#this is the first out of three chapters for this part 👀

[kithtaehyung]

broken, pt. 1 (3tan) | myg

title: broken (pt. 1) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further… until everything goes to hell. note: this is only one half of what was supposed to be a whole chapter! broken, pt. 2 will come out after i've had time to make it something i'm proud of. trying to rush everything out didn't do any favors, so hilariously and ironically, broken is broken up into two hahaha. warnings: language, angst, tension, yoongi’s pov is longgg, alcohol consumption, tobacco mentions, bro🥲, yoongi in the studio😩, the studio boys make another appearance👀, …someone else makes their first appearance👀👀, scuffles, tense situations, did i say angst?, water bottles get their own warning, long hair yoongi, basketball yoongi🫠, crying, bro a ha ha, jimin has tats and he’s not afraid to show them, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, honestly he is on another level of warning here don’t perceive me💀, the fluff is fluffing here like what, backstory we’ve been waiting for😗, yoongi on the phone, hand holding :’)), kissing :’)), oh god the kissing❤️‍🩹, there’s just a lot in both parts i'm sorry y'all playlist: broken (lp) drop date: dec 3rd, 2023, 4:00pm est word count: ...19.1k 🚶‍♀️

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Words abandon you.

They stand far from your form, pitying observers of your decaying state in front of the man you’ve been lying to. At once, you feel completely alone, not even Yoongi’s lingering presence helping when those eyes are piercing through time and space. Everything you’ve experienced over the past two years slings across your vision, from the first time you left your house in the pouring rain to get to Yoongi’s, to the car ride back you just took with his kiss still on your lips. 

All of those moments shattering into dust around your heels. 

Your feet make lines in them when you move to close the front door, something leaving your mouth before you can judge if it makes sense, “About what?” 

Zero sense. Absolute zero sense. Which your brother has absolute zero patience for. The drone in his question hits you like a punch to the gut, “Really.” 

“Just out late, is all,” you grumble, trying your best to not acknowledge an atmosphere so tense it’s almost crowded. “Jimin had another party, remember?” 

“Course I do.”

Huh? Wait. Why does he sound so—

“I was there.”

Dread launches up your veins, rocketing right to your heart in the middle of a pulse. He was there? You saw his car when Yoongi pulled up close to the house. He was there? When the fuck did he arrive? Oh, fuck, if he got there early enough… did he see you… and Yoongi…

No. There’s no way. Because one, Yoongi parked far down and around the corner. He made sure not to be close just in case you two could be spotted. 

With a thought you really cannot afford right now, you also assume he stayed that distance just so that he could pin you against his car. Fucking hell, focus! Upping the strength of your resolve to match cardboard, you lamely stall in your hunt for clarification, “You were?” 

“I was.” 

The watch on his wrist glints in its twist. When aggravated veins stare back at you, it’s obvious your brother is on the edge. Because he is deathly calm. “So where’d you go?” 

You blink, not having expelled a single breath since you stepped foot inside. 

Does he not know? Or does he know and he’s just waiting for you to finally spill? With all the hope in the universe, you yearn for it to be the first one. Because you cannot deal with a fallout right now. Not right after what happened with Yoongi. 

It’s just not the right time. 

“Yuri’s,” you blurt, finally kicking into gear and strategizing how you’re gonna finesse this. “She came and got me.” 

Your sibling just stands there, eyes a solid beam before he sighs at clasped wrists. 

Here it comes. He’s gonna ask why you didn’t say anything. Like he always does because for some reason you’re still not a true adult to him and he has to keep tabs on you at all times and you can’t just sneak around with his best friend in peace—

“K.” Your eyes shake once. “Just tell me next time.” 

And just like that, your brother vacates the foyer, dark dress shoes clacking as he retreats back into his room. Leaving you standing in silence. 

All the words around you just as speechless. 

Just like that, you’re gone again.

After watching you leave and wishing you didn’t have to, Yoongi shuts his door to rest ponderous thoughts on worn wood. Eyes closed and a storm on his mind’s horizon.

Just a little longer. He hopes you’ll understand. This is just something he needs. More than anything else. 

Exhausted, he peels himself from the door, meandering through the bog of his living room. Trudge, trudge, trudge to the dining table, skirting fingers along the edge and noting that it feels different than before. 

At least something in his apartment has changed for the better. 

Who would’ve thought that table would witness both an end and a beginning. That it would see the worst and best of him. If it was ever called to stand, there’s no doubt that it could recite all his failures and shortcomings. But he hopes that it would also attest to how much he’s fucking tried. 

As much as Yoongi wants to throw it out, he hasn’t. Because despite being withered to hell, all it needed to recover was the new company of a familiar face. 

And a little bit of summer rain. 

It watches as his thoughts move on, and soaks in the blues and pinks of sunrise as he crosses into the bedroom. At the feel of your lingering presence, Yoongi gnaws on his lip. 

What the fuck does he do now? The moment you leave, he wants nothing more than to have you back in his bed. It’s the one fact that he has come to fully acknowledge. Because there are many times you’ve caught him slipping. But when you’re lost to your dreams? Visibly at peace and safe under his sheets? That’s when he can’t even think straight. 

How your serenity throws him into disarray, Yoongi has no fucking clue.

But he can’t afford these feelings right now. Because how can he want you close while being the reason for this distance? Make it make sense. Don’t be a fucking hypocrite. Tsking, Yoongi once again accepts the consequences, heading to his bathroom before going back the fuck to sleep. 

Lies. Who is he kidding? There’s no way his rest will be the same without you. Especially since he doesn’t know when he’ll get to see you next. 

There is a way to remedy that. To put an end to your time apart. But Yoongi’s been so in his fucking head that it’s chaining him down and pulling taut. No matter how much he struggles, he can’t break free, and it’s driving him to the brink.

But last night? With you? Half moons mar his palms as he stands. Staring. Branding that whole memory into his heart.

After three months of questioning his existence. 

All it took was your soft hums to give him a reason. 

And you won’t ever know how much that meant to him. Not until Yoongi finally decides to tell you. Which will most likely be never. Maybe that’s why this time tears at his chest more than all the others. Maybe that’s why he stood in his doorway longer than usual. Maybe that’s why he can’t quite carry the weight in his chest.

Dumping himself on dark mountains—creations of his and your design—Yoongi buries his face in those valleys. Inhales those aromas like some hit he can live off of for however many days left he needs. 

Desperately grasping for a fading world where only you two exist. Drifting. Dreaming. Disarmed by a vibration on his nightstand.

The fuck.

Who is texting him this early. There are only a few people he has notifications on for wait it’s probably you saying you’re home.

Peeling himself off the sheets with a groan, Yoongi simply shifts his upper body to reach for his phone, squinty-eyed as he checks his screen.

And he doesn’t see your name.

Dumbass: 1 New Message

But your brother’s.

What the hell does he—

Dumbass [07:30]: We need to talk.

…Shit.

Yoongi grips his phone in panic, ice water streaming through his veins and mind set ablaze with potential scenarios.

He’s awake. You went home. And he’s awake. Fuck, did anything happen? Did you say anything? What are the chances this text means he found everything out? 

Shit. 

Does Yoongi answer now? Or does he sleep and pretend that this is just a text and isn’t a problem at all? Think. Your brother may not even be referencing you, or him. Right? It could be something completely different. 

Why can’t he fucking move? 

Every regret Yoongi’s kept at bay floods his brain, crashing into assumptions of your mental state and creating a massive whirlpool of dread. Just answer. Don’t answer. Just answer. Don’t fucking answer. Suddenly, another alert lights his home screen and it’s a call oh fuck—wait… It’s Jungkook? 

Why not. Sure. What’s one more issue. 

Picking up, Yoongi runs hard fingers through his hair as he answers.

“Hey, you coming?”

“Huh?”

“We have that session in thirty.”

The what. The session? Oh, fuck. The session. Yoongi completely forgot they had a recording booked today because they were so hyped last night to get a date for the release party shit. Vacating his bed, Yoongi answers with a low, “Yeah, I’ll be there.” 

“Yeah, don’t be late. It’s those guys from before.” 

Fuck, it’s that one. The dudes that stopped by the studio just as things were wrapping up, shocking everyone when they scheduled some time. Highly successful musicians and performers booking something with a no name studio? Things are rolling in the right direction and coming along fast. 

But as things go. If they don’t take this shit seriously, everything can crash just as quickly.

“Heading out,” Yoongi finally says as he yanks a hoodie from his closet, and a loud vibration against his ear makes him flinch. 

Dumbass [7:40]: Heading over

Fuck!

“You okay?” 

“Shit, yeah.” Yoongi grips soft material before his phone hits his desk with a thump. Hastily dressing, he grunts, “Maybe. Might be like two minutes late.” 

“Nah, come now.” 

He’s heading over? Your brother? If that’s the case, there’s no way he doesn’t know. 

Fuck, relax. Don’t overthink. If anything, there wouldn’t have even been a heads-up. Yoongi figures he’d just find out as soon as he’s thrown against a wall. Or the ground. Or right onto his coffee table that this very guy helped pick out. Shit, he needs to know but he doesn’t wanna find out. 

But nevermind him. Are you okay? Swiping his device, Yoongi quickly types a text before fast-walking out of his room, going on autopilot when he assures into his receiver, “I’ll get there.” 

Yoongi [7:42]: Going to the studio

“On time? You better!”

Goddamn, he’s juggling too much right now. 

As Yoongi breaks into the dining room, he hears a rustling on the line before other voices jut through the speaker. Sounds like Hobi and Joon are already there, and the next thing said further spikes his stress level another peak, 

“We’re already cutting it close with the prep.” 

Fucking hell, the prep. The mics, the tracks, the setup. They forgot to do all of it. Something inside of him starts snarling and almost pounces through the phone, “Fuck, we should’ve been ready already.” 

“Shit, I know.” 

“We can’t keep doing this.” 

“Dude, relax, I get it.” 

“Do you? Cus this is… Fuck.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get it done but it’s gonna be tight. Hey, where’s the… Damn it, what’s it called?”

