

He was such an asshole. All the other female counselors gushed over him and his looks. He was constantly flirting with everyone, using his looks and charisma to get himself out of shit. It annoyed you, and Mark instantly took notice. He would side eye you all the time and talk about you as if you weren't friends with everyone else. He didn't really care though, he enjoyed being confronted by you every time he got "caught." Mark found your anger funny, never really taking you seriously.

And now you're paired to work with him this summer.

"Ms. Y/N, where is Mr. Mark? I need help getting something out a tree," one of the kids asked.

"That's a good question honey." You glanced around the area, looking over both shoulders to try and get a sign of him. And of course, he's nowhere to be found. "I don't see him around. We're just gonna have to wait for him okay?"

The little girl nods and runs back to her friends. Ten minutes go by and you start to get annoyed. This happened way more often than you would like to think. Mark disappears to do something or someone for way too long and you're left to take care of the kids by yourself. Sometimes, you almost think it's unbelievable how unreliable he is, sneaking away leaving you alone with 20 children in a forest. But then again, it's on brand for him.

5 more minutes went by and you start to get frustrated. You have no idea what he could be doing that's going to cause all of you to be late for dinner time. "Okay everyone please listen to me okay?" All the kids stop talking and turn to you. "I'm gonna go look for Mr. Mark, but I need all of you to sit in 5 rows of 4. Now." All the kids practically run to sit next to their friends and plop down on the floor.

"Good. None of you move or get up. If anything happens, scream at the top of your lungs okay? I'll be right back." All of the kids agreed as you turned to walk into the forest, going the way you last saw him.

"So fucking irresponsible," you muttered to yourself. "How the hell am I supposed to watch 20 kids by myself?"

You could still hear the kids, so you know you weren't too far away from the area or the trail. This wasn't new for you, always looking for him. It's only been a month since the both of you had to start working together, and he was already making shit hard for you. Mark liked to go hide somewhere. it was either to get away from you, the kids, or to get blown off by some staff member. You couldn't stand it.

"I mean seriously, can't he control himself for one fucking summer," you grumble. "Fucks everything that walks. What an ass."

"Well I wouldn't say that."

Your body jumped violently suddenly hearing his voice next to you. You whipped your head in his direction seeing him sitting, leaning in a tree. Mark had his ear buds in and from where you were standing, you could still hear the music playing.

"Where the hell were you," you asked angrily.

Mark stood up and dusted his pants off as he walked to you. You crossed your eyes, eyeing him up and down. He was so smug about everything. He always looked like something was amusing to him, like there was always a joke to tell.

"Here," he said.

"Clearly. And how the hell do you even have a working phone out here. There is literally no service."

Mark shrugged, wrapping the ear buds around his phone and putting it in his back pocket. "I downloaded stuff before I came."

"Whatever, let's go," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Where are the kids," he asked you, placing his hands in his pockets as he walked.

"In the same place I left them. I had to come get you like you were a lost child. Stop leaving me with all these kids."

Mark smiled in amusement as he walked behind you. You didn't really notice, but you tend to stomp when you are angry. And fortunately for Mark, it wasn't annoying. He actually found it cute, but he wouldn't tell you that.

"Can we take a break? My legs hurt," he whined teasingly.

"Mark, stop playing games. We have 20 kids in the forest waiting for us to come back and the sun will start setting soon," you replied, sighing heavily.

"Oh please we'll be okay."

And at this moment, you've just about had it with him. You turned around, lips pursed at his nonchalant response. Mark stopped in his tracks, looking up at you as you stood on the top of the small hill. "You have one more time to piss me off or I will report you. I'm not joking."

Mark's amused expression washed away as you turned around and kept walking. For the rest of the walk back, he said nothing. Soon enough, the both of you got back to the kids who were still sitting and chatting.

You sighed, groaning quietly. "I'm gonna do another headcount. You get that thing out of the tree."

"Why couldn't you just do it," he complained.

"Because- you know what, just get it out the tree."

You counted all of the kids, double and triple checking everyone and the area around you. Soon enough, Mark got the toy that was stuck in the tree out, and everyone was ready to leave. "Okay everyone you know the drill. Get your buddy and get in line. Mark, you'll watch the back."

"Didn't sound like a question," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I wasn't asking."

"I swear to you I will kill him if I'm ever alone with him again."

"He's really not that bad," Somi said, taking another bite of her pancake.

"Please, bad is an understatement," you say as you sit down. "He fucking left me with 20 kids, and then when we got back and I told him how dangerous that was, he says 'but you handled it, right?'"

Somi laughs, clearly amused at your story. You give her a confused look, not understanding why she wasn't siding with you. "Y/N, anything he says makes you angry."

"That's not the point!" Somi stops laughing when she sees how upset you are. "He left me and 20 kids in the forest near sunset to sit on his ass and listen to music. Then got an attitude with me because I was telling him what do when he wanted to act like a fucking child. I'm tired of it, Somi. I've been dealing with this for a month."

"Shit, I didn't think it was that serious," she said, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly.

"We literally could've had a bear encounter or something. I don't want to keep taking responsibility for his shit," you say, sighing heavily. "Anyways, I'm done complaining. Let's just eat."

You went to bed last night still completely angry at what happened in the forest. Mark didn't say anything to you walking back, but your conversation once you got back to the main camp was nothing short of unpleasant. It consisted of all your usual unpleasantries with him. Mark didn't really seem to care much though. You hated that you always let him get a rise out of you once you said you weren't going to do it anymore. And at this point, you had to get to the bottom of it.

You looked around the dining hall trying to find Mark. You knew he was there, he always came late after roughhousing with the kids in his cabin. Searching around some more, you spot him in line getting food. "I see him."

"Please don't harass the man," Somi begged you.

"Too late." You got up and walked to him. You really needed all this bad energy between the both of you to disappear. You weren't too sure about him, but it made every day difficult and you couldn't deal with it all summer. "Hey buddy," you said, tapping his shoulder.

"Didn't know we were friends."

The fake smile immediately turned into a frown. "Our conversation from last night isn't finished."

Mark groaned quietly as you followed his pace in the line. "Why do you keep bothering me if you don't like me?"

"I'm not bothering you, I'm trying to figure out what your deal is," you whisper yell. You followed Mark to his usual seat with the other male counselors, taking a seat right next to him. You were too focused on him to notice the confused stares you got from everyone else.

"Um, hey Y/N," Haechan greeted you awkwardly. "Is this…your new spot?"

"I came to talk to your friend if you don't mind."

"She's crazy," Mark blurted out, making the table laugh.

You smacked him on the arm, making him turn to you with the brightest smile you've seen all summer. And for some reason this was the first time you looked at him without feeling pure irritation. He was actually pretty…cute?

You couldn't look directly in the eyes, fearing that the anger you felt all morning would go away. Instead of speaking, you got up and went back to the table with Somi.

"So..what happened," she questioned.

"Nothing."

"You don't seem too upset by it," Somi observed.

"What..what are you talking about," you said, trying to deflect.

"You can't fool me, you're terrible at lying," she laughed. Somi took another bit of her pancake, but stopped laughing, giving you a look as if she found out something. "Do you like him?"

"Keep your voice down! And don't eat with your mouth full, you look like a damn kid."

"Y/N, do you like him?"

"Of course not! I can't stand the man," you deny.

Somi squints her eyes and side eyes you, but says nothing. You know she doesn't believe you, but it doesn't really matter because either way, you don't like him. "Okay..just know that today is your day to clean the kitchen."

"I know," you said with a sigh.

"And his also," she reminded you.

"Goodness kill me now."

You and Mark cleaned the dishes in the kitchen silently, not daring to say a word. There was an unspoken rule between the 2 of you at the moment, first person to speak surrenders to the other for the entire summer. You'll never surrender to him, no matter what it takes (that's what you want to believe anyway.) Mark had been stealing glances for about 30 minutes now, watching you clean meticulously and quietly. He always thought you were pretty, except for when you were being annoying that is. He always thought of himself as the bigger person, despite his childish nature, so he thought he should end this silent game sooner than expected.

"Did you get sleep," he asked.

"Why do you care?"

"I can't be concerned about my friend," he said. Mark chuckled softly when you sucked your teeth.

"Why do you insist on pissing me off," you say, turning to him. "Like I really don't understand why you don't like me. Since you came here last year, I've been nothing short of annoyed with you."

"It's never been my intention, but I just happen to strike those emotions in some women."

"What the fuck does that mean?" You put down the dirty dishes, crossing your arms as you looked at him with a brow raised.

"It means," he replied, turning to you, "that the more women are attracted to me, the less they like me."

You scoffed, getting back to cleaning the dishes. "You wish. You're out of your fucking mind."

"If I'm crazy, then what exactly was that earlier," he asked. You didn't know, but Mark definitely noticed how you backed off of him during breakfast. The way your expression changed, how quick you got up. It almost seemed like you were running from something, and he knew exactly what it was. "I know you like me."

"I don't like you. I just didn't want to talk to you in front of all your friends. They were laughing at me, so I left," you explained. Mark took two steps to you, his body ending up close to yours. You backed up a bit, not understanding why he was close to you, but he followed you again. "What are you doing?"

"Testing something out," he said simply.

"Look I don't know what you're testing but I'm busy. " Just as you moved away from him, he placed his arms beside you, trapping you under him. The both of you have never been this close before. Sure there were times where he had to catch you or hold you for activities in the forest, but there was nothing like this. This was close. This was personal.

"What are you doing," you asked, shock written all over your face.

"Standing here." Mark's lips curled into a smirk as his eyelids dropped once glancing at your lips. "You're pretty."

"Thank you but I really need to-"

"You know," he started,"you never told me what you wanted to talk about before you left the table."

You sighed, making a dramatic pained expression. "Mark, please. Can you back up?"

"No."

You looked up at him, surprised that his face was closer than before. One more move and your lips would've probably touched his. 'Why am I even thinking about that right now,' you thought to yourself.

"I know you wanna kiss me," he said almost in a whisper. Mark chuckled softly seeing the frazzled look on your face. You were so easy to read, always saying you didn't like him knowing damn well you wanted him. He just wanted to make you say it. He wanted to break your prideful attitude down and make you beg for him.

"You are saying insane things right now." You couldn't even look him in the eye, too afraid you would melt under his body. He was too close. You couldn't control your heart beat or your whirling mind. 'Maybe kissing him wouldn't be so bad,' you thought to yourself, but pushed the thought to the back of your head.

"But you didn't say I was wrong," he said, leaning into your neck.

"Mark, seriously." The slight whine in your voice made you want to run and hide from everyone. You felt like you were going to collapse into his hands the closer he got. His voice was so soft, but his presence was still so dominating. It was almost too much for you to bear.

"What would you do if I kissed you right now," he whispered in your ear, a smile on his face. "Would you push me away, take it and get mad, or maybe give me another one?"

You could barely look at him, let alone speak. You had no idea how to respond to him. You didn't even know if you were supposed to. But what you did know is that if he made one more move or said anything else, you would most likely lose your mind. "Mark, it's too early in the morning for this," you said practically begging him to stop.

Mark released his hand from the counter, placing it on your waist. His grip was firm as he pressed you against the counter more, body so close his leg was between yours. "You're not even trying to run at this point. You little liar."

"Mark..what if someone comes in here?"

"Let them. Why do you care? Are you scared," he teased. Mark kissed the spot behind your ear softly, making you gasp. Your body tensed up in his hand, causing him to rub small circles in your waist in an attempt to comfort you. He kept missing down your neck, moving back up to kiss your jawline.

You stood there, still as a tree. Your eyes fluttered shut, taking in the feeling of his lips on your skin. At this rate there was no point in fighting it. He had already won like he did with everyone else. You felt Mark's hand leave your waist, grabbing your chin as he ran his finger down your bottom lip.

"If you want me to stop I will."

You shook your head unconsciously, brows slightly frowning at his words. You were desperate and he definitely knew from the way you were frozen and speechless.

"Good girl." Mark kissed you softly, but deeply. His hand slowly made its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. You dare to touch him, feeling like it was way too intimate. But before you could even pull away, he kissed you again, this time with even more sincerity. You didn't know why you had such a heavy feeling in your chest, but it did scare you a little bit.

"We have to finish all of this stuff in 15 minutes. You think we can make it," he asked on your lips.

"If you stop fast enough, maybe.."

Mark chuckled softly at your response, pulling away from you. He was clearly extremely turned on, but you were not the kind to help him with his problem, and he knew that. But that didn't stop his mind from drifting, thinking about how hot it would be if you dropped to your knees at this very moment.

"Wasn't that fun Y/N?"

"What are you talking about," you said, covering your face in embarrassment.

"Unwinding instead of having a stick up your ass," he jabbed.

You dropped your hands, scoffing at him. You shoved your way out of his arms, walking to the sink he was at previously. "Gosh, you're so annoying," you mumbled as you scrubbed the dirty plates.

"Yeah but you like it though."

"You wish."

"Proved my point."

You and Mark haven't spoken since the kitchen fiasco. You said a couple of words to each other when it came to the kids, but nothing more than that. You couldn't even look at him, the shame filling your body once he came into your vision. But one thing was for sure- you definitely didn't hate him as much. You were still very confused. You didn't understand where all those feelings came from for Mark in the kitchen. Maybe your subconscious? It didn't really matter, you just wanted to make sense of everything.

"Okay everyone, tonight is movie night so we need to leave a little early okay," you announced.

Mark leaned on a tree silently watching you as you interacted with the kids. You didn't know that he had conflicting feelings as well. All the teasing and messing around turning into sexual tension was not what he hoped for. He just wanted to mess with you. He wasn't actually going to kiss you for real, but when he saw the desperate scrunch of your eyebrows, how could he resist himself? If it weren't for the kids, he would definitely have his way with you right on the ground, but nothing in his life ever works right.

Mark admired the way you were with them, always so nice and careful. You were careful with anything really, never wanting to come off as irresponsible or rude. But he never cared about any of that. He didn't care if people thought he was a prick or an ass, which is why you were so intriguing to him. He never got a chance to actually introduce himself to you before you can dislike him as easily as you did.

After 20 minutes of walking back to the main site, the sun had finally set and all the kids and counselors went back to their respective cabins before going to the lake for movie night.

"So you're telling me," Somi started,"after all these months of not liking him, he came onto you in the kitchen and you didn't refuse?"

"I know, I know it's humiliating," you grumbled putting on your shirt.

"Enemies to lovers. My favorite trope."

You let out a loud embarrassed groan listen to her words. "We only kissed twice. We didn't say anything to each other for the rest of the day," you added.

"Not even for your group," she questioned.

"Well of course we did, but very little. He was..so distant," you said. You slipped into your jean shorts and put your shoes back on quickly. "I'm gonna go make sure all the girls are ready." You got up and walked outside to see everyone playing around. Just as you were about to round up your cabin, you see Mark who's talking to some of his kids. You wanted to stop staring at him, but you couldn't. You gulped as he glanced at you, giving you a small wave. "I hate him," you muttered to yourself almost as if you were trying to convince yourself it was true.

You shake your head, attempting to push what happened out of the forefront of your mind, but it's hard to do that when he's walking up to you. You turn away from his direction, hastily gathering the girls from your cabin. Just as you were about to make your way to the lake, you were tapped on the shoulder. Turning around agonizingly slowly, you face him with a fake smile.

"Hi," you said awkwardly.

"Hey, so listen-"

"I can't talk right now, we're about to head to the lake," you interrupted.

"I know but-"

"Can't talk."

Mark sighed, looking down at his shoes. He knew you were difficult, but not like this. "Can we talk after the movie?"

"Talk..about what? There's nothing to talk about," you say dismissively.

Mark rolled his eyes, walking away from you. You looked behind yourself, watching him walk back with his hands in his pockets. All that you could hope for was him forgetting whatever conversation he wanted to have with you.

Your cabin was the first to get to the lake while Mark's was the last like always. The movie started at 7, so thankfully for you, you could be left alone for 2 hours. You leaned against a tree as you watched the movie projected on the sheet quietly.

Unlike you, Mark was watching you silently, eyes never leaving your body as you stared at the screen. He knew you wanted nothing to do with him even after he kissed you, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He's never been in a situation like this before. Having to chase after you was starting to dampen his pride, but he liked it.

He watched as you whispered to Somi about something, not able to read your lips. Maybe he shouldn't have thought to follow you as you walked away from everyone, but getting to be alone with you came rare, so he had to take his chances.

"Hey, I'm gonna go back to the cabin. I forgot something," he whispered to Haechan.

"Okay, be quick though. I don't wanna be responsible for you," he replied.

Mark gave him a dry laugh and walked away, following you from behind. Mark picked up that you were going to your cabin after a few turns on the trail. The sun was starting to set, so he began to rationalize he weird actions to himself. "It's not weird that I'm following her," he muttered to himself quietly. "I'm just keeping her safe." It was surprising how you didn't notice anyone was following you. You were usually always attentive, but it seems that you were only that way with other people.

Soon enough, the both of you made it to your cabin. You went inside with a big sigh, letting the door slam behind you. Mark would be a kind person and knock on the doors but he wasn't all that kind, so scaring you is the option he went with. Mark quickly went up to the door, opening it quietly. Your back was turned as you rummaged through a bag for something, causing you to not hear his footsteps or the door creaking open.

"Boo!"

"Fuck," yelled, body jumping violently as you turned around. "Mark?"

"Surprise."

You scoffed rolling your eyes at his jazz hands motion. "You're not funny. Now get out, this is a girls cabin."

"I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted to talk." He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as you went back to looking for whatever you were looking for.

"I really don't care, just leave," you said sternly.

Mark had enough of beating around the bush with you, the constant teasing, and asking dumb questions. He had to know why there was bad blood between you, especially after you let him kiss you that morning. "Why don't you like me?"

"You're kidding." You let out a dry laugh as you turned to face him. "I don't like you? I'm pretty sure it's the other way around."

"I'm just curious because since last year, you never gave me a chance, so I really want to know," he said, lifting his brows with a small smile.

"I want you to tell me why you don't like me first, then maybe I'll consider explaining myself to you."

Mark took small steps towards you, not being able to control the smirk on his face when you furrow your brows in confusion. "You're uptight and rude to me. And you never give me your attention unless it's to be rude with me, and I hate that that's the only way I get to talk to you. You only want to speak to me if it's to tell me how bad of a job I'm doing or how frustrating it is to be around me or work with me."

"That's not true, I-"

"I'm not done." You closed your mouth, intimidated by how commanding his voice was. "Then you go around and say to everyone how much you hate me. I know you complain to Somi and all the other counselors, and that's fine. But next time I would like to hear it from you directly."

"That I hate you?" You gave him a weird look, making him chuckle softly.

"Yes. Tell me that you hate me." He was walking closer to you slowly, arms now at his sides as he looked down at you with hungry eyes. Your arms were still crossed as you stood there, not allowing yourself to show how intimidating he was to you. Your face was calm, but your heart was beating faster with every step he took.

"I'm not telling you I hate you. Can I talk now," you asked.

"Go for it."

"You're fucking annoying and not helpful. You came into this camp last year and made all these friends and everyone liked you instantly. Everyone says you're funny and such a great guy but I have yet to see it. All you've done since you've been here was piss me off."

"You wanna know why," he said. He leaned down to your ear, a smile tugging at his lips. "Because you're pretty when you're angry."

"That's not funny," you said, looking away from him.

"I wasn't joking." Mark moved away from you, eyes going straight to your lips.

"Seriously mark, I don't care that you like to get me riled up, but yesterday was uncalled for. Do you have any idea…will you stop staring at me like that?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Mark could barely concentrate on what you were saying. Your expression, the way you spoke, how close the 2 of you were. All he wanted was to just kiss you and shut you up for the night. Mark could barely keep his hands off you, every bit of self restraint coursing through his veins.

You sighed trying to back up from him, but all you did was bump the edge of your bed making you fall back. You plopped on the thin mattress placing your hand behind you to stay balanced on the bed. Mark's gaze turned dangerous, staring at you as if you were prey.

"God you're so hot," he mumbled.

"Mark," you said, his name coming out a bit breathlessly.

Before you could finish your sentence, he pinned your body to the bed. You were dead silent as you watched his eyes move rapidly along your face and body. "Mark..we can't. We have to be back soon."

"Stop fighting it. Just say you want me," he mumbled quietly. He leaned into your neck, breath tickling your skin as you closed your eyes.

You shook your head, brows furrowing as you tried to push the feeling to the back of your head. But the only thing you can think about is how his hands are leaving your wrists as he moves them down your body. Your breath hitched when his fingertips brushed against the slightly exposed skin of your stomach. You didn't stop him as he lifted your shirt, hands attaching to waist firmly.

The both of you stayed silent, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of breathing and your old bed creaking at every movement he made. You watched him as he moved his hands lower, fingers resting on the button of your jean shorts. Mark looked at you for any signs of you wanting to stop, but all he saw was the desperation on your face.

You gulped watching him unbutton and unzip your shorts, lifting your hips as he tugged them off you. Mark took his shirt off, laying it next to your shorts. He hooked his fingers on your underwear, pulling them off you quickly. You let out a small yelp when he tugs you towards him, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he moves between your legs.

'Just get on with it,' was all you could think. You were way too eager to get him between your legs, and at this point, nothing was going to stop it. "Hurry up," you said, breaking the long silence.

Mark didn't say anything or look at you, all he did was smile as his face disappeared between your legs. A small gasp of please leaves your lips as he kitten licks your core. You close your eyes, letting your head fall back onto the mattress taking in every movement. He ran his hand up and down your leg, nails lightly scratching your skin making you shiver. Needing more friction, you begin to grind yourself on his tongue slowly, but he stops you with a hold on your hips.

"We're gonna do this nice and slow okay," he said.

"We can't, we have to get back soon."

"They'll be okay. There's more than enough people out there." Before you could say anything his mouth was back on your core, tongue pressing against your sensitive bud hard. Without thinking your hands made their way to his hair, fingers running through the blonde locks. Mark kept licking at you agonizingly slow, chuckling when you whined for more. He would speed up at moments, flicking his tongue against your clit faster just to tease you, then stop.

"Please," you begged breathlessly, "it feels like I'm being punished."

"I know," he mumbled.

You smacked him on the side of his head softly, making the male look up at you with a brow raised. "I fucking hate you."

Mark chuckled, removing one of his hands from your hip. He didn't take his eyes off of you as he slid two fingers into you, pumping them slowly. Mark watched as you basically fell apart in his hands, moans never stopped spilling from your lips. He began licking your clit, but faster, almost sending you over the edge.

"Shit, don't stop," you whined softly. You couldn't control your hips as you grinded against his fingers and tongue. Your jaw dropped when he fingered you faster. Gripping his hair, your hips moved on their own as you grinded faster. You were so close, your core pulsing on his fingers. "Fuck I'm gonna cum," you whined.

Your whines became louder, the pornographic sounds of your moaning, bed creaking, and sounds coming from Mark filling the empty cabin. This is one the many times you thanked God no one was around. Your eyes rolled back and body shuddered as your orgasm hit you like a truck making you mumble curses that not even Mark could make out. You let go of his hair, plopping back down on your mattress breathing heavily.

"I'm assuming that was the first time you came in a month?" Mark slid his fingers out of you slowly, wiping the digits on your sheets. He moved your leg off his shoulder, lifting himself from between your legs.

"Do you think I'm getting myself off after hiking and being around kids in this damn camp everyday," you asked, rolling your eyes at his statement.

"No. I think you're too uptight to do that," he said with a soft chuckle.

"It's crazy that you're still calling me uptight like I won't get up and leave."

Mark didn't respond to you, laughing softly to himself knowing you wouldn't move either way. He moved off the bed untying his sweats. You watched him as he let his clothes fall to the ground, eyeing his body. Not that you couldn't get it before, but now you see why he was a big deal to the other female counselors.

"Aren't we gonna use protection," you asked, gulping when he was back in front of you.

"I don't have any," he mumbled.

"You're so fucking ridiculous," you grumbled. "You're lucky I'm on birth control."

Mark could barely hear you with how eager he was to see you lose yourself for him. No amount of mean words or insults could turn him off in the moment, every word you spoke sounded like exactly what he needed to hear. "You're so fucking hot when you're mad." His lids dropped as he grabbed your ankles, pulling you closer to him.

"Don't tease, we don't have all night," you whined.

Mark couldn't take his eyes off you as he lined himself with you, slowly entering you with ease. You looked pretty under the light of the setting sun peering through the window. The light hit your eyes perfectly as they rolled back, soft moans leaving your lips at the same time. Mark thrusted into you slowly holding your waist firmly. He wanted to savor the moment, finally able to get you under him, because even though he had you now, he might not ever get you again. It was taking everything in him to not ram into you after every move not wanting it to end too quickly.

With the way he was looking at you you thought he was gonna eat you alive. And in all honesty you would let him. It was conflicting to you that all this pent up aggression towards him exploded into sex, but you were clearly not that conflicted. You would never tell him, but you had always been attracted to him and the kiss was just the tip of the iceberg.

He slid his hands up the back of your legs, pinning them to your chest as he thrusted into you faster. Your moans echoed in the empty cabin, not even thinking about if anyone could be near. "Feels so good," you moaned.

"Who's making you feel good?"

"Fuck..you are," you whined, eyes fluttering shut as you take in pleasure.

"Good girl," he cooed. Mark watched as you slipped your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit at the same place as his thrust. His fingers were constantly kneading your legs, leaving prints in your skin. "You're close aren't you baby?"

You nodded fast, looking at him with desperate eyes. "Kiss me.. please."

Mark didn't have to think twice. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss quite literally sticking his tongue down your throat. You sucked on the wet muscle, moaning loudly on his tongue every time he thrusted into you.

"Mark..fuck," you moaned softly. Mark took a hand off your leg, wrapping an arm on the small of your back pulling you closer to him. You kissed him again, moans and whimpers poured into his mouth.

Mark moaned softly against your lips as you squeezed around him, cumming on his length. You pulled away, your lewd sounds becoming louder as he didn't stop fucking you. Mark leaned down, kissing your neck messily as you clung onto his shoulder. Mark has never had this kind of passionate feeling with a person before. It was starting to feel like more than just a sexual attraction to him, maybe he did actually have feelings for you.

"Cum in me," you said cupping his face.

Mark looked at you, brows furrowing in uncertainty. "A-are you sure? I-"

"Please baby just cum for me," you mumbled, completely taken over by the pleasure spreading in your body. "Can you do that for me?"

"Anything for you," Mark breathed out. Your words went straight to his length, his pace speeding up as he felt himself closer to cumming.

Your jaw went slack, eyes rolling back as you felt another orgasm creeping up on you. "Y-you're gonna make me cum," you whimpered.

With just a few more thrust, both you and Mark came at the same time, loud moans and groans filling the space. Mark's body went limp, laying on top of you with his face buried on the side of your neck. No one said anything for a minute, just laid there in each other's embrace trying to catch your breaths.

"I guess you don't hate me after all," Mark joked, breaking the silence.

"Only a little less."

Mark snickered as pulled himself out of you slowly. "Let's get you something to clean up with." He got up and pulled his boxers and pants on. You were sure it was because you just had sex with him, but the way you looked at him was different now. Before you were completely annoyed by his presence, but now even the little faces he made were endearing. Of course, Mark would never stop being an infuriating person to talk to but maybe you like talking to him. Maybe you liked being around him this whole time.

"If you want to go for round 2 just say it." Mark walked back to you with tissues, handing them to you with a smile. He chuckled softly when you gave him a frown for his comment. "Back to hating me I guess."

"I don't hate you Mark," you admit. The words felt unnatural to you, but they were the truth. You don't hate him, and you don't think you ever did.

"I'd like it if you did though," he said, sitting on the edge of your bed. "If what we just did considered hate fucking, please hate me more."

You rolled your eyes, tossing the dirty tissues in the trash bin across the room. "Who said it was gonna happen again?" Mark watched you closely as you shimmied back into your underwear and shorts. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"Yeah." He stood up, pulling you to him, making you gasp softly. Mark kissed you deeply, smiling against your lips when you kissed him back. "We should get back. I think we've been gone too long," he mumbled.

You nodded, kissing him one more time before he pulled away from you agonizingly slow. "Please don't be weird when we get back. I don't want to have to hate you again," you joked.

"Didn't I just tell you I want you to hate me more?"

"What do you mean you fucked him last night," Somi whisper yelled.

"Yeah..I did..right on the bed you're sitting on."

"Ew ew ew." She shot up from your bed with a frown on her face, making you laugh loudly. "Seriously what is wrong with you, why didn't you say that before I sat down?"

"Thought your reaction would be funny, and it was," you'd aid giggling.

Somi looked at you with disgust on her face, dusting off her body. "Anyways…are you guys like..a thing now?"

"I don't know. I don't think so," you answered.

"Well do you wanna be a thing?"

"Well..I think I do," you admitted. "But I don't know him that well, you know. All I did was have sex with him. What if he doesn't want anything," you said.

"You want me to be honest?"

"Please do."

"I think you should go talk to him. Like right now," she suggested.

"Now? I don't even know if he's in his cabin," you stated.

"Just go. If he's not there, go back another time. You should talk to him while your feelings are still fresh," she suggested.

Somi was right. Even though you thought it was still a bit early to talk to him, you couldn't stop thinking about him all day and all night. Throughout the day, the both of you kept stealing glances, staring at each other but not saying a word. It's been hard trying to keep your bubbling feelings for him at bay, especially when you're working so close for the summer. But Somi was right, it wouldn't hurt to try.

You nodded, sighing softly. "You're right. I should go." You turned walking to the door, but when you opened it, Mark was standing there, hand up like he was about to knock.

"Oh," you said, surprised. "Hi."

"Hey," he said, looking everywhere but at you. "Can I, um, talk to you?"

"Uh, yeah. You wanna talk here or.."

"Just walk with me. Please?" You've never seen him so nervous or unsure before. It was kind of cute. You agreed, leaving the cabin and walking along the trail with Mark.