Frustrated and rummaging through his pantry, Yoongi knows he sure as hell didn’t think about anything else as soon as he heard you crying on the line. If he had remembered while leaving the studio, he could’ve spared a brain cell to rush everyone back in. “The what.” 

“The… The overhead mic for the drums.” 

Of course, he’d repeat every decision he made last night. Over, and over, and over again. But any of them should’ve remembered this step before leaving, which pisses him off. The studio’s lack of experience is showing and it’s making him nervous. 

And Yoongi still doesn’t know what’s going on with his best friend. 

“We need two overheads for drums,” he corrects while swiping a water bottle from the counter. And he’s about to rattle off where they are when he feels another long buzz. 

Dumbass: Incoming Call 

Of fucking course. 

Mind whirring so hard he can feel steam, Yoongi quickly recalls where the mics are, “They’re somewhere in the back by the amps, but I gotta take this so I’ll see y’all there.” 

“Wait, where are the—”

Nope. Kook’s just gonna have to figure out whatever he’s asking on his own. Switching calls, Yoongi answers while opening his door, hastily putting out the food and water he grabbed from the kitchen. 

“Hey.” Fuck, is his voice shaking? What the hell is he gonna be faced with in the next few seconds? Can he freeze time and rewind and keep last night on repeat? “I’m about to head out.” 

“Don’t leave yet, I’m coming.” 

“No, just”—Yoongi dashes back inside before grabbing his wallet and keys from the bar—“You good? I can’t be late.” 

“Don’t lie. Y’all are done, right?” 

Don’t lie. Yoongi feels like hurling. 

“We got another project,” he huffs as he meets sunrise again, blazing a trail through his corridor and rounding the corner to his car. “A band’s coming in for a session.”

“Shit.”

There’s a pause on the line. And it’s the first bit of silence Yoongi’s had since he got the first bone-chilling text. Is his secret safe? Are you okay? Should he work extra late and run from a problem yet again? He’s very good at that. Running. If there was a medal for distance ran from issues, he’d be on the podium for both gold and silver.

“Okay, fine.” 

Relief is temporary. This could just be him biding his time in order to figure out what to do. Or maybe he truly doesn’t know what’s going on and Yoongi has a bit more uninterrupted time with you. 

Delusion is a great place to stay.

In any case, his friend’s behavior is alarming. What’s he doing up this early? And why is he wanting to swing by so bad if not to slice him into tiny pieces? Nerves slow on the downslope, Yoongi shuts his car door and lends his ear, “But serious, are you okay?”

“I just… Tch. I can’t even say it.”

He lets his friend go through a series of small sounds on the line, pulling out of the lot and hitting the road with tire squeaks. “What’s up,” he finally pushes, looking sideways and remembering the car ride home. 

There was no way Yoongi was gonna say no to you. He didn’t in this universe, and he’d bet his whole life he doesn’t in any other one, either. Not when your wings looked like you hadn’t used them in months.    

Pained, Yoongi hopes you’re completely fine and sleeping. Tucked away in a bed that captured part of his heart, visiting him in your dreams so that some version of him can be at your side. 

“Everything, Yoong.” 

But, as it so starkly turns out, he has to deal with reality. And with the fact that you’re just as far away as you were before last night. Maybe even further out of reach. 

So, so far away. 

“There’s a ton of shit, but. Fuck. Guess we’ll have to wait.”

Right now, deal with the studio prep and get through the session that will probably take awhile. After that, meet up with your brother and hope to god he doesn’t know. “K.”

“Just lemme know when you get back.”

Then, when all of that is done, Yoongi will be alone. Staring into the night and trying his hardest not to give up on himself again. “Yeah, I will.” 

“No running.”

“K.”

When the call ends, Yoongi lets out the harshest breath he’s ever let out in his life. Hoping you went right to sleep without dealing with any of that. 

“How did that sound?” 

Looking into the recording room, Yoongi raises a thumbs up as Hoseok clicks back to the beginning of the track. At their side, Namjoon hits a button on the console before speaking into a microphone, “Y’all wanna come hear it?” 

“We can move on. Wanna get the doubling done.” 

Huh? They’re gonna move onto vocal doubling already? With a few blinks, Yoongi think it’d be better if they—

“Okay!” Jungkook agrees from the couch, cutting out any other thoughts. “If any of you need adjustments, let us know.” 

“Yeah, actually, can one of you come switch this out?” 

Joon throws a suggestion over his shoulder, but Yoongi is already heading for the booth before his name is even mentioned. 

Get everything done smooth. Stay disciplined. Be professional, goddamn it.

Entering the soundproofed room will always make him want to occupy the mic instead. That feeling hasn’t gone away, and there have been countless nights where he’s spent time just sitting in this very space, visualizing what it would be like to work on this side of the glass someday. Deep down, Yoongi knows he could be somebody. But imposter syndrome runs deep. 

Avoiding cables strewn about the room, he offers his hands without a word, taking a guitar from the lead singer and making his leave—

“Hey.” He turns. “You’re good.” 

What? Where the hell did that come from? Did he even hear this guy right or was he just daydreaming again? Yoongi’s so thrown he can only stare with question marks for eyes. 

Amused, the singer simply points to the side of his beaming countenance. “You have an ear.” 

Huh. How the hell can this dude tell? All Yoongi’s done is indicate if a recording take was good or not, and given a few minuscule suggestions to the keyboardist and guitarist—instruments he’s well-versed in. 

Yet again, he’s so in his head that the man outright laughs, “Relax! You can talk to us like normal, you know. None of us care about etiquette shit.” 

“Shit, my bad,” Yoongi finally responds, instrument in his hands proving a little lighter. “Thanks.” 

“Of course.” Swishing long bangs to the side, the performer rests a hand on his hip. “We’re open to anything. We’d just tell you if your opinion sucks.” 

Eyes creasing with his lips, Yoongi puffs out a laugh. 

“Kidding. Only a little.”

Even though these people are world-renowned, they’re the first humble group to run through the studio. Everyone else has been either cocky, standoffish, or super opinionated, which made for unproductive hours.

Yoongi likes this change of pace. His shoulders start to feel composed, less scrunched than they had been since you left his place this morning. Comforted, he looks down at the guitar in his fingers.

Choosing not to say what he wants to. 

Should he? Nah. These guys know what they’re doing. Despite the nice offer to speak up, it’s not his place. Far from it. 

…But what would you tell him to do? What would you be proud of?

Committed to his answer, Yoongi grips the neck and decides without another thought, 

“Do the chorus again.” 

The whole studio stills. But all he’s looking at is the man in front of him, shaking his head when they ask, “Same way?” 

“Uhm. No.” As he hands the guitar back, Yoongi wordlessly checks if he can see the sheet music. When given the go-ahead, he scans the lines before pointing out a passage to note, 

“Mm. Here. Vocals are fine as is, but. Ride the build-up quicker and hit the next chord after a bit longer.” When he stops, he has to fight to ignore the eyes on him. There’s no doubt that his extended time in the recording room is being questioned, and his hand movements probably make him look stupid. “It’ll keep in time but hit harder.” 

Done. He said it. 

And the response that follows puts complete silence to shame. 

Instantly self-conscious, Yoongi swears he can hear Hobi’s pants shift in the control room through two closed doors shit he took it too far. Fuck, if these guys walk out now the studio is done for and he’ll be the only reason why—

“Well, goddamn. Let’s try that then.” 

Huh. They’re gonna take that? 

As he steps away, Yoongi feels slightly awkward doused in attention. Yeah, expressions seem like looks of approval, but they could just be polite. 

The man hums the chorus with Yoongi’s notes in mind, and his eyebrows tick a bit before he addresses the others in the room, “You heard him?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Yeah, we can try that.”

“Why didn’t you think of that, Woosung?”

Yoongi can’t keep his amusement under wraps as the singer laughs, addressing his keyboardist with a grin, “Damn, not even Sammy? Straight to Woosung, huh.”

“Sammy would’ve thought of it.”

Another bout of mirth spreads joy around the recording booth, and Yoongi shares a look with the singer before they both nod. 

“Let’s see how it sounds.” 

“K.”

Proud and adrenaline-filled, he turns to walk back to the door, head so buzzed he doesn’t know what to do. But when Yoongi can’t see into the control room anymore, he misses a stare through the glass.

A stare that lingers on him just a little too long. 

The rest of the session goes smooth, and Yoongi’s relieved that they haven’t asked him for anything else. 

After all. He doesn’t wanna push it, or step on Jungkook’s toes. What happened in the recording room only went down because you would have scolded him for not seizing that moment. And the suggestion he gave was lauded after the next take.

It was the first time since you kissed him goodbye that he felt a healthy pulse in his chest. Despite the chaos of the morning, amid the thoughts and worries penetrating his brain, you reached out and kept him steady in just the right moment. 

Fuck being his good luck charm. You give guardian angels shame and you don’t even know it. 

“Okay, we’ll take ten after this.”

Jungkook holds up an arm while agreeing, “Okay! We’ll save what we got!” 

Yoongi’s scanning the tracks when he feels hovering over his shoulder, and he already knows it’s the kid without looking. “Sup.”

“Nothing.”

“You sure.”

At this, Jungkook pauses before he sighs. “Yeah, it’s nothing,” he clearly lies. 

But Yoongi will let him figure out whether to run with that or not. He seems a little bothered about something, and it very well could be what happened in the booth. This is work, and they’re both adults. If he wants to talk about something, Yoongi will gladly have that conversation. 

Suddenly, a vibration erupts in his hoodie pocket, and his phone is fished out without him even thinking. 

Hustler: Incoming C—

Shit. You wouldn’t call him at work unless it’s urgent. Which is quickly throwing any possible theories about your brother not knowing out the window. 

But fuck, he can’t answer yet. There’s no way. Not only is he in very close range to someone you don’t wanna speak to right now, but he’d get blasted for being on his phone during a session. Hoping you can wait just two more minutes, Yoongi turns the buzzing off within his hoodie pocket, anxiously waiting for the take to start. 

Hoping to everything that Jungkook didn’t happen to see what was on his screen. 

As soon as everyone looks pleased—three takes and thirty minutes later—Yoongi quickly excuses himself from the control room. His head practically overheats on the way out back, but the gust of morning breeze serves to soothe it some. 

It’s been chilly lately. A bit grey. But whatever the weather has been outside, it’s no match for the atmosphere of his brain. 

Pulling his hood over hair he hasn’t cut in months, Yoongi looks around before ringing you up. Hoping that you’re good and didn’t have to go through a version of his panic earlier. 

Hustler: Outgoing Call 

Straight to voicemail? Shit.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

Fuck, still voicemail. Are you okay? On the phone with someone else? Did your brother actually end up finding out and things are worse than he thought? Clutching his phone, Yoongi glances up while giving it slight shakes, body on alert while deciding what the hell to do now. 

Maybe he can at least text you to ask what the hell happened this morning? Typing. Erasing. Retyping. Retrying. 

Yoongi [9:02]: Got a session today, doll. 

That’s what he had to say? That won’t do you any good, the fuck? Berating himself with a sigh, he takes a few steps while texting a follow-up. 

Yoongi [9:03]: Still going, but are you good?

Staring, it takes him a few seconds to decide if this is enough. If these two messages are gonna suffice to help him figure out what the hell he’s getting into later. 

It’s not. There’s too much he needs to know. 

Hustler: Outgoing Call 

When it doesn’t ring a third time, Yoongi gives up, cursing before turning and raking his hood off in distress.

Only to see Woosung materializing out of nowhere—relaxed, silent, and taking a drag. 

Shit. How much of that did he witness?

“Been there,” the man empathizes, blowing out smoke into crisp morning. After a swell of early traffic fills the alleyway, he continues, “In trouble?”

Great. With a sound of dejection, Yoongi answers to a stack of random boxes, “Might be.” 

“Don’t wanna commit anymore?” 

“I do,” Yoongi blurts without hesitation, looking right into eyes that have seen plenty more than he has. 

And it’s the first time he’s admitted anything out loud. To a stranger miles above him in status, no less. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he clarifies, “It’s just… There’s something I need to do first.” 

Wait a sec. Why the fuck is he talking about this so freely? This isn’t something he does. Privacy is practically his brand. So why is it easy to talk to this guy? It’s him, for fuck’s sake. But what’s done is done. Woosung probably won’t even remember this conversation even happened, or is already annoyed as hell he didn’t get a good read on him. 

To Yoongi’s surprise, his alley companion speaks again after another white wisp. “Mmm… Something you need to do?”

Well. Yoongi walked right into this one. Swallowing and knowing he can’t dip out, he sighs, “Some shit I wanna finish.” The smell of tobacco wafts around him when he looks at dulled skies. “Shit I need to get through.” 

An amused hum floats through empty space. “Been there, too.” 

Yoongi slowly turns to regard his client, watching as Woosung becomes very interested in wet concrete.

What kind of shit has this guy seen? Surely, he could have had some of the same experiences. The slight droop in his confident shoulders tells enough. But would he understand the exact same situation? 

No. At least, Yoongi hopes not. Quite fucking frankly, he hopes no one has had to go through the same shit that he has. 

“Let me know if you ever need help,” Woosung offers, shocking Yoongi to the point of speechlessness. As he drops his cigarette to squash it out, he runs a hand through wild dark locks. “We’ll be around again.” 

Wait. What? Yoongi can only blink. “Serious?”

“Yeah.” The man looks down the outside corridor, watching as people start heading to their jobs through a central courtyard. “Got a good feeling about this place.”

What does he mean by that. What can Woosung possibly mean by that what does he mean they’ll be back? To the studio? To the city? What’s happening. Yoongi simply lets a pause prevail before offering the only response he’s capable of,

“It’s the food next door, huh.”

That laugh has got to be top five in the world. Not as great as yours, but definitely up there in terms of what makes Yoongi feel like things are alright. Not that he’d ever admit that shit to anyone. Ever.

Mercifully, the conversation moves away from risky topics. Instead, there are talks about a tour one is planning for his band’s album, mixed in with mentions of equipment the other is saving up for. Then the rest isn’t about music at all.

Finally, it’s time for them to continue recording, so they know to head back inside. “Don’t wait,” Woosung advises as he turns on his heel. 

And Yoongi can only stare somewhere else. 

“If there’s something you need to get through...” 

Stare, and stare, and stare some more.

“Hit it until it breaks.”

Because he’s already aware. More than anyone.

As Woosung shuts the back door, Yoongi’s gaze finds the crushed cigarette at his side. Another reminder of how things were.

And a reminder that he’s still a fucking coward.

Hours later, Yoongi’s car awaits him in the lot. 

And when he realizes that you still haven’t responded, he shuts his door just a little too hard. 

Whenever his friend comes over for drinks, it’s always the same routine. 

Both of them don’t talk much, instead opting for a quiet greeting before someone dumps themselves on the couch while the other grabs a bottle and cups in the kitchen. As soon as glasses are filled, conversation sparks as a game plays out on tv—or a sportscasting show if nothing interesting is airing. 

But this time? None of it happens that way. Because when Yoongi opens his door, he’s pinned with a shadowed visage he's only seen piercing through others. 

And the whole arctic starts to seep into his bloodstream.

Raising a brow and giving space is his chosen course of action. Best to not disturb a beast if they’re already ready to lunge.

And his friend eyes him as he stalks into the house, scanning around in search of something—living room, dining table, even looking into the open doorway of the bedroom. 

Fuck. Relax. Don’t assume anything until things are on the table. Yoongi has got to pretend like tonight is normal and fine and that he’s obviously and positively not seeing and sleeping with his friend’s little sister. 

And that he most definitely didn’t eat you out where your brother is sitting now motherfucker he needs a drink. Or a smoke. Or both with a plane ticket out of the whole country. 

At least the television is already on. If it wasn’t for that ambiance, Yoongi’s head would be jam packed with every goddamn sound known to man. Including the adorable way you talk in your sleep, and how you strain so beautifully when you come fuck, fuck, fuck! Focus. 

What’s happened has happened. And what’s going to happen will happen. Whether it’s a consequence of his actions, or nothing to do with any of this at all. 

But when faced with everything smushing together at once? Yoongi will probably need to be revived no matter what the outcome. This is the most stressed out he’s been in years. 

Not only that, but his stress is more than obvious. Even now in the kitchen, he’s scanning through his bottles with a finger—an action he’s never done while sober since the choices are always predictable. Holy shit, he needs to pull it together. 

Has he ever been this panicked? Does he appear just as chaotic and disjointed as he feels? This is too new. This is very new and if he doesn’t regain control there’s no telling where this foreign road leads.

But the silence still remains as he turns. And apparently the road hits a dead end at his dining table. Since it’s occupied rather than the living room sofa. 

Sighing, Yoongi ambles to his friend, placing everything down with clinks and ignoring the way his furniture is getting burned through. Both whisky’s are ready. Yoongi’s already holding his. And your brother still hasn’t moved a muscle. Honestly, what the fuck is going on with—

“I went to Jimin’s last night.”

…What. 

Don’t react. He’s staring. Don’t fucking react. Take a drink. A sip. Pick up the goddamn glass. Doing so, Yoongi slowly brings the liquid to his lips, not quite following his own instructions as he asks behind a barrier, “How was it.”

His question is met with a laugh that isn’t funny at all. The kind that drags a finger along the chalkboard of your soul. And the next question directed his way pulverizes Yoongi’s denial,

“Care to share what’s been going on?”

He’s sick. Beyond sick. The room is closing in and closing in too fucking fast. Shit shit shit. There’s no way he saw. No fucking way. He parked down the street he deliberately stopped as far away as possible and you saw your brother’s car in your driveway. Did he get there after you left? And didn’t see you while also not hearing from hi—

“Why her, Yoong? Hmm?”

Fuck! 

Yoongi can’t feel the air in his lungs. Because there isn’t any. Just a barren wasteland of shriveled futures and cracks in the foundation of every relationship he’s had in his whole life. The millisecond before a crash and only his wheels spinning and spinning and spinning—

Your brother shoots out of the chair, making the glass in Yoongi’s palm feel infinitely more solid.

“I mean, fuck! After all the shit we’ve been through? You’re gonna go back to her?”

All the—shit, he can’t even—back to? Back to you? What does he mean by back to you? Does he know about the first ti—

Volcanic, the man interrogating paces beside the dining table. Back and forth, back and forth. A pause. Back and forth.

And Yoongi still feels frozen in time. Is this it? Is this when things come crashing down? Glass suspends in midair all around him; an orchestra trembles beneath his feet, waiting for the moment to rip into his rib cage with swift strokes and a flourish as he’s taken down. 

“Can’t fucking believe you.”

When Yoongi finally chooses to speak, what comes out only feels like a horrible attempt more than anything else, “Listen, it’s my fau—”

“What, you just decided to fuck that bitch again? Couldn’t stay away?”

Oh, fuck that. 

Wood scrapes into flooring as Yoongi vacates his chair, hard feet planted as he gets into the face of his best friend, his confidant, his day one. Only to speak so low only them two can hear, “How bout you use your fucking words already and I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” They are only a breath apart. But no one’s going anywhere now. “Need me to spell it out for that fuckass brain of yours—”

“Say it—”

“Stop fucking your ex, dude!”

Yoongi’s back connects with the chair behind him, palms flinging back to brace himself through a jolt of pain. And his eyes go so wide they stretch at the edges.

…Motherfucker, what?

Your brother is not done in the slightest, but Yoongi can only stare as he’s being berated for something that is one-hundred percent news to him, too. 

“Everyone was happy when you finally left. All of us. Only for you to go and, what, get back with her?”

Nothing makes sense. This isn’t about you? Yoongi’s heart can’t even reset to start beating again. Everything is coming as shock after shock and there’s no way he can keep up at this pace.

His ex? Her? Where the fuck did that come from and why the hell does he of all people think that’s actually true?

“If you’re gonna be with her, you can count me out.” 