The first couple of minutes were silent. Neither one of you said anything. The only thing that could be heard were the sounds of your feet on the dirt trial and the laughter of children from afar. But it wasn't an awkward kind of silence. It felt comfortable, he felt comfortable and warm.

"I really like you Y/N," he started. "And I know it might be weird for you, but I just felt like you had to hear it."

His words went straight to your heart, making it beat faster with every syllable. You blinked fast, not really knowing how to respond. You were afraid of coming into him too strongly, saying something that would scare him away, but you had to say something.

"I..like you too," you confessed. Your face was beginning to heat up, palms becoming clammy from the nervousness. You haven't been like this since middle school, all shy and nervous.

"So..where should we go from here?" Mark raised a brow and looked at you. You glanced at him quick enough to not want to run away from the situation all together. He grabbed your hand, making you pause mid step. Your heart was beating so fast you could hear it at this point, and you were sure he could too.

"I, uh, I don't know," you stuttered.

Mark chuckled, clasping his fingers with yours. "I've never seen you so nervous."

"I'm not nervous." You don't know who exactly you were trying to prove that too, but it definitely wasn't him because as soon as you spoke he laughed.

"I think we should start over this summer," he said. "I think we should meet each other for the first time again."

You looked at him confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he started, turning to you. He stopped walking and tugged your hand to look at him. "I mean we should start again from a clean slate. I want to get to know you better on a good note, but only if you're willing."

You gulped looking down at your feet. You must've looked like a kid with the way mark was smiling down at you. "I..I would like that. I'd like that a lot actually." You looked at him, expression going from shy to worriedm. "I'm sorry for y'know being rude and everything."

Mark didn't say anything, allowing your words to linger for a moment before he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was softer this time, more innocent. Mark pulled away with a small smile on his face. "You don't have to apologize to me for anything. I know I've been an ass, and I'm willing to make up for it."

It was hard to keep a smile off your face and stop yourself from blushing like a kid. "If we do this, will you stop talking to me once we're out of here," you asked.

"Y/N when I said I liked you I was serious. I don't want this to be a summer fling. I actually want to get to know you before I date you," he explained.

Your eyes went wide, completely flustered from his statement. "You want to date me?" Your heart fluttered repeating his words almost immediately, getting butterflies in your stomach. "But I've been so terrible to you and-"

"So? We like each other and we should explore that this summer."

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. You let go of his hand and placed it on the back of his neck, kissing him. This was the first time you kissed him. And it felt good. It felt good knowing that you didn't have to keep trying to convince yourself you didn't like him, or that you were never attracted to him. You pulled away, eyes never leaving the man in front of you. You didn't know if this conversation would make a difference for the rest of the day or the rest of the summers, but if Mark was true to a hate he said, you could wait.

But if not, then maybe you just might hate him for real.

#nct dream #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct x reader #nct oneshot #mark #nct mark #mark scenarios #mark x reader #mark fanfic #mark smut #nct scenarios #mark oneshot

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWO

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni, eddie is especially mean in this one (be warned), mentions of blood (in metaphors, not literal)

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 4k+

→ a/n: i just wanted to take a quick moment to say thank you for all the love on the first chapter of this!! i appreciate it beyond words <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

2:00 ─ㅇ───────────────── 24:00

HOUR TWO - 5:00 PM

It’s a miracle. Eddie is surprisingly quiet for the first hour after your small kitchen dispute.

He resides reading a book on one end of his couch as you sit awkwardly on the other end, fiddling with your hands before finally caving and deciding to scroll mindlessly on your phone. You exhaust every social media app you have downloaded – Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr – before finally turning to Tik Tok. Adjusting your volume doesn’t even cross your mind.

That’s all it takes to finally set Eddie off.

It starts small; he shifts around after the first video, a prolonged sigh after the second video, a quick side-eye after the third video. Finally, after the fourth video and no sign of you turning down the volume, he huffs and snaps his book shut.

“Do you have to watch that shit so loudly?”

His tone is laden with utter annoyance. You’re caught off guard initially, having blatantly ignored his previous signs of being irritated by the noise, and your head whips up in his direction with wide eyes. The shocked look on your face quickly contorts when you catch his stare, full of hatred and vexation.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you scoff, “Let me just die of boredom I guess.”

“I didn’t say you had to do that,” he narrows his gaze and matches your attitude with ease, “Just… solve the boredom quietly. Like I did.”

“You were quiet because you had a book. I don’t have a book.”

He waves an exasperated hand towards the coffee table where you catch sight of a few magazines, “Please, take your pick.”

You lock your phone reluctantly, tucking it beneath your thigh as you lean forward to glance over your options. There’s one about cars, obvious by the shiny vehicle that sits pretty on the cover, and a few hidden beneath it. You reach out and shift the laminated papers about and catch sight of a Rolling Stone cover.

That one piques your interest, but stubborn as ever, you won’t admit it.

“Those are the most boring fucking magazines I’ve ever seen. Who the hell likes to read about cars?” you deadpan, holding the car magazine up with a scowl.

“Me.”

“Predictable. What’s next, a Playboy?”

“You’re hilarious,” he says without a hint of amusement, “Truly a comedian. Can’t you just see the tears streaming out of my eyes from how hard I’m laughing? Incredible.”

You decide to not entertain him any further. Your hand grabs the Rolling Stone magazine, ignoring his burning gaze before you settle back into the couch.

If he wanted to be a dick, that was fine. You were used to it by now; you’d spent the last year growing accustomed to his cold shoulders and his bitter moods around you. At this point, you expected nothing less from him. Spending a little extra time together didn’t magically change it – at both your cores, you harbored a disdain like no other. You fundamentally hated Eddie, and Eddie fundamentally hated you. The confined space, forced proximity, ticking doomsday clock, and promise of cash did nothing to put any notches in those feelings.

“Interesting choice,” he murmurs under his breath, beginning to relax back into the cushions as well.

“What? Is it a crime for me to like-” you pause, flipping the magazine shut to check the slick cover for what the specific issue was even about, “-The Ramones?”

So maybe saying you liked The Ramones was an overstatement. But at this point, you’re only picking a fight for the sake of picking a fight. Because you don’t know how else to communicate with Eddie aside from with a sharp tongue and turbulent sense of sarcasm. Because when it came to the two of you, there was no such thing as small talk.

Everything was always big. Loud. Screaming matches, bold assumptions, critical insults.

“Pump the bitch breaks,” his eyebrows furrow, as they always do when he glances your way, “I was trying to be civil.”

“I didn’t think civil was in your vocabulary when it came to me.”

He exhales deeply, letting his head fall back in contempt for a moment before he lifts it and looks at you, “Is this really how you want it to be?”

You don’t reply, and he takes it as his cue to continue.

“Do you really want to keep up the miserable act the entire twenty four hours? Won’t it get exhausting acting like a spoiled brat for that long?”

“I’m not acting like a spoiled brat,” you snap, the magazine now discarded and draped across your knee, open to a random spread, “As far as I’m concerned, it’s not an act. Make no mistake, Munson, I am only doing this for the cash.”

His book lays to gather dust on the coffee table as he leans his elbows onto his knees, twisting his body ever so slightly to face you more fully, “Really? There’s gotta be easier ways to make cash. I’m sure if you asked Stevie boy real nicely, he would have let you put that mouth to use for a quick buc-”

You cut him off, because you know how this sentence ends, and it’s too far. He’s crossed a line. You had expected it, should have seen it coming sooner, but it’s crossing a line all the same.

“Stop,” you firmly instruct, holding up a finger, “Not that it’s any of your miserable business, but me and Steve are not like that. At all. So you can fuck right off with that comment,” you only pause briefly, and you’re glad when he doesn’t interrupt you, “And, may I remind you, you’re also getting payment out of this. I could say the same thing to you, dickwad.”

It had been a curious itch beneath your skin – you knew why you needed the extra cash so badly, but you had no idea why Eddie did. Beneath all the hate, all the irritation, the question had come to mind briefly. But it had been pushed down by disinterest in all things regarding the man before you. At the end of the day, you didn’t care what motivated him. You didn’t care about what he did for work, you didn’t care about what magazines he read, and you definitely didn’t care to know if the five hundred was as necessary for him as it was for you.

This was a means to an end – nothing more, nothing less.

“Dickwad?” His nose crinkles as he parrots your words back to you, “Jesus, did you ever learn any new insults past middle school?”

You’re ignoring him once more, picking the magazine up off of your knee and burying your nose in an article about the greatest punk albums of all time rather than letting yourself be dragged into further conversation with him, trying to send the message that this discussion was over.

The message isn’t received. It flies right over his head.

“Pardon me for the assumption,” you can see him hold his hands up in mock surrender in your peripherals, “You and Harrington just seem close.”

You should just keep ignoring him. You should actually read the words inches from your face. You shouldn’t say another word; your gut is screaming at you to not say another word.

But you ignore your gut, just as he’d ignore your disinterest in talking to him.

“What happened to being quiet? I think I liked it better when you weren’t speaking to me,” you try to say casually, keeping an air of indifference. You should have known better. As your mother always said, once you start feeding a stray, they continue to come back.

“Sounds like it’s a sore spot. Are you and Harrington that close?”

“Not in that way,” you grit out behind the pages, “We’re close, but not like that.”

Your answer doesn’t satisfy him like you’d hoped, “Oh, it is so a sore spot.”

When you finally drop the magazine to properly look at him again, it only fans the anger. He looks smug as he crosses his ankle atop his knee, leaning back and looking you over as if he can read you like cellophane.

“It’s not,” you stress, “Seriously. Drop it.”

In all truthfulness, it wasn’t a sore spot – not when it came to Steve. You’d always been strictly platonic, fitting fairly effortlessly into his and Robin’s friendship.

“You definitely want to fuck Steve.”

“You know what I actually want right now?”

“Please, enlighten me.”

“To knock your teeth in.”

The magazine is tossed back onto the table, nearly sliding off the edge from the force behind your throw. He’s relishing the way you’re continuing to get more upset, the way he’s still inching beneath your skin in a grating motion. To him, this is all just a joke.

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart,” he mocks, smiling with his teeth as if to taunt you.

“Why did you even agree to this?” you finally turn your body towards his and mirror his position, “Is it fun to you? Is that what it is?”

The smile widens, “You know what? Yeah. It is fun to piss you off.”

“Yeah?” you imitate him, putting on a forced smile in an attempt to look as ridiculous as he did right now. You fold your hands and prop your elbows onto your knees, continuing to mock mercilessly as you balance your chin atop them and bat your lashes dramatically, “Please, tell me more. Tell me all about how fun it is.”

In an instant, you drop the smile and begin to return to your previous position. It was rhetorical – you don’t expect a response, and yet he offers one nonetheless.

“Well,” he begins, “First of all, the way you go red in the face is fucking hilarious. Seriously, it’s just like the cartoons. Absolutely ridiculous. I think by the end of this, I’ll get to see steam come out of your ears,” you’re already reaching for your phone, tuning him out, as he continues on, “And then it’s the way you’re just so damn easy. I mean, come on. Sometimes, all I have to do is breathe, and it sends you on a tirade. You just make it too simple, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The nickname is prickly and as uncomfortable as ever, lodging into your ears against your better judgment. It creeps across your brain, travels down your spine, numbs your fingertips. You hate the shockwaves it’s capable of sending down your nerves.

He’s right, at the end of the day. These days, you hardly put up a fight in expressing all your negative emotions towards him. If necessary, you could pinpoint a time where he really did simply breathe and you had proceeded to curse him out for it. Sometimes, just the sight of him can sour your entire mood. He’s an ever-present, persistent, irritating rain-cloud that looms on the edges of your life by circumstance. You can’t get rid of him. You can’t get rid of your hatred for him; you’ve always had a preference for sunny weather.

“Careful,” you hum, not looking his way as you glance down at the time that glows from your lock screen: 5:46 PM. “It almost sounds like you enjoy my presence, Munson.”

Indifference. You needed to practice indifference to survive the next twenty three hours.

“Oh, that couldn’t be farther from the truth,” he says, “You are the worst part of my days. You’re like bad leftovers – everytime I see you, the bile immediately rises in my throat. Whenever Steve mentions you’ll be somewhere, I cancel plans. Whenever you show up without warning, I start counting down the minutes till I can get away from you.”

The indifference begins to break. You finally look at him, keeping a steady expression.

“You could go missing, you could vanish off the face of this earth, and I wouldn't blink an eye. As a matter of fact, I’d probably celebrate. Why my friends are so enamored with you, I will never understand.”

It hurts. It might be Eddie, and you might be used to his spiteful words he uses as weapons against you, but it still hurts. The sting resembles a slap as you process each of his words. Each deliberate syllable – the specific referencing to the group as his friends and not your friends, the unblinking glare of his dark eyes, the insinuation that your death could bring him joy – drives deeper into your chest. It’s a human reaction; it doesn’t matter if the boy before you is the enemy, it still bruises to hear anyone say such things about you. The human need to be accepted, to be liked, to at least be tolerated, still twists in your gut.

And he only presses forth. He doesn’t catch the pain spreading in your limbs because you don’t let the hurt raging in your chest spread across your face. You don’t let him see you bleed.

“I’d attend your funeral with a party hat and sparklers. Confetti, even. The whole nine yards along with my finest bottle of champagne,” he hammers the final nail into a coffin, one that you’re not sure of whom it belongs to. Maybe it’s yours, sealing you six feet under with your cursed emotions. Maybe it’s his, locking him into the tomb to dwell in his ability to always take things too far.

You won’t let him see you bleed.

You stand abruptly, making him flinch in the slightest. You keep your face turned from him as you take your phone and storm off into the hallway wordlessly.

“Hey! Where are you going?” he calls after you.

But he’s not following you. No footsteps echo your own as you turn into the only other doorway aside from the bathroom.

He has a clear line of sight of you from the couch, and he can see you disappear into his room.

The door slams shut behind you with a riveting bang. Your nimble fingertips fumble with twisting the lock into place, chest heaving as you finally let your eyes burn.

He can’t see you. You finally bleed.

The tears are feverish as they roll down your cheeks one by one, taking slow steps backward as you squeeze them shut and will them away. There are no accompanying whimpers, or sobs, or hiccups. It’s just you, the salty streams, and the now overwhelming scent of him.

He’s only managed to make you cry, make you bleed this way, once before. The night of Steve’s party, the night you had attempted to make him bleed in retaliation. You’d harbored the need to cut him open desperately that night, to crack open his chest and assure yourself he could bleed the same scarlet as you, that there was still a weathered heart behind his calloused ribs that could beat the same as yours.

But you never did. At the end of that night, you had been the only one left bloodied and bandaged, aside from Steve’s glass as collateral damage. He remained unscathed.

The door knob shakes suddenly, and your eyes flash back open. Another shake, and you hear him huffing.

“Seriously? Did you just lock me out of my own room?” His voice comes from the other side of the door.

The bleeding stops. The wound seals. Even if he can’t see you through the door, just to know that his presence resides on the other side of it is enough to put an end to your trembling breaths.

“Fuck off,” you call out hoarsely.

“Let me in. It’s my room.”

“No.”

He sighs, and a thump sounds that you assume is his forehead falling against the wood in defeat, “Why do you insist on acting like a child?”

“You’re the one with a collection of action figures!” you fight back with your weakest insult of the night. He twists the doorknob without fruition a few more times, a couple sharp knocks sound as you turn to get a better look at the room you’d run into without observation.

It’s nothing extravagant, which makes sense. He has an entire apartment to spill his wretched personality across, which means there’s no need to condense it into the decor of his bedroom. He doesn’t have to express himself in a limited space as you do with your dorm. There’s a few posters of various bands hung crookedly on the wall, a dresser with a few of the drawers half open with assortments of clothes peeking out before they overflow onto the carpeted flooring, and a bed left unmade. His jersey sheets are plaid, worn and clearly well-loved. Despite the expected mess trailing about the rest of the floor, the space beside the bed is left cleared, and you decide to settle yourself down onto the patch.

Your phone buzzes in your tight fist as your back settles up against the side of the bed.

“Unlock the door,” his voice persists impatiently again.

“Go to Hell.”

“I’m already there. Stuck with you.”

Maybe the wound isn’t quite sealed, because the words fall like salt into your chest.

“Why my friends are so enamored with you, I will never understand.”

There’s more to say, but the chiming of a phone cuts off your thoughts. You glance down to your cell phone – not yours.

The ringing is more muted, behind the door. With Eddie.

It’s Eddie’s phone.

You’re about to call out a snarky remark about him getting that, but the ringing cuts off before you have the chance. It’s clear he’s walked away from the door as the echoes of his voice fades, the conversation inaudible to you through the walls.

Your fingers dig into the carpet beside your thighs as you pull at individual strands that stick out, finally discarding your phone on the opposite side. Eventually, your touch trails closer to the edge of the bed, plucking, plucking, plucking until you collide with laminated paper sticking out from beneath the bed.

What’s this?

Just as you’re about to pull what you assume is a magazine from beneath the bed, your phone begins to buzz violently, this time the ringtone being your own.

The screen lights up with Steve’s contact photo. It can’t be good.

“Hello?” you answer once you pick the phone up after a few moments of pause.

“You can’t lock him out of his own room.”

“Oh, hey, Steve. I’m great, thanks for asking. Really living the drea-”

“You can’t lock him out of his own room,” Steve repeats with more emphasis, disregarding your sarcastic tone completely.

You stare across the room at an acoustic guitar resting on a stand. This machine slays dragons, it reads in bold, white lettering.

“So you were the one who called him,” you mumble.

Steve sighs over the line, “No. Nance called him, because you haven’t sent the proof to the chat yet. We were trying to give you guys a grace period, but-”

“But you assumed we’d already murdered each other,” you finish his sentence.

“Can you blame us? What did he even say to make you board yourself up in his room?”

You scoff softly, “He didn’t tell Nancy?”

The moment Steve mentioned Nancy was the one calling Eddie, you’d simply assumed he’d filled her in.

Before you’d weaseled your way into the friend group, there had been clear, strong bonds already set in place: Robin & Steve, Jonathan & Argyle, and Nancy & Eddie. Three sets of best friends who all wove together to form their large friend group with ease.

You were the odd man out. They never treated you as such, except for Eddie, but it was an insecurity that could eat you alive if you ever gave it the time of day. And maybe that was why Eddie’s earlier words had cut so deeply. He was voicing a fear you always tried to bury deep down.

“No,” Steve says as if it were obvious, “He just started going off about how you had locked him out of his room amongst…. Um, amongst other things.”

Other things. You could guess what those other things had been; no doubt, he’d spent his time on the phone bitching about you. He’d probably called you every crude name in his rolodex of hatefulness.

“Right,” you drawl, eyes flickering around the room to seek out another distraction to mindlessly stare at. Suddenly, you remember the magazine you had discovered just as Steve called, “Well, nothing surprising. The usual, really. Just how he hates my guts, he finds me annoying, he wouldn’t care if I died-”

“-What?”

You ignore Steve’s gasp of disbelief and carry on, “-All the classic insults you would say to your arch nemesis.”

Steve says your name softly, still carrying an air of shock, “He didn’t mean that. I- Listen, he’s an asshole sometimes, but I guarantee he would care-”

“Who cares?” you interrupt, “I don’t blame him. It’s fine. He doesn’t have to care if I meet my untimely demise. I kind of figured he was going to murder me anyways, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was… that was joking around, he…” Steve trails off, because you both know he’s full of shit.

There was no joking around between you and Eddie. A painful truth, considering when you first joined the friend group, you had such high hopes of getting along with him.

“It’s whatever. Do you still need me to send proof?” you ask, fingers now playing with the crumpled edges of the magazine. Even half-hidden, you could see there were pages that had been dog-eared.

You almost don’t hear Steve as he tells you that it’s fine, that now they know the two of you are definitely together. It’s already nearly time for the next check in anyways.

“Alright, in that case…” your tongue peaks out as you begin to tug the magazine out of hiding. The moment the magazine's title comes into sight, you gasp, frozen as the phone nearly slips out of your hand.

Fucking jackpot.

“You good?” Steve asks.

Playboy. A goddamn Playboy magazine.

“Never better,” you rush out, eager to hang up so you can utilize this ammunition against Eddie, “Talk later, Steve-O.”

You don’t give him a chance to echo a goodbye before you hang up, tossing your phone off to the side with a muted thump. Your focus is entirely on the magazine before you, crinkling as you hold it in your hands and bite back laughter.

Against your better judgment, you open the cover, mouth falling open as you flip through page after page of nude women and cigarette ads. Some pages stick together, and you don’t dare to peel them apart, cringing at the thought of just why they’re sticky. You come to the first page that had been dog-earred, and your jaw clicks as your mouth falls agape.

Fucking pervert. He’s a goddamn pervert.

A well-timed knock sounds at the door once more, Eddie’s knuckles sharp in their three strikes, “Can you let me in now?”

It’s the closest to a please you’re going to get.

“Sorry, busy!” you call out in response, still staring at the spread.

The nude woman eerily resembles you. Same hair, same skin tone, similar noses. The Universe has dropped the most loving of gifts in your laps in the form of this magazine, something you know you can use to get under Eddie’s skin as severely as he had done to you.

“Busy?” he protests, knocking on the door again before you hear the shaking of the doorknob again, “What the fuck are you doing in there? I told you, don’t touch my shit.”

You bite your lip, smile curling the corners of your mouth as you finally stand from the floor, knees cracking as you keep the magazine open to the photo. Eddie has gone scarily quiet, and you can’t even make out his breathing. His shadow has stilled completely as it peaks in from under the doorway.

He’s never living this down.

You’re still grinning with ill-intent as you shout, “Wow. Who knew I was right about the Playboy?”

Those words are all it takes for the frantic pounding on the door to begin.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @imtryingahh @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @liv0679 @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @eddiemunxson @ohmeg @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @whosbettysstuff

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #twenty four hours #i still can't believe this got as much attention as it did omg thank y'all

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nackrosor · 10 months

Text

~Magic Hands~

𝓢𝓲𝓶𝓸𝓷 '𝓖𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓽' 𝓡𝓲𝓵𝓮𝔂 𝔁 𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓽!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

warnings/tags: smut, massage, hurt/comfort, female receiving, v. fingering, soft Ghost, romantic tension, the room is packed with your mates so you have to keep quiet hehe

synopsis: in the aftermath of a rough mission, you find yourself unable to fall asleep due to muscle aches. Your Lieutenant offers to help you release the tension by giving you a massage, which escalates rather quickly.

word count: 4,1k.

[a/n: finally writing for my man Ghost and I'm quite proud of how this first story turned out. Now I'm curious to know what you think of it! Also, this wasn't beta-read so if there's any typo/grammatical error, let me know. Alright, enjoyyyyy 🌶️✨💀]

"You can't sleep?"

Ghost's deep hushed voice coming from somewhere behind you makes you turn in your bedroll. The room is nearly pitch black, with only a sliver of moonlight streaming in through the half-closed window, yet providing enough light to make your close surroundings visible. Therefore, when you turn around, you can see Ghost sitting on the floor a few feet away from you, his back to the stone wall, arms crossed over his chest and legs stretched straight in front of him. The thin dark gray t-shirt, paired with the intense chiaroscuro that imbues the room, highlights the outline of his massive biceps. Your eyes linger on his arms before they meet his, which twinkle slightly as they capture the moonshine.

"You neither?"

He hums in response.

A weary sigh escapes you as you sprawl on your back, hand flying to the nape of your neck, where the muscles tug and burn. You feel like a wreck. You knew today’s operation would have been rough, even more than the last ones and you were prepared for it, you had trained so hard for months. You've risked your own skin multiple times during the offensive, although in the end you got away with only a scratch or two; nothing major. You were still high on adrenaline as you made it back to the base camp -a dilapidated temporary facility in the middle of a thick forest- and you were even rather impressed of yourself for having handled it all so well… until fatigue came crushing on you like a double-decker bus, almost knocking you to your knees and you felt the magnitude of the efforts made in all its gravity. You tried to mask it as you dined with your brothers in arms, a scarce sorry meal that didn’t even quench a third of your appetite, then instantly dragged your 200 pounds heavier than normal legs to the storage room adapted for sleeping and flopped down on your bed roll. You thought the ache would pass, that you only needed to lie down and let your limbs rest but it has already been three or four hours since then and you haven’t been able to close your eyes not even once.

"Everything aches so much. I might have strained a muscle or something. Possibly all of them."

Ghost hums again in understanding. A moment of silence follows; silence only interrupted by the rhythmic snoring of your mates, laying in their bedrolls all around you in the tiny room.

"Come here."

Your head snaps up.

"Uh?"

"You heard me. We need to do something about those sore muscles. Can't allow them to get in the way of the mission tomorrow."

You look questioningly at him, eyes roaming over his masked face, as if expecting to be able to read his intentions. What can he do for you? The same as he can do for himself, which is pretty much nothing; he’ll give you a pat on the back and tell you to suck it up. If only there was a medic in the facility, you could have asked for an injection to ease the tension in your body but alas, you're on your own down here, equipped with no instant medication other than a pack of analgesics reserved for battle and a pain drug; but there's no way you'd take one on a night before a mission and risk waking up as a zombie in the morning.

You’d have to wait for a proper medical treatment when you’re out of this hell, assuming you’re still in one piece by then.

“We don’t have all night, Sergeant.”

Ugh, using your title, of course. It can only mean the Lieutenant won’t accept a refusal from you. And who are you to refuse anyway? Just a lower soldier in pain; nothing special about you.

Even though you are still perplexed about his intentions, you scoot toward him, crawling silently so as to not wake up the others. Fortunately you don’t have to step on someone’s lying body to reach your superior.

He spreads his legs to give you room to get closer and you swallow the thrill that inflames your body at the sight of that big hunk of a man welcoming you in his lap. This is not the time to give in to such fantasies. Nor there will ever be. Hard truth.

Ghost’s fingers masterly find the waistband of your cargo trousers and tug at it to make you slide closer.

"Turn around."

His commanding voice compels you to do as he says without question. There's no room for hesitation when he employs that tone; you must obey his directives, whether you're on the field on a mission or killing time at the HQ. Nobody can stand up to it, least of all you.

You’re barely able to suppress a gasp when you feel his huge hands take hold of your hips and settle you between his thighs, your back colliding with his firm chest. You can't, however, physically stop the shiver that runs down your spine as his palms climb up your sides, sliding upward over your back, causing you to bend slightly forward as he reaches your shoulders. There, he begins to knead your muscles carefully, knowing where to apply more pressure and where to let the tip of his fingers do most of the work.

You’re too stunned to speak. Never in a million years you would have guessed this is what he had in mind to do to help you. Ghost, your Lieutenant, has his hands on you, in a room full of fellow soldiers, in the middle of the night while you are on duty. What crazy-ass dream is this?

"Ghost-," you shudder, his hands working on a particularly sore spot, "a m-massage, seriously?"

“What?”

“They only make things worse-”

While having Ghost do it is a whole new experience for you, you've received your fair share of massages, both throughout your years of training and after you became a special agent and they never seemed to work on you. They always left you in more pain than you were in before. You could have blamed it on the medic if only you hadn’t changed so many during the past years; they couldn't all have been incompetent, could they?

"You never got one from me, innit? They don't call me magic hands for nothing."

You frown, throwing him a sideway glance over your shoulder.

"Nobody calls you that."

You hear him huff and your head is forced back to face straight by a firm nudge.

As strange and unexpected as it may seem, you must admit that his hands are truly doing Lord’s work against your shoulders, easing your tensed muscles and relieving some pain, so much so that you find yourself closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

"See? Just relax."

His hands scoot lower, sliding down your back and sides, resting just above your bum. The warmth of his palms rubbing that sore area in circular motions sends more shivers up your spine. In his ascent back up, he pays attention to the tensed muscles of your arms, thumbs kneading deep into them and then finally, he goes back to your neck. Your breath catches at the feeling of his strong hands wrapping around it. His firm touch appears to arouse something primal within you. You can feel heat pooling in your core right away.

"Fucking hell. Your neck is rock hard."

He increases the pressure, rubbing the skin and working on the knots. His thumbs slide up and down your larynx, matching the movement of his other fingers on the nape. Your head bends backward on its own, landing on his chest.

Ghost hums again, appreciatively.

"You liking it?"

"Y-yes, sir-"

His chest shakes softly against your back, a light rumble coming from his throat.

"Good girl."

You bite back a gasp. Those hushed words only add to the growing ache between your legs. The massage is clearly starting to turn you on and you feel… conflicted. You know you shouldn’t let his skillful touch, nor his raspy voice whispering so close to your ear or the warmth of his chest pressed against your back affect you so much. However, you are basically caged in his lap, how are you supposed to not let that cloud your judgment? To not allow your fantasies to run wild in your head? Yes, you’re strong, but… not that strong. You can’t possibly stop your body from reacting so naturally to all of these overwhelming sensations. Especially when you’re so touch-starved, and having Ghost being the one to indulge your craving doesn’t help in the slightest.

" Mh, you're tensing up again."

Ghost swiftly resumes working on your back, placing the palm of each hand on either side of your spine and working his way up, keeping his hands parallel to one another. When he reaches the top of your back, he fans his hands outwards across the shoulders, as if outlining the top of a heart. Using a kneading motion, he returns to the lower of your back to work the large muscles on either side of your spine then presses his fingertips firmly into your flesh before quickly releasing as he works his way up. The constant pressing and releasing sends your spine tingling and you fail to hold back a moan.

“Yes. Don’t fight it.”

If only he knew what you were actually fighting against. How can the tension leave your body if his touch and his closeness and his voice are all working so hard together to make you tense up all the more?

You feel his hands close into fists and his knuckles start to rub gently but firmly across the tops of your shoulders and then glide down your biceps, the inner part of your arms, the side of your chest...

Inadvertently, your body jerks at the new sensation, and his hand accidentally brushes up against your breast, fingers knocking into the slight bulge in your top caused by your aroused nipple. You stifle the moan that erupts from your throat by biting your bottom lip hard, your body stiffening instantaneously.

Silence falls into the room, coating it in tension; your mates are not even snoring anymore. You don’t dare to move a muscle, you can barely keep your ragged breathing under control.