No. Never again. That would never, ever happen again. “The fuck are you even saying—”

“I’m not fucking joking, Yoong. If you’re seriously back with her then—”

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck you heard, but I’m not.”

“So everything I heard was a lie?”

“Huh?”

“He told me!”

He—who? Who the fuck would say that? And when how what the fuck and why? Yoongi stares, chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Because he has a choice to make. Either he trudges into this lie and rubs sludge all over his bones, or he denies it like he wants because it’s not fucking true.

What the actual fuck. It’s already bad enough that someone sent this along the rumor mill. And it’s making him sick thinking about all the implications surrounding it. But it’s even worse that his best friend believes it so easily. He’s coming at him so quick without even asking if it’s true. 

The only silver lining—the singular bright spot in this hellhole—is that he can use it as an out. An out to protect you from wrath and further fury from your older sibling because if you were the rumor? He’d be laid flat on his floor next to a broken dining set.

“You gonna say anything or what?” 

Truthfully, Yoongi feels queasy knowing what he’s gonna do. But it’s for you. You, you, you. And for that, Yoongi will do anything. 

Even if it kills him.

“No, I, umm…” 

“No?” 

Just hurry up and fucking do it. 

Resigned, Yoongi lets the memories flood through. Every moment that’s haunted him from a distance charges forward as he surrenders to the pain of his past. “It’s—” Fuck, he can’t even begin to lie, head thundering, thundering, striking his heart in the rain. “I...” 

His friend halts. Tense before his shoulders fall back to normal. “You what.”

What the fuck does Yoongi do? What can he say when his brain is only firing up to beg him to run? Technically, he doesn’t have to say anything. He really doesn’t. But he can deflect. It’s what he’s best at, after all. He’s been doing it to you and he will do it again.

In the most defeated voice he can muster, Yoongi comes up with something that will placate his friend while still prolonging this horrid fib, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” 

“You sure?”

It’s true. More true than anything. “It’s over now.” 

A century passes. Then another. Then another. Every piece of furniture waits in silence as the television seeps back into his ears. 

Then his friend sighs, not looking back as he slumps into the same chair that you always occupy. And Yoongi hopes his sigh of conflicted relief isn’t witnessed. 

Following suit, he rubs his lower back before taking his regular seat again, not giving any shits about waiting to drink. 

His ex? 

As his throat warms, Yoongi starts to harden the more memories keep crashing into each other like jagged waves fuck he really hates how she was brought into this he swears as soon as he figures out who said this he is going to—

“Sorry.” Haze shattered, he lifts his gaze. “I’m so fucking stressed and hearing that last night just…”

“It’s done.” Yoongi reaches for the thick bottle, pouring more into his glencairn. Wanting to talk about literally anything else, he diverts the conversation, “But something else is up with you so say it.”

It works. The man inhales deep, rubbing his face with weary hands. When he rests elbows on wood, he finally talks about other things clouding his mind,

“Work is shit,” he groans downward. “They’re having me travel again.” 

“Domestic?”

“Yeah. But for longer. And I don’t…” Tapering off, he sits back, slowly playing with his glass. As if he doesn’t want to mention the next problem. 

When he finally does, Yoongi wholeheartedly understands the hesitation, “I dunno know what’s going on with my sister.”

Oh. Fuck, how the hell does he respond? Keeping his cool, Yoongi just repeats the question, taking out his phone and pretending to check his screen. “Your sister?”

“Yeah.” A sigh is sandwiched between explanations. “The past few months, I feel like.. They haven’t really been themselves.” 

A sudden crack splits him through.

“Not laughing. Not eating as much. Like even when they sound happy, I can tell it’s a front.. I don’t know.” 

The clunk of his phone hits the table very hard. 

No. No, no, no. Your texts have been so positive. So encouraging. Other than a few sad calls, you’ve been happy to hear from him just as he had been relieved to hear from you. Even in the car, you must’ve put your feelings lightly. 

Your wings. You’ve been enduring all that? For him? Yoongi’s heart rears its head, snagging one of his breaths and slamming both lungs into the floor.

And hatred paints his heart another shade darker.

“They finally went out last night, but. Didn’t come back until this morning.” Running rigid hands through his head, the man looks so pained. So helpless. “Same clothes, dude.” 

And Yoongi can only stare, feigning nonchalance but raging and tearing himself apart inside. “Mm.”

“I just… I know I suck at this, but. I don’t know what the hell to do. Or if I even do anything.” Your brother finally takes a swig, wincing at how much ethanol coats his tongue. 

Relax, relax, relax. As much as he wants to erupt on himself right now, Yoongi has to stay calm.

Not like he doesn’t know how. That’s usually how he operates, anyway. It’s hard to tell he’s struggling unless you look deep enough. And almost no one thinks to do so because his surface is all they want. 

But right now? He doesn’t think he can sequester this anger any longer. At him, his past, and his stupid present decisions. 

“Like I tried to say something but I just.. I felt like if I push too hard, they’re gonna shut down even more. Ever since that fight with Kook, it’s like..” 

Seeing an opening and keeping a neutral stance, Yoongi asks the most ironic question to date, “Are they seeing someone?”

At this, his friend shakes his head, eyes glued to dark amber liquid. When he answers, all the breaths in the world cut at once, 

“I think she feels all alone.” 

This hit is the strongest. Straight to the gut, breath stuttering and muscles clenching so hard they lock. It’s almost severe enough to affect how Yoongi feels around his eyes. 

“And it sucks not knowing what to do.”

Yoongi’s heart lurches, deflating and slipping out of the crack in his chest. Piercing on the jagged edges before slumping down onto a table that continues to judge him.  

You’re hurting. Your brother’s hurting. And it’s all his goddamn fault. Why can’t he just break free and admit shit? Why is he still haunted by the phantoms of his past? Why is he still so fucking weak? It’s clear that he hurt you. For months. You’ve been cheering for him that whole time while you’ve been visibly broken and it’s all because of his dumbass decision to—

“I’m heading out again.”

Yoongi raises his eyes. Because he can’t seem to move anything else. “When.”

Your older sibling takes a slower, more measured sip. Looking towards the channel playing in the living room, he answers, “After our game. Dinner Friday, game on Saturday, fly out Sunday.” 

“Mm. We’ll still be here,” Yoongi assures, keeping things as normal and neutral as he can. “Just like last time.”

How ironic. How hypocritical. He hasn’t been there for you in the slightest so how the fuck can he say that with a straight face. 

“Thanks. I know it’s a lot for y’all but..”

Not at all. Yoongi is more determined than ever to make everything up to you. It’s the least he can do after putting you through something he decided on the fly. 

On the run.

“Don’t worry about that,” he vows into his drink. Honestly, if you’ve been having second thoughts about this whole thing, he doesn’t blame you. Absolutely doesn’t blame you if you realize you’re better than this. But Yoongi’s at least gonna apologize in every single way he can. As soon as he possibly can. “We got it.” 

“K.” The man finishes his glass and goes to pour more. “Did I ever mention that she liked you?”

Now what— Coughing on whisky is a bitch and a half. Hitting his chest while both eyes squint from burn, Yoongi croaks out his exact thoughts, “What.”

At this, his friend finally breaks into his regular smile. Setting the bottle down with a hollow clunk, he points, “Don’t you fucking get any ideas. Jimin’s already on my shit list.” He scoffs out a laugh. “But it was obvious when we were younger.”

And Yoongi can only cough some more. He shakes his head through the sting, swallowing and trying to compose himself. He doesn’t know where the hell that came from, but he hopes your brother will understand when all is said and done. Even though he’s been the reason you’ve been so…

Yoongi almost fucking confesses.

“You’re a good person,” he blurts instead. Whether the guilt or last cough pushed it out, that’s still on the table. “You don’t suck at what you think you do.”

“You think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

The hell? Does this dude really not see how successful he is? How much he’s overcome and conquered and sacrificed? Truthfully, Yoongi wouldn’t be where he is today if not for your brother. Him. Jimin. You. Anybody. Which is what makes this ongoing betrayal… 

Unprecedented.  

“You’re the best out of all of us.” 

Your brother finally looks at him, though Yoongi isn’t doing the same. But he can still tell when a fist is held out for him to bump, so he does.

And they both share a drink in respectful silence. 

After a moment of them watching the tv, the man finally sighs. “Guess we did shape up pretty nice.” When he’s agreed with, he keeps going with a grin. “We were so fucking bad.”

Yoongi can only chuckle, much better memories fighting off the terrors. “Old me was a little shit.”

“You still are.”

“Says you!”

“I still am, too!”

Laughs precede big swigs of whisky and comfortable quiet. Bit by bit, shoulders start to relax with the surrounding air, and Yoongi lazily releases tension in his neck. 

After a few more pours, your brother decides to call it, using the bathroom before announcing that he’s gonna head out. Yoongi gets up from his chair to clasp hands goodbye, not expecting to hear one more plea,

“Break up with her, Yoong.” 

Shit. He sighs, and their conversation continues from the dining table to the front door. “It’s not like that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s over now.” 

“For good?” As they stop beside the coat closet, your brother pins him with a look. “I was about to drive over and break down the door.”

Even though Yoongi shares a tsk with him, he can’t help but imagine what could’ve happened if that was the case. And it sends an unwanted jolt of chills. 

“Serious. I’m gonna keep saying this, but. she was just making you miserable, dude.” He slips on his shoes, smacking his foot on the ground to push one in place. “I’m sure it was good at first, but I mean… You gotta move on. You deserve better than that.” 

Anything would be better than that. Yoongi just disagrees with the whole deserving part. “I guess.” 

“You sure it’s over?”

“Yeah,” he assures, because that is something he intends to keep true forever. “It is.” 

“Good.” Keys jingling, your sibling then points into the open area with his whole arm, seven words leaving his mouth like ice, 

“Then get rid of that fucking guitar.” 

Ah. Among all the things. Of course he would bring that up, too. Jaw working, Yoongi looks away, now assaulted by all the torturous thoughts surrounding that painful reminder and fighting them off with no success. 

Get rid of it? He’s been trying. 

For three. Fucking. Months. 

“I might.” 

“…K.” 

And his best friend departs, leaving Yoongi inside and staring at the same black spot he’s kept in the corner for years. It has mocked him as he struggles. Laughed at him whenever he’s tried to throw it out. And aside from the times he’s made you feel better stinging himself on those strings, he has accomplished nothing except letting it win.

Pissed off and doused in guilt, Yoongi yanks himself away from the door, the instrument, and everything else except for his bed.

Keeping his shadow exactly where it stands. 

Yoongi knows he needs to talk to you.

But his phone exists somewhere on the other side of his bedroom door.

And he doesn’t have the strength to go get it. 

What time is it? 

All that greets him is darkness. 

Nothing new, but darkness all the same. 

Why was she mentioned? What does that mean? 

He needs to call you. He’s lying to his best friend. 

Her? You. His sheets still smell like you. 

Inhale. Breathe. Inhale. 

He needs to call you. But he’s so, so tired. 

And the darkness pulls him back under. 

Without even telling him the time. 

Buzzing. 

Faint, gentle buzzing softly lifts Yoongi’s eyelids before a loud series of smacks causes him to rush out of bed what the fuck? 

Oh. His phone fell outside. Fucking hell, his heart’s beating way too quick for that to be the only thing that happened. 

Head in his hands, Yoongi sighs deep before making his way to the dining table. And it takes all of his strength to bend down to reach for his phone. 

Hustler: Missed Calls (6)

Dumbass: 1 Message

Hustler: 3 Messages 

Chim: 7 Messages   

Chim: Missed Calls (3) 

Holy fuck. 

With only the light of his phone illuminating the dark, Yoongi rings Jimin up. His heart’s a little disappointed it wasn’t you calling just now, but it’s probably best to stay away while his brain is so scattered and torn. 

“Oh, fuck. There you are.” 

“Mm.” 

“Don’t scare me like that, bro. I was starting to get ready to drive over—” 

“It’s fine,” he juts in. “What’s up.” 

Alright, maybe he shouldn’t be an asshole. There’s no reason to let his lingering shadow from earlier control his temper now. Jimin’s just being himself, for fuck’s sake. 

“I, umm. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” 

Now that’s not what Yoongi expected at all. “For what?” 

There’s another pause on the line, and his reaction is immediate when he knows for a fact Jimin is fighting back tears. 

“I… I got so drunk last night, I—And I—”

Shit. A sinking feeling starts to weigh Yoongi down, his center pulling the rest of him in like a black hole. And he doesn’t need to hear the rest of this to know what this call is about. 

“He was looking for her, Yoong, and you weren’t there, either. He had this look, I—I couldn’t think of anything else to say in the moment and I told him—”

Jimin can’t even finish his confession. And it hits right in the gut. 

Despite his perceived persona, Yoongi doesn’t like hearing people cry. At least, if they don’t deserve to or don’t deserve to be sad—or if they’re you. He could care less about the rest.

But Jimin is one of the only people that can get him like this: eyes stinging at their edges and his chest concave. In the dark, though, no one can tell. No one can see him.

So he can openly swipe at his eyes before dumping tired limbs into a chair, catching his forehead in a damp palm. 

“I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.” 

Exhaling through his nose, Yoongi tries his best to calm his emotions. Because they are still raging and it’s going to take all of him to quell this tempest. 

Jimin knows more than anyone what this means to him. To you. The time you spent apart? If it wasn’t for his friend, Yoongi may have been in a much different position. If this was the only thing Park could do, then his effort has to be acknowledged. It worked like a fucking charm.

But goddamn, Yoongi wishes Jimin thought of literally anything else. He could’ve made up some random, some fling from another city, the damn studio itself. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally rasps out. “It’s just been a fuckin’ day.” 

Jimin sniffles before cursing at himself and, judging by the sounds on the line, Yoongi figures he’s opening his fridge. If he reaches for soju, that would not be surprising in the least, and now that sounds like a good idea.

“Same. Gah, I just… I should’ve warned you. I didn’t know he went over there.” 

“He told you?” 

“I called him after you didn’t answer earlier.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I passed out after he left.” 

“Ah.” 

Something shuts before there’s a crisp clink on the line, validating exactly what Yoongi was thinking. 

“I really am sorry. What did you end up saying?” 

“That it’s done.” 

A hum. 

“That’s very true.” 

There’s a question that Yoongi thinks to ask. Context that he needs. But as important as this information is, Yoongi doesn’t feel like talking about it right now. Or ever. But now still counts. So he switches the conversation over to something less daunting, “Practice still on tomorrow?” 

When Jimin laughs out of surprise, it gives Yoongi the smallest kick of energy.

“Ah, someone actually ready to go for once?” 

“Yeah. The plan is to make this game quick.” 

A hearty swallow spills out of the speaker before a hum follows, 

“Mm, that reminds me. Got something that might help with that.” 

What the hell does that even mean? “Huh?” 

“I’ll bring it over tomorrow. You might find some good uses for it.”

Yoongi rubs the grogginess still clinging to his face. “All these years and you’ve never given me a straight answer.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

“Knowing the answer.” 

At least Jimin’s back in a good mood. Or a better state than puffy-eyed and regretful. He doesn’t have to share the pain in this, too. It was an honest mistake. 

“You’ll know it when you see it.” 

“Annoying.”

“Love you, too!” 

Yoongi’s huff billows through his nose, and Jimin’s energy almost brings enough strength for him to clear the table. 

Ehh. He’ll leave it alone. He’s been pretty good at that lately, too, no matter how early or late it is in the night. What time even is it? Checking his phone, Yoongi’s brows crease when he figures that out. Why the hell are they even on a call right now? “Wait, is it really three?” 

“Huh? Yeah. I’m telling you, dude, I was getting worried.” 

He was really about to drive over? “Sorry. I really did just pass out.” 

“Mm. Well, I’m gonna go do that now.” 

“K. Same time tomorrow?” 

“Ah, a little earlier. Just so I can give this to you before everyone else shows.” 

That just makes Yoongi infinitely more curious. “Seriously, what did you get?” 

“Relax! You will like it.” 

“Chim, I swear—”

“You’ll thank me later bye!”

As soon as Jimin disappears from the line, Yoongi is left alone again.

Exactly where he always ends up. 

Exactly where he doesn’t want to be. 

But now that he’s done dealing with those notifications, Yoongi roams lidded eyes over his screen again. 

Wait. You called him six times? Fuck. What did you text? Were you wondering where he was, too? 

Hustler [20:01]: HOLY FUCK!! my phone died after i tried calling you this morning and i just fully woke up to charge it😭 he’s not home so call whenever  

Yoongi clutches his phone a little tighter. 

He very much would’ve rather been in your bed with you all day. 

That sounds like fucking bliss. 

Hustler [23:37]: tried calling but he’s home now. are you ok?? idk what’s going on with him but i think we need to be careful

Shit, Yoongi didn’t get to tell you. You’ve probably been worried about that every second you’ve been awake today. 

And he couldn’t even make it out of his goddamn room to help. 

All he comes with is worries for you. What kind of shit is this? What is he even doing? He even outright told you that you were dating only for that to be ripped from your hands for months. Why are you still giving someone like him a chance? 

Hustler [23:40]: but all i wanna do is see you

Fucking hell.

Nothing in the world can stop his heartbeat quite like you can. With that smile, or those eyes, or the simple shit like this. Not even lightning can strike him the same way. 

Despite the consistency Yoongi has with admitting his own shortcomings, and despite the way he keeps reminding himself he doesn’t deserve you…

All he wants to do is see you, too. 

You’ve been more than he ever would’ve imagined—your consideration, your intellect, your mind. And there have been times when you’d look at him as if he was the center of your galaxy. 

After all this time. All these days and nights. 

You still don’t realize that he was destined to orbit you.  

It’s been decided long before his mind was made up—at least, the part of him that doesn’t traverse the dark side. His heart had been tugging him to you ever since that rainy day, no matter where he’s drifted or which direction he’s gone in. All of them lead back into your arms. 

But just like the feeling he gets walking into the recording booth, imposter syndrome eats him alive and doubt scavenges on what’s left. 

He will never be good enough for you. One of these days, you will realize that you don’t have to settle for him. It’s good now, but you’ll only give him so many chances, which he is swiftly running through at breakneck speeds. 

How fucking stupid. Having these thoughts while wanting nothing more than to hear your voice. 

Just like everyone else, you’ll eventually be done passing through. His winter will return after your inevitable departure, all the warmth you give focused on something else that deserves it more. 

Something that isn’t broken. 

Yoongi whips his head up at the sound of buzzing, noticing thin lines of light beneath his phone on the table. 

What. No way. 

From the rapid beats inside his chest, he shoots his hopes right into the dark. 

And they burst into beautiful sparks when he reads his screen. 

Hustler: Incoming Call 

But just like the streaks of color he witnessed with you on that balcony, his brightness is short lived. Because as soon as Yoongi answers, the way your throat constricts scorches his windpipe through.

And the first thing you attempt to get through makes his eyes shut tight. 

“Are we… is this over?” 

Fuck.

“I get it, if we are. If you—if you don’t wanna do this with me anymore.” 

Fuck. Fuck everything this is not happening right now. “Hold up,” Yoongi breathes, body on full alert. “What’s going on?” 

“I thought… When you weren’t picking up, I—”

“Breathe, babe,” Yoongi softens, hating, hating, hating himself all over again. “I passed out before you called. That’s it.” 

“Oh. Shit, I really thought—”

“You would know,” he whooshes, syllables squeezed out by the mountain of regret on his back. After hearing what he put you through? Hearing how you sound now? There’s no way he can do that shit again. No more disappearing from the grid because he can’t fight himself. “You would know if I was done.” 

Your sniffle sinks the ship with his heart inside. 

“Are you? With me?” 

Yoongi folds, fingers digging through his hair and blocking it in hard chunks. The amount of things he wants to say to you could wrap the whole world before repeating. But he settles with a truth he can say out loud, 

“No way in hell, doll.” 