Has he noticed? Does he realize what has just happened? It’s so dark in here and it all happened so quickly, he may have no idea what he has just touched, he may have not caught the lewd sound that came out of your mouth, either. Your body has tensed so much, however, that your reaction must have caught his attention. Any doubt goes out the window when you feel his hands retract and his body shift uncomfortably behind you.

Well, fuck it . You just had to make it awkward, didn’t you? For both of you! How embarrassing. He will look at you and treat you differently from now on, you know it already. You're soldiers, for god’s sake! You're professionals! And he’s your superior! These things shouldn’t happen! They should stay out of work. And to think that you've managed to get this far, despite Ghost's strong magnetic pull on you since the first time you saw him... You’ve hidden your emotions so well for months. But unfortunately, no matter how hard you try and succeed at hiding it, you can’t really control your body and how it reacts to his presence, touch, or gaze. This was bound to happen sooner or later, as much as you prayed it wouldn’t. Besides, how could you have even imagined you would find yourself in such a crazy situation at one point? Working with him every day, getting very physical on the field and still keeping your emotions at bay was already enough to drive you insane. There was no way you could have handled this and came out victorious.

But perhaps you could still salvage this somehow, or at the very least escape the horrible truth-spilling conversation that awaits you. Yes, it is possible. You simply need to get the hell away from Ghost, crawl back to your bedroll, attempt to sleep it off, and put the burden aside to deal with it another day. Easier said than done.

Your hands fumble around you, hoping to meet the cold tiles of the floor -rather than those god-like legs stretched at either side of you- and you bend forward in an attempt to hoist yourself up.

“A-alright, this has been nice-”

A steel-strong arm snakes around your middle and forcefully pulls you back. You gasp as your spine collides with his chest once more.

Now that you're pressed up against him, even closer than you were before, you can feel his bulge against your lower back and your mouth goes dry.

"Ghost-", your voice comes out in a loud, unsteady squick and he instantly hushes you, tightening the grip around your waist.

You feel his hot breath caress your ear even through the balaclava. “We’re not done here, yet.”

His hands start to travel up and down your body once again, bolder this time, skimming over areas he hasn't touched before. The hand wrapped around your middle slips under your tank top, fondling the smooth flesh at your side as it raises, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin, until it reaches the upper area of your stomach. There, his fingertips tease the lower curve of your breast from above the fabric of your sports bra. Your breath catches again but you don't dare to move. He holds his palm there for a long minute.

Is he testing you? Is he messing with you? Is he silently asking for permission to move forward? The affirmative guttural sound that rewards you as you finally throw your morals out the window and boldly place your hand over his and tug it upwards, sweeps away any doubt. His big hand instantly covers your whole breast, groping it gently at first then squeezing it decisively. His other hand comes to match the motion as they both slide inside the cups and fondle your soft sensitive flesh before turning the focus onto your erect nipples, causing you to arch your back forward and shiver.

“Is this-”, your voice catches in your throat as his fingers pinch your nipples hard, lips squeezing together to muffle a groan, “-why they call you magic hands ?”

You feel a light chuckle rumble in his chest and against your back.

“You catch up real quick, Sergeant…”, he whispers in your ear in that gravelly voice that makes you squirm, “...but you don’t know the half of it.” And as if on cue, one of his hands sneaks out of your tank top and slides down your stomach, skimming over the inseam of your pants and resting on your crotch, causing a warmth to spread from deep within your stomach. Two fingers push against your core, suggestively and your heart races. Your breaths are ragged in anticipation.

“Bet you’re desperate to find out, innit?”

You don’t even realize you’re nodding in response until you feel him huff a laugh through his nose, blowing cool air right next to your ear.

"Curiosity killed the cat, didn't you hear?"

His palm rubs against your crotch up and down a few times before giving it a firm squeeze.

You suck in air through your teeth and your hand lands on his thigh at your side, fingers dipping in his firm muscle.

" Please -"

You're not sure what you're even begging him for, your mind dazed with desire, and all you can focus on is the heady sensation of having his warm palm rest so close to your aching cunt but still denying you the touch you desperately crave for.

Ghost doesn't need you to say anything, he clearly knows what you're pleading for and he makes quick work of unzipping your pants before sliding his hand inside. His eager fingers meet your panties which are, unsurprisingly, already soaked; a small detail that he seems to appreciate greatly. He runs his digits over the wet patch on the fabric, eliciting a loud moan from you.

An abrupt stirring sound freezes you and your head snaps up, heart jumping in your throat, while your eyes dart across the room expecting to meet the shocked expression of one of your brothers. The thought of having been spotted however doesn't seem to stop Ghost from pushing his fingers beneath the damp fabric of your undies. You don't have time to still the violent beating of your heart as he begins to circle his way through your folds, instantly drawing back your whole attention. A harsh whine crawls up your throat when the pad of his finger meets your clitoris and his free hand immediately moves to cover your mouth. His clad lips suddenly draw close to your ear, skin tingling at the contact.

"You don't want to wake up the boys, do you, kitten?"

You shake your head profusely and he hums softly.

"Thought so."

You suppress the cries of pleasure that he provokes by rubbing his fingers up and down over your slit in a slow intoxicating way, your hips shaking with each swipe. He presses his forearm against your stomach to hold your body still, squeezing you closer to him as a result.

You wince as you hear it; the wet sound of your desire seems to be the only noise in the otherwise silent room and it only grows louder when Ghost teases your entrance, rubbing his pads around it before easily pushing two fingers inside. You screw your eyes shut and throw your head back against his chest. As he thrusts inside you in a steady rhythm, he presses his palm on your most sensitive part, and drags his hand in a firm circle against it. The feeling is dizzying and it sends lightning jolting through you.

Ghost's hand leaves your mouth to grab your inner thigh and push it over his adjacent knee, spreading your legs wide apart to gain better access to your core and thus shove his fingers deeper inside you. In fact, his next thrust perfectly hits that sacred spot buried deep between your walls and you grasp a fist of his t-shirt and pull it against your lips to muffle your whimpers, while your other hand tugs firmly at his tensed arm lying on your stomach.

You are close, so close. You can feel the heat in your gut begin to bubble and spread, scorching and hair-raising, to the rest of your quivering body. Ghost too seems to notice by the way you tuck into him and clutch at his arm as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded, your safe anchor. His fingers grab your chin and angle your head so that your eyes meet.

His eyes… his big eyes. The only visible part of his face, the only part you are allowed to lay your gaze on and let it linger. And oh, how beautiful they are. Especially now, glinting with moonshine and looking down at you with a special twinkle which you can’t quite decipher but that makes your heart swell.

You prompt yourself up in a daze, just enough to cup his cheek and pull him down to meet you in a quite unorthodox kiss. You press your lips desperately to his mask, just above his own and you feel them twitch at the contact, responding to the kiss only a moment later.

You stay like that while his hand still works against you, faster and sloppier but hitting you perfectly with each push. You keep your lips glued to his as the coiling pleasure in your belly finally snaps, a heady wave of pleasure washes over you and makes your body jerk uncontrollably. Your cries are muffled by the fabric of his mask, even more so when his hand cups the back of your neck and presses you harder against him. He continues to slowly dip his fingers inside your fluttering walls then litter your small bundle of nerves with a few more soft teasing caresses all the while subsiding your spasms with his strong embrace.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, your chest heaving hard, heart still racing and legs still shaking when his hand slips out of your pants and you pull back. You let your head rest on his chest as you take a deep long breath. Almost instantly a subdued ruffle of fabrics strikes your ear and you can feel a cool breath blowing on your neck before a pair of soft damp lips meet your boiling skin. You bite your lips at the shiver-inducing sensation; it feels like a vital secret shared in utmost confidence and you don’t dare break the touching moment until his lips retreat and the mask is safely put back on. Only then you chance a look up through a heavy-lidded gaze and you meet his beautiful eyes again, which in turn watch your reactions with a hazy, adoring gaze. All is forgotten; the packed room, the initial conflict you felt, the aching muscles… The only thing you can focus on is the tingling sensation abandoning your body, leaving the way to the heartening warmth of his embrace and gaze.

“Ghost-”

“Simon.”

You gulp, nodding feebly as you reverently search his eyes.

“Simon…”

Saying his name feels strange but also… meaningful. Like uttering a magic word or being handed the sole key that unlocks the armored door that keeps the treasure safe; treasure so priceless and vulnerable that only a few trusted people are allowed to take a glimpse at it.

“I’m-” you fail to find the words, mind dazed and heart hammering in your chest, “that was…”

“Kitten got more than she bargained for.”

You catch an amused hint in his voice and even if you can’t see it, you’re certain there is a smile tugging at his lips, for the corner of his eyes curl up slightly.

“I take it the massage didn't make things worse after all?”

"Well…", you shift in his embrace, turning to face him with a sheepish grin, "that was some effective massage, alright."

You prompt yourself up and reading your intentions he closes his legs to let you settle on his lap, your knees resting on either side of his hips. His eyes never leave yours as you lean up, arms latching around his neck.

"Nothing aches anymore thanks to you…", you grind your hips slowly down against his, relishing in the sound of his heavy breathing picking up, "...but maybe it's you now who is in need of a release ?" You bite your lip at the rousing feeling of his throbbing bulge rubbing against your still sensitive center, as well as at the rare thrilling satisfaction of seeing him crane his head slightly up to look at you.

His hands descend on your hips, fingers almost painfully gripping the flesh, causing you to groan.

"I wouldn't mind it one bit kitten, believe me…", his lust-clouded eyes rake over your body. You see him swallow hard as he glances down where your hips meet and a long breath escapes his lips. His gaze then trails back up, savoring every inch of you, until it finally locks with yours once again. "But you should hit the sack now."

Disappointment shows plainly on your face.

"But-"

"Besides, I'm on second watch tonight."

"T-That’s good! I can sneak out to keep you company. I'm not sleepy! Even less now than before. We can-"

" Negative .” His tone is peremptory and it shuts you up at once. “And don’t fret. You’ll be asleep before your head hits the mat.”

" But -"

His hands slide up your sides and squeeze your waist, pulling you down to sit on his thighs and hold you at eye level.

"We're taking a rain check, Sergeant."

The title again. His words are final, then.

A huge sigh escapes you and you nod at last. Reluctantly, you climb out of his lap, his hands following your every movement to support you. Before you stand on your feet and turn around, you chance one last look at him. Your heart swells as you meet once more his big beautiful eyes which look at you so gently, so wistfully… you think you can catch the promise behind them.

"Don't you dare die tomorrow, Simon."

The corners of his eyes curl up again.

"Surely not on your watch, Kitten."

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shadow4-1 · 5 months

Text

Got You! - Ghost x Reader Oneshot (NSFW)

please mind the tags on this one! this one is especially dark! tags: heavy noncon, slight dubcon, some torture, predator/prey dynamics

Summary: Being on the frontline as a Kortac hacker is just another job for you. But after a mission goes sideways, you find yourself in the clutches of a broken yet monstrous man they call Ghost.

You typed quickly and quietly on your tablet. A thick cord wormed its way from a port in its back all the way into a wall of servo units. The wall blinked and hummed, some lights flickering as you did your job and did it well.

"I can't believe they're paying so much for such little data." You murmured to yourself, eyeing the storage left on your removable drives. It was less than a couple gigabytes of intel. Off in the distance, you heard a few pops of gunfire, your fellow Kortac members keeping the area secure for you in particular.

"What a weird place to put this shit." You murmured again, glancing around at the room.

You couldn't remember where, in what country you were exactly. This was your third intel op for the week, it was all beginning to blend together. First time had been Russia, and then Spain, and then...Morroco? You were in Morroco, right? Based on the soft rug beneath your knees, the cotton drapes, and the casual color scheme, you supposed so.

All that mattered was getting the hell out of dodge. You half glanced back down at your tablet, another five minutes to completion. Most of the lights on the racks of servers had turned red, a sure sign you were doing your job correctly. Although, the more you looked around the stranger it all felt. Yes, you were a talented hacker. You'd worked hard to get where you were, but your instincts had never let you down either. Something about a server room being in the living room of a Moroccan household didn't seem right.

You heard some more insistent pops of gunfire. They weren't as far away as before. Your heart began to thump with the beginnings of anxiety. Leo, your main escort, was sure to be just outside of the cinderblock house. A part of you wanted to run to him, but you had to stop yourself. Three minutes, and you'd be able to get the hell out of there.

The pops of gunfire quickly became sprays. You heard something shatter across the street. Fuck.

"Leo!" You hissed out, grabbing your tablet, readying to rip the cord out of the back. "I almost got it!"

Thirty seconds. Come on. Come on!

Leo burst through the door, slamming it behind him. He huffed with adrenaline, forcing the door to lock and slamming a nearby bookcase against it. The gunfire was outside. You heard some yelling and returning fire. A man cried out in pain, you guessed one of yours. The glass of the living room window exploded.

Luckily for you, the servo units blocked your body from the main impact. Unluckily for your tablet, it was knocked from your grip. It skidded across the floor, screen shattered with a hole in the center.

A sniper.

You tried to reach out for your trusty tablet, but Leo had other ideas. With one of his large, tan arms, he hooked it around your center and yanked you upwards. Before you could even question him, he began to pull you towards the direction of the back of the house. Sprigs of his usually neat, slicked back hair fell across his forehead. He looked worried, an expression you were not used to seeing on the normally jubilant man.

"Leo, wha-"

You were cut off by the sound of the front door and bookcase splintering inwards. Daylight streamed into the dark house, making it harder to see. Leo practically picked you up and carried you as he ran. There was a long hallway with multiple doors that he locked behind you until finally, your path ended in a bedroom. The layout of this house was strange, but you hoped that it would help throw off your pursuers for just long enough that you could escape. It seemed Leo was thinking the same thing.

"Come on, girlie! The window, quick!" He huffed out through his thick, Australian accent. You happily obeyed, trying desperately to lift up the sill of the nearest window.

"It won't move!" You cried, throwing your entire shoulder against the small ledge. You yelped out in pain, multiple nails had pricked your palm. "It's nailed shut!"

There was a sickening crash from somewhere on the other side of the door. Leo stood tall, his rifle in hand, ready to blast a hole through whoever was planning on coming through. He looked over his shoulder, his brows furrowed in determination. Somehow, his energy was what you needed to keep from falling into a pure panic.

"Try the other one, girl! Kick it out 'f ya 'ave to!" He commanded, his low voice like a spell.

You climbed up onto the bed in the corner of the room. Sure enough, there was a skylight within reaching distance. You threw your body up the wall, the metal bed frame squeaking and shaking beneath you. You clawed and scratched, your fingertips barely making it to the ledge.

"I can't reach!" You cried. "M' too short!"

Leo made an aggravated noise in his throat, but it wasn't directed towards you. Out in the hall, there was the unmistakable sound of a door being kicked open. You glanced down at Leo, tears pricking in the corner of your eyes.

So this was it, huh?

Fucking weeks, months, of being stationed with this random man, and this was how both of you were to die. Cornered and helpless in a foreign country. A part of you supposed that maybe it was meant to be. Leo had always been kind of sweet to you in comparison to the rest of the men you worked with. Hopefully, your shared end would be quick.

Leo's eyes quickly swapped between you, the skylight, and the door. He blinked and then jumped up onto the bed with one stride. You squeaked as he pushed you to the wall, lifted the butt of his rifle, and knocked the glass out with a singular, smooth motion.

"Leo wai-"

He didn't wait. He dropped his rifle on the bed, hooked his hands underneath your thighs, and lifted you easily. Despite his help, you only managed to be tall enough to get your arms through the windowsill, but it was enough.

The door to the bedroom was thrown open with so much force that it caused the plaster of the wall to crack. Leo turned his back to the wall, letting your legs kick off his shoulders.

"It was a pleasure!" He called up to you, voice cracking.

"LEO!" You cried.

A folley of shots flashed from a muzzle in the doorway. Leo let out a garbled growl, reaching for his knife in its holster. He surged forward with his weapon, blood spots leaking into the back of his canvas vest. Leo was dying, and yet he kept fighting.

Fighting for you.

You refused to let his sacrifice be in vain. You turned your attention back to the roof beneath your fingers. The skylight was part of the floor of the flat roof of the house. If you managed to get your body through the sill, you could potentially be able to run from rooftop to rooftop to safety.

You used what little leverage you had in your arms and legs to push yourself up. It hurt, the glass dug into your fatigues and was no doubt embedding itself into your skin, but you hardly felt it.

Leo called out your name in a gritted scream.

You had to keep going.

Tears pricked in your eyes. You kept squirming and clawing your way up, pulling your right knee through the window. That was the final amount of leverage you needed. With a hard kick, you threw yourself a couple feet away from the skylight. You sucked in a well needed breath and turned over to fall on your knees.

You'd made it.

All you had to do was stand up and make a running jump to the next banister. You presumed it couldn't have been more than five feet away. Totally doable, even for your smaller stature. You got your right foot underneath you, using your hands to push up from the floor.

Something wrapped around your right ankle, squeezing so impossibly tight you felt the joints squeak. You cried out in pain, trying to right yourself, but falling onto your left side. You looked down at your legs to see what had ahold of you.

Fear froze you in place.

Through the darkened hole of the skylight, surrounded by broken glass, was the dark figure of a man's head. He was covered in all black, save for the bleached white skull he stared at you through. His eyes were so dark and smothered in kohl that only the whites of his eyes were truly visible.

He looked alien.

And he had a terrifyingly casual hold of your ankle with only one hand.

"Got you..." He hummed, his voice deep and dark and dangerous.

The panic finally kicked in, in full force. You screamed and threw your entire body weight away from the strange monster of a man. It seemed he anticipated your move because he tugged back at the same time you tried to surge forward. You gained absolutely no ground.

Tears began to blind your vision and you clawed and kicked with your free foot. You miscalculated. The extra foot was his next target. With his other hand, he snatched your free ankle into his grip.

You fell to the ground, kicking and screaming. Your leg muscles burned, your heart felt like it was about to explode with panic. You tried so desperately to use what was last of your strength to wiggle free, but it was no use.

With one very hard yank, he pulled you backward. In what felt like slow motion you watched as you were torn away from the sunny afternoon, the terracotta bricks and laundry clotheslines of freedom. You fell down and down and down into the darkness of the bedroom prison that was sure to be your tomb. Your nails caught on the texture of the wall as you belly flopped onto the bed below.

All of the air was forced out of your lungs. The fall had only been a few feet, but the impact of hitting your ribcage on the metal bedsprings of the mattress was enough to wind you. You sputtered and coughed, subconsciously curling up on yourself. The blankets tangled into the soles of your boots as you tried to put distance between yourself and your attacker.

A beat passed, and you gasped out, finally getting a lung full of air. You panted hard, putting your arms over your face, expecting a flurry of blows or a knife in your ribs.

"Who do you work for?" The man asked as he slowly stepped off the bed with heavy, measured footsteps.

Hysterically, you sobbed, refusing to look at his masked face. Despite your fear, you felt him come around the side of the bed to lean over your face. In a complete panic move, you kicked yourself backward, only serving to push yourself deeper into the corner of the bed against the wall.

It seemed the masked man's patience was dwindling. He roughly grabbed you by the shoulder and shook you with enough force to slam the back of your head against the wall. The pain, luckily, did clear your head enough to actually answer the question he asked.

"K-KORTAC!" You stammered out. "I-I work for K-Kortac! C-cyber tech o-operator!"

The man looked down at you with an odd sort of interest. He looked down at your legs, seemingly off in thought. The light that filtered down from the broken window cast him half in shadow and half in light. Behind him, on the floor, lay a body in a growing pool of blood.

"Leo..." You hiccuped out in recognition, feeling an intense pull of hysteria.

The man didn't even glance back at your fallen comrade. Instead, slowly, his eyes panned up your body until his gaze landed right on the Kortac chest insigna of your kit. Tears plinked down your lashes and into the canvas material.

The mystery man clicked a button on a comm unit tacked to the front of his vest. A man on the other end yelled out a callsign through static.

"Ghost! Ghost! How copy?" The voice had an accent you couldn't make out in your addled state.

"Copy, Soap." The masked man (Ghost, you presumed) spoke back. "Get to exfil now. Don't wait for me."

"But Ghost-"

"I said don't wait for me, sergeant." Ghost nearly yelled in annoyance. "Exfil in 40, out."

He stopped pressing the button on his comm unit and looked down at you once more. His expression was unreadable. You tried to make yourself seem as small as possible before him.

Ghost slowly glanced over his shoulder with only his eyes. He seemed to give Leo's dead body a short once over before he focused his attention on you again.

"You shag 'im?" He asked.

"Wh-...what?"

"You shag 'im?" He asked again, this time using your name to make the question somehow even more personal.

You looked up at him in a mix of horror and revulsion. What kind of question was that? This man had pursued you like an animal, murdered one of the few men you respected in cold blood, and now wanted to know if you'd been fucking that man while his dead body was still warm?

"F-fuck you." You choked out. Despite feeling drained off all your physical strength, you still had some mental fortitude left.

Ghost let out a soft huff. Whether or not it was a noise of amusement or annoyance, you couldn't tell.

You screeched as he grabbed the front of your kit with one hand. He lifted you out of the corner and slammed you back down in the center of the bed. The metal base squeaked and groaned but held up beneath the impact of your body again. You yelped out as he took his other hand and pulled out a wicked looking knife from his belt. The edges glinted with red, drying blood.

You tried to bat away his hand but he was significantly stronger than you. Even with all your might, he didn't budge. Running on pure fear and self-preservation, you dipped your head down towards his wrist. You clamped your teeth down hard against his gloves. He brought the knife up to your kit but stopped.

He made that noise again. And this time, it seemed to border on amusement.

The world turned black for a second.

When you came to, you could taste copper in your mouth. It ran hot down your nose and out the corners of your lips like drool. You groaned out pitifully, your body giving up any and all fight.

The bastard had knocked your lights out.

Despite all of your senses swimming in pain, you could feel your body physically lightening up in weight. With a bloody gurgle, you glanced down. Your kit and utility belt had been cut away, leaving you in just your fatigues.

"There we go. Good girl." He grumbled, putting his knife away. Something about the tenderness of his voice did not match up with his actions.

You whined out a cry, and he let you. He made no move to deck you again. Instead, unzipped your pants, hooked his fingers into the waistband, and yanked down.

You tried to pull your legs up and away but barely managed to twitch them. Your pants grew tangled around your still boot clad ankles. Ghost took absolutely no time in ripping it all off your body, making you sob as he twisted your already sore ankles.

"Stop..." You hiccuped weakly. "Please."

Roughly, he pushed the hem of your longsleeve up and over your breasts. He jerked it up over your shoulders so hard the fabric snapped and ripped. He threw the ruined garment to the side, seemingly too enraptured by the sight of your near naked body.

Weakly, you put a hand up to his chest as he put his knee up on the bed. There was no strength behind your push, and it seemed to amuse him. He let out a cruel chuckle and pinned your hand over your head as he positioned his entire body between your thighs.

Tears spilled so freely down your cheeks and neck that they soaked the bedsheets beneath your head. This was wrong. He had to know this was wrong. He couldn't do this. Could he?

"Please...no..." You whispered.

He didn't say anything, just breathed in slowly and steadily, eyes roaming over your entire body. He didn't move to touch you, or rip off your panties, or do anything else as monstrous as he'd done before. He just stared at you with an odd sort of fondness.

With his gloved hand he cupped at your face. You whimpered and cowered in his touch, but it was sweet, almost lover like. He wiped as much tears and blood from your face as he could, even taking the corner of a blanket to dab the excess body fluids away.

You were so confused and scared. What the hell was wrong with this guy? If he wasn't going to kill or rape you what did he want?

The hysteria finally set in.

How fucking funny was this? You couldn't find a decent man for years. Leo was the only one to come close, and even then, he was dead. And the two of you had barely been considered acquaintances. This big, fucking hulk of a monster knocked you out, ripped off your clothes, and now wanted to be tender with you all of a sudden?

You giggled once. Then that giggle turned into a chuckle. Soon enough, you were laughing softly against the hand cupping your face.

"I...what do you want?" You managed out between hysterical pants.

He didn't answer, just leaned his body down low over you. The bed protested hard beneath you both but stayed together. Slowly, he began to put his entire weight down on you.

At first, you wheezed, your beaten body unable to handle the load on top of it. Eventually, after enough time, you began to melt beneath him. Despite the discomfort of everything, his body felt warm and solid... and almost safe in a fucked up way you couldn't explain.

Ghost slid his other hand between you, cracking your legs apart. His still clothed core pressed up against yours. You knew that the too hard lump straining against the fabric was definitely not a gun.

"Why?" You asked meekly. "Why are you doing this?"

The man buried his mask clad face into the crook of your neck. He inhaled sharply before slowly breathing out.

"Mine." He admitted, giving your body an experimental thrust.

He groaned low in his throat. Again and again he thrust hard against your center, his cock grinding into your panty clad entrance.

What did he mean he "mine"? He was trying to fuck your forcefully pliant body. This man was a fucking lunatic. What in the godforsaken world di-

The head of his cock brushed up against the mound of your cunt. Despite the layers of clothes between them the head found its way just deep enough between your lips that he brushed up against your clit. Tears pricked in your eyes. Again and again and again, he pleasured you with each cant of his hips. You cried at the feeling. He wiped the tears away sweetly.

Why didn't he just rape you hard? Why did he have to drag this out, make it sweet? If he wanted your body so bad why didn't he just take it? He obviously had no qualms about using force.

"Thas' it, love." He murmured softly. "Just like that."

Was this some kind of sick fantasy? Did he truly believe you were into this? Or was he just pretending you were to fulfill some kind of fucked up need for human closeness?

He kept rutting against you, mumbling quietly against your neck. Most of it was filthy name calling, the rest was too damn sweet for the act he was committing.

"Fuckin' pretty thing you are. Not getting away from me." He muttered, seemingly half out of his mind. "Never getting away from me. Ever again."

You were so confused. Since when had you ever met this man before? You were certain you would've remembered him and all of his monstrous qualities. You tried hard to squirm away from his touch, but he kept you right where he wanted you to be.

"Never again, love. Not letting you slip through m' fingertips again." With his free hand, he pulled the front of your sports bra down. One of your breasts popped free of its confines and into his view.

"No please..." You begged.

"Should've thought of that before you ran off." He growled.

Words relaying your confusion immediately died in your throat. Ghost tugged the bottom portion of his mask up and then proceeded to pull your nipple into his mouth. He bit you hard, making you scream before letting up. He lapped at the aching bud, forcing it to harden into a throbbing peak. As if just to spite you, he traced your areola with his tongue, making your entire body shake with whiplash from the pleasure.

"Stop please!" You begged. "You're hurting me."

Ghost made that huffing noise again, his breath cooling the saliva against your nipple. He pulled your other breast out and pressed the two together. He swiped the flat of his tongue over both buds. You squeaked and tossed your head back.

"Thought you could hide behind your lil' computer, love?" He growled out, his drool leaking between your tits. "Thought I'd never find you?"

"Wha-?"

"Thought you could just drop off the face of th' Earth n' I'd never find you again?" He nearly yelled. "Should've known a slag like you was just in it for a paycheck."

"I don't...what?" You tried. "What do you mean?"

Ghost sat up to glower over your face. His jaw was set hard. You could see the veins in his neck since he'd pulled his mask up to his nose. You blinked tears out of your eyes. What you thought was the shadow of his jugular turned out to be the corner of a neck tattoo. One you immediately recognized.

"S-Simon?"

Despite his obviously bad mood he still managed to crack a smile. It was genuine and yet still so full of malice. His grin was still as beautiful as the night you'd met him. And the night you'd chosen to run away.

"I was scared!" You cried out in admittance.

"You were scared?" He chuckled. "When every night you were in my bed n' cummin' on me?"

It had been years since you'd seen him. You'd been mere weeks out of university, adrift and broke, but with a shiny new certificate in computer science. Just to get a free meal here and there, you'd found yourself going out on dates with random men. You'd never had much luck with men, and so it was easy to forget their many faces.

But Simon's you could never forget.

He'd been quiet, almost too quiet. He'd exclusively asked you questions about yourself in a much meeker voice. Come to think of it, he'd sounded like a different person the whole time. Did he do it on purpose so as not to intimidate you? Or was it a side effect of the pills he was taking while he'd been on medical leave?

He'd made it clear the two of you weren't going to be long term. And you were okay with that. It wasn't until you got a job at a programming firm that he started getting leery. When you made it clear your fling of a relationship wasn't going to work he'd retreated. And then he came back...lurking in the shadows.

"I-you were stalking me!"

"You still have no idea what I've done for you."

For a moment the two of you looked at each other. The pure terror of a moment ago was starting to wash away. This man was no longer a complete, deranged stranger willing to murder you in cold blood. He was still unhinged and dangerous, but he'd shown he wasn't going to kill you immediately. Your chances of getting out of this situation were much more likely. You appreciated those odds.

"What did you-"

"Y' think i' was a coincidence?" He hummed, cocking his head slightly. "Getting that job. N' endin' up here?"

"Simon-"

"You were meant for me." Ghost said with pure conviction. "You were meant to be next to me...under me."

The egoistical side of you wanted to fight, to scream, to make it clear you'd never want him ever again. The other side was absolutely certain that to live through this encounter was to appeal to him. You'd done it before and it'd worked. It was partially why you'd slept with him so much back then. And why you'd forced yourself to cuddle into his iron grip afterwards.

"On your back. On your knees..." He kept trailed off, eyes drooping in arousal. You felt a hard twitch between your legs.

Your stomach lurched at the thought of your dead, fucked out body being haphazardly tossed on top of Leo's. You needed to live. You'd do whatever you had too. And you knew what'd it take.

"S-Simon...I-look I'm sorry." You swallowed hard, tasting nothing but copper. "You scare me sometimes, but I-I still really care about you."

"Don't lie to me, lovie." He scoffed. The usage of his old nickname made you shudder.

"Simon...I've never stopped thinking about y-you." You sighed out, feeling your skin flush with embarrassment for admitting such a thing. It was marginally a lie since you mostly thought about him with fear in your heart. But there was a part of you who missed his body, his hands, and how'd he'd fuck you apart night after night.