Please. Don’t cry. Because he can only handle feeling his eyes sting so much in one night. There’s only so much he can take before he’s grabbing his keys and speeding over—friends and brothers be damned. 

“Okay… I’m just. It’s been a day.” 

That’s okay. 

Because he’s had a day, too. 

“I don’t wanna bother you with it, though, it’s so late.” 

Please keep going. 

Please don’t leave him alone. 

“Talk to me.” 

Like a gentle stream, your recap—though not ideal—washes away the weariness from Yoongi’s eyes. Lifts the weight he bears on his shoulders, even if just a little bit. 

You’re so good at that. 

“Well. Umm. He saw me coming home this morning. And, umm. It was weird. I don’t know why but I think we have to be really careful. And ugh, it—. It sucks because he’s going on a trip soon and I don’t wanna stress him out even more but I—” 

Shit, you’ve probably been holding all of this in ever since you got up. You don’t know that your brother believes something entirely different. But of course you’d be considerate, even now. That’s just who you are.

“I, umm. I feel so fucking bad about it but I don’t wanna mess him up right now. Or maybe he knows but just won’t say it? Fuck, sorry, I’m trying not—to—”  

The phone goes mute, and Yoongi’s head suddenly weighs ten times heavier. 

“He doesn’t know, babe,” he soothes, hating how he can’t be there to comfort you with more than his word and waves in the sky. 

If he was stronger, things could be different by now. Vastly different. Vastly better. You would cry less, he knows that for damn sure. Weak, weak, weak. That’s all he fucking is. 

The only one he seems to be strong for is you. “He came over earlier.” 

“Fuck, really?” 

“Yeah.” 

You pause, seemingly to roll this information around that beautiful mouth of yours, and Yoongi has the strongest yearning to kiss all your worries right out of it. 

“What did he say?” 

Shit. You’ll just have to forgive him later. Because Yoongi chooses not to tell the whole truth. You don’t need to bear the same worries as him, anyway. They aren’t yours. He will shoulder all of those on his own. Because he’s the reason for them in the first place. “Nothing about us.” 

“Oh, thank fuck.” 

Good. Your relief is all that matters. But Yoongi still feels bad for not being able to pick himself up. You could’ve known that a lot sooner if he was stronger. If he was better. “So don’t worry, doll.” 

“Okay. What about you? Are you okay?” 

Huh? Your questions catch him completely off-guard. It’s almost comical how his first reaction goes straight to a No. But sticking to his earlier stances, he won’t bother you with any of that. There is a truth that he can admit. One that’s always true and will continue to be so. “Just wanna see you.” 

And this is when his eyes slowly shut. Don’t. Don’t cry.

“Me, too, baby.” 

Hearing that? Chipped and broken from your lips? That is another thing Yoongi can’t handle. His heart beats once before it free falls, and he clutches his phone just a little tighter. 

Fuck everything. He’s gonna find a way to do this. All of it.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You will?”

He’ll figure out how to move mountains to make it up to both you and your brother. 

“Just a little longer.”

He has to.

“Okay.”

Neither of you deserve this. And he doesn’t deserve either of you. Truly, the only thing he deserves is to be alone. And judging by the way things are going, it’s only a matter of time before you start resenting this behavior and leave, too. 

“Thank you.”

What? Something in Yoongi flickers, and he lifts his whole head to eye his screen. 

“For putting up with me.”

Oh. Of course you’d assume you’re the issue. Seems like you need the same type of assurance that he does. Both of you the same? Who would’ve thought his bruised soul would sync up with a perfect one like yours. 

At this, he holds his breath before chuckling soft. “This has been the highlight of my day, doll,” he admits, finally breaking into a tiny smile and sitting back.

“Really?”

Wait. There was another good part of his day. But he wants to save that for when he can tell you in person. “One of them. But you’ll hear about the other one later.”

“Boo.”

Cute. Wait, isn’t it absurdly late? You have to be up for work in mere hours. It’s a miracle you reached out when you did. “Don’t you have to be up soon?”

“A ha… Yeah.” 

“What are you still talking to me for?” 

“I miss you.” 

Well. That’s not something that he expected. And your admittance being so immediate actually sends shivers down his arms. 

Yoongi can only laugh to himself. He knew he had it bad, but this feeling is something else. “Don’t do that.” 

“Don’t do what? Miss you? Yeah, right.”  

God. You’re getting too fucking good at this. He’s gotta fight back or else his throne will be taken before he even sees you again. “Just a bad night to say it, doll.” 

“Why?” 

Perfect. “Cus I’m willing to get in the car.” 

“Fuck.” 

Yoongi happily lets his mouth slant when you groan, chuckling into the receiver and getting up to clear the table. When he flicks on the kitchen light, he doubles down, “Wanna try again?” 

He knows you’re gonna say no. Even though your brother doesn’t know, it’s definitely not a proper time to sneak you out—as much as he fucking wants to. Fuck, to be the one sneaking you out of your house… Maybe there’s another version of you both out there that’s done it. A version of him watching a version of you creeping out to his car, face shining in nightfall and etching a permanent smile into his heart.

“I hate you.” 

Yoongi should’ve expected that. The sudden laugh that flings out into his liquor cabinet ricochets off multiple bottles, and he shuts it while sporting a wide grin. “That’s better.” 

“Ha ha.” 

You’re smiling, too. Cute ass. Just the fact that he knows makes him excited for the future, and he’s determined to make it count. Make it worth it. You deserve every goddamn apology he can give. “I miss you, too, babe,” he whispers, grabbing the glasses from the table to wash in his sink. 

“Nu uh! You hate me, too.” 

Wait. Did you…

Did you just pout? 

Hell no, that’s outright cheating. That’s when Yoongi will never be able to win. Putting the phone down, he promptly states his new plan into a basin, “Nah, I’m going to sleep.” 

“Wait, huh? Why!” 

“Nothing.” 

“I swear to god—” 

“Nothing at all,” Yoongi lies, voice straight as he can muster while hot water runs over his hands. It’s a good kind of sting as his chilled skin adjusts, and he cleans one glass before he hears you ask in his ear, 

“Getting ready for bed? Or are you in the kitchen?” 

The smallest smile graces his face. “Guess.” 

“Kitchen.” 

The hell? “How’d you know?” 

“You’re always in there.” 

Can’t deny that. The glasses are both set to dry in the dishwasher as Yoongi’s amusement dies down, and his next comment flows out before he can think much of it, “You like to keep me in here.” 

“It does seem to be where we end up, huh?” 

“It does.” Which is fine by him. He’ll never forget all the times you’ve been in here. Your laughter and your storms, he will remember them all. 

“The world said let them cook.” 

Your giggles will be the fucking end of him one day. Fuck, he can’t wait to see you. He may even find a way to see you before the game. 

But for now, Yoongi will figure out how to talk to you, every day, no matter what. Texts, calls, whatever the fuck. The effort has got to show from now on. No more of this dark headspace shit. He needs to try harder and figure it out faster. For you. 

“Go to sleep, doll,” he huffs with full cheeks. 

After another adorable batch of sounds, you rustle on the line before sighing, 

“You better sleep, too.”

“I will.” 

With a blink, Yoongi notices two things. One, he just cleared his table and cleaned up without even thinking. And two, despite feeling like absolute shit the entire day and dreading the coming of night, falling asleep won’t be an issue. 

Because of you. It’s always you. 

Maybe there’s a way out. Maybe he can finally face it all and come out on the other side. “Talk to you tomorrow, babe.”

“I’d like that. And you’re sure he doesn’t know?”

Just like that, the demons are knocking again. Closing his eyes, Yoongi murmurs into the receiver, “I’m sure.” 

There will come a time when he will tell you. But that will be way in the future, when he is ready. For now, you’ll just have to trust that he’s telling the truth. Not the whole truth, but enough for it to calm your nerves. 

“Okay. Good night, baby.”

One more heartbeat to get him through the night. 

“Night, doll.”

When the phone cuts, Yoongi’s hand falls, his stare shifting straight to the living room. 

Right towards the corner that stares back. 

It’s been five days.

But it feels like you’ve aged twenty-eight years.

Ever since your brother confronted you—after your much needed reunion with his best friend—you’ve been floating through time. Lost. Confused. Wondering why that conversation went the way it did and gnawing at your sanity bit by bit. 

And even though Yoongi explicitly told you he didn’t say anything concerning your relationship, you still haven’t shaken that feeling. No matter where you are, who you’re with, or on a pretty Friday like this one, you feel… Strange. 

When you saw your brother waiting, you for sure thought you were gonna get grilled. It was a given you were gonna break as soon as he started asking deeper and more specific questions. The fallout was gonna happen in your own house right at your door. 

…So what in the fuck was that?

You shift your legs, the chill of the office failing to comfort you in your manufactured, building distress. 

Somehow, that version of the conversation proved much, much worse. Because now you’re spiraling trying to figure out why he just took your lie as the truth. Truthfully, you feel nauseous. And as much as you need to get some semblance of closure, you still feel hesitant. Because if he’s just biding time? He’s not just thinking about what to do with you. 

He’s thinking about what to do with Yoongi, too. 

This is so hard. 

The only thing—the only thing—keeping you grounded. Is Yoongi himself. 

Ever since the call you never thought he’d answer, you’ve been contacted every night. What was once days of radio silence quickly shifted to him reaching out however he could, hours of the day be damned. Just last night, in fact, Yoongi sent you texts at four in the morning, and you beam just thinking about what he said so casually.  

Yoongi [3:57am]: That keyboard I told you about is fucking dope. Just got it today and it won’t let me sleep lmaooo

Yoongi [3:58am]: I was gonna say sorry for texting but fuck it you’re getting all the updates :) 

No matter what it is, be it a text, call, or video chat, Yoongi seems fully committed and in the moment. Present. And it’s been… Really nice. If you didn’t have your brother’s shadow hovering over your brain, life would be practically perfect. 

Forcing yourself to actually work, you manage to get some small things done. Even the meeting you attend goes smoothly and you leave any outside worries on the other side of those glass walls.

So when you get back to your desk, an awaiting paper bag makes you pause. And your whole body prepares to weep.

Only one person has ever sent you food while you’re at work. And staring inside the parcel, you would’ve been able to tell who it was from even if said person had never sent any before.

There’s a small note on top of a to-go container—one that you immediately recognize as that super good restaurant next to Jungkook’s studio. 

What the hell? How did Yoongi know you wanted some this whole week but didn’t wanna risk being so close? With careful fingers, you pluck the tiny paper from the bag, opening it with care before your eyes get so teary eyed you can’t even read.

Tonight.  

This man.

I got the next one.

This wonderful, charming man. 

But you’re getting what I need so here’s the list:

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. 

Seeing an actual list of food squeezes a laugh through your throat in a squeak, tears rushing out of your ducts before they’re hastily swiped. 

After five days. Yoongi really just sent you on a grocery run to surprise you with another meetup.

The gesture is so him that you cannot help but shake your head, ruefully huffing to no one and pocketing the note in your bag. And all your worries scatter even further. 

A dinner before the big game is risky, for sure, but at this point you couldn’t care less. Your brother has his own work outing tonight, anyway, and you are dead set on breaking all of this to him soon.

Even though you are very much unprepared. And he is going to lose his fucking mind if he doesn’t know already. Fuck.

You’ve had all five days to think it over. All the possible combinations and possibilities and outcomes. Some of them are extreme, some of them are hopeful. But for a majority of these projections, you have a feeling that none of you are gonna leave it without wounds. 

And you don’t know how you’re gonna save both of them if theirs are cut too deep. 

Regardless, that’s in the future. Not now. Right now, you are staying in the present and working like molasses until you can jet out the door, nary a care nor concern weighing on your heels.

Tonight. He’s gonna cook for you?

You’ll have the first substantial meal you’ve had in months.

Even though you want nothing more than to see Yoongi, your nerves are still buzzing and bumping into each other nonstop. There’s a lot you still need to know. Like why he was radio silent for months, and why your brother has been a little weird this whole week. 

Save it for later. Hopefully Yoongi will tell you why eventually. Or that gap will stay elusive to your brain forever.

Sliding into your car, you dump your bag in the passenger seat before pulling out the list, clutching it close and taking a leap that could either calm your nerves or spike them. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call 

When he picks up, you legitimately don’t answer. Because even after all this time, you still can’t quite function when you hear that deep voice addressing you directly. 

“Hey.” 

All you have to do is say something. Anything. You could rattle off the damn list, stumbling over all the syllables just like they’re currently smushed together in your fingers. 

But you don’t snap out of this trance until he speaks again. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi,” you squeak out, clearing your throat while watching other people walk to their cars. “Hi, sorry. I just umm.” 

You just what? Somehow lost all sense of language just from him saying hi? Get it together. Stop that racket in your stomach and say what you were gonna say. “Thank you for the food. I’m off work now so I’m heading to the store.” 

He simply huffs a quiet laugh.

“Get whatever you want, too. Just let me know how much it is.” 

Huh. Did Yoongi just say all those words in that order? If you heard him right, forget the damn food. You’re close to speeding directly to his place and breaking down the motherfucking door. “Oh, I definitely will,” you respond with instead of hauling ass, the words pushing through your lingering smile. “And don’t worry about that, I got it.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah! I got big girl money now.” 

Yoongi laughs again on the line, fuller and closer this time. Are you on speaker? 

“It’s like that? Maybe I should work there, too.” 

“Oh, you’d hate it,” you giggle, scheming hard in your head for tonight already. Pretty bubbles in your ribs lift all your spirits. “I’m actually pretty bossy here.”

The groan that seeps through your car should be illegal. 

“That is literally what I’ve been wanting to see.” 

It’s your turn to chuckle as you finally make your way out of the parking lot, heading right to the market that you know for a fact has all of what he’s asking for. “I’m only that way at work, though.” 

“Do better.” 

Your immediate response makes his laugh crunchy in the speakers, and you go along with him because life is good. Life is fucking great right now. “Never mind, you’re paying. And I’m getting stuff for dessert now, too.” 

“What? Who said anything about dessert?” 

“Me,” you huff out in pride. Since he wants to see that demanding side come out so bad. With a fleeting thought, you think about what it could be like if you end up confident enough to— 

“I’m starting to regret this.”

“Regret what?”

“Everything.”

Liar! Your cheeks hurt as you look both ways before making a turn. “Can’t fool me. You’re excited.”

“I am.”

The way there was no hesitation sends shivers up your spine. But it’s partly because you thought you’d be faced with another joke or dig. Not a sudden one-eighty. Stopping at a light, you clear your throat before shyness puffs right out of it. “Well, good,” you state while checking your mirrors. “Cus I am, too.” 

“That’s a given, though.”

“Excuse you.”

Yoongi laughs before you hear the sound of cabinets, and you wonder which ones he could be touching. 

“Mm, babe. One more thing.” 

Can he stop making your heart beat two times at once? “Hmm?”

There’s a little bit of pause, followed by the clank of a pan on metal. When you hear another hum, you wonder what he could possibly—

“I think we’re out of condoms.” 

Who is out of what. If you weren’t still at a red, your foot would’ve slammed on the gas because what the fuck! All you can manage out are sounds without substance, random syllables, gibberish. Nothing is computing in your head. 

“Wait. Or are we?”

Okay, Yoongi needs to stop with that two-letter word before your behavior turns downright criminal. With as much seriousness as you can manage, you accuse, “Are you just fucking with me?”

And his response launches you forward just as the light turns green, 

“Yeah. That’s why we’re out of—”

“Alright!” you cut in, stopping stopping stopping him because for whatever reason, this conversation is too much. Despite seeing this very man naked in many, many ways, just having this talk with him is making you shier than ever before. “Guess I’ll, umm. Get those, too.”

“Nah, you don’t have to.”

“Oh. Found some?”

“No.”

Wait. If he didn’t find some why is he telling you that you don’t have to— “Oh,” you peep in realization. A very sudden, jaw dropping realization. “Goddamn it, you’re too distracting now, bye.”

And he finally breaks with laughter that’s contagious as hell. Which isn’t fair when you’re pretending to be upset with him. Even when you can’t see Yoongi, you can imagine the way his cheeks rise and his eyes crease. The way the whole room illuminates when he’s packed with happiness. 

And you want that to be the case forever. 

“You’re just lucky I’m not there with you.” 

“Yeah, you’d be annoying as hell.” 

“Damn!” 

As the market comes into view, your teeth shine as you grin, roasting this man quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes. 

“To be fair,” you start to amend, fingers drumming on the wheel as you decide whether or not to say what you want. After deciding that there’s no wrong answer here, you softly admit, “I really do wanna get groceries with you.” 

There’s no words that come out in response. Only the slight movements of shuffling and water running and what could be more cabinets closing. But you don’t really know for sure—

“It’s gonna happen, doll.” 

You clutch the wheel.

“Cus I want that, too.”

One of these days you’re gonna see this damn cat again. 

Foot connecting with Yoongi’s door, you grunt as multiple bags burden your limbs, pride digging divots along your arms—second trips be damned. 

It doesn’t take long for him to let you in anyway, and you swoon at the way he doesn’t even ask while taking some of your baggage. But the kiss on your cheek makes your heart bang into everything between the front door and the kitchen. It’s so distracting that you barely smell the spices greeting you, too. 

“Thanks for getting all this,” Yoongi says as you both cross onto tile.  

“Of course.” Lifting the much lighter load that you have, you revel in the small thumps and thuds on his counter. Not really knowing why. “Let’s put this up before I yell at you.”

His laugh comes out in hisses while you both start reaching into bags. “For what!” 

“Sent me everywhere to find some of this shit.” 

“You could’ve asked somebody.” 

Feeling a bit silly and high off his presence already, you repeat his words in a goofy mocking tone, and the way he blows out air sends your belly fluttering. 

And just like that, things are back to normal again. No worries about your sibling, or work, or anything else looming by the door. Inside is what matters, and the whole apartment fills with jabs and jokes as groceries find their homes.

But Yoongi finds a bag you had separated from the rest, and you snap your mouth shut when he looks inside, something rising in your core when he turns to you with an eyebrow raised. And a smirk so salacious it makes you quiver. 

“What about it,” you squeak out, crumbling when he simply takes the bag and flings it through his bedroom door. “You said you—we were out, so…” 

“That’s a big box, doll,” he points out on his way to your tightly bitten lip. Mouth slicing through your sanity, he approaches you with a glint in his eyes. “Got something you wanna say?” 

“Nope,” you whoosh out oh god he looks way too hot in those sweats wait is that a growing bulge? “Although I will say it took me forever to pick out what—”

Sparks ignite your hands when your lips are claimed, launching them into his shirt and tugging him backward because you’ve been waiting way too long to kiss the shit out of him. 

And Yoongi responds in kind, pinning you to his fridge and so, very obvious that he’s been waiting for this, too. 

Heaven probably wonders how to replicate this feeling. How to imitate this treasured yearning that only he can pull from the depths of your ocean. Deep, deeper, deepest. All these kisses. Your ascending affection. 

“As much as I wanna throw you on my bed,” Yoongi jokes, pulling away and giving your cheek a light tap. “I’m taking you somewhere.” 

And you’re so thrown from the impact that your brain mini-resets. “Huh? We’re leaving?”

“Uh huh.”

Hold on. Wait. Is this what he meant when he said he’s getting the next one? You’re going out to eat? Together? No. No, there’s no way. Yoongi knows that’s the worst possible thing to do right now, as much as the idea is sending your belly in a frenzy. “Are you sure? What about dinner? Won’t people… You know.”

“It’s ready already,” he reveals. “By the door.” 

Your head snaps to where he points out, even though you can’t see through the bar. “Really?” No wonder it smells like a cooking aftermath. All those smells twirling around your head. How did you not even catch the dishes in the sink? 

But hold up, you just bought a shit ton of food! “Then what the hell was the run for?”