"Please....I-" You slowly moved to sit up on your elbows. As you did your core inadvertently brushed against him. A warm jolt of pleasure shot up through your spine and you couldn't help but bite your lip.

There was a new tension in the air.

"Always such a fuckin' minx." Ghost growled.

"J-just for you." You admitted, forcing your gaze away from Leo's body. "I swear..."

"I know." Ghost hummed, cupping your face in his palm. The sweet gesture made your lashes flutter.

"You're a good girl." He said, as if off in thought. "Just needed a break. N' now you're back, back w' me."

"I..." You blinked, feeling tears well in your eyes. You were playing right into his hand. You knew it, and yet...a part of you didn't care.

He'd pulled strings, murdered and God knows what else just to give you a life outside of him. It'd all been one big, nasty lie just to make you feel good. Just so your inevitable fall back into his arms would feel earned. Because you didn't earn anything. Your entire life trajectory had been an unearned lie. But somehow, someway, you'd earned his affections. And that was all that seemingly mattered in your life.

"Mm...missed you, love." He sighed.

With that he kissed you softly. He was too sweet, too loving. It made your heart ache. You couldn't stop the few sobs that escaped. He didn't seem to care as he licked over your blood tinged tongue. He tasted like he'd always had. Like fresh cigarettes and bitter pine. Your head swam.

"Fuck. M' missed the way you taste." Ghost sighed, licking his lips.

He roughly tugged your panties, making the stitching pop, forcing the elastic to dig into your flushed skin.

"W-wait I-" You squeaked.

It didn't matter. With an easy flick of his wrist the entire garment came off with a rip. The amount of strength and tension used on the cotton practically burned your skin as it was forced off of you. You cried out in discomfort, trying desperately to close your legs, but it was of no use.

Without another second to lose, Ghost hooked his arms up beneath your legs and forced them up. He pushed them back so hard and so quickly he forced the air out of your lungs. You gasped, trying to right yourself.

"There w' go." He growled, staring at your now bare cunt, your knees up to your ears. He kissed your mound, nuzzling his nose into the dusting of hair, breathing you in.

A part of you felt disgusted. You'd been sweating out in the desert, sweating in fear of him, and it seemed he was drinking it all in. Truly a beast he was.

"See you haven't shaved." He hummed, giving a few broad laps to your folds. With each lick, a bit of his thick saliva grew matted into the light dusting of hair. You whimpered.

"Good." He chuckled.

You yelped when he slipped his tongue into you. It was thick and wide and he'd never had any issues getting you open this way. He much preferred to lick your cunt lips apart to accommodate him than sully his fingers. You hated this despite how good it felt. His fingers were always a bit less personal. This way? You had no choice but to watch as he devoured you like a starving man.

You supposed he was.

He'd made it clear you were his and his alone. And if that was the case, then he was only yours too. At least, you'd hoped so. You hoped no other woman would ever be subjected to this torment.

You cried out, legs shaking from the stress but also the pleasure. You tried so hard not to watch him drill his fat tongue right between your lips. He was drooling, his saliva spilling down and down over your neglected clit and onto your squashed tits. He wiggled his tongue in a way that brushed over that rough spot he liked torment. He bullied the tip of his tongue as deep as he could, letting it point right between the gummy ridges of your g-spot. You couldn't help yourself.

It'd been years.

Every man you'd ever talked to had scorned you or disgusted you. You'd never wanted to touch one until Leo had come into your life. And even then, he was untouchable. You'd been too nervous to flirt. At the time you didn't know why, but now, you'd subconsciously known you'd had a skull on your back. Perhaps you were getting a slight kindness for staying untouched all this time.

You cried as you came. Your hips bucked and writhed. Your spine protested, your head swam from the lack of blood flow. Everything floated away for a gorgeous second before your soul slammed back into your addled body.

"Fuckin' 'ell..." Ghost purred. As he talked a wetness spilled out of his mouth. For a brief second you wondered if he was really drooling that much. "C'mon, lovie. Give it to me."

"Wha-"

Ghost latched onto your clit and sucked so hard you screamed. You felt two of his fingers slip inside you with no resistance. They bullied that spot again while he forced pleasure out of your nub. The first orgasm didn't have a chance to fade into an afterglow. The second orgasm came quickly. It burned. Your belly muscles didn't even have a chance to relax.

"Simon!" You mewled, absolutely lost.

He wouldn't stop. He kept taking and taking and taking. He let his teeth graze at the sensitive flesh of your clit. You saw stars again. This time, the orgasm was so violent you screamed. Every bone in your body shook. Your eyes rolled up into the back of your head.

You came to with the warm splashes of wetness against your breasts. A familiar and yet foreign pressure in your belly was being released. More warm wetness dripped quickly onto your neck and chin. You let out a weak cry.

When you finally managed to open your bleary eyes you realized what'd happened. The entire bottom half of Ghost's face was shiny with slick. He huffed against you with pure excitement in his eyes. Your cum coated the inside of his mouth with the telltale sheen of cream.

"Knew you were a squirter." He grinned at you.

It was as if your orgasm was a feast for him. He hungrily lapped every ounce of your relief off of your body. To get to your cummy chest he released your legs. They fell apart, and you groaned in relief. Fresh blood finally flowed to your head, and you grew dizzy.

"Ah ah, no goin' soft in th' head on me now, lovie." Simon hummed as he laved his big tongue over your wet breasts. He slapped your cheek. Not enough to really hurt you, but certainly enough to clear up the stars in your eyes.

"Simon..." You hiccuped.

"Only got a few minutes left." He mused, eyes scouring over your entirely bare body.

Despite wanting to fight him, your extremities felt like jelly. You couldn't even catch your breath. All you could do was lay there in complete submission.

Without a warning, Ghost used his strength to flip you completely over. He forced you up onto your knees and pressed your face into the now tainted sheets.

You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, but there wasn't much of a point anymore. No one was coming to help, and even if they did they'd be dead before they could process what was even happening to you. Ghost was going to take you. And you'd asked for it.

It beat death, right?

He entered you roughly from behind. Luckily, he'd prepped you well, so there wasn't any pain. Just the warm, muted burn of him stretching you open for the first time in years. You'd forgotten what the feeling of sex was like. You couldn't help the low groan that escaped your lungs.

Ghost was right there with you. He hissed loudly, gritting his teeth as he sunk right into you. His big, gloved hands palmed roughly at your ass. He forced your cheeks apart to no doubt give him an excellent view of where you joined together. You squeaked when you felt a couple of his thick fingers spread your lips apart even further.

"Fuckin' 'ell." He groaned. "Missed this tight lil' cunt o' yours."

You whimpered.

"Next time I'll make sure you get the fuck you deserve, lovie." He growled. "But m' runnin' short on time."

"Si-."

A hand roughly grabbed your throat and squeezed. You opened your mouth in shock but nothing came out. No words, no air, just a silent shock.

Ghost began to move, fucking you roughly. He wasted no time in forcing his fat cock back into those parts of yourself you didn't know existed. He kept his grip tight. You couldn't breathe in or out. Tears and panic began to well in your chest.

With the smallest amount of energy you had left, you tried to claw his hands away, but he just choked you tighter. The mix of fear, lack of oxygen, and pleasure was too much for your brain. Black spots began to form in your vision.

"There we...ngh-go." He huffed. Every thrust was punishing. You could feel his sharp hipbones and hefty balls slap into your core. Your only saving grace from the stinging contact was the cushion of your innate softness.

You began to choke. The pressure building in your chest and behind your eyes was immense. The entire room was spinning. Drool spilled past your open, air hungry lips. The black spots began to completely fill your vision. Everything started to float away into that dark, sleepy place.

"Fuck." Ghost panted, his thrusts becoming uneven. "Fuck!"

The moment he came, he let up on your airway.

Everything had turned black for you. When you finally came to, completely out of it, the entire act was over. It hurt to much to move, but you could feel the wet cream between your legs. It had been awhile but you could never forget the feeling of being stuffed with Simon's seed.

His comm unit made a static-y noise and he answered it.

"M' on m' way. Five minutes to exfil." He hummed. "N' I managed to catch a lil' bird."

Ghost didn't wait for his teammate to respond, instead he lazily got off the bed. He eyed your body, smirked, then pulled his mask back down.

"I hope you learned your lesson, lovie." He said, lovingly rubbing your cheek. "Time t' come home."

You couldn't make any noise, your voice stolen from you. You couldn't even swallow. All you could do was lay there and look at him as he took to work getting you dressed again. He was haphazard and rough. Anything he couldn't put back on you, he didn't. The last thing he adorned you with were ziptie handcuffs to your hands and feet.

Ghost then threw you over his shoulder and headed back out the way he came. He didn't even bother to walk over Leo's corpse. Instead, he opted to step directly onto the dead man's head. You closed your eyes and desperately tried to block out the sickening, wet sound.

The sunlight burned but its blinding, white rays were welcoming. You'd never thought you'd see the light of day again, and so the blistering heat of it was welcome. Something told you to relish in it, as it might be awhile before you'd get to see it again.

The position over Ghost's shoulder made it impossible to look up. The only thing you could see were the back of his legs and feet. However, you could hear the sound of men yelling and running around. They began to get washed out by a helicopter whirring, it's blades cutting the air and cooling the sweat on your skin.

Ghost stepped onto the helicopter and unceremoniously dropped you to the metal plated floor. You couldn't even groan in pain as your leg took the brunt of the fall. All you could do was lay there, restrained and in so many different versions of pain.

The small grouping of men in tactical gear hungrily eyed your body. Each one was more distinctive than the last. One of them slow whistled and when he spoke you recognized him as the man over the comm unit.

All of the men, including Ghost, stood around you. They discussed your fate, each one getting more and more creative as they went on. The one in charge, the one with the beard smiled sweetly down at you. He wiped a stray tear away from your face with the back of his curled index finger.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Simon. We'll get 'er to sing for us."

In that moment, you realized you should've asked Leo to shoot you when you had the chance.

#simon riley x reader #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod imagines #mw2 headcanons #captain price

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 2 months

Text

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 22 [FINAL]

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M

Word Count: 13.9k

Warnings: toilet humor. Over consumption of alcohol.

Author’s note: Thank you so so so so much for staying with me throughout this story! I can’t believe it’s over. I’ll cry forever.

A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Can I Stay? Masterlist

Tag: @his-mochi-cheeks

You stood before the mirror scrutinizing your own reflection for any obvious evidence of this forbidden act you’d just taken part in.

Somewhere within the stall, Baekhyun had been busy with cleaning up and putting himself back together; just as you had done moments earlier. You heard the soft grunts and slightly annoyed grumbles coming from behind that closed door, “—a bathroom — of all places — we aren’t kids hiding from our parents.”

“Uhh…” he called out in a low voice. “I gotta take a piss.” There was just a touch of a slur in his syllables, “you don't mind, do you?” His question was mostly mumbled, but you heard the clank as he lifted the toilet seat; not waiting for your response.

“I think we are well beyond that sort of modesty, Baekhyun.”

“Are we?” You heard the stream hit the water in the bowl. “At least we have that.”

You leaned in closer to the mirror and touched over the dark red spot on your neck; pulling your own hair over the skin in an attempt to hide it.

Whenever you moved, so did your hair and the hickey showed up again. You reached for your small bag, remembering the touch-up makeup you’d brought with you. You tried your best with it, but the spot he’d made with his teeth would be one of his more lasting works. You could practically see all of his frustration from this evening with the teeth marks he’d left in your skin.

The toilet flushed as the stall door pushed open and Baekhyun emerged still zipping up and fastening his belt buckle.

“You know, I have a key to the penthouse in my pocket right now but you wanted to fuck dirty in a satellite bathroom on the third floor.” You heard hints of sarcasm. He was washing his hands. He was lifting his collar and tying his necktie, looking into the mirror as he re-did everything your filthy rendezvous had undone. His fingers flew up to the top of his head and he coiffed his remarkably still perfectly styled brown hair.

You rested a hip against the bathroom countertop and leaned your head against the wall beside the light switch, feeling just a tad dizzy from the copious amounts of alcohol you still had in your system but doing your best to focus on the many clues about something this man was haphazardly tossing in your direction.

You were having a bit of trouble gauging his mood. He seemed to be acting just a little bit prickly. It didn't feel like he was just drunk, this was something else. Leftover frustrations from being teased all night perhaps? A side effect from the three-hour boner? Was this pampered prince too good for kinky bathroom sex? As far as bathrooms went, this was a pretty nice one. There were warmed, rolled-up hand towels in wooden trays from IKEA, tasteful art hung on the walls, and on the other end, faceted mirrors lined the wall there that had given you a multi-angle view of what you looked like being fucked by your secret boyfriend. There was some sort of a fragrance that was released on a timer up in the corner. You’d heard the device squirt at least once while you’d been in here and now it didn't even smell like sex anymore. And it wasn’t as if you’d dragged him in here. He walked over here himself. Hell, he probably sprinted.

You watched his pretty side profile in silence as he did things like run a fingertip over his eyelid; wiping something imaginary there, or run his hand below his pouty pink bottom lip all while looking into the mirror at his own stunning reflection.

His eyes were blinking and he was not making any grand gestures or rushed movements in your direction and after a few breaths in and out and after a few more, quite excessive smoothing motions with the palms of his hands over his already neatly tucked shirt, he moved again to tug at his belt buckle, then moved his fingertips toward his own necktie that he pulled with an artists precision into about as straight a line as humanly possible and you were watching him with a building sensation that this man was, very obviously bothered by something you had, or hadn’t done.

”Baekhyun?” you said with all of your remaining unasked questions flipping up the inflection at the end of his name.

He inhaled a breath and only looked into his own eyes, blinking them slowly once. Then twice. On this third blink his eyes opened and his eyelids fluttered just enough to show you how much he was holding himself in a carefully barely controlled state. He was deliberate with it — with making a point to avoid your eyes entirely.

This pretty man had settled himself into a fit.

You were sure it wasn’t the sex from earlier. The sex had been amazing. He had liked it, you were sure of it by his giddy excitement at having his very own sex tape saved into a secret, password protected folder in his phone. He’d even made it a point to disable any sort of cloud back-ups that might have inadvertently saved it anywhere else. He’d gone through big gestures of saving yours in the same way. Double locked and very strong password protected. Some acronym of some code sentence he’d made up on the spot and you hoped to God you’d both still be able to remember it when you sobered up.

No, no, this was something else; something you simply could not ignore and from beside him on the countertop you could see the occasional notification popping up on his cell phone screen. It had been placed on silent but it was very much alive and very active. From where you stood, you could see the occasional pop-up message telling him he had been receiving text messages and they seemed to come one after another in rapid succession. Some even at the same time.

You pushed away from the counter and took a few steps; feeling either too drunk or too entitled to look away from his phone screen and in the mirror you caught the movement of his eyes as he watched you approach his phone. It was very active. You saw names popping up again and again. Summaries of text messages filled with laughter and images displayed in tiny thumbnails.

“What is all that?” You peered down at it and heard a slow sigh come from deep within your boyfriend’s chest.

“Group chat,”he said as he reached a finger out and touched his phone screen, “the guys,” not bothering to move the phone away from you or conceal it in any way; instead, he was reaching out unlock it, to bring it to the forefront of your vision so show you everything and to bring all of this nonsense up for you to see. “They’re making jokes and memes…to tease me…about you.”

The chat moved quickly. Tons of laughter and childish ribbing at his expense. An occasional picture with words written on it. You saw an image of a weeping man pulled deep down into the throes of despair coupled with some words embedded in the picture about a high-five from the love of your life followed by more raucous laughter from several people who all talked at once. An occasional question directed right to Baekhyun asking about where he even disappeared to. Someone saying he was off crying in a corner. One more noticing that you had vanished as well and you crossed your arms over your chest knowing deep down that the longer you both stayed gone at the same time, the more suspicions amongst your friends and co-workers would grow.

There was no more delaying it. You both knew it. This desperate need you both had succumbed to had been temporarily satisfied and unless you wanted those suspicions to become rumors and those rumors to be backed up with coincidences or worse, facts you both needed to come up with your next move so you could rejoin the others at the party and it really needed to happen sooner rather than later.

Something about his quiet observation of your face and the way he kept his tongue motionless well inside of his closed up mouth despite the half blinking you saw in his eyes and the way his eyebrows twitched up on his forehead had you hesitating to say what really needed to be said.

We should get back to the party.

We’ve been gone for too long.

Someone might notice.

Someone might find out about us.

Instead of speaking you cleared your throat and grabbed your bag, taking one step away from where he stood; one step that brought you closer to the door and further from him.

He didn't say anything but his eyes watched you and oh there was a darkness that grew inside of them.

Why couldn't you just speak to him? Something shameful and dirty had a hold of your tongue and you could feel a growing guilty feeling beginning to take your mood with the words of your plan for escape sitting on the very tip of your tongue refusing to come out.

You couldn't just leave him here. After bringing him in here to fuck and then leaving him behind once you’d been satisfied. It felt so far beneath you to do; not to him. Not with that silent pout you saw on his face the further your feet moved you away from him, the more it grew.

You couldn't stand it.

You spun around, facing him once again and his eyes widened marginally when you took another step toward him, reaching your hand up to reach around his shoulder you placed a palm over the back of his neck, pulling him into you as you leaned into him.

You kissed him. You pressed your lips over his and you let your lips part into his mouth as you kissed him without any hesitations or reservations, you kissed him.

He kissed you. He pulled you into his mouth and took a step into you, molding himself into the feeling and the shape of all of you until both of his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and you were pulled into his chest; into his firmness; into his open mouth. Baekhyun kissed you back deeply and he kissed you back slowly.

All the while you hoped and wished that your lips and the warmth from your touch might soothe every worry that had tried to take hold inside of his bothered chest. You wished he could have been so easily soothed with a few kisses, a few touches, a few reassurances.

He pulled away from you first and with his lips pulled tightly in between his teeth he inhaled a slow breath well into his lungs through his nose.

His forehead rested against your own and his arms still tightly encircled your waist, holding you here with him for a few moments before the itchy question that had been bubbling beneath the surface of him finally broke free. You heard the inhale before he spoke.

“How much longer do I have to be your secret? I hate it so much.”

Of course this was it. You’d had a feeling this was coming. He’d given you hints that he didn't really enjoy all of the hiding and scheming to keep your many sins under wraps. Even his unrestrained delight to find out you’d so easily throw away years of your career just for the chance of staying with him forever had told you that this man was not the type willing to keep his love hidden for very much longer.

You moved your hands over the back of his neck, threading your fingertips into his hair and you closed your eyes, steadying the rush of nerves that spiked at the very thought of the others finding out about the two of you.

“Soon. We won’t have to hide for much longer. I promise,” you spoke through a whisper and you felt the tip of his nose brush over your cheekbone before his soft lips pressed kisses into the softness of your cheek.

“Just not…tonight. Not when we’ve both been drinking and we disappeared together for so long.” You felt the pull of his lips against your skin. It was a smile. You felt the wetness of his teeth as he smiled. “It would be so obvious what we’ve been doing,” you complained.

“Soon, when?” He asked with a whine. There was a playfulness in his words that wasn't there before; before you gave in and promised him this all would be over soon.

“Monday. Monday we can ride to work together and you can drop me off on your way up to your new office. We can even hold hands if you want to.”

”Super early on Monday morning before anyone else gets there?” There was a petulance in his voice as he continued the sulking act. He knew you well enough to know that you always arrived well before any others from your team and probably before anyone else on the entire floor did. Lately though, with him occupying your heart and your bed until the very last minute, you’d tended toward wandering in later and later.

“We could sleep in a little. Maybe stop for coffee first. We could be a little late.” The alcohol really seemed to be doing a number on you. As you daydreamed of what might possibly come on Monday morning you couldn't fight the giddy feeling building up inside of your chest. Baekhyun had pulled his face back so he could look into your eyes as you told him so many of the sweet promises he’d wanted to hear.

“What if I kiss you goodbye at your office door and leave you behind to answer all of their questions?” He was giggling. It felt manic. His kind of happiness was the most contagious kind. The trembling in his chest shook you and made your own laughter break free. This feeling was more than intoxication. It was a new kind of hopeful happiness that you wished would never end.

“Monday,” he said after a while and on his lips he wore the sweetest smile with his pretty pink lips pulled tight and his eyes curved. “It’s only four days. I can act pathetic and lonely and single for four more days. If that’s what I must do—”

His words were cut off by the steady hum of a phone on vibrate that was ringing. You heard the sound echoing out inside the tiny room and both of your heads turned toward the sound of the buzzing on top of the bathroom countertop. He dropped his hands from around you and reached for the phone holding it up to his face for a few milliseconds to read the name on the screen.

He was pressing something and holding it up to his ear as he angled his torso away from you, at the same time holding his index finger up to his lips to let you know that you should not speak if you wanted the secret of this relationship to remain intact.

“Yeah, what?” He said into the phone with a gruff, put-out tone. You could hear the sound of another voice on the line, a man who’s intonation sounded like he was asking a question. The casual, super familiar tone you heard from both men told you this was a close friend of his. The finger he shushed you with told you that it might be one of the close friends sitting out there at the tables near the dance floor. One of the members of the teasing group chat who hadn’t stopped flooding his phone with messages since you’d given him that co-worker worthy, platonic high five.

“I’m taking a shit, why? What do you want?” He angrily barked into the phone and you swallowed the surprised hiccup that caught you off guard with his insane choice of an excuse for his absence. You had to lay a hand over your mouth to keep yourself silent through the shock and you’d just barely moved fast enough, thankfully, to keep yourself from being heard by his caller.

Your eyes were wide on him and you felt it then, again, just as you had genuinely felt it while you watched him with that rowdy group of young men earlier. The sudden and genuine shock at this version of Baekhyun that you honestly had no idea even existed until you’d witnessed him interacting with his friends had you questioning everything you had thought about him until now.

He was listening to his friend talking; nodding his head every once in a while. Silently agreeing to something without using his words. Maybe he was too drunk to realize the person on the other end of the line couldn't actually see him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Baekhyun had taken two steps further into the bathroom and pushed the bathroom stall door open. He noisily flushed the toilet and moved to the sink to turn on the faucet, pulling the phone down from his ear and waving it next to the sound of the running water for full effect.

He’d hung up the call and turned off the water before looking up into your surprised face with a passive expression on his face.

You watched him in silence for a few breaths before his eyes glanced emptily around the room a few times as if to question what your curious reaction was all about.

You shook your head back and forth before you spoke. “Who even are you?” Your brows were furrowed and you looked directly into his brown eyes as you asked the genuine question. You were honestly very curious about what sort of new surprises you would learn about this crazy man in the future.

You heard him scoff and he lifted his hands in front of him, palms up as his eyes looked between the two.

“I am a single, lonely, pathetic loser who has just given himself a killer fucking alibi for where he has been for the past half-hour.” He said this with his chin pointed toward his right hand. Clearly indicating the side he represented. When his focus shifted to the other hand which he held out in your direction he nodded in your direction before he spoke with a single lifted eyebrow above one eye.

“Where have you been for the past half-hour?”

This silly man believed himself to be too clever for his own good. You shrugged and scoffed with a quick and dismissive eye roll. You would show him how to craft a perfect alibi while also keeping your dignity intact.

“Darling, I am drunk and this place is huge. I got lost.” It sounded so simple because it was simple. It was also plausible, as out of character as your drunken behavior had already been so far… You pulled your cell phone out and opened the group chat with a few of your favorite coworkers and teammates and you quickly typed out a text message, ignoring any typos you saw your impaired fingers produce.

“I thought the [arty was on the 5th floor I’ve been up n down this hotel so many times. did they move the party????? someone help meee :(“

You showed him the message and nearly instantly, and as if on cue, the replies began to pour in.

“Omggggg ma’am lmao”

“lololol miss manager is lost”

“search party for mis manger nobody has any more fun till we find her”

“She’s so cute drunk”

“Third floor! We are on the third floor!!”

“Stay where you are I’ll come save you”

You looked up into Baekhyun’s shocked face and your lips pulled into a self satisfied smile.

“You are so cute drunk. Who is the one who said that? Is it a guy? Dani sounds like a guy.”

His pointy fingertip was touching your screen as he tried to scroll back up and get closer look at the names and pictures of the people in this group chat and you specifically did not dignify his silly questions with an answer. Instead you locked your phone and put it back inside of your bag; turning your back on him, you raised a hand to unlock the bathroom door.

You poked your head out first. The coast was clear and in the far off distance you could hear the thump thump thump of the party that was still going on. “You go right and I’ll go left?” you asked behind you.

Baekhyun’s head poked out beside you, just over your shoulder and he turned his head quickly to the right and to the left, scanning the area for witnesses. You had already done this part. He didn’t need to also do this part.

“If you go left, you’ll get even more lost.” He said in a serious voice and you felt him give you a solid push through the doorway at the same time as he reached down and grabbed ahold of your hand. He started walking toward the right, pulling you along with him.

“Baekhyun,” you whispered from behind him, wiggling your hand to try and get him to release the tight grip, “Baekhyun, I wasn’t really lost.”

You pulled back against him harder, and stopped your feet from moving forward, “Baekhyun, that was a lie, remember?” It took some urging but he eventually felt your resistance and turned back around to look at you. There was a sudden change in his face as he closed up his eyes and threw his head back. His lips pulled into a wide and beautiful smile and he had a moment of realization.

“Oh shit, that’s right,” he laughed hard and pulled his hand over his belly as he did it.

Oh no.

Ohhhh no.

This man was not in his right mind right now.

”Baekhyun,” you urged in a more serious tone, trying your best to keep all hints of amusement off of your face. You could feel your own smile fighting you. He was so drunk and he was so adorable, “Baekhyun, not tonight. Not tonight, okay? Monday. Remember?”

You pulled your hand out of his and he looked down at his own empty hand with a small frown before he nodded his head up and down twice.

“Not tonight,” he repeated, showing you that he was here now and he fully understood what you were telling him. Until his eyes found yours again and he inhaled a quick breath to speak again.

“Tonight!” he said excitedly and his lips were parted and your stomach dropped as you flattened your lips and closed your eyes in frustration.

“Not tonight.” You said feebly but he was excitedly tapping you on the arm. Clearly worked up enough about something to be having trouble getting the words out in order.

“No, no. I know. Not tonight for that. Not that, but tonight — tonight, my friends, the guys, my boys,” he was moving as he gestured with both hands as if they held onto something in the empty space in front of him, “and your girls,” he moved his hands to hold onto the emptiness on the other side, “my boys and your girls,” his face dropped and he lifted an eyebrow, “are having an after party tonight. Tonight, tonight.” He lifted a hand and pointed his finger downward.

Clearly his words weren’t fully cooperating with him and he’d resorted to using his hands and arms to pantomime his meaning. It worked though. You followed wherever his hands moved and you relaxed with the faith that he would behave himself just enough to keep things under wraps until Monday. He was also very excited about whatever he was trying his best to tell you about right now.

With one hand he reached out wide to the side and he closed his eyes up and shook his head. “After-party,” he said, “round two,” he lifted two fingers up with his eyes still closed.

”My party,” he placed his palm flat on his chest and swayed on his feet, “my going away party — Junmyeon said your girls told him. My boys have been invited. We are all going — tonight.”

“They are,” he lifted both hands and intertwined his fingers in front of his face, “they are all together now.”

After he finally got the entire message out he giggled quietly to himself.

“Woooo,” he breathed through his mouth, making a little sound as he did it, “I’m drunk — hitting me now. Fucking tequila.”

He smiled that breathtaking smile right at you before he turned and left. You noticed he took a right turn at one of the hallways ahead of you and you were thankful that in his drunken mind he knew the layout of this hotel enough to be able to find a different route back to the party.

You counted to twenty inside of your head before you took the first step and it only took you a few moments before someone grabbed you by the arm, linking a warm elbow within yours with a cheerful smile on her face. There was another girl on the other side, equally as warm. These were your people.

“We found her!” They both cheered in unison toward a much larger group of people who all lingered on the outskirts of the now, winding down party. “Round two! Round Two!” A noisy chorus rang out and you were not once let go of someone’s tight grip on you as you were steered quite deliberately out of this hotel ballroom, into an elevator that moved down to the street level and out of this building entirely.

From the murmuring around you, you gathered that Baekhyun’s cousin owned a swanky bar up the street; easily within walking distance. Spirits were high and the group of people was larger than you thought would be able to fit inside of a single bar. Worries were hushed and Baekhyun assured everyone that he texted his cousin and the bar was completely ours for the rest of the night. There would be food and alcohol and music and even, “An open mic should anyone wish to serenade someone special,” one of Baekhyun’s noisier friends said with a dramatic wink of his eye that earned him a hard smack on the back.

You had no idea who anyone was. There were just so many of them. You did hear someone calling one of them Junmyeon and you knew this had to be the one who had called Baekhyun earlier. There was also a Minseok who was shockingly pretty for a man, and Jongdae who was the loudest of all of them. If you had thought Baehyun’s best friend Chanyeol had been loud, apparently you just hadn’t heard Jongdae’s volume yet. There were some others who were much quieter, and one with striking, large, very expressive eyes who hadn’t said a single word since you’d seen him. He did give you a sweet smile and a little nod of his head which put you at ease. You were certain he was a delight on his own, but with this group, he probably just couldn't be bothered with competing against the other very loud, very chatty members of the group.

Swanky seemed like not a grand enough word to describe this place. The word “bar” was such a vast understatement it hardly even deserved to be used at all. This place was the highest of high end; the kind of place without a name on the door, without a listed phone number; with a strict clientele of only the city’s most elite visitors. You were sure most of the people who walked by that door on the street level had no idea what kind of beauty and opulence lay just inside. They would never know either.

The moment you stepped inside the fragrance, the lighting, the shimmer and glimmer and the air even, all enveloped your body entirely in what could only be described as the kind of warmth you feel coating your skin when you slip into a hot bathtub. It was like slipping out of your bra and restrictive loathing and slipping on a silk nightgown that expensive smooth fabric that glides against your skin.

You were all ushered toward a large table and one by one, people sat down. Baekhyun was sidetracked by a beautiful woman who pulled him in for a tight hug. She spoke to him in joyous up close whispers and he replied in kind with giggles and smiles, grabbing his hand and shaking it, giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek. You were unprepared to face the hot surge of jealousy you felt deep inside your chest and you had to look away from this exchange. You focused instead on keeping the sweet smile etched onto your face. Your hands were shaking and your feet moved as if the floor was covered in super glue, but you kept that smile up for long enough for you to find a spot to sit at the big table.

Your just clear enough mind fought very hard against your heart and pulled your legs to sit down in the empty seat between Sandi and Marci before you could linger too long on the empty one beside where Baekhyun was headed, on the opposite side of this enormous table.

You didn’t need to feel the warmth of his body beside you.

You didn’t need to be reminded of how good he smelled.

Dishes of food arrived and fresh drinks were passed around and the small waitstaff was overly attentive and polite. The delicious food did more for your mind than any fake smiles did. You could feel your blood clearing the more you ate and as the food went in, you kept your focus on the food in front of you, on the drinks in front of you, on the company of women that sat on either side of you for long enough to get a handle on it. For just long enough for you to trust yourself enough to look up and across that table at the pair of dark brown eyes that you could feel watching you at this very moment. As he ate, as he laughed, as he talked and joked, as he drank; those eyes always found you. You were right to put some distance between you both.

The air in the room shifted then as the hum of the A/C sounded out suddenly and you felt a slight chill in the air. It was probably because you were sobering up some and the heat from the liquor wasn’t warming you from the inside anymore but you could feel an alarming sensation from below your revealing dress as the chill puckered your skin.

Oh no. Your stickers were long gone. A weird self conscious thought invaded your mind and you pulled out your cell phone to send the quickest discrete text message to your boyfriend. You kept the phone below the table as you did it and you gave it a second before you saw his attention drawn to the phone in his pocket.

His hands moved below the table and you watched the tick of his pupils as he read your message. There was a quick movement of his thumbs and your phone vibrated once, telling you he had responded to your question. He did not look at you at all but was well into a long discussion with the men who sat around him.

“Can you tell that my stickers are gone?”

”yes.”

He answered you so very quickly. He didn't even look up to verify that he could actually see your ice cold nipples poking straight out, ruining the luxurious look of this dress. This wouldn’t do. You rose to your feet and excused yourself for the bathrooms; all the while crossing your arms over your chest as you rubbed hands over your bare forearms in some attempt to warm yourself up. You needed a first hand look in the mirror. Maybe someone had a suit jacket you could borrow. With all of these charming young men surely one of them could sacrifice theirs for a lady with a chill.

You had to walk past his end of the table to get to the bathrooms and you noticed he shifted his weight a bit as soon as you began moving; all while still not looking at you. He continued carrying on with his friends; laughing and joking as if you were of no interest to him at all. If only you could borrow a tiny bit of his self control right now, you might not have been watching him so intensely.

He stood up on his feet the moment you came right up to his side on your journey through the room.

In a swift motion, Baekhyun, stood on his legs and he removed his blue suit jacket, then he turned it around, leaned over to where you stood and placed it right over your shoulders as you walked by and the moment the warmth and the smell of him landed over your back, coating you entirely in the heat you’ve been craving since you walked into this bar, your feet stalled their forward motion and you actually froze in place.

Not him though, the action was smooth as hell. Just as fluidly as his initial surprising movement started, he continued the motion and spun back around in a circle, sitting down seamlessly, effortlessly, and very quickly as if he had never even gotten up in the first place.

But he did. He did get up. He did give you his warm jacket with all of his body heat and scent and he did it right here. He put it on you himself with his own two hands.

And everyone saw him do it.

He did that in this room full of people — people who had been drinking all night, people who knew the both of you, people who, at least half of which, knew of his intense crush on you. The room erupted into a drunken cacophony of hoots and hollers and you could feel the blood rushing straight up your neck and warming the skin of your cheeks.

“Shut up. She was just cold.” You heard his complaints clearly as he was obviously trying his best to quiet down the excitement he had just caused, “You guys are so dumb.”

You forced your feet to move. Gripping the lapel of his jacket tightly around your shoulders you took another step and then another, moving quickly away from the noise and chaos he had just caused, towards the sanctity of that bathroom that you so desperately needed right now.

After a few quiet moments your phone buzzed once.

“Sorry,” was all his text message read.

You opened it and read it but you did not reply. Instead you used the toilet, washed your hands, used your ice cold hands to cool the hot skin on your face as you gave yourself a quietly whispered little pep talk about what you should be doing with your eyes while you were out there. You decided that you would strike up an intense conversation with Sandi about her love life. You would be engrossed enough to hear about her escapades to keep your mind off of the handsome man who sat at the end of that table ignoring you while his very attractive “cousin” or whatever the hell she really was to him, giggled at his jokes and gave him free appetizers, and told him about a girl she was going to set him up on a blind date with and called him Sweetness in a saccharine tone. Did she think she was a southern debutante?

You derailed your own pep talk with the pain you felt in the palm of your hand. You were squeezing down so hard you saw little half moons pressed by your fingernails into your palm.

You took several deep calming breaths. You recognized that you were acting ridiculous. Self awareness is the first step to recovery. You reminded yourself of this mid-calming breath and when you emerged from that bathroom and stepped out into the hallway you noticed that much of that chaos and noise from earlier had settled down. You could hear voices, some excited shouting and some groaning and it sounded like the group had finished dinner and had moved on to some sort of game. Knowing this group, it was likely a drinking game; hence the over the top groaning and cheering.

A quick peek around the corner kept your feet from moving forward because Baekhyun’s chair was empty. Had he left for the bathrooms as well?

Your shameless curiosity drove your legs to move in the other direction because your ears picked up on a familiar voice, just off a corner from where you stood.

It was his voice for sure. He was chatting and there was a word attached to a statement in a woman’s voice that gripped you so tightly to hear it said out loud.

Fiancé

She said the word fiancé.

Only the word and its meaning was skewed and broken because she was speaking to him quite obviously, about someone other than you.

“I saw your fiancé the other day,” she said. You felt a spindly pins and needles sensation slipping up the back of your spine.

He responded in a low voice. You couldn't make out what he said. It was some sort of low, rough tone.

“Oh really? That’s not what I heard.” She replied in a cocky, confident tone and you heard him clear his throat. Was that a nervous, caught sort of throat clearing? Was it annoyed or denial? Your lungs burned and you felt as if there wasn’t enough air to clear the anxious buzzing happening inside of your skull.

Fiancé? You felt a dizzy, sinking feeling inside.

Had Baekhyun been engaged to marry someone? Someone he loved, maybe? You could not help the way your neck craned to get closer and the few steps you took as you closed your eyes, begging to be able to hear what he was saying to her. The sounds of his clear yet quiet voice, at last, broke through the noise.

“last year — bullshit — excuse for a mother — my life is mine — can think whatever they want — drove me to a point — almost gave up — ”

You only got bits of it but from the little you had to work with you could tell right away and with the realization came an instant shame that covered from the over of your head down straight into your chest. This wasn’t something he had chosen. It wasn’t something he wanted any part of. Someone had been forcing him into it. And at some point last year, during his lowest point it seemed, fueled by some personal crisis, triggered and hopeless, desperately awful in every way — he called it all off.

Something so huge had happened in his life during that time and you had no idea about any of it.

You felt an acrid taste in the back of your throat. You took a step back and away from this and quickekend your steps further once you were sure you were out of earshot.

This isn't something you wanted to overhear about him like a sneaky jealous girlfriend who just couldn't stand the idea that every single bit of his mind was occupied only with you. You pulled the suit coat tighter around your shoulders as you moved. You felt dirty and unworthy of the sweet warmth he had given you as you did it. It was an awful feeling; knowing you had overheard something like that; something he likely didn’t want you to know about.

You wanted him to tell you all about his past, no matter how painful it was, but with his own two lips. You wanted him to share his past pain with you just as you would share your own past with him; but only when you both were ready for it and only on each other's terms.

Your stomach ached with the idea of leaving this to fester. Leaving this guilty feeling to sit inside of you without speaking to him about it; without apologize to him for your blatant jealous, shameful eavesdropping.

You had found a small nook just off of that hallway and you stood there chewing on your thumb nail and you waited.

It didn't take very long before you saw the first glimpse of him. He wa heading back to the table and you reached a hand out, touching his arm from where you were hidden inside of your little hole. He actually flinched and yelped out in surprise when you touched him.

“Jesus,” he was holding his chest as he whispered.

“Can I talk to you for a second? Just for a minute, please.” You recognized the serious tone on your own voice and it had you cringing for how ridiculously bad you felt about this. His face shifted instantly. He was overcome with a look of genuine concern and worry and he nodded his head, looked once behind him and made a motion with his hand toward another area of the bar. It was a space just off the kitchens where he led you to and once you followed him back there you found him leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his own chest in a fully protective stance. His eyes were full of worry and you realized that your choice of words, the ‘can we talk’ thing must have sent a jolt of panic through him; as it would have sent through you.

The second you came close enough for his whispered words to reach your ears you saw the small step he took in your direction. He lifted a trembling hand to reach out toward you and on his lips was the beginning of a pleading apology.

“I’m sorry about the jacket — ” he began. You lifted a hand and shook your head to cut him off.

“This isn’t about anything you did. I owe you an apology and I need to say it now or it’s going to destroy me from the inside.”

Your quick words closed up his mouth and his shoulders sagged as he his face ticked to the side in confusion. His didn’t speak but his eyebrows furrowed and you caught the stuttered breath that caught halfway inside his throat as he tried to breath through it.

“I overheard your conversation just now with your cousin. It was not my place to hear it. I was dealing with some imaginary jealousy about how friendly and how familiar you were with her and I heard you two talking and before I could stop myself, I was listening to what you both spoke about. I’m so sorry I did that. It was awful of me to do. I feel as if… that was your private … life .. and if the tables were turned and you had done what I did, I might be upset about it. I’m so sorry, Baekhyun.”

He was motionless throughout your entire confession and apology and when you were done speaking you inhaled a deep breath and held it as you anxiously watched his face for any signs of what he was thinking about what you had done.

You saw a wave of motion move through him and he turned away from you for a moment as his hand ran over the length of his face. When he angled himself back in your direction his brown eyes sat heavy and deep within your own and he looked at you with a pull of his chin upward.

Before he spoke he licked his lips and his face twisted into the smallest grimace.

“You didn’t need to ever tell me that you heard that—” He started speaking. A clear upward inflection in his words that signaled very plainly that he wasn’t finished speaking with this one phrase. You couldn’t help yourself though.

Your nerves had your hands shaking and your voice trembling. “It was wrong of me to list—” you interrupted him but as soon as your words left your lips he raised a hand to stop you from speaking. You knew you were wrong. You knew you were moving out of turn and his quick hand and with the tight way he closed his eyes, instantly stopped your silly tongue from moving any further.

“Stop, please—“ he begged quietly and you bit down on your lips to keep yourself better behaved.

“You— didn’t need to tell me this…you could have gone the rest of our lives never mentioning that you knew this until one day it came up and I told you — I told you how painful it was, how hard it was for me at the time and you could have just pretended not to know and acted so surprised to hear that yes, I was being forced to marry someone I don’t know, against my will, my entire life and future being stolen from me because of disgusting greed and how very fucking close I came to not even existing at all anymore because of that pain—”

“I would have told you about this. Absolutely, and without a doubt, I would have told you everything, but you — you — instead you — instead you have given me honesty. You chose, for me, to be so very gracious and beautifully true to me and save me the years of the indignity of believing something about you that isn’t true.”

“Do you realize how insanely unparalleled you are? Do you have any idea how high of a standard you set?”

“How can I ever compare to you? I think I would have listened and I wouldn’t have even felt guilty about it. I wouldn’t have told you I heard anything. I don’t feel like I deserve you at all, but goddammit I love you so much I feel like I’m going to cry.”

His heavy words pulled your arms down from your chest and they hung lifelessly by your side. You felt pulled in every way, down into this carpeting that covered the floor below your feet. You had to close your eyes and drop your face and you slumped and sagged deep on the inside under the immense weight of all of this.

“You don't have to be so quick to forgive me,” you whispered and you heard the movement in front of you when he took a step. You noticed the shadow of his arms moving around you a second before you felt the warmth of his embrace as he circled himself around you, pulling your shoulders inward with the pressure of his hug; he pulled you firmly into his chest; tucking his face into your hair just over your shoulder and the breathe he inhaled from here trembled and shook.

“There is no part of my life that I want to keep private from you,” he spoke directly into your ear and you stumbled backward with the force of this embrace. “Let’s just think of this as a fortuitous event. Now I don't have to lie to you or come up with some stupid excuse for why I’m too much of a coward to answer my mother’s phone calls.”

“I don't think that’s cowardice, Baekhyun. You don't want to be hurt. Anyone would avoid pain if they can help it.” You could feel the relaxation in his limbs as he loosened the tight hold he had on you. You used this opportunity to lift a hand and lightly tap along his arm, urging him to let you go. The crisis had passed and you were lucid enough to know that this sort of embrace was definitely not something co-workers did, no matter how much they had had to drink that night.

The food you’d both had earlier had really done some wonders for your resolve and self control because he let you go quietly and took a step back, leaning against the wall with his arms firmly crossed but much lower over his chest this time.

This time, it wasn’t to protect his heart from whatever potentially damaging word you might need to tell him. Now he took on a much more relaxed posture that looked almost too casual. He had a slight grin on his lips and his eyes had a bit of mischief that always, always put you on some level of alert. You knew this look. It was never good news.

“So you were jealous,” he said with a little head shake, “of my cousin?” With the second part of his question he sneered and lifted both of his eyebrows with a forced look of disapproval but just enough self serving amusement for you to understand that he was more much more flattered than creeped out by your ill-placed jealousy.

You rolled your eyes and you were certain much of the disgust he should have felt when he thought about a close relative was displayed all over your face. Why did he look so amused by you?

“She’s very touchy — calls you Sweetness — ugh, kisses you on the cheek and hugs you so tight with her,” you motioned with your hands over your own chest, “body pressed all up against you. I couldn't tell if she was actually a close family friend that you just called a cousin who obviously wants to sleep with you, or a real, honest-to-god first cousin.” A new thought occurred and you inhaled to keep going, “ugh, or like one of those fourth cousins, twice removed; the ones that you're legally allowed to marry and make babies with even if it is technically still gross.”

His eyes narrowed, with that smile still firmly planted in place on his lips and he looked up and away from your face. He was silent for a few seconds too long and his eyes trailed up over the top of your head. He was doing some intense thinking. Some genome math. Some heavy generational calculating. You did not like the looks of this.

“Actually, I think she might be like a third cousin, now that you put it that way. Pretty sure, legally, we would be allowed to get married and make tons of babies. The genes are technically far enough apart. It would still be kinda weird though... I mean, for me. I don't know how she would feel about it.”

A sound broke free from deep within your chest. It was a disgusted grunt and you threw your head back and released it from deep within you as you turned around; giving your back to him so you could walk away from this ridiculous man. You ignored the teasing little ‘he-he-hes’ that broke free from his mouth. You were done. You were finished with this conversation, if he was going to admit out loud that technically she wasn’t even close enough of a cousin to be illegal to marry — and how dare he one-up on your reasonable and vague number of babies by making it “tons of babies” — you didn’t want to hear any more. Not only was your jealousy justified, but this man was gross. Not legally gross, but technically gross.

You were walking away. You could hear him calling after you as you did it.

“But hey, I’m young and single right? I’m single and lonely and pathetic for the next four days, right?” The sassy, sarcastically delivered quip stopped you in your tracks and you instantly turned back around, took three quick steps toward him so you could look right into his face. Just so you could see the look in his eyes as he dared to say such a thing. He seemed to physically recoil to see you return so suddenly.

You did not say anything; all you did was look at him but it seemed to elicit a strong reaction from him. His jaw snapped shut and his laughing, teasing expression shifted and turned extremely grave and serious with your unexpected and sudden return.

“I’m sorry. I was kidding. It was a joke.” He said the moment he was able to inhale a breath to speak, he gasped again, “joke — j-joke. Please don't hurt me.” He whispered nervously and you balked at the suggestion that you would dare resort to violence. All you could do was shake your head in disbelief. All you could do was lay a hand over your chest at the audacity of this man and after a few moments of neither of you moving, you simply turned and walked away.

You returned to your seat at the table alone; although, still wearing his blue coat. The color complimented the shimmering sparkle of your pretty dress perfectly and it was warm and it smelled like him. You wiggled into your seat and Sandi and Marci each handed you a drink. One had beer and the other was smaller and had liquor. Were you really up to another round of this?

It didn’t really seem much up to you because another game was starting and you were up. This game was two truths and a lie. If your falsehood was sniffed out you had to drink and if you were safe with your lying skills the rest of the group had to drink. It was pretty cutthroat and the choice of the lie had to be unanimous and made within a 30 second timer. Phones were forbidden, even though these lies and truths were so personal there was no way someone would be able to google for an answer. Still, you were up first and you pondered for a few moments before you spoke. You picked something very safe. ‘I have never been on a rollercoaster. I am in my 30s. My first pet was a fish.’ Nothing risky and nothing incriminating but strangely enough the two options outside of your age had started quite the heated discussion. You smiled cryptically as even Baekhyun seemed genuinely torn between the rollercoaster and the fish option and when the timer on someone’s phone rang out the group scrambled and chose the roller coaster as your lie.

You shrugged and told them your first pet was a puppy and everyone groaned and drank their shots.

The game was fun and the further it progressed the more intense the discussions grew. There was analyzing from all perspectives and the truths and lies grew bolder and harder to believe.

The drinks were being thrown back at record speed and soon enough you felt the familiar buzz of the alcohol coursing through your system. Jongdae’s lie had been that he didn’t know how to tie shoes and there was much shouting as all of the men around him pointed out his perfectly tied shoelaces. Someone else mentioned how they saw him personally tying his daughter’s shoes the other day at the park and he was easily snuffed out. Baekhyun was up next and he lifted his finger to his lips in thought for a moment before he spoke out.

“I have a diplomatic passport. I own the hotel we were just at. I am in love with someone from work.”

The gasps were loud and came from all sides of the table at his scandalous words. Each one seemingly of equal intensity and you did you best to keep your expression neutral as you lifted your beer and took the smallest sip. The bottle in front of your mouth hid the tiny smile you had there and the discussion around the table seemed to be truly torn. All of the men believed the lie was about the hotel. There was much discussion about how much Baekhyun had to travel in his life and how that hotel had no mention of the Byun name on it. The men never even once questioned the phrase about Baekhyun’s work crush.

The women on the other hand seemed to fixate on this one. ‘I’ve never seen him interact with anyone except for Sunny, who he was training so he had to interact with her, and Miss Manager. Who else would it possibly be? He’s just too busy with actual work to be in love with someone. Unless he just never said anything and kept it to himself. I wonder who it is.’

Eventually the men were louder and pushier made their decision stick; doubting Baekhyun’s ownership of the hotel and you had to smile widely simply because you could not stand knowing exactly which was the lie and being powerless to say anything out loud about it. You simply sat here with your beer in your hand, relishing in his little confession hidden within this game.

They were all wrong. You had to take a shot as well and his eyes were on you as you did it. Those lovely eyes shot tiny little hearts in your direction and you hardly even felt the burn of the strong liquor going down your throat.

“The diplomatic passport?” Junmyeon asked Baekhyun noisily, demanding answers and Baekhyun just smiled and looked down into his drink.

“Wait, so you own the hotel? No way.” Marci asked him across the table and Baekhyun nodded his head once and lifted the beer to his lips.

“I don't believe it. They’re all lies. He’s lying about all of them.” Her tone was petulant; made sulkier sounding with the amount of alcohol she had consumed and he leaned over toward Marci with his own cell phone in his hand.

“Marci, look up the number of the hotel. You can watch me type it.”

Marci took the challenge personally and began reading numbers out loud which Baekhyun carefully typed into his phone. On the last number the entry changed to a saved phone number with the name of the hotel and he placed the call on speaker so everyone could hear. The phone rang exactly once before a polite voice answered.

“Mr. Byun, What can we do for you tonight?”

”Sooyoung, can you let me know how many empty rooms we have left tonight? My friends need somewhere to crash after the party. Do we have enough for,” he lifted his hands and counted each head at the table. You ignored it when he skipped you and you hoped to God these drunk people weren’t paying enough attention to notice that neither you, nor he got counted. “Ten more?” He said after counting. A typing sound echoed over the stunned and silenced group and after a few moments the woman returned to the line. “We have enough, Mr. Byun. I will get them ready for your friends. I’ll place the room keys under your name at the front desk, sir.”

He thanked the woman and the table erupted in more of that familiar chaos of cheers and applause. You noticed that Junmyeon (I am a Gemini. I love rabbits. My blood type is A), the man who sat right beside Baekhyun had a puzzled look on his face and he lifted a hand to count the heads at this table, coming back not quite with the same number as Baekhyun had counted and puzzling over it while looking down at his own finger.

“Wait a minute,” Marci called out noisily. “If you own the hotel, and you don't have a diplomatic passport,” she gasped out loud and covered her mouth with wide eyes as the pieces slowly began to fall into place for her, “then who are you in love with from work?”

The attention of the girls was back on Baekhyun, but suddenly the group of men all jeered in her direction, clearly covering for him. “Hey, don't ask that,” someone said admonishingly. “A man’s gotta have some secrets,” someone else said.

“I thought it was pretty obvious already,” Kyungsoo, the quiet man with the big eyes abruptly spoke out in a smooth and low voice that could not have been more unexpected seeing as how he hadn’t said anything at all since his round of two truths and a lie (I like cooking. I have three dogs. I own six pairs of the exact same pants.)

“Let’s play truth or dare then,” Marci spoke up, quite put out with being told to zip it by this group of pushy men when she was clearly way too invested in this love story to let it go. If there was one thing you knew about Marci it was that she loved the gossip. All gossip. Any gossip. She was a sucker for it all. She was in this for the drama.

The of girls all cheered and you braced for the possibility of having to drink a lot more alcohol if you ended up being dared to do anything too risky, or possibly anything at all involving Baekhyun.

The next game was up. Minseok emptied his beer bottle and placed it on its side in the middle of the table and gave it a good spin. Sure this game wasn’t spin the bottle, but everyone liked the randomness of selecting the next victim in this way. As if pulled by some sort of act of fate the first spin landed on you. All at once, everyone’s face turned to look at you expectantly.

“Umm…truth, I guess.” You said, fully prepared to lie through your teeth if you had to.

”Do you know who he is in love with?” Marci wasted no time at all and the entire table erupted in rabid laughter. The laughter from the men’s side of the table was more intense than anything you’d heard from the group yet.

You steeled yourself; put on your best poker face, the one you used during business meetings and negotiations and you shrugged your shoulders with a slightly disappointed frown.

”I do not,” you said. The disappointed groans from all around were intense. Baekhyun’s eyes never left your face, not even for one second and you reached forward and grabbed the bottle to spin.

Tonight was not your night. The bottle landed on Baekhyun.

The noise was deafening and Baekhyun sat there with his eyes closed up tight in defeat with the smallest tense smile on his face.

“Truth or dare, Assistant Byun.” You said. You knew it was your part to ask, being the last one to spin the bottle.

“Truth,” he said, opening his eyes to look into your face.

Your mouth felt too dry and you sipped a little of your beer as you pondered the kind of question you could ask him that would satisfy this insane group of people but wouldn’t give anything away.

“Ask him who he loves. Do it. Do it,” Marci, Sunny, Dani, everyone was begging you to do it. The pressure you felt in this very moment was astounding. You had to inhale a slow and careful breath just to be able to stand this. The only silent one was Sandi beside you and you looked toward her just as she looked away from you.

You received her message. You figure this one out. I’m out of ideas, she said to you with her avoidance. The woman wouldn't even look at you. She was suddenly extremely interested in something she pretended to notice on the drink menu on the table in front of her.

“Umm…Assistant Byun, do you want to tell us who you are in love with?” It was a dirty manager trick. You technically didn’t ask him to answer the question. Anyone who heard this question would see your good intentions as you presented them. You could play ignorance quite easily for the mistake with your words and Baekhyun lifted a single eyebrow and smiled easily. God, he was a pretty man.

“Not really,” he said, clearly answering the question with honesty and satisfying the measure of the truth aspect of the game while still revealing absolutely nothing, thanks to your creative evasion.

The entire table moaned and groaned out loud. Some shouted in your direction, telling you to ask more directly next time and you laughed and gave your easy apologies to satiate this group of absolute drunken maniacs.

Whenever Baekhyun or any of his boys remained in charge of the line of questioning, things went pretty smoothly. They really were a good group of friends who had his back. The first real bit of trouble came when Marci had the spin and her bottle landed on Junmyeon who sat chewing on his fingernails beside a glaring Baekhyun.

“Truth,” she shouted ravenously, “or dare.” She added as an afterthought. She was trying to influence his decision and as his lips formed the letter D you actually heard her growling in his direction.

He caved so easily. A timid, “Truth?” Came from his lips and Marci pounced instantly.

“Who is Baekhyun in love with? I know you know.” Baekhyun was moving fast. He had his hands on the trembling man. The entirety of his side of the table filled with men were holding in their laughter, holding their bellies that hurt from laughing so much, and many of them braced for something to happen. Every single one of them had clearly had too much to drink by now. They would all suffer dearly for the over indulgence tomorrow, but tonight was just too much fun to stop now.

Junmyeon’s eyes went wide with terror and Baekhyun had lifted a hand to lay over the back of Junmyeon’s neck. You thought he might even be gripping tightly into his neck where no one could see.

”You’re thirsty, aren’t you.” Baekhyun lifted a shot of liquor up to Junmyeon’s lips and Junmyeon nodded his head and quickly and quietly swallowed the alcohol that Baekhyun poured into his mouth.

Beside them both, Jongdae was down on the floor laughing and wheezing through the tears that fell from his eyes.

You couldn't help your own laughter. The evening had progressed to such a point and so many near disaster moments had been carefully avoided you found yourself laughing just as much as the rest of them. Your cheeks were sore and your belly was sore and Junmyeon was spinning now. His bottle landed on Marci and everyone screamed out loud in agony recognizing that the cycle was never ending.

Marci was too determined, as were the other girls who had joined in this quest to uncover Baekhyun’s truth even if they had to sell their souls to do it. Theories began to be thrown around. It had to be someone here. Otherwise those men wouldn't have been so protective of Baekhyun and his secret. The girls were on fire; eyeing everyone else suspiciously on your side of the table and the next major crisis hit when Sunny’s spin landed on the aloof and very exhausted Kyungsoo. He had already had so much to drink and you could see the fatigue with all of this on his face.

In his best attempt at it, he picked dare.

“I dare you to whisper into my ear, the name of the person Baekhyun is in love with.”

The table had gone silent. These men knew the threat that they suddenly faced and Baekhyun’s eyes watched his friend with genuine worry. He blinked quickly and you heard the smallest plea, “Kyungsoo,” he said quietly.

You had some sort of an idea about this man. If anyone could stand up to Baekhyun and the rest of these men, it was probably Kyungsoo. He had a quiet sort of authority that you didn’t think many people would question. It wasn’t that he was unkind toward his friend. The man simply had a definite limit and had clearly reached it.

”I can’t drink anymore Baekhyun,” His words were very slurred and slowed down. The man stood up and rounded the table to where Sunny sat with an elated smile wide on her face and you watched with your heart in your throat as a whispered exchange happened between the two of them.

Kyungsoo then stood up straight and simply walked back to his seat and sat down.

Sunny though. Sunny’s hands flew up to her mouth to cover her surprised gasp and her wide eyes flew around the table as her entire face turned pink with excitement.

On both of her sides the girls were tapping her, and begging to be let in on the secret. It really did seem as if they knew something concrete with how very stunned they all looked once they had learned of the secret name.

Across the table, Baekhyun stared ahead of himself without any focus.

Everyone was very drunk already. Maybe no one would remember any of this tomorrow.

The group of men had all gone silent and after a few moments of whispering between the girls that pointedly did not land into your ears, a strange silence fell over the room.

“Well?” you said rather unceremoniously and abruptly. You couldn't stand this anymore. The cat was clearly out of the bag and you needed to know exactly what Kyungsoo had told Sunny and what had that girl all flushed and bashful about. You needed to know what you were working with to know how to act about it.

You needed either some damage control, or some denial to be happening right now but none of them were telling you anything. They just looked into each other’s faces and down at the table in front of them.

Your question was ignored. It was very unlike them, but they did it.

It was Kyungsoo’s spin and he grabbed the bottle and gave it a good go. You watched that stupid thing come to a stop pointed right at you and you lifted your eyes to look at the man.

“Truth,” you said before he had a chance to ask. As soon as you spoke, he did too.

“How do you feel about Baekhyun?” When the man said he was tired, he really meant it. He wasted no time. You felt the heat of everyone’s eyes on your face and the longer you sat here with this question hanging in the air above your head the less you really cared that much about what you chose to do. You avoided all of their eyes as you deliberated.

If you answered truthfully, well…

If you drank to avoid the question, well…

You weren’t much for bravery. You grabbed your shot glass and downed the liquor. The moment the glass touched your lips the table exploded. Someone was shaking Baekhyun by the shoulders, pulling him violently back and forth and you could see the laughter on his face.

“She didn’t answer it!” someone shouted excitedly.

“That could also mean she hates him and is just too nice to say it!” someone else shouted with the exact same level of enthusiasm.

You truly began to feel a lot of the same fatigue that Kyungsoo had been complaining about. His head was down on the table now and his eyes were closed. You couldn't be sure he hadn’t passed out right here at the table.

It was your spin and you gave it a good go. It landed on Marci and she looked into your face with her lips pulled up tight in surprise. She gave you the tiniest hiccup as a response and you looked into her face; suddenly very, very tired of playing this game.