Yoongi blinks. Then he does it again. Expression stone still, he responds as if you were privy to his plans this entire time, “I told you to get what I needed.” 

Your turn to blink.

“And I needed food.”

This man is going to be the death of you. Affronted, your jaw hangs before you grit through a smile that betrays you, “Oh, you—” 

“So thanks,” he quips through another tilt of his lips. “Let’s go, doll.” 

The begrudged sound that leaves you makes him kick his head back on the way out the kitchen. 

“Eat.”

The container on your thighs warms you through. “Now?”

“Mm.”

“I can wait,” you assure, watching as night paints the surrounding scenery in navy and black. “We can eat together.” 

“Just a bite then.” 

Turning to Yoongi, you don’t see a change in his face as he eyes the road. The veins in his arm catch all the streetlight, and you gulp before your gaze falls to what he made. Music fills the car, and you decide that maybe you do feel a little hungry. So you listen to instruction, popping it open and being careful as you pluck a piece to try. 

There’s no denying it. This motherfucker is a chef. “Fuck, this is good.” 

Your borderline moan sends Yoongi’s shoulders bobbing, and you will never get over those low, gravelly laughs. “Sorry.” Your hand hovers over your mouth in embarrassment. “I don’t react like that unless I’m alone.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, well,” you swallow. “Course you don’t.”

A tiny peek of teeth show as Yoongi smiles, and you don’t expect what he offers next, “Just be you, doll. It’s just me.”

The next bite of food pauses on the way to your mouth. “Oh,” you murmur. “Same for you then.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“Cus we wouldn’t make it to where we’re going.”

That was legitimately the worst time to put food in your mouth. Sputtering, your words come out low and chortled, “You fucker.”

His hisses are brief before he dips into silence again. As he slowly turns the wheel, you can see a glimpse of something deep in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly apologizes, swallowing as you keep your gaze. 

What is that look? Weren’t you both just having a good time? “For what, baby?” 

“Everything.” 

Your lungs flinch. This is definitely not what you expected to hear on the way to wherever the hell you’re going. “Oh.” 

Yoongi still doesn’t look your way, and with each pass of a light over his face, you catch quick snapshots of those eyes you’re still so shy of. “I, umm. I didn’t expect shit to pan out this way.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. 

After a slow motion of disagreement, his head falls forward just a bit. And your eyes find his hand clutching the gear shift in what you sadly think is frustration. “I’ve just thought about some things,” he starts, another song playing. “How worried you must’ve been.” 

You look forward. Because this is the part where you can’t face him. “I was. But not for the same reason as last time.” Without a hesitation of your own, your palm reaches between your seats. And you can tell Yoongi watches as you take his hand to hold. 

“I was worried about you,” you correct with softness. “It was hard because I didn’t know what to do.” Don’t fucking cry. You filled quite a few buckets already. “When you started not really saying much, I just… Hoped it was for a good reason, so. Yeah.” 

You feel your hand gently pulled, which is already enough to make you melt. But when it’s kissed, you don’t know what the hell to fucking do. 

“I’m sorry, doll,” Yoongi whispers into your skin, lips brushing with every syllable and painting a canvas of his reconcile. “I won’t leave you hanging like that again.” 

There’s a tiny fire in the back of your throat, the embers reaching your eyes just a little too aggressively. You attempt to squash the growing flames before they flare. “Oh. Umm. Thank you.” What else do you say? Yoongi’s being wonderful, but why do you feel… sad? Why is there lingering snow on your windowsill? “Were you worried?” 

“Me? Umm.” He stops at a light that he clearly didn’t want to stop at. Resting your conjoined hands on his pliant thigh, his jaw works as he observes them.

And you wonder if he thinks they slot together perfectly, too. 

“…Yeah.” 

Fuck. “About what?” 

“That you’d hate me.” 

Your heart meshes his fingers with yours. “Yoongi.” 

“Or that you shouldn’t be with someone that’s gone this much.” 

Fuck, he’s doing it again. Regressing. You’ve seen it happen in his kitchen and you’ll be damned if all that work, all that peeling, all that resolution amounted to nothing wait, wait, stop. This isn’t gonna be an overnight fix. And you have no clue what’s been happening, so just keep trying, trying, trying. 

“I’m used to people leaving,” you joke, but not really. “Like seasons.” 

He whips his head to you, and you backpedal because that probably sounded so random. You’ve got to think about filtering your thoughts a little more now that you’re getting comfortable. Yoongi says you can be yourself, sure, but you have to admit your quirks are a little out there. “I know it’s weird, but..” 

He’s quiet as the light turns green. And when you don’t finish, he admits, “I think the same.” 

“You do?” 

Your hand is brushed as a hum peppers it from above. “Mmhmm.” 

“Well.” That’s interesting. You didn’t know anyone thought about that stuff like you did. Now you wonder if there’s anywhere else your wavelengths sync, and if they’ve been syncing up all this time. “At least you come back.” 

Yoongi squeezes your hand tight before he holds it against his lips. Again. Fuck, this is a lot. You’re so wrapped up in his gesture that you don’t catch what he whispers. 

“Hmm?” 

He glances at the center console before putting your hand back on his thigh. 

“Always, doll.” 

And the fire you stepped on rages back with a vengeance. Heat and sting surrounds your eyes, and you don’t hide how you press your feelings into his skin. “Me, too.” 

If you weren’t lost in the surrounding scenery outside, you would have caught Yoongi’s look. But all you feel is his hand clutching you tight, and it breaks you down all the same. 

The rest of the drive is spent with him telling you to eat more, and a bunch of your sing-alongs to almost every song that comes on. It seems like the tiny bit of closure opened you both up, and you don’t even realize that you’ve been on the road for a really long time. 

But finally, Yoongi pulls up to a building, and you’re haphazardly rapping along to a song before you notice. Wait. What? He drove you to a rec center? 

Your fingers curl around his forearm before you even notice. “What’s this?” 

“Where we’re going.”

Hold on, you’re going inside? “Are we even allowed to be here?”

When Yoongi responds, his teeth make you shiver as he smirks. “Can’t say for sure, no.”

“Then why—”

He unlocks before you can finish, and you’re left in an empty car until he rounds the hood, coming over to your side and opening the door. You almost don’t hear what he says next, too focused on the jewelry swinging from his neck as he bends forward. 

But you catch it, and glance once more at the sight in front of you before biting your lip—in nervousness or excitement, you can’t decide.

“You comin’?”

Damn. Obviously, you want nothing more than to see him here. And it’s much too late for anyone to be around. But if something happens… Whatever. 

Your mouth finally unsticks. “If we get caught, you’re gonna pay for this.”

And you can’t resist his stupid grin. “Now get your pretty ass out before I put you in the back.” 

“Yoongi!”

Grinning, he leads you out, and you follow him to the trunk. After bouncing his stowed ball a couple times, he decides to lean in and reach for something else. 

Wait. Is that what you think it is? “Did you always have that in there?” you ask, pointing to the contraption that Yoongi’s using to air up his basketball.

And he does a horrible job at suppressing a smile. Which makes you burst into flutters and beats beats beats. “You liar!” Oh, you are gonna wipe those laughs from his throat. “I had to change up my plans because of you!”

Palming the ball, Yoongi tilts his head dangerously to one side. “And I got to see you,” he proudly claims. “So I’ll take it.”

You hate how the memories come packaged with what’s haunted you. What else happened during that time, and what happened after you left. But there’s no way you’re gonna bring that up. Not when the night has transformed into something so magical. 

So you just clutch your food and lean on his car, opting to compliment him to wipe the murk away. “Got to see you, too,” you puff into the brisk night. Because you harbor a bit of nostalgia in your bones. And because he still makes you shy. “You and your stupid hair.”

Another bout of hisses wisp into your side. As you turn to regard Yoongi again, he slips his chains into his hoodie before continuing, and you swoon at the veins popping out of his skin with each pump. 

How can he look so perfect doing the simplest things? So unfair. 

After seconds that feel like an hour, Yoongi’s done. And he scans the parking lot before telling you to follow him. 

What you expect is some outdoor courts. Maybe getting past a gate or two. So when you approach a back door lit by the shine of a single light, you freeze. “Are we really going in?”

Fishing something out of his pocket, Yoongi simply turns over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why not?”

“Oh.” You didn’t think you’d actually get inside the building. If there was an outside court just as accessible it would’ve made sense. Can you even bring food in here? Is that question even relevant? “No reason.”

“So I shouldn’t bust in?”

Huh. “What?”

“I’ve already done it a few times, so.”

“Wait!” Nerves throw your hand on his bicep before you can stop. “What if someone sees us?”

He’s so warm. And so toned. And if he plans on taking his hoodie off? You’re not prepared for whatever the hell he has underneath. 

Voice softened, Yoongi tries to placate your paranoia, “They won’t, doll.”

“Are you sure? If we get caught here they’re gonna call the police and I am definitely not… Gonna…”

The object in his hand jangles, and you clearly see he was just joking the whole time because keys—keys—stare you in the face. 

What is it with him and keys? 

When Yoongi speaks, you feel like you’ve never done anything bad in your life, and suddenly the thought of trespassing with an official way in is so scandalous, 

“You picked the wrong night to be a good girl.”

You have to admit. Seeing him so mischievous and dashing makes you wanna follow him wherever the hell he goes. Even if it gets you in trouble. Even if you were breaking in tonight, you would be all in. And that thought should frighten you, but it only does because of the wings tickling your rib cage. 

How can he make you feel rebellious and yet still so shy? The power of Min Yoongi. He’s way too good at destroying you.

When you glare, the man only grins, hisses of laughter leaving him way too happily before he unlocks the door to no alarms or sirens. He doesn’t need to throw a wink your way, too, but of course he does as he lets you in. Which causes you to float through the dark entryway instead of walk oh he did not just slap your ass!

A jolt in your cunt causes you to regard him in shock. To which he hums in a feigned question. “Hmm?”

With nothing but darkness and his cologne surrounding you, it’s only natural that giddiness