“Truth or dare?” You said to her. Her choice did not matter. You would get it out of her either way.

She picked dare and you shrugged, “I dare you to tell me who he is in love with. You can whisper it into my ear if you want.”

Marci looked nervously around the room. No one seemed to have any suggestions or offer her any help and so she just swallowed nervously and leaned into you.

You heard her small inhale up close to your ear before she whispered, “Baekhyun is in love with you.”

The sensation of hearing this whispered into your ear at a time like this, while being closely observed by every single person at this table who knew what you had just been told was like an out-of-body experience.

You were floating up above your body. You could see the top of your head, you watched the nervous way you reached out for your beer and lifted it to take a big drink of it. You could see yourself fidgeting with the napkin underneath the beer, tearing it into tiny pieces with your fingertips and rolling the bits into little logs that you dropped onto the table cloth. This whole setting was a mess and you had been the one to make the mess. Across the table, you saw Baekhyun as he sat there completely motionless with arms crossed tightly over his chest, his posture sagging low in his seat and his eyes watching your face intently. It didn't look like he was breathing.

The entire bar was so quiet you could have whispered and every single person at this table would have heard you.

You inhaled a breath and blinked slowly, pulling your eyes up to look into Baekhyun’s across this table. You still did not feel like you were inside of your own body; making these choices; saying these words. You were not involved in this anymore. This woman who wore your face and sat here in your spot was inhaling to speak and opening her mouth as she prepared her voice to say something.

“Byun Baekhyun,” you said. Ten stunned faces turned away from you and looked at Baekhyun.

“Yes ma’am?” He answered through clenched teeth.

Tiny gasps peppered throughout the group. It was like a tennis match, they were looking at you again. Faces were covered with hands; gaping mouths were hanging open; someone was making a wild whimpering sound and smacking someone next to them in excitement.

“I don't think it’s her turn to ask. Marci is the one who has to spin next.”

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up. Let her speak.”

“What the fuck is happening right now.”

“I am going to pee my pants.”

“Yes ma’am. He said, yes ma’am.”

“She said his fucking name. Let them speak.”

The rules no longer seemed to matter anymore.

Kyungsoo had lifted his head from the table and was watching you too.

“Are you in love with me?” You looked into his brown eyes, doing your very best to keep the tremble out of your hands. You had to shake your head a little bit to clear some of the heavy nerves that suddenly made your mouth go dry and Baekhyun did not answer your question right away.

”I thought you said not tonight.” His muttered response was cryptic and vague enough to bring more confused faces back to watch you for your answer. He was right. You had been the one to make this rule and you were the first one to break it. You’d always been very good at breaking all of your own stupid rules when it came to him.

“Baekhyun, are you in love with me?” The attention was back on him and he lifted both of his hands and rubbed them roughly over the length of his face.

Someone beside him poked him lightly on the arm, whispering something encouraging in his ear. Answer her. Tell her. Say it.

His eyes were closed.

When he inhaled to speak, a single earth-shattering word rang out.

“Yes,” he said.

He spoke it so softly; pulling his eyes back up, opening them and letting them land squarely inside of your eyes. He left the word to linger on his open mouth for a moment before he inhaled another half breath; just enough air for him to speak again.

“Yes, I am. I love you. Desperately.”

No one was moving. No one was breathing. Mouths and eyes hung wide open.

“Holy shit,” someone whispered under their breath. “This is insane,” someone else whispered to the person at their side.

The silence was going on for too long and someone cleared their throat. You hadn’t responded with any words to Baekhyun’s answer to your question and after much too long of everyone sitting shell-shocked it was Kyungsoo who moved first. He reached forward and spun the bottle in the middle of the table and twelve sets of eyes stared down at the spinning thing until it came to a clumsy meandering stop pointed directly at the man who had just shocked the entire room with his love confession to you.

“Baekhyun, I dare you to kiss her.”

The once silent table erupted in commotion again. There was an excited energy surging through every single person at this table and you had to close your eyes to block out the pinkness you saw in his cheeks as his friends all tugged at his sleeve, shook his shoulders, sent urging words deep into his ears with such intense insistence that he finally sighed out loud and asked his friends a simple question.

“Should I?”

Baekhyun was pushing himself away from his seat at the table. He was standing up on his two wobbling legs and he took several large steps in your direction.

Your eyes were wide as you watched him. You felt too surprised to do anything other than watch to see what he would actually do.

You hadn’t expected the speed with which he reached your side and you felt so caught off guard with his sudden close proximity that you stood up the moment he came up to you.

It all happened so quickly. You had stood to face the man who marched up to you and you gasped when you felt his arm slip around the back of your waist. He pulled you into him and you stumbled enough for his coat to fall off of your shoulders and pool down at your feet.

Your balance felt unsteady. You reached for his waist out of habit, out of that familiarity with the shape of this man and the way he fit so perfectly with your body. You wrapped your arms around his waist at the same moment as he reached up with his other hand and cradled your face in the palm of his hand and his eyes were down on your lips.

He leaned into you then. He kissed you. Right here with everyone watching.

He pressed his soft lips into yours and the gasps of shock from all around were drowned out by the loud pounding of your heartbeat inside of your ear drums. He tilted his head into you. You pulled his lips in between yours and you felt the soft wetness of his tongue as he slipped it along the surface of your teeth, biting down lightly on your bottom lip as he pulled away slightly, only to come back into you; deeper this time. Hungrier and more demanding. Definitely not something two people kissing for the very first time did. Definitely not the kind of kiss for a room full of witnesses.

Oh, you felt ablaze with this. You’d forgotten every single rule you’d ever fooled yourself into believing you could follow.

When at last Baekhyun pulled his mouth off of yours, you felt the trembling inside of your chest at this brazen act. Your hands felt shaky, your legs felt like you might drop at any second. You felt your breathing too heavy to settle easily and he rested his forehead over yours as he breathed just as heavily.

Your hand had wandered and you dropped your fingers from where they had threaded into his hair at the nape of his neck. With your bodies pressed up against each other’s and his heavy breaths fanning over your wet lips he opened his eyes and looked into yours and your lips pulled into the smallest smile. This kiss felt like the beginning of something. You felt an overwhelming relief surging through your chest and you watched his own smile slowly manifesting on his face. You leaned into him, placing the smallest kiss on that pretty smile of his. The man giggled softly when you did it.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Byun Baekhyun, you goddamn—”

“The son of a bitch did it.”

“He did it”

“A long time ago from the looks of it”

You had to turn your head away from them all; covering your mouth with a trembling hand you moved and you felt curious movement from his fingertips along your right hand that now hung limp by your waist.

He was lifting your hand. He was pulling at your ring finger there and you turned to look at his actions as he very steadily and carefully removed the diamond engagement ring you’d been wearing on the wrong hand all night.

He held it up in between his thumb and index finger and peered through the hole of the ring before he turned to you with his empty hand raised, palm up asking for you to give him your left hand.

You were out of any bit of resistance. You laughed and lifted your left hand and placed it carefully inside of his and he slipped the ring onto the ring finger of your left hand with the widest, cheekiest, most breathtakingly beautiful smile you’d ever seen.

You responded to that smile with a hopeless laugh of your own and you felt him lifting your left hand up in the air.

“What?!” their voices all shouted.

“They’re getting married?!”

“What is happening?”

“Oh my god I can't believe this”

”You’ve got to be kidding me. Since when???”

”Are you telling me we didn’t know anything about this?”

Chairs had fallen to the floor. Drinks were spilled and dripped messily all over the table and the floor. People were on their feet shouting. Some were screaming. Some were laughing and clapping. First in confusion, then in understanding and acceptance and the place was a thunderstorm of so much commotion that even the staff and chefs had come out from the kitchen to gawk at the strange occurrence that was happening out in their dining room.

“For the record, I knew.” Sandi raised a hand at last and the reactions were mixed. Some demanded to know how she would have dared to keep this big a secret for so long. Others were simply flabbergasted that such a big thing could have happened right under their noses.

Baekhyun was giggling. The unparalleled joy you saw in his face matched the elation you felt inside of your body as you laughed with him. Doing your best to answer whatever questions you could answer as tactfully and respectfully as possible and after much of the chaos and drama had subsided enough for you to manage to get a word in you raised your voice, calling all of their attention again.

“By the way,” you began with a smile as you turned to look into his joyful face.

Your next words sent them into a wild round of cheers and applause.

“You are all invited to the wedding.”

The End.

Thank you for reading. I love you all!

Can I Stay? Masterlist

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo smut #baekhyun #exo fic #exo scenario #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanfic #completed

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its-isover · 6 months

Text

Li Zhao Yu had zero doubt in his mind that he was, indeed, one of the best. After all, not just anybody could hit radiant in Valorant. He leaned back in his chair lazily, stretching with a yawn. His gaze flickered to his webcam and then back to his screen. His career was a crisp green carpet, with him fragging well enough to be the top or at least second highest fragger each match.

“I think that’s about enough for today, chat,” he muttered into his mic as he rubbed his eyes. It had been…five hours? He swore it did not feel like he had been playing for that long. Unfortunately, right as he was about to log off, he heard a little ping from his phone. Picking it up, his expression turned to one of mild annoyance. With a little “tsk”, he put his headphones back on.

“Change of plans, chat, seems like a few friends want to grind comp for a bit. We’re in for some…five-stack shenanigans.”

With a few final stretches for his shoulders and neck, he joined his friend’s party, the four already present members waiting for him. His eyes narrowed at their lack of rank.

“Weh, what gives?”

“I needed help carrying some new friends,” his friend responded dryly. Li only sighed, “Whatever, man, just don’t make me derank.”

As it would turn out, lower elo was absolutely god awful atrocious to him. Li had half a mind to cut the stream, almost certain he would get into trouble of some kind for the level of toxicity he was displaying. Granted, he only said about a third of what he really thought in team chat, but given the words circulating through his head, he had little doubt what he was saying was awful enough.

“Bai chi ya…zhen me wu yong…” Frankly, he was way too tilted to be playing. Did that stop him though? Of course not. Because Li Zhao Yu was not a quitter. The night was off to a horrible end, and three matches in, Li was throwing in the towel. “I’m done with this,” he had declared, leaving the party and slumping back in his chair. He ran his hand through his hair, eyes shut and brows furrowed, pulling his hair back and ruffling it, leaning forward, sighing, and ruffling his hair again. “I’m done,” he repeated. Done with what, exactly, he did not bother to elaborate. He got up to stretch a bit, finally feeling the dull ache in his neck. The pain absolutely was not worth it. Playing with those idiots? Deranking this much? Disgusting. He had never seen this much red in his career since he…he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d done this badly. Except it wasn’t even his fault. How could it be, when he was the match MVP in almost all of them? He should stop. He should get some rest, some time away from the blasted game. But no.

Against his better judgement, he hopped back into solo queue. There were various reactions to his decision in chat, ranging from “You sure about this?” to “I really think you ought to rest” to “Hell yeah! We don’t end on a loss!” Not that any of that mattered to him. Li felt like shit, and since it was caused by numerous losses, his only logical solution was to garner just as many, if not more, victories to compensate himself emotionally.

What a stupid decision. These random guys he ended up with on his teams weren’t much better. Left to his own devices, he very well might have played through the night to recover all his lost rr. It took his roommate, Ryo, pulling the plug on his PC for him to go to bed. With that abrupt end to his stream, Li hauled himself under the covers, passing out as his frustrations turned to exhaustion and overcame him.

Maybe Ryo was right, all he needed was a little rest. Li thought, until he had breakfast and Ryo said he was going out with Kirra. “You’re not gonna duo with me?” had been Li’s first reaction, breadcrumbs dropping as he dropped his bao onto the table. Ryo only shook his head. “Maybe tonight,” Ryo offered. “Maybe you should come along, the fresh air might make you less insufferable.”

His suggestion was met with a sharp glare, lavender eyes piercing through dark onyx ones. Li looked nothing short of scandalised at the notion of his grind being interrupted. Was he expected to agree? Hell no. There was nothing Ryo could say to convince him to go out just to be a third wheel on his roommate’s date. Li was sure Ryo knew him well enough to know that, so he wasn’t really sure why he had bothered asking. However, that clarified itself when Kirra showed up, an unfamiliar face in tow as she declared they would all be going on a double date.

It was awkward, to say the least. Ryo and Kirra walked on ahead, hand in hand, leaving you behind with Li. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if Li wasn’t already bothered, but there was no way of knowing that as you walked beside him, trying to gauge what would be an appropriate distance to put between the two of you. It didn’t help that Ryo and Kirra took the dog, which left you and Li with even less of a buffer.

How does one start a conversation with a stranger your friend set you up with when they look completely disinterested? One option is always to just…not. For better or worse, you weren’t a quitter (though not to Li’s extent). Just your luck that you managed to hit the topic of Valorant. By the way he perked up subtly, you had to assume it was of interest to him. Progress was progress, and you were quite satisfied with how you’d managed to chip the ice. That is, until the dreaded question arose.

“What’s your rank?” Li asked, seemingly nonchalantly, but the sideward glances he shot you told you otherwise. Subtle as it was, his gaze wasn’t one so easily ignored, and you happened to notice the pale lilac of his irises rather acutely. You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck in hopes he’d catch onto your awkwardness and change the topic. At this point, you weren’t sure if he was socially inept or just insensitive, because rather than act according to your hopes, he’d turned his head to look at you properly, tilting his head slightly as though prompting you to get on with your answer.

“I don’t have a rank, I don’t play comp,” you replied sheepishly. You swore you saw a flicker of disappointment cross his face, but by the time you’d blinked, his features had returned to their usual bored expression. “We can hit an internet cafe after lunch, I’ll duo with you and we’ll find your rank.”

His offer was more of a statement - no, an instruction. You felt a smidge of betrayal, not quite sure you like Kirra’s boyfriend’s roommate very much in spite of her insistence that he’d be a good match for you. Then again, you didn’t think it was her fault since you don’t exactly love Ryo very much either when she thinks he’s brilliant. Perhaps this was just another clash of opinions, since you’re sure she meant well.

Li seemed to have little interest in much else, to your mild dismay. While he would respond to any conversation topic you decided to jump into, he never quite seemed nearly as interested as he did when you brought up Valorant. Until music, that is. At which he promptly asked to see your playlist, his brows furrowing as he found little common ground. With a murmured promise to send you a few of his playlists and then some he'd try curate more towards your taste, he returned your phone.

If only your awkward date ended with a walk in the park. Lunch was an equally tense affair, with Li mostly feigning disgust at the couple with you, and you trying your best to avoid his gaze. As lovely as his eyes were, there was something cold and piercing about them that made you feel like he'd see right through you, and you weren't yet sure if you enjoyed it very much. Worse still was the way his hand found its way to your waist immediately after dropping enough money to cover both your meals in Ryo’s hands as he steered you away after lunch, bidding Ryo and Kirra farewell as he led you to an internet cafe. To his credit, he did keep his word…

“Um, look, Zhao Yu, I'm really not good at the game, I just play casually,” you began, trying to excuse yourself.

“I'll play casually with you then,” he insisted with a shrug, not at all bothered by the change in plans. Without waiting for any further protests on your part, he ushered you into the cafe. He strode up to the front desk with a comfortable familiarity, and you wouldn't be surprised if he'd told you he was a regular there. As you pondered his screentime, he had already paid for the time, once again returning to your side to usher you in. It was, in part, a sweet gesture, but a part of you felt the firmness of his hand was also partly to keep you from running off. Left with little other choice, you obliged and sat at the computer beside him.

You grinned sheepishly as your final game ended in borderline disaster.

“You weren't joking when you said you're bad,” Li quipped. For a moment, you half expected him to curse at you the way you'd heard him swear at the enemies and some teammates, but the barrage of insults never came. Instead, you felt a cold hand reach up to brush the hair from your face, his fingers gently twirling a lock of it before dropping his hand. His expression had softened, seemingly placated by the contact. “It's fine, it's not competitive…and you're cute.”

His last few words were mumbled, too mashed together for you to catch, but if the tips of his ears turning red was anything to go by, you'd guess he'd complimented you.

“Did you say something?” you pressed, hoping he'd repeat himself, but he only shook his head. “Mei shi ba, zhi shuo ni ke ai.”

Once again his words were quick, melding together like a fluid melody in his native tongue. It felt like you were hearing him properly now that he wasn't whisper-shouting at a screen, and it was…charming. You smiled to yourself. Cuteness privileges, huh? You could probably make use of that.

“Right, so how much do I owe you? For both the meal and this?”

Your questions were halted by a shake of his head and cold purple eyes enrapturing your own. “Another date, probably, I don't take cash.”

“Ah, then I guess I'll see you some other time?” So maybe he was a little pushy.

“We can plan while I walk you home. Zou ba.” Scratch that, he was a lot pushy. But it was part of his charm, you'd suppose, from the way he'd kept you on the inner side of the sidewalk to the protective hand on your waist as he insisted on escorting you to your door, Li Zhao Yu was a very straightforward individual, especially when it came to his interests.

“Zai jian le…unless you've anything else to say before I go?” The slight bit of hope in his voice was apparent.

“Thanks.”

“I don't need thanks from you, I want to do things for you.”

It was hard not to giggle at his bluntness. “I know, you make that quite clear,” you point out, kissing his cheek as a goodbye.

Perhaps for the first time on your date, Li was speechless. You'd tease him for it if you weren't into him too. Well, there's always more opportunities on future dates.

#iso x reader #valorant iso

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hyperfixiation-station · 1 month

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Guilt-Tripped Pt.2

TW: Canon-typical violence Part 1 part 3 Pairing: Ghostxreader(ish) Summary: The mission does not go according to plan

Wc: 1758 A/N: The fights scenes are fast-paced/rushed intentionally, I was trying to give off the feel of combat, if it did not work please let me know and I'll fix it :)

You were off your game, that much was clear. Not only was this mission located in your mother country, but the base you were clearing was one you had been “trained” in. You were anxious, and you knew Ghost could tell. But, true to form, he did not pry. That was one of the reasons you liked him. Everyone else would have asked questions but Ghost didn’t. He respected your privacy, understood that not everything is meant to be shared.

“Ghost, how copy?”

“Solid. Moving in.”

“Copy.” You unsling your gun from your shoulder, following Ghost into the abandoned building. You cover his six as you clear the building, finger hovering over the trigger of your gun. The ghosts contained in the walls were dogging your footsteps, begging for you to turn and listen to them.

“Again”

“You’ll break them.”

“Only the weak.”

“No, please!”

“Do it again!”

“Do not defy me.”

“Again.”

“Y/N.” You snap back to attention, “Buildn’s clear.”

“Ay. Let’s look for the intel then.”

“It’ll go fas’er if we split up.”

“Ah…I guess.”

“Stay frosty.” With that Ghost heads up the stairs, leaving you to pray he doesn't find anything he’s not supposed to. You take a deep breath and turn away, searching the rooms more intently this time, on the lookout for files and a USB drive instead of hostiles.

The first room has nothing, just some rotting pieces of wood that used to be furniture. Still, something about it leaves you feeling deeply unsettled. You step out and head to the room across the hall, your hairs standing on end. The second room is basically the same, as are the third and fourth. And fifth. And sixth. After the final room reveals nothing, you head upstairs to help Ghost.

The stairs creak under the weight of you and your gear, the sound adding to the already eerie atmosphere. You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to walk through the hallways that haunt your nightmares.

Ghost is in the first room you come to, his face lit up by a computer that somehow is still working. Alarm bells ring in the back of your brain, but you ignore them, instead focusing on the video that is playing.

“Again.”

The video is grainy, but you know the scene well. 3 girls stand side by side, guns in hand.

“Again.”

They drop to the ground, legs swinging around before standing.

“Again.”

They fire simultaneously, one loud gunshot echoing through the room.

“Again.”

“Aga-

The video cuts out, but you still see what happened next.

“-in.” You are faster this time, the girls next to you running out of stamina. You had been at this for hours, a constant stream of crouch, stand, fire, reload. You drop into a crouch, sweep your legs around, and come up, you and the girl to your left firing at the same time. You don’t even flinch as the girl to your right is dragged away.

“Again.”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload.

“Again”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload.

“Again.”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload.

“Again.”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload. And once again, you are faster. The girl to your left is dragged away, leaving only you. Your palms are blistered and your knees are torn open, but you won.

“Y/n.” You stare at the target in front of you, breathing hard.

“Y/n!” You raise your head, searching for the woman in charge of your training. Except the voice calling for you is male, and…British?

“Y/n!” A hand touches your shoulder and you don’t think, just react. Your gun is buried between the persons ribs before your vision even clears.

“Fuck. Ghost I…fuck. I’m s-fuck.” You stagger back, blinking hard as you holster the weapon. Ghost has his own weapon trained on you, though his finger is not on the trigger.

“What in th’ bloody hell was that?” He hisses. You inhale, exhale, and shove your emotion down where they won’t bother you.

“I am sorry.” You say softly, “I zoned out and you…scared me.” He doesn’t say anything in response, just grunts and shakes his head, holstering his gun. You hold your breath as he stares at you with an indiscernible look in his eyes.

“We'll talk when we get t’ base.” He says finally. You nod, fingers trembling as you follow him into the next room. You hadn’t noticed when you were clearing it before but the rooms up here are much more preserved. This room is empty, save for a barre attached to the wall, the one way mirror above it shattered into a million pieces.

The girls dance in unison, repeating the moves over and over and over again. Your tutu makes your skin itch, and your toes are bleeding from the hours of non-stop practice. Still, you don’t complain. Even at seven years old, you know better than to voice your sorrows.

“Good y/n. Again.” Legs burning, feet aching, skin itching, you begin the routine again. You bring your leg up but your ankle rolls, your form wobbling.

“Oh y/n. I had such high hopes for you.” Your body is thrown across the room, stars dancing across your vision as the acrid smell of smoke fills your senses. Wait…smoke?

“Y/n!” You inhale sharply, looking up at Ghost. But he’s not there. In his place is an aging man with a road face and short beard.

“Dreykov.” He’s older, much older, but you would recognize him anywhere. You look around the room, trying to find any sign of Ghost. The simple movement sends waves of pain through your skull, makes your vision blurry. But you've operated in much worse condition before.

“Where’s Ghost?” Your voice sounds oh so far away.

“Hello to you too darling.” You shiver almost imperceptibly at his voice, “Why don’t you use that pretty little head of yours and tell me?” You can barely hear him over the high-pitched whine bouncing around your skull. Oh, right, your ears are ringing. Ringing, why are your ears ringing? You blink hard, taking in your surroundings. The room is filled with smoke, the remnants of the outer wall scattered across the room, the result of an explosion. Something sticky trickles down your face, dripping into your eyes as you put two-and-two together.

You and Ghost had walked into the room, you’d been violently thrown into a flashback, and while you were off in la-la land, Dreykov must have blown through the wall. But that still didn’t explain where Ghost was. You inhale slowly, trying to focus your vision. And-there! You spot a hole in the floor, and the only thing you can think is that Ghost fell through.

Later you’ll blame it your disoriented state for forgetting he was there, but really you just didn’t want to face Dreykov alone. You leave him in the room, leave him to escape with the intel you'd come to collect, and sprint down to the first level to find Ghost. You jump over fallen bits of ceiling, dodging debris as the building slowly falls apart around you.

Ghost is prone on the ground, a Widow prowling around his body. They always did like to play with their food.

Without thinking you launch into the fray, tackling the Widow over his back. It is a short but intense fight, serving as a distraction as Ghost forces himself up. It ends when she throws a sloppy punch towards your face. You grab her wrists, yanking her forward and sweeping her legs out from underneath her. She hits the ground at the same moment you unload your weapon into her chest.

“You always did think you were better than us.” You spin around as you reload, swaying slightly as your vision blurs again. Another widow, one you failed to notice, stands behind Ghost, a gun pressed at his head.

“I did not.” Your voice is calm and even, not betraying your inner distress as your eyes dart around the room as you try to find a way to get her away from him.

“Yes you did.” The widow snarls. She draws another weapon, slamming the butt of it into Ghost's skull with startling force, leaving him to collapse like a ragdoll.

“We were always second best, always the ones punished, always the ones in trouble. Nothing compared to you.” You begin to circle each other, your eyes trained on the gun she has aimed at you. The motion makes you sick, and you can’t hear anything over your focus on staying awake.

You blink, and suddenly the widow is in front of you. Just as she wraps her finger around the trigger Ghost, who'd be faking his apparent unconsciousness, tackles her. You can see how the scene will play out, and it doesn't end pretty.

You throw yourself at the Widow Just as she plants her gun in Ghosts chest, sending both of you flying across the room. She ends up on top you so you buck your hips, sending her flying forward. You're moving on pure instinct at this point, to dizzy to think.

You wrap you arm around hers and swing your leg over her side, using the momentum to flip positions so that you're on top. You draw your firearm, but are a millisecond too slow.

She flings you off, your skull bouncing of the pavement as you fall to the side. You manage to keep a grip on your weapon but God's does your head hurt.

You blink yourself back into awareness, coming too just in time to watch Ghost grapples with the Widow for he gun. Ghost may be good, but the Widow is great.

You are too dizzy too see straight, but that's no problem. The Institute had made sure you could shoot a target blindfolded, so you close your had around your 9 mil, raise it front of you, and fire.

You are awarded with a female cry of pain, a thud, and silence.

"You...solid?" You wheeze, gun still held tight in your hand.

"Aye. Y'...y' no' lookin' t' gud there." You can barely hear him, swaying slightly where you stand. Gods your head hurts.

You step forward, practically collapsing into Ghost. You can feel his heart beating rapidly, and you think he's talking to you, but you can’t hear him. Though blurry, your eyes are drawn to the Widow laying in a pool of blood, her brown hair pillowing her head.

It makes you sad, almost, to see someone who didn't get saved. Survivors guilt is what your court-therapist had called it. You thinks it was a load of bullshit but it's not like...is she moving?

You flip around Ghost without thinking, unloading your weapon on the Widow just as her bullet pierces your flesh.

tbc

Tell me what you think!!

@greatkittencloud

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elvenbeard · 26 days

Text

Reposting the boyo for a little interest check!

No mysterious third or fourth options, but if you have an opinion not covered by the poll, feel free to leave a reply! :D

I'm asking cause I had fun doodling Kerry and I love doodling stuff for others (and it would be a good excercise for sure too!). AND also I'm obviously asking cause I could use the money xD I'm still paying monthly rates for my current laptop since my old one broke at the start of 2023 and I'd be so happy to finally have that monthly monetary burden off my back xD So I'd open a whole bunch of slots - not sure yet how many (probably between 30-50), and how or when I'd go about working through them (most likely a google form where you submit your ref pic - as these would be simple sketches 100% based off of ref pics). I could also imagine streaming some or all of it, for some additional entertainment value xD

A "not more than 1 hour spent per drawing" kinda deal, or even something like pay what you want style comms. Also yeh, not just Cyberpunk as a fandom obviously, anything goes, OCs as well, (and I'll also draw your mom or your pet if you wanna xD) as long as you have 1 good reference screenshot/photo for me to work with! (obligatory disclaimer that exceptions may apply in a few highly specific cases - when in doubt just ask!)

Would super appreciate some feedback and if you'd reblog this so more people see :D tysm!

(also, my regular comms are also still open btw! link in my pinned post!)

#artists on tumblr #digital art #commissions #commissions open #cyberpunk 2077 #kerry eurodyne

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sssammich · 1 month

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ficlet: thrice over

the first way to fall in love is exactly how you think it goes. imagine two people across the room from one another, eyes drawn up, searching without realizing, until they finally, fatefully, meet. a sea of people they don't even notice because, well, how could they? sparks, the cosmos, fate aligned. all the good shit. it's remarkable, sure. but conventional.

the second way to fall in love is also exactly how you think it goes. slow, slow, slow. then all at once. it's a seed being planted in soil and watering it regularly, sunlight streaming through the window. it sprouts and it grows, steady. then, one day you get back from vacation, you glance at the bloom of petals and flowers. it sneaks right up at you until it's enveloping you in its urgency and now that you notice it, you can't unnotice it. can't unknow it. can't take it back. it's there now, like a new freckle drawn on your skin. this one is quite common, too.

the third way to fall in love is not rare, either. and if you guessed that it happens when one singular instance, a speck of a moment in time, really--sometimes innocuous, sometimes revelatory--happens and the ground beneath you shifts while you hover in place just a few minuscule millimeters off the ground, and changes your perception entirely that you ever wonder how in the hell you ever missed it, then you'd be correct.

which brings us to kara.

who, somehow, fell not once, not twice, but thrice over for her sworn enemy: lena luthor.

#samficlet #WHERE WILL THIS GO? IDK #supercorp sunday #supercorp #this has been sitting in my notes app since feb 28 #and so now it's gonna sit here with you

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collapsedglasshouses · 4 months

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PLEASE SHUT UP || Nick Ruffilo x fem!Reader [Part One]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @saradika-graphics

PICTURE FOUND ON PINTEREST

REQUEST [by @yumikitten]: I'm just gonna keep on this Ruffilo train if everyone is okay with it. Ahem. What if Y/N and Nicholas got into a fight? Something that really made them snap and started yelling at each other, saying things they weren't really meaning? It could also just be something super silly tbh. We've all been there. 😅 But Nick finally gets suuuuper tired of screaming at each other and just kisses her to shut her up, which then leads to makeup sex. 😉 I could see him spitefully telling her at some point that he's gonna have to remember this if it got her to shut up so quickly. 🤣 Please don't feel obligated. 😁 My mind is just going zoom. 💕

A/N: FIRST OF ALL, I'M DEEPLY SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG. I had a severe writers block over the last couple of months and couldn't bring myself to work on requests. As compensation i have decided to make a two-parter out of the request. The setting is a maybe a bit different than expected but I hope you like it anyways! Part Two will hopefully be posted soon! ♡♡♡

WARNINGS: angst, cursing, fear of failure, fighting, small room, ... (let me know if i missed something)

TAGLIST: @measuredingold @cncohshit (Let me know if you wanna be added to my general taglist!)

Ever since Y/n had been a child, she was surrounded by music. Her dad was the guitarist of a local rock band and her mom had been playing the violin since forever.

She remembered clearly how her mother had told her that one of the first things she did as a child was smash hey tiny little hands onto the piano that stood in the family’s living room.

As Y/n grew older, her taste in music also changed. Even though she had been learning to play the piano since the age of just four, she noticed how her taste shifted from soft and classical music to later pop and then heavier stuff.

Maybe it had been some kind of rebellion in her teenage years, maybe it had been her father’s taste in music that influenced her or maybe it was her first ever boyfriend who introduced her to Bring Me The Horizon, when she was just fourteen. All Y/n knew, was that she soon found herself sucked into the world of metal and metal core.

It was no shock to anyone close to her, when she was hired to play the keyboard in a band called Bad Omens.

She had met Noah through mutual friends while gaming during the pandemic and they soon became close friends. The band had been working on their third album back than and though it sounded more than good when Y/n first listened to it, Noah thought something was missing. That was when Y/n came into the picture. She had delivered them some parts that amazed the boys so much that they offered her a place in the band. She had gladly accepted it.

Since than the band had been thriving. From tours all over the world, making Y/n travel to parts of the world she had only imagined as a child, to streaming records that made her dad jump in excitement, every time she visited her hometown. Everything was going well for the band.

For Y/n in particular though, nothing was well. Nothing had been like she hoped it would be. While she had grown close to three of her bandmates, one seemingly hated her guts without explanation.

At first, Nick and she had gotten along quite well. She remembered nights where they sat outside and chatted about the most random things while seemingly not getting enough of each other’s presence.

But over time, things had changed. First, he started to distance himself to the point where it couldn’t be called anything but avoidance. Soon, the complaining began. He began to roll his eyes when she said something that made the others laugh. He started making snarky side comments every time she did something slightly different in her performance. Nothing Y/n did was good enough in Nick’s eyes and hell did it annoy her.

She couldn’t wrap her head around what she did to him to make him act that way towards her, considering she was the only one that suffered under his behavior. With everyone else, he was an angel on earth. Always sweet and caring.

Even though she missed the time where Nick acted like that with her, she began to mirror his demeanor. She began to criticize him just as much as he did with her. She was so fed up that she even started to loathe the time she needed to spend with him in one room.

Saying that was difficult was an understatement. Everyone noticed how they started to act and soon the mood started to deteriorate because of their behavior.

But the breaking point was only yet to come.

The stage was set, the lights were dimmed, and the crowd buzzed with anticipation. The band was about to kick of another concert on their tour and Y/n could feel the familiar hum of excitement and nervous energy that waved through the packed room. This was nothing new for Y/n, yet tonight was different. There was an additional weight pressing on her tense shoulders – the intense gaze of Nick, whose eyes seemed to bore into her from across the stage.

As Y/N's fingers glided over the keys, she couldn't shake the feeling that every note she played was being criticized. She stole a glance in Nick's direction, only to find his expression unreadable, yet filled with an intensity that made her uneasy. The rhythmic thump of the bass only increased her anxiety, and the once effortless connection she felt with the music began to waver.

In the midst of a song, Nick shot her a look so disapproving, Y/N lost it. She stumbled over a chord, the crooked sound echoing through the venue. Panic set in as she struggled to regain her composure. She knew the crowd hadn’t noticed but for her it was a disaster. For the rest of their set, her heart seemingly jumped out of her chest in a mix of fury and anxiety. Nick's disapproving glares persisted, each one a sharp stab at Y/N's confidence. The usually seamless collaboration between band members now felt like pure pain to Y/n. All she did for the rest of the evening was desperately trying to avoid the heavy judgment of Nick’s eyes.

As their performance ended, Y/n felt empty. Heavy tension lingered in the air when they went backstage to compliment each other on another successful concert, but Y/n couldn’t bring herself to feel good. She fucked up bad and only because Nick couldn’t stop with his childish behavior.

After Noah and Jolly comforted her for a second, she came to a stand in front of the bassist. The rest of the guys walked away to calm down, while Y/n’s eyes bore into Nick’s.

Without even thinking, she dragged him into a small room filled with technical stuff.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/n?” Nick protested as she closed the door behind them.

“What the fuck I’m doing? Could you tell me what the fuck your problem is, Nick?” She shouted at him, not holding back one bit.

“I did nothing.” He quickly defended himself and wanted to grab the door handle, but Y/n walked between him and the exit.

“Keep your fucking judgement to yourself next time.” She warned him and looked into his blue eyes. The rage that fumed inside of her quickly caught up to him.

“Maybe don’t fuck up your notes next time.” He hissed at her.

In the dimly lit room, Y/N couldn't hold back her frustration any longer. "Nick, you can't just keep brushing off my opinions about fucking everything!"

Nick's eyes flashed with irritation. "Well, maybe if you understood music better, your opinions would matter."

The words hung in the air, heavy with tension, as Y/N shot back, "You know, not everyone worships your bass lines, dickhead!"

“Oh, come on, are we this low now?” Nick mocked her and tried to get out of the room again.

“I’m not letting you get out of this room until you finally tell me what the fuck I did to you, Nick.” She fumed at him, her back now pressed against the door.

As the argument escalated; Y/n trying to get answers, Nick trying to avoid the talk; both felt a surge of anger and hurt. But suddenly, Nick, became quiet, took a step forward, his eyes meeting Y/N's defiant gaze.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” – “What?”

Before Y/n could react, Nick grabbed her face and, with an unexpected intensity, kissed her. Time seemed to stand still as Y/n noticed what was happening. She was confused but at the same time she couldn’t bring herself to push him off her. Her eyes fluttered shut as another feeling entered her.

Need.

A feeling she had been suppressing since the second he became cold towards her. She wrapped her arms around his neck while he pressed her firmly against the door. It was a kiss full of anger, frustration but also passion as Nick devoured her lips. Soon he travelled down to her neck and even though a small Parton her was still furious about his action, she definitely needed him more than anything in this moment. He bit her exposed skin, not caring a single second about the marks he was leaving on her as she whimpered in pure bliss. When she tugged at Nick’s hair, he softly moaned against her neck, signaling her she wasn’t alone with her thoughts.

Right as his hands started to travel down her shirt, she remembered what was going on and grabbed his wrist.

A stunned silence enveloped them, broken only by Y/n’s words as they looked into each other’s eyes. "You can't just kiss me to end an argument!"

Nick looked at her with wide blown pupils. It looked like he tried to find his words, but nothing came out.

“Oh look at you, now you can’t even talk to me anymore.” Y/n mocked him with hate in her voice, before she pushed him away from her. She left the room with agony.

She hated Nick for making this whole thing even more confusing than it already was. But she knew one thing.

This was never happening again…

PART TWO COMING SOON

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfic #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo x reader #nick ruffilo fanfiction #nick ruffilo x reader #nick ruffilo fic #bad omens rpf #collapsedglasshouseswrites

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writing-whump · 24 days

Text

Migraine

Fallout with Arnie and Hector. Arnie gets sick at night.

Hector was dead tired when he got back home.

It was already dark and Isaiah had a work appointment in the city, otherwise Hector suspected he would have come too, basically seeing him off to the tram stop. Like he was worried Hector wouldn't make it without help.

After the performance he made at the mole, Hector couldn't really blame him.

His head was still spinning from all the revelations, his stomach was tied in knots over the emotional roller coaster. If he stopped to think about it too much, he would find new things to angst over.

For now he just felt raw and hollowed out and strangely...relieved.

Things weren't all solved and Isaiah skillfully sidestepped any comments about the chest pain that happened the other day. There were years of secrets and hurts and whatever weird things Isaiah got into his head.

But Hector was going to figure it out. Secret by secret if he had to. Isaiah was not getting rid of him that easy anymore.

Arnie was in an anxious spiral, even though he told Hector himself to go out of the apartment. Turned out he didn't really believe he would manage.

Hector gave him a run down of all the new details he figured out. Arnie was on his best way to draw a timeline to figure out when exactly dad's shadow went mad, when Isaiah's training started, then his missions and what other weird things happened on the way.

It was weird investigating someone who was alive and could answer questions.

Hector found the idea of the pack not noticing their leader was mad and how the hell that could happen the most alarming. A pack was there to hold up their members, cover for what one couldn't do alone. This was out of proportions worst case scenario he never even heard of before.

Arnie was more hung upon the idea of nobody being powerful enough to challange, not to mention defeat dad, aside from Isaiah. Even uncle Grayson, just a few years younger than dad, couldn't defeat him in a one-on-one fight.

Waiting for Isaiah to do that for him? Arnie was complaining about that non stop, even willing to return for a few days to see Grayson on his own. Which was a miracle, cause since coming to see Isaiah, Hector couldn't tear Arnie away from the city.

Of course, Arnie didn't have such a strong pack instinct as a human, but the way he could ignore everyone else when focused on his own goals was incomprehensible to Hector.

Then again, Arnie wasn't all that well treated by the wolves either, so maybe he should stop with the shock.

They talked almost until midnight.

Hector's eyes were falling shut insistently while sitting up. He was exhausted after feeling and purging himself of so many things the day.

When it happened the third time, Arnie made the executive decision to go to sleep.

Hector was out before his head hit the pillow, relieved his stomach was finally steady, even if it sore like he gave it a thorough workout.

...

Hector woke up to a weird keening noise.

A quiet but insistent little sound, reminding him of a hurt animal.

He slid his legs from the bed, rubbing at his eyes. Sleep was sticking to him because of the exhaustion and he didn't feel any danger, nothing alarming him to a foreign or hostile presence.

Stumbling out, he followed the source of the noise to the bathroom. The door was slightly open, but there was no light.

He pushed the door open, switching the light on. The sight hit like a bucket of cold water.

Arnie was curled up around the toilet, elbows on the seat, pressing his hands against his temples in a vice grip. He was white as a sheet, covered in sweat and there was vomit on his chin.

Even worse, when he lifted his eyes to Hector, squinting, they were bloodshot and red, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Arnie groaned as the light hit him, bowing down to wrap his hands around his head.

Hector cursed, switching the light off again, skidding to his knees beside him.

"Pipsqueak, hey, hey. When did this hit?" The sensitivity to light, the pain written all over his face...

Hector was well acquainted with Arnie's migraines. They weren't that frequent anymore, but there was a time when he was around 15 that Arnie would get them every two weeks, like on clock. Hector never felt so helpless as when Arnie cried himself to sleep in a little ball, moaning even when he wasn't aware, against a pain Hector couldn't see, couldn't heal and do nothing against.

Their best bet was usually looking out for the triggers to prevent one coming in the first place. Depending on what it was the meds worked differently. There could be too little sleep, too much sitting, stressed out, food that didn't sit well, some flues even ended with migraines on top.

Hector didn't understand where the hell they came from with a healthy teenage kid. Except now that he had seen Isaiah at the event and thought back about their crappy childhoods...yeah, probably not so weird they both carried something out of it.

It was still frustrating as hell.

"S-sorry, didn't mean to wake you..." Arnie's voice was quiet, careful of his own volume, but Hector could hear the pain and tears written in it loud and clear.

"Dumbass. You should have," Hector chastised in the softest voice he could manage, shifting to sit behind Arnie.

His eyes were adjusting to the dark quickly, but he wasn't suprised to find a puddle of vomit where Arnie's probably didn't.

Hector put his hands gently on Arnie's shoulders. "Did you try your meds? Paralen or muscle relaxants-"

"W-on't stay down," Arnie whimpered.

Yeah, then they were fucked until he could stop vomiting.

"God, Hex. It hurts so much," Arnie whined, slumping forward, all but breaking Hector's heart.

"I know, buddy. Shhhh, try to take deep breaths. We should lie you dow-"

Arnie interrupted the suggestion with a heave, but only a loud wet burp came up. The sudden quick movement made him moan though, shoulders locking up under Hector's hands.

Arnie's stomach gurgled and then swirling sound shot up his throat. The heave brought up a wave of chunky vomiting, Arnie yelping as it jostled his spine.

Hector held his shoulders, helping him aim over the center of the toilet bowl. The vomit splattered loudly into the water.

Arnie hitched, new wave of tears running down his cheeks as he curled up from the pain. "Hhhhurts..."

"Shhhhhh," Hector shushed him, wrapping up toilet paper around his hand to gently mop Arnie's face and chin from behind. "I know this sucks, bud, but you gotta stop crying. It's making you sicker."

When he puked, the pain would spike, making him puke more. It was a viscous cycle hard to break.

Arnie sobbed instead, hands gripping the rim with all their strength. "...God, God, God...we messed it up so badly....

"What?" Hector squashed himself between the wall and Arnie to get a look at him, cupping his chin. "What are you talking about, kiddo?"

"Zaya- did-" he hiccuped, "I'm ssosssorry." More tears sprang up and Arnie choked up another sob, the keening noise joining the scene. "Sosorrry."

Hector cringed, abruptly knowing perfectly well what Arnie meant.

He mentally kicked himself for not realizing sooner.

What, did Hector think only he would be affected? That only he would blame himself for not noticing, for breaking contact with Isaiah, for forcing him to handle everything on his own?

He should have called Isaiah the moment they found out. Just like Arnie said. Hell, he should have dragged Isaiah to Arnie, let them talk it out.

Arnie jerked out of Hector's hold to heave again, crying loudly as he puked up another gush, then almost choking as it came out of his nose too.

He was panting for breath, chest hitching with sobs and little moans and goddammit this was awful.

Hector shifted out of the way, changing tactics.

He sat down against the wall right behind his kid brother, then scooped him up gently to sit him in his lap. He fixed Arnie gently to lean against Hector's chest, neck straight and head against him so he didn't have to hold his weight.

"Hexxxx, oww, Ifeelsick-"

"Shhhh, lean back and try to breathe. Just breathe."

Arnie was shaking against him, heaving, but Hector stayed put, braced for it. Important was fixing Arnie's back so he wouldn't be rolling his whole spine and neck as he gagged.

A splash of warm liquid dribbled past Arnie's lips and onto Hector's hands circled around his chest.

"Shhhhhh. It's okay, everything's fine. Focus on breathing and not crying. I got you."

Arnie whined, but then sagged against Hector in exhaustion.

Hector set himself to ignore the sensation of awful smelling liquid drying on his fingers, holding Arnie's shoulder from the back with one large hand, thumb rubbing up and down.

"Breathing, remember. Just breathe. Close your eyes and don't think about anything else."

Arnie whimpered, but obeyed, taking deeper breaths. His throat was bobbing nervously against the nausea, but the immobile position and leaning against something helped steady him.

"There you go. You are doing great."

Hector waited for a bit longer, until Arnie's breathing came semi-regularly before he dared to reach for the roll of toilet paper.

Without jostling Arnie and moving with incredibly deliberate slowness, he teared a bit of the paper to clean Arnie's face and neck, then taking more to wipe his sticky fingers.

He threw it all the toilet, but he was too worried the sound of flushing would upset the fragile balance, so opted against it.

They waited silently in the bathroom, Arnie leaning his head even more back against Hector's shoulder, breathing through his mouth.

Hector dared to put his hand on Arnie's forehead, cold and clammy. Arnie sighed contendly, finally not crying.

"I'm so sorry, pipsqueak," Hector whispered. "I should have realized this would affect you too."

Arnie swallowed heavily, not saying anything. Then he made a soft throaty sound, that got Hector scrambling up in alarm.

It was a laugh. Strained and small, but real.

"What a historical moment. You apologising to me."

Hector grunted. "You are a cheeky little bastard. Worrying the hell out of me. Jesus fucking Christ."

Arnie laughed once more, dissolving into a cough at the end. His head lolled under Hector's chin. "Uhmmm. I'm cold."

"You feeling better? Not gonna be sick again?"

Arnie's hand went to Hector's hand on his shoulder, patting it lightly. "Not feeling pukey right now."

"Alright. Let's get you lying down." Hector moved slowly, carefully, but his heart was leaping at Arnie responding and being calmer. He unceremoniously picked his brother up, scrawny as he was, carrying him to the sofa.

"Here. Lie down straight." Hector pushed the pillows away so Arnie could do just that, flat on his back, neck on the same level as his back.

Arnie squirmed a little, but when Hector touched his shoulder again, he stretched his legs and rolled his shoulders tentatively.

Hector could feel the stress knots between his shoulder and neck.

Thank shadow it was deep in the night, the light being no problem.

He brought a glass of cold water, but Arnie made a disgusted grimace at it, so Hector left it on the table. He sat down on on the ground next to him with a good view on Arnie's face.

His forehead was wrinkled and eyes squinting, but he was breathing more calmly now.

Hector gently stroked his thumb over the crease between Arnie's eyebrows. "Wanna try the meds? Would a massage help? Or do you think you could manage some sleep?"

"Uhmmm. This feels a bit better," he said softly. "Think I could fall asleep. Just...stay?"

"Right here and not moving," Hector reassured, voice rough, resting his forehead on the sofa next to Arnie's ear.

Neither of them mentioned the crying again, for which he was grateful. He hated seeing Arnie cry and any reason that would cause him to do so.

"I'm gonna fix this," Hector promised quietly as Arnie's breathing evened out. "Just you wait."

#sickfic #emeto #migraine #whump #hurt/comfort #whump writing #bromance #my writing #werewolf wip #Arnie

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squintyeyedjoel · 1 year

Text

Through Your Eyes | Part 1 - Hit the Ground Running (Joel x Reader)

A/N: Ahhhh! This is here!!! So. This is just an idea that I had, and I literally texted my friends screaming about it, and it’s been nonstop for the last few days, it just kept developing. It’ll be multi-part, unsure yet how long, it keeps growing. I’ve always loved Jackson Joel, his relationship with Ellie, and I’ve wanted more of their dynamic since day one. So here is a weird hybrid of both the game and show universe, but mostly game. I haven’t decided where exactly this will or will not deviate from canon yet, so bear with me. Here we go!

I do not own The Last of Us or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, and Joel is a warning in and of himself in this one. Canon typical swearing. No specific age specified for reader, aside from her remembering life before the outbreak, so I leave that up to you. No use of Y/N. Mention of loss. (Spoilers if you haven’t watched the show/played the game.) Ellie is a menace and having a Hard Time™️. Arguing? Banter. Some of Joel’s Texan accent. (You’ve been warned.) I guess kinda sorta spoilers for TLoU 2? Like if you squint? And not really???

Word count: 8,885

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex and @grippingbeskar for your endless hours helping me over goodness knows how long since I started this, for reading this over for me and letting me know I’m not crazy, and screaming with me about this man that captured our hearts first in the form of pixels.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Next

Xxx

The door slamming below made some trinkets on your shelf rattle. That’s the third time today. A soft groan drifted up to you through the floorboards, coated in frustration and anger.

When you’d arrived in Jackson, the only new, private space available had been a spot above somebody else’s house. Technically in somebody else’s house. And technically it wasn’t even a place. When you arrived, you realized someone had literally volunteered their attic, spacious as it was, with several windows and a private doorway leading down through the home.

A mattress had been tossed in the middle of the floor, and it’d been so long since you’d seen a real, honest to goodness mattress, you didn’t care about the rest of the place. It suddenly felt like a castle.

That first night you’d flopped down on the fluffy padding on the floor, smiling as your body bounced a few times from the impact, the springs inside whining in protest, before you promptly fell asleep.

Sunlight streaming in through one of the windows early the next morning woke you up, making you blink bleary eyes open when it danced across your peaceful features.

With a stretch and heavy sigh, you didn’t move a muscle, but simply darted your eyes around your new small space, fully taking in the barren walls and the pile of junk leftover from whoever owned this house before the world went to hell. Curiosity got the better of you, pulling you to the pile like a magnet, on a search for something, you weren’t quite sure what yet.

Several hours later, you were lost deep in thought, the tip of your tongue sticking between your teeth in concentration when someone clearing their throat just off to your side made you jump. “Fuck!” You hissed, tossing the little metal toy you had in one hand in surprise, the screwdriver from your other hand being clutched in your grip like a vice, reared back and ready to be thrown at the intruder.

“Just me,” the man from downstairs mumbled. What was his name again? “Sorry.”

Sighing, you deflated, letting your hands fall to the mattress below you with a thump, your face scrunched in pain. “Shit, I bit my tongue.” Reaching up to rub your jaw, you glared at the man. “Maybe knock next time?”

He stared at you for a long minute, his eyes watching as you cradled your face, mumbling forlornly about your tongue. “I did,” he finally said lowly. “Twice.”

“Oh.” You heaved another sigh, this one heavier than the last, before plopping back on the mattress behind you, wincing and reaching under your back to pull out the plastic action figure that had poked you in the back. Looking at it, you grinned softly. “Was that your gun, or were you just happy to see me?”

Something between a scoff and a snort left the man still standing awkwardly by your door, pulling your attention back to him.

Everything had been so rushed when you’d moved in, something about a patrol spotting clickers nearby and the lack of space giving everyone a headache, you’d barely caught a glimpse of your housemates as someone ushered you past them, up into the attic late last night. You’d also made a point to stare at the floor as you walked past, not wanting to see the ire of the people who’d been woken up to open their home to you.

With no desire to dwell on your time before Jackson, you focused on the man in front of you, taking in his curious eyes and weathered features. The tilt of his brow told you people tended to run from him, his jaw set in a stern angle as his eyes darted around the room.

“Sorry, I know it’s a mess, I’ll clean it up.” Pushing up onto your elbows, you tossed the action figure to the side. “I assumed that pile was from before the outbreak, I hope I didn’t-”

“It was. All that was here b’fore Ellie and I moved in. Seemed a shame to waste it, and didn’t bother me none to sit in a corner, so….” Taking a few steps, he picked up the little metal car you’d been scraping at when he walked in, smiling fondly. “I had one’f these.” His expression darkened. “‘till my brother broke it.” After staring at it a moment, he looked up at you, handing it back to you gently. “What were you doin’ with it?”

“Oh.” Flustering a bit, being caught out for something you usually kept relegated to your home wherever that happened to be, you took a minute to think, staring at the chipped blue paint on the little car. “I…. I like to restore things. Bring little pieces of what we lost back. Especially toys. I remember as a kid…. As a kid the joy of just one new toy was….”

“Nothin’ like it,” he agreed softly.

You nodded, meeting his eyes, the kindness you saw hidden there catching you off guard. You’d expected judgment. In this world nowadays frivolous things weren’t usually accepted so readily.

“That yours?” He pointed to the little fanny pack overflowing with various tools, the contents spilling over the mattress.

Eyes darting over to the bag, you nodded again before looking at him with a soft smile. “Yes it is, kind stranger.”

This time his scoff was decidedly amused, and he rolled his eyes, making you grin.

“Joel.”

“That’s right!” Setting the car down, you got to your feet, dusting the back of your pants off, then your hands, before you extended one for him to shake. “Nice to finally meet you more than a passing face in the ‘welcome to Jackson’ shuffle.” He nodded as he shook your hand, his grip firm and warm. “Thank you. Again. For your attic, I mean.” Dropping his hand after holding it longer than you should have, you turned to look around at the space.

“Tommy said you needed your privacy. Didn’t say why, but I can respect the need.”

You turned back to him, hands on your hips where they had settled as you’d looked around. “That’s not by choice.”

His features darkened. “What’d’ya mean?”

“Oh! Nothing like that.” You waved your hands in front of you. “Nothing weird, I swear!” Chuckling nervously, you shifted your weight to one side. “Because I tinker, I often…. People don’t like the noises…. The smells….”

He just stared at you, silently waiting.

You looked down to your feet. “I’ll just pack up. I’m sorry, I’ll be out of your-”

“No,” he cut you off, reaching for your elbow gently but firmly. “No,” he said again, a bit softer. “Just explain a little less…. Vaguely, please.”

“It’s very hands-on. Lots of tools like hammers and whatnot, sanding…. And then if I can find it, paint thinner for some, or just paint for others…. And it doesn’t always help, despite all the windows being open, but I try to keep the place ventilated…..”

“People complain about a day job?” He sounded upset for you.

“They get upset when I do it when I can’t sleep.”

He hesitated. “How often is that?”

“Whenever the nightmares come.”

Understanding flickered in his eyes. “Well people are stupid.”

You blinked before a laugh burst out of your mouth.

“I used to be a contractor, and I’ve been doing some odds and ends here since moving into town. I don’t mind some smelly noise.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at you. “Let’s just try to come up with a schedule of some sort, maybe nothing too loud after nine at night or somethin’. Not for me, I don’t mind, but the neighbors might, and I dunno about Ellie. Girl sleeps like the dead, so probably….”

“Ellie?”

His smile grew brighter. “Come downstairs for breakfast.” He gestured behind him with a tilt of his head toward the stairs, his body beginning that way. “Maybe she’ll say hello between bites.”

Xxx

Walking down the stairs, you looked around in the daylight, trying to discern what was your host’s and what was left behind twenty odd years ago.

Outlines where pictures once sat on the wall, faded by years in the sun now decorated the outdated wallpaper, a layer of dust along a line of decorative trim halfway up. A fancy carpet was tacked to the stairs, worn in the middle most of the way up, zagging to the sides near the top, and you watched as Joel carefully stepped in the threadbare bits without thought, one of the steps squeaking under your weight when you didn’t follow suit.

Noted.

Once you were at the bottom, an open door down the hall showed a small little workshop, tools strewn everywhere. You smiled, glancing up at Joel to see him follow your gaze, realization dawning on him as a hand came up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Stay here,” he mumbled softly, holding up one finger before he jogged toward the door, pulling it shut. “Sorry about that. Had a, uh…. Last minute request.”

“My ears are burning. Are you talking about me again?” A young female voice yelled amusedly from around the corner behind you, a girl in her early teens stepping out with a plate full of food in one hand, a fork loaded in the other, and a mouthful as she continued. “Yeah, you were. It’s me. He’s talking about me. I asked him to fix the hole in the ceiling,” she looked at him pointedly, before turning back to you, “like fifty thousand times-”

“Since yesterday,” Joel murmured, making you chuckle.

“It only showed up yesterday,” the girl said unamused.

“I’m just sayin’,” Joel held up his hands in surrender before walking around the girl and into what you assumed was the kitchen. “Point was, I got right on it.”

Rolling her eyes, the girl set her plate down before wiping her hands on the front of her jeans, coming over and introducing herself. “Hi, I’m Ellie,” she spoke pointedly over her shoulder, “since grumpy in there didn’t feel the need to introduce us.”

Some dishes clattered and quiet grumbles were heard as you smiled at the girl, introducing yourself. “If you ever need any help around here, just ask. I’m pretty handy, if I do say so myself.”

“Finally,” Ellie groaned, “Someone besides that lug who can help me out!”

You leaned in closer to her. “Why, you got bodies to hide, or somethin’?”

She leaned in as well. “You have no idea.”

“Time for food!” Joel called loudly, placing a steaming pile of scrambled eggs and bacon on the table. “Ellie made ‘em so I’m not makin’ any promises-”

“Hey!” You smiled at her protest.

“-but it’s nourishment, so…. Good as any.”

“I’ll have you know,” Ellie began, looking down her nose at Joel as you all sat at the table. “Tommy’s been teaching me how to cook.”

“Then we’re all doomed,” Joel deadpanned.

“Tommy, I met him last night. He’s….”

Joel and Ellie spoke at the same time.

“Oh no, what’d he do now?”

“His baby brother.”

Silence hung between you as you looked back and forth between the two of them, Joel’s eyes shut as he let out a sigh.

“He’s my brother,” he amended, adding quietly, “so you can tell me what idiotic thing he’s done now.”

“Joel,” Ellie warned.

“I’ve heard it all, just lay it on me.”

You shook your head. “Nothin’. Was just asking how he knew you two.” You gestured between them with your fork.

Joel tucked into his food after a moment of silence, staring down at his plate.

“I tried to tell you,” Ellie muttered, shaking her head as she cleaned the crumbs off her dish.

“That accent I keep hearing pop through, is that…. Texas?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel kept his eyes down, slowing his eating just a bit.

“I thought it sounded like home,” you smiled, the corners of your mouth pulling higher when his head shot up to look at you.

“You’re from….”

You nodded. “Born and raised. Ain’t nothin’ quite like the Lone Star State, is there?”

“No, ma’am,” Joel grinned.

“What do you miss the most?” It was an honest enough question, you expected something like barbecue, late night drives down country roads, or the smell of bluebonnets each Spring….

But the joy on Joel’s face fell ever so slightly, just enough that you could see, the light in his eyes dimming, as his shoulders rounded forward just a bit. He stared at the table top for only a moment, lost in thought. You could have sworn his eyes flitted to the watch on his wrist briefly before he shook his head, lifting it back up, his gaze meeting yours and smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Too many things to mention. What about you?”

Holding his gaze for a moment longer than you should, you smiled softly before turning back to look at your plate. “Gotta say I feel the same.” Stabbing a bite of egg, you brought it to your mouth, chewing thoughtfully as you pondered what had just happened. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“Please do,” he said softly.

More silence filled the space, Ellie heaving a sigh after a few minutes. “Well this has been fucking amazing-”

“Ellie,” Joel chastised.

“But I’m gonna go-”

“Sit,” Joel said in the most authoritative voice you’d heard yet. Gesturing with his fork, you caught the smallest smirk crawl up his face when Ellie groaned before plopping back into her chair in a graceless heap.

She stared at him in some sort of bored challenge before grumbling, “What?”

“I need your help before you go and skedaddle-”

“‘Skedaddle’? Is that even a fucking word?”

“Yes,” you answered before biting into a piece of bacon, smiling sweetly at her when her eyes flew up to meet yours.

“Just checking,” she grumbled, slumping further back into her chair as she heaved a world weary sigh.

“As I was sayin’,” Joel pushed back from the table with both hands, leaning back in his chair so that the front legs left the floor slightly, balancing on the back two. “I need your help gettin’ a bed frame upstairs for her, and a few other pieces. Tommy’s droppin’ them by in a few here.” He checked a clock hanging on the wall, making you knit your brows in confusion as you glanced to the watch on his wrist. Closer inspection showed it was shattered with what looked like a bullet hole, making your eyes widen slightly. Suddenly his reservations about missing something in Texas made a bit more sense.

“Joel,” Ellie whined, going practically boneless in her seat, limbs draping behind her like a broken starfish.

“We should be able to handle that without her, don’t you think?” You mused, pushing your empty plate away and settling into your seat with a satisfied sigh, arms crossed over your chest.

“Yes, totally, bye!” Ellie sat up so fast you got whiplash. But she didn’t make it completely out of the seat before Joel was saying her name again, and motioning her back down with just his eyes.

“Sorry. I tried,” you shrugged, giving her a sad smile. “You should just listen to your dad and-”

The two of them interrupted you in tandem.

“I’m not her father.”

“He’s not my dad.”

Joel cleared his throat. “Now, I’ve asked you to stay and help- nicely, I might add- and unlike you, I don’t ask twice, let alone fifty thousand times,” he looked at her pointedly.

“Ugh, fine!” She threw her hands up, letting them slap back down on her thighs before pushing her chair back all the way, the scrape of the feet against the floor making you cringe. She finally got to her feet before she froze, looking at Joel with an exaggerated look you couldn’t quite place.

“What?” He asked after a long silence in a tone that said ‘why did I ask’.

She pointed to the other room. “Can I go this time? I mean….” Joel sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. “Every other time I’ve tried to execute my rights as a human being and leave this fucking dining room, you’ve stopped me. So, before I get too far and have to backtrack again, I wanted to-”

“Just go,” he waved a hand.

“Thank you,” she called, climbing the stairs, expertly missing the squeaks, a door slamming shut a few seconds later.

“But be ready to help in-”

“Yeah, yeah,” her muffled voice came through the door before some 80’s song began playing softly.

You chuckled, Joel picking his head up from where he’d cradled it in his palm to look at you with a raised brow. “I got food and a show.” His head fell back into his hand. “I’m teasing.” He grumbled something unintelligible into his palm. After the chorus of the song played, you stood up, taking the empty dishes over to the sink.

“You don’t have to-” Joel protested from his seat.

“I’ll never get used to hearin’ music again,” you changed the subject as you turned on the water, running it over the plates as you wiped them clean. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it. I’ve always loved music. It’s just…. After so long in the silence, coming here and having a teenager drown you out with a synthesizer, it’s so….”

“Normal?”

Looking over your shoulder, you smiled at him. “Yeah. And after everything, that’s just….”

“Not normal?”

You snorted. “Exactly.” After you turned the water off, you flung the stray droplets from the tips of your fingers before drying your hands on a dish towel. “I appreciate all the help, I really do. But, you don’t have to go outta your way for me.”

“It’s not outta the way. It’s just upstairs.” He looked proud of himself, the pleased grin pulling higher when you made a face of disbelief at him.

“None of that allowed up there.” You pointed toward the ceiling where the attic extended to. “That is a bad pun free zone.”

Joel shook his head ruefully, leaning his chair back even further on the rear legs, propping his boots up on the corner of the table, one ankle crossed over the other as his hands slowly came behind his head. “Darlin’, this whole house is one giant pun.”

You arched a brow, leaning back against the counter, your hands braced on its top at your sides.

“Ellie tries, she loves her joke books…. But me….”

“Bad dad jokes without being a dad?”

His whole demeanor deflated, just slightly, but enough for you to see. The light behind his eyes dimmed, his smile faded, and his arms dropped almost imperceptibly. “Something like that,” he mumbled, before the smile renewed, just a bit too tightly. After a brief moment, he dropped his feet back to the floor with a clatter, the chair coming back onto all fours with surprising delicacy. “Well, let’s get up there and take some measurements before the furniture gets here.”

Xxx

Joel had followed you up the steps, mumbling a “Lady’s first,” as he stepped out of the way, gesturing forward with one hand.

You arched a brow. “Oh, fancy.” He pulled a face, making you laugh softly. “Nice to know chivalry didn’t also die on outbreak day.” Starting up the stairs, he sighed as he fell in behind you.

“Oh, it did. I’m bringing it back.” Glancing over your shoulder you saw a smug look on his face, making you roll your eyes as you turned back to the task at hand, making sure to avoid the squeaky parts of the steps, sticking to the worn tread of the carpet. An amused hum buzzed out of Joel’s chest when he noticed, making you smirk. “Fast learner.”

Pushing open the door to the attic, it let out a mighty squeak.

You grimaced. “Not quite fast ‘nough, it seems.”

Joel knit his eyebrows at the door as he reached out, swinging it back and forth, the hinges protesting loudly each time. “It just needs to be tightened up.” Stepping closer, he examined the brackets with a more studious eye. “This takes a….” He turned to you, before glancing at your pile of tools still on the bed where you’d left them. “It’s a specialized screw head. Used to use them all the time before the world went to shit. Surprised they already started complainin’. Normally they last twice as long-”

“Everything complains around you, Joel,” Ellie grumbled as she walked past him, going straight for one of the windows, her forehead falling against it with a dramatic thump before she just stared at the city below.

Joel scoffed, staring at the teenager for a moment before rolling his eyes. “I have one down in my shop in the garage. I’ll go grab it.”

“You got a screwdriver that can turn that musty old shop of yours into a kick ass room for me?” Ellie called after him as he took the steps two at a time. As his heavy footfalls disappeared below, she turned back to look out the window.

“What do you mean?” You asked against your better judgment. “Don’t like your room?”

She sighed. “I just want my own space. Why does he need a room for just his tools? They don’t need privacy! They don’t go through at least one crisis a week, or have to deal with him, or have music they want to play super loud. They’re fucking tools.”

“Well, hey, we could trade? I could take your room, share the garage and tools with Joel, and you could be up he-”

“No,” Joel’s tone was final. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Ellie started. “I mean, she’s offering, and-”

“I said no, Ellie.”

“Joel-”

“No!” His grip on the door handle tightened. “We aren’t having this conversation again. Drop it.”

The two of them stared at each other with loaded looks, an unspoken conversation being exchanged between them.

“We’ll compromise.” Joel’s attention snapped to you, Ellie’s following soon after. “You ever need a place to ‘get away’? You can come up here and keep me company.” Ellie smiled. “That goes for you, too, Joel.”

“Why you gotta be like that?” Ellie mumbled, smiling when you arched a brow at her.

“There’s a catch.”

“Fuck,” the teenager moaned, turning back to look out the window, her head thumping against the frame.

“You have to help me with my projects while you’re up here.” Your eyes flicked between them. “Deal?” When neither of them agreed, but neither of them protested, you moved on. “Good. Now,” stooping down to pick up the various toys and tools that had taken over the floor the night before, you turned to Ellie. “I noticed during breakfast that you like to draw.”

“How-”

“Sketchbook on the counter by the oven. Next time wait until after the bacon is done. You got grease stains all over the pages.”

“I had an idea, I couldn’t wait….”

“How are you with paint?”

She shrugged. “Never…. Never really had the opportunity to use it. I’m sorry. What the fuck is that?” She pointed to the bag around your waist.

Looking down at the fanny pack you’d zipped your tools back into before putting it on, you lifted your gaze back up to her. “My fanny pack?”

“Ellie….” Joel warned, seeing the girl’s face begin to morph in a way he knew all too well.

“It’s called a….” She started snickering before she cleared her throat. “I’ve never seen one before.” Ellie’s eyes shot over to Joel, her features schooled into something almost professional, but it quickly melted into something more sarcastic.

“Very handy,” you said slowly, watching her through narrowed eyes. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’ll get my hands on some paints, and you can help me finish some pieces.” You turned to Joel, brows raised expectantly.

“I’ll ask Tommy when he brings the stuff,” he mumbled, leaning on the door and causing it to squeak again, pulling his attention back to the traitorous hinges.

“For now,” you focused back on the teenager, hands on your hips, “help me clean this place up a little before they get here? Maybe go grab the towel off the kitchen counter to dust off the windowsills?”

Ellie nodded with a small, sweet smile, but you didn’t miss how it twisted into a smirk as she walked past you toward the door. “On it, Miss Fanny.”

You stared after her with wide eyes, noting she had waited until she was a few steps down the stairs before saying it so you were less likely to retaliate. Smart.

Flicking your eyes over to Joel, an amused expression pulled at his features as he pointed toward the bag on your hip with his screwdriver. “It’s because of the….”

“Yeah, I got that,” you snarked. “What I don’t get is why she called you grumpy.”

“It’s kinda obvious,” he drawled, turning the screws on the top hinge.

“You don’t seem grumpy to me.”

“Give it time.”

Xxx

After the door no longer moaned, the hinges good as new, Joel took some measurements around the space while he talked about how he’d been meaning to build some shelves and stuff for storage up here anyway. It’d take a day or two, but he’d have them up and be out of your hair in no time. He also stepped out of one of the windows onto the roof, making you and Ellie exchange a confused glance.

“Joel? Last I checked, the attic was strictly inside the house,” Ellie asked cautiously.

His head appeared around the open window frame, scowling at the both of you. “I’m looking to see if I could put a doorway in here for a private entrance.”

“That’s not-” but he doesn’t let you finish.

Disappearing back around the window frame, his voice drifted back somewhat muffled as he turned away. “It’ll just make things easier. Once you get tired of the two of us, you can come in without having to look at our ugly mugs.” Ellie shot a sideways look at you, making you stifle a small laugh, tucking it into your hand as you looked away. “Could even make a little deck up here at the top of the stairs, good sun, you could plant somethin’ for eatin’. Plus it’s a good spot to,” his feet shuffled on the roof before stopping again. “It’s a good vantage point if things go sideways…. Again.”

Stepping up to the window, you went to poke your head out but had to step back as he hopped back in. “Joel, you don’t have to do all that. It’s-”

“It’s my house, and I want that vantage point,” he huffed, dusting off his hands before turning to close the window.

“The Contractor,” Ellie hissed in an eerie voice with a smirk, drawing out the words in a ridiculous way.

“Knock knock,” a voice said behind you, making you jump slightly, turning to find Tommy. “Sorry,” he said quietly, having the decency to look sheepish. As he pushed the door open a bit wider, it squeaked softly, pulling his focus to the hinges. “You need to fix that, Joel-”

“I-” The older brother looked at the younger, dumbfounded. It quickly melted into annoyce as he whispered an exasperated, “What did you do?” Stepping quickly toward the door.

Tommy stepped back slightly. “Nothin’! I just got here, big brother! So just hold your horses and don’t jump-”

“He just fixed those a few minutes ago,” you offered softly, understanding dawning on Tommy’s face.

His eyes shifted to his brother, wide and somewhat worried. “Now, Joel, I didn’t do nothin’. They’re old, like you, and-” he turned his eyes down to the floor when Joel’s head snapped up to level him with a menacing gaze. “-and,” he repeated pointedly, “before you jump up my ass about somethin’ I didn’t do….” He lifted his head just enough to look at his brother again. “Can we please talk about this like the grown men we sometimes are now?”

Joel simply stared at his brother for a loaded moment before turning back to the door, wiggling it back and forth, making a sour face as it squeaked again softly. “You had to’ve done somethin’….”

“I guess not then,” Tommy sighed, hands that had been held up in surrender falling down to his sides in defeat as he sent an unimpressed glare toward his brother. “You’ve gotten meaner as your hair’s gotten greyer.”

Joel rolled his eyes, turning to inspect the hinges more closely, but reached up a hand to run through his hair after a moment, bringing it down to rub at the back of his neck in what looked like embarrassment as he kept his back to the room.

Ellie strolled over easily toward the two men. “You’re an old man, Joel. That’s how it’s supposed to happen…. I think. I mean, look at Santa Claus….”

Joel slowly looked at her over his shoulder before he let out a strangled grunt of frustration, cleaning his throat to try and cover it up as he shook his head, turning back to his task in an attempt to hide.

Ellie went on as if nothing had happened. “I mean I think that’s how it works.”

Tommy snickered, tucking the lower half of his face into his hand, pointedly ignoring Joel looking at him through the crack of the door by the hinges.

The teen turned to Tommy. “You’re an old man, you tell me. Am I right?”

The hand fell from his face, and Tommy immediately stopped laughing, glowering at Ellie while Joel lost it, a series of growing snickers falling from his mouth as he turned his face into the wall to try and subdue the sound.

You looked on, watching the whole exchange with a smile. Joel may not be her father, but these three were every bit a family unit. They teased and called each other names, but it was all in fun. All from love. You had no doubt that when push came to shove, they’d be there for one another in a heartbeat, and probably be willing to sacrifice close to anything in the name of that bond, that thing they shared but they didn’t dare put that name to. For family.

Joel was still chuckling into the wall, his forehead pressed against it as he rocked it side to side in disbelief. “I swear I didn’t tell her to say that.”

“Fuck you, Joel. I say what I want,” Ellie proclaimed.

“Ellie,” Joel groaned, finally turning to face the room with a sigh, as Tommy snapped a, “Language!”

“Oh, bite me,” she mumbled, turning and meandering slowly to the window to begin dusting again.

“So, Tommy,” you began, clasping your hands in front of yourself. “I hear you have furniture for me?”

His eyes widened in recognition. “Shit! Yeah.”

“Language!” Ellie mocked him from her spot across the room.

“It’s downstairs. Why don’t you come with me, take a look and see what all you wanna bring up while Joel finishes on this door.” He turned to his brother, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Come down when you’re done, we should know by then.”

He nodded, fiddling with the screwdriver in his hand. “Give me five minutes.”

“I used to work with you, Joel,” Tommy called, starting down the stairs. “We both know it’ll take you ten.”

Joel laughed humorously. “Fuck you, Tommy!”

“Language!” Ellie yelled again.

Following the younger Miller, you smiled. He stepped on every squeak in the steps, almost like it was on purpose.

Once the two of you were downstairs, Tommy stepped out onto the front porch, showing you a small array of furniture leaning up against the outside of the house.

You were about to start pointing to some of the pieces when he began talking to you about something else altogether.

“So how’s it been today? They been treating you okay?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you tilted your head back to look up at him, holding his serious gaze. His eyes were kind, and you realized he was asking just as much from a place of worry for them as for you.

“Yeah. It’s been great so far.” He looked relieved. “Ellie cooked eggs and bacon for breakfast.”

He smiled proudly. “You have me to thank for that.”

You couldn’t help the grimace tugging on your features. “So I hear.”

Tommy scoffed, hands going to his hips, making you chuckle.

“Ellie called him grumpy earlier, but I haven’t seen any particular reason why.” His eyebrows shot up near his hairline. “I asked him about it and he said to ‘give it time’.”

He rolled his eyes with a muttered, “Sounds like him.”

You lowered your voice, taking a step closer. “Am I missing something? If he’s not always sunshine and rainbows, that’s fine, I get it. This world we live in now ain’t always deserving of it. But still, I’d like to know what I’m getting into.”

Tommy took a deep breath, but before he could speak, Joel stepped out the front door.

“What should I take up first?”

Turning and pointing at the bed frame you knew for sure needed to go up, you smiled. “Definitely that, please.”

Joel nodded, grabbing the headboard and footboard. “Tommy, will you grab the rest of the frame? The girls can be putting it together while we take up the rest.”

The man beside you nodded, staying silent until his brother disappeared back in the house.

“Joel’s not always the easiest to get to know.” You scoffed. “It’s true. I’ve known him my whole life, and I still have days where I wonder why he’s so prickly. He has his reasons,” Tommy looked up toward the attic windows before looking back down at you. “And I’m sure he’ll tell you them eventually, I can already tell he trusts you more than most others here in Jackson.”

With a shake of your head, you chuckled. “You’re crazy. He just met me. I’m sure he-”

“You saw a side of Joel right out the gate some wait a lifetime to miss.”

Staring up into his eyes, your own wide, you saw nothing but sincerity.

“Tommy! Come on, man!” Shaking his head, Joel picked up the rest of the pieces of the bed. “And you say I’m slow.”

The younger Miller held your gaze as he spoke. “That’s because you are slow, big brother.” Lifting his eyes to follow the older man, they narrowed playfully. “Come on, come on, lift those feet!”

“I’m gonna hit you,” Joel grumbled as he passed back over the threshold of the house, Tommy hot on his heels. As Joel continued to complain, Tommy stopped, looking back at you pointedly before turning and heading inside, shouting something you couldn’t make out up at his brother.

Xxx

Once a few of the pieces were set up around the attic, you dug some things out of your backpack to put out, get settled in. Pulling a chair up to the small dining table, you got your screwdriver out of the pack on your hip and began scraping at the paint on the blue metal car from that morning.

“What’cha doin’?” Tommy asked, pulling another chair up and swinging his leg over it, sitting on it backwards. He rested his chin on his wrists on the back of the chair as he stared at the toy in your hands.

Not stopping, you answered him. “I restore things, especially toys.”

Your eyes flicked up to find his face twisted in confusion before darting back to what you were doing.

After a moment he asked in a quieter voice, “Why?”

You shrugged. “Why not?” Pausing in your efforts, you looked up at him. “It makes me happy, and it makes others happy. And if there’s something people need more of these days, I’d say that’s it.” You turned back to your project.

“Toys?”

You froze, your hands flopping onto the table as you lifted your gaze to look at him flatly.

“Happiness, dumbass,” Joel grumbled lowly from across the room, tightening the screws on one of the window sills.

“How would you know?” Tommy sat up straight in the chair, glaring over at his brother. “You wouldn’t know happiness if it bit you on the ass.”

“Oh, I think I’d be plenty happy if someone bit me on the ass-”

“That’s not-” Joel’s chuckle cut his brother off. “I like how Ellie said it earlier. Bite me.”

“Okay. But not on the ass.”

“You know what….” Tommy pushed away from the table, turning toward his brother.

“Even if I don't, I know you never do.” Joel turned to face his brother, screwdriver once again in his hand. “You’re not the brightest-”

“Boys!” They both turned to look at you, startled, Ellie jerking awake from her spot on your bed where she’d been napping for the last hour. “Enough!”

“Yeah, shut up,” Ellie grumbled, rubbing her eye with the palm of her hand. “I don’t even know what you were arguing about, but I know it was stupid.”

“How would you know?” Joel turned his head slowly to look at his brother, his eyebrows knit in disbelief that he was arguing with a teenager.

She stilled, her hand falling to her lap with a plop. “Because I know you.” She turned to you, speaking over a yawn. “What were they arguing about?”

“That toys and happiness aren’t necessarily important nowadays, and that devolved into name calling.”

Ellie nodded. “Sounds right.” She looked at the two men. “Grow up.” She arched a brow right back at them when they lifted theirs at her. “I babysit for the kids across the street, and if it’s one thing they are severely lacking, it’s toys. We watch the movies down at the town center or a video Joel brings back from a run, and they won’t shut up about all the toys and stuff. They don’t care about the animals or the songs, I mean they do, to an annoying degree, please, somebody, explain how giving children that age singalongs was a good idea, but I digress-” she took a big breath, the corner of her mouth twitching up when you failed to suppress a snort of laughter. “Anyway. Some toys around here wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“I’d be more than happy to restore toys for the kids here in Jackson. But up here there isn’t really enough space for that type of output, plus the noise and smell would eventually bother you, despite what you say, Joel.”

Tommy looked at his brother who shrugged. “We talked about this earlier. Briefly.”

“I see,” Tommy mused quietly, turning back to you with a smirk.

“Would you mind sharin’ your garage?”

Joel grimaced.

“Come on, Joel,” Tommy teased. “Be a big boy, and-”

Joel rounded on his brother, getting close to his face. “You don’t stop talkin’, I’m going to-”

“Okay, so that’s a no,” you chuckled.

“The old book store,” Joel’s voice had calmed, and he turned to look at you. “It’s empty, is filled with shelves to display stuff, and has a wide showroom in the middle you could convert into a workshop.”

“Are you sayin’ she opens a toy shop?” Tommy asked, his voice tight with disbelief.

“Why not?” Joel looked at his brother before turning to Ellie for her input. “Like she said, it’s a need in the town, would boost morale-”

“How?” Tommy scoffed.

“Happy kids, happy parents.”

Joel made a gesture after Ellie spoke, like a ‘there you go’ as he turned his attention back on his brother, smiling as understanding softened the other man’s features.

“A need, morale,” Joel turned to look at you, a playful curl of his upper lip as he went on, “and I get to keep my garage.” The mock disdain melted into a smile and a wink before he turned back to his brother.

“For now,” Ellie muttered under her breath, her face instantly schooling into something sweet and innocent when Joel whipped his head her way.

Xxx

With a sigh, you set one of the things on your shelf back upright, looking at the blue metal car that sat beside it, fully painted and restored. It was one you weren’t willing to get rid of, and it held pride of placement on one of the shelves Joel had built not long after that conversation about the shop.

You’d opted to stay out of these arguments, letting them sort their differences out on their own, but something felt different this time. The weight of Joel’s sigh hurt just a little bit more, felt a little bit heavier, and at breakfast this morning, his eyes seemed…. Sad.

Walking to the door that led downstairs through the house, you opened it, smiling when it swung without a sound. Making sure to step on the proper parts of the steps to stay silent, you walked almost all the way up to Joel before you finally cleared your throat to get his attention.

He’d been cradling his head in his hand, but he snapped up to look at you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

He stared at you for a long moment before shaking his head, looking at the floor. “No, no, don’t worry. Am I in your way? I’ll move, just let me-”

“Joel.”

At the sound of his name, he relaxed, slumping back against the wall with a sigh, scrubbing his hand down his face as he looked up at the ceiling. “I know.” He shrugged slightly, tilting his head back into the wall with a soft thump, rocking it back and forth. “I don’t know what it is. I can’t….” He looked back down at the floor for a second before his face screwed up. “Goddamnit!” His hand moved up to thread through his hair, tugging at the ends in frustration. “I don’t know what I’m doing. It was so much easier with-” Joel stopped with a shuddering breath, his eyes wide and frantic as they flew to you.

He’d done this a few times, started down a train of thought about someone or something in his past, but always stopped just before actually naming them. You couldn’t tell if it was a decision made out of pain or a desire to maintain privacy. Either way, you didn’t push it.

“She’s just being a teenager, Joel. That’s what they do. They drive you crazy, it’s kind of their job.” The corner of his mouth twitched up just slightly, but just as quickly fell back into the frown that twisted his face so painfully. “Didn’t you have teenaged girls in your family? Nieces? Distant cousins?”

He let out a wet laugh, swallowing roughly before he answered in a raspy voice, “Somethin’ like that.”

You leaned on the wall across from him, sliding down to sit on the floor, knees pulled tightly to your chest.

“Did you need something?”

His question pulled your focus back up to his face from the pattern of the weave of your jeans you’d been staring at.

“Yeah. I mean no.” He tilted his head in question. “I needed to come down and check on you two.”

He swallowed again, nodding. “Thanks.”

“Want me to go after her? We’re still learning each other, but we get along well enough. She’d probably listen to me. Maybe.” You grimaced. “I mean I hope so.”

Joel laughed softly. “Don’t do it on my behalf, you don’t need to villainize yourself, too. She needs to trust ‘least one of us.”

“She doesn’t think you’re a villain, Joel,” you groaned, getting back to your feet, taking his outstretched hand he offered in help.

“She sure don’t think I’m a hero,” he said lowly, his hand holding yours longer than it should, his thumb tracing your knuckles as he held your gaze.

As you studied his face, eyes tracing the laugh lines by his eyes, the scars here and there, the strong angle of his jaw and light smattering of facial hair, you found yourself wishing he never actually had to let go. “I think you’d be surprised what people see when they look at you, Joel.”

He let go of your hand, taking a step back. Somehow you’d both gotten nearly toe to toe as you talked.

“I just need to get my jacket from upstairs then I’ll go look for her.”

He nodded, leaning back against the wall as you went back up to the attic.

Once you were back inside, you spotted Ellie at your desk, painting a little model plane you’d been working on. Looking over at the private entrance Joel had installed, you saw the door was not quite shut all the way. Smiling softly, you set your jacket you’d taken off the hook on the back of a nearby chair, then you walked over, shutting the door softly, clicking the lock into place. Closing the last few feet left between you, you leaned your hip against the edge of the desk as you watched her detail the left wing.

It was weird to see her so subdued. Normally she was such a spitfire, something sarcastic or sassy coming out of her mouth at all times. You laughed every time she opened her mouth.

Keeping your voice quiet, you finally asked, “Wanna talk about it?”

She didn’t answer at first, but when she did it was as quiet as you had been. “Not really.”

You studied the way she painted the lines meticulously. “That’s fine.”

Pulling up a chair, you sat beside her, arm braced on the desk, head cradled in your palm as you continued to watch her in silence.

The sounds of the town below you slowly drifted up through the open window. A songbird flitted by. Crickets began to chirp as the sun went down, and a lone owl hooted across the valley as the stars began to shine. One by one they started their march across the sky, twinkling in their dance with the moon, a slow procession of light for those of you left down below.

After a few minutes, you handed her the cup of water to rinse the brush. “He’s trying, you know.”

She rinsed and dried the brush, switching to the next color. A few more minutes passed before she answered. “I know.”

After the wing was done, she rinsed the brush again and spoke while she dried it on the towel. “We need more paint. We’re running low on these basic colors. I could mix some of the others to make more, but they wouldn’t be quite right.”

“Okay,” you agreed softly. “I’ll see what I can do. There’s not much here in town, but I know there’s a lot out there left over from before.”

She whipped her head toward you, eyes wide in excitement. “Maybe you and I could go together to find some?!”

“No, no,” you didn’t even let her finish before you began objecting. “It’s not safe out there for you. You’re too young.”

She looked back down at the plane, her features immediately turning sour. “You sound like Joel.”

“Well, he and I agree on this.” Picking up the paintbrushes and moving them to the side, you leaned forward on both forearms, trying to catch her eye. “Do you trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Leaning back a little bit, you sighed. “You always have a choice, Ellie. You know that.”

“I know,” she grumbled. “I just…. Yes, okay? Yes, I trust you. Why?”

Pushing the chair back, you got to your feet, going to the door back downstairs. “Because I have a plan.”

“What is-”

Turning back to her, you raised one finger and wagged it at her. “Ah ah ah! You said you trusted me. Now do it.”

Opening the door, you stepped through, laughing when you heard Ellie’s muffled voice call through as you shut it, “This sucks!”

Making your way back downstairs, you found Joel at the dining room table, nursing a whiskey.

“Do you trust me?”

“You know I do, why?”

Smiling, you sat in the chair beside him. “Ellie’s doing really well with her painting, isn’t she?”

His brows narrowed in question, but he answered. “Yeah….”

“Problem is, there isn’t a lot of paint here in Jackson, and she’s already running low on some of the basic colors.”

“I noticed. She was complainin’ about it last week. I was gonna look for some on my next run for her.”

Sitting forward in your chair like you had at the desk with Ellie, you leaned on your forearms as you started in on your idea. “Well, where I stayed before coming here is about a week out. I had a stockpile. All different colors, types, whatever she could want for a long, long time, it’s all there.” Joel’s eyes were wide, you could see his wheels turning. “If we could each take a horse, maybe even a small cart or something, we’d cut that time in half, be there in a few days, and we could go raid my old supply. I had some real specialty stuff, stuff she’d love. Craft brushes…. I just need someone to come with me to keep me safe. I know what I’m doing, but once everything is loaded, the horses will be slower and I need someone to watch my back. Whaddya say?”

He started to smile. “You had me at ‘stuff she’d love’.”

Xxx

The day to leave had come. You’d be leaving tomorrow to get your old stash while Joel watched your back.

You were about to close up the shop for the night when someone came in.

Smiling up at the woman, your features softened when you saw the tired expression on her face. “Can I help you?”

The woman sighed, the most exhausted sound you’d heard in a while. “Yes! My daughter is sick, and I want to give her something to cheer her up. I can trade you some bread for it. Fresh made this morning.” Flipping a towel back on the small bundle in her left hand, a golden loaf of bread came into view, making your mouth water, the shop filling with the yeasty aroma and making your stomach growl softly.

You would have done it for free, given the circumstances, but since you were leaving the next day, the bread would be handy. And damn did it smell good. “Sure! How about something soft for her to hold while she’s laid up in bed?”

She smiled gratefully. “Sounds perfect.”

Pulling a basket down from a shelf that was filled with a few teddy bears Tommy and Joel had found on supply runs and you’d cleaned up, you set it on a table in front of the woman.

“Beautiful day today,” you said offhandedly, looking out the front window and smiling, your grin growing when you saw Joel appear across the street and wave at you through the window. You waved back, making the woman in front of you look over her shoulder to see what was going on.

She heaved another sigh, rolling her eyes before turning back to the basket. “Don’t bother. That one’s never gonna crack.”

Your smile faltered, hand falling down to rest beside the basket as you looked at the woman in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She scoffed. “He’s a tough ass. I don’t think he’s ever smiled in his life. Probably made his mom cry when he was born. Something is just off about him.”

Snorting a laugh, you shook your head. “That’s crazy. I live with him.” You paused, ignoring her raised brows as she looked at you through her lashes. “Well, above him. In his attic.” Turning your head just slightly, your face twisted at the way that sounded, too. “But not, like, in a creepy way. His brother set it up.” You tilted your head to the side, staring out the front window, before turning to look at the woman point blank. “I’m renting a room from him.”

The woman looked up at you in pity. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not so bad.” You shrugged, reaching out to straighten the ear of one of the bears.

Resting her hand on your forearm, she gave it a gentle pat. “That’s the right attitude.”

After she picked her bear and you had the bread, you locked up and walked across the street to meet Joel. “Got some extra food for the trip.” You held up the loaf with a grin.

“Good. We’re gonna need it,” he grumbled, his face a sour expression, hands in his pockets as you both turned toward the house.

“What bit your ass?”

“Tommy mentioned to Maria about our little trip. The council didn’t want to lend us the horses for ‘just paint’.”

“Okay. So now what? We walk?”

“No,” he ground out. Turning the corner by the stables, you found a group of people buzzing around, preparing bags and supplies for them and their horses. When you looked back up at Joel, he sighed, speaking lowly. “We have company.”

Xxx

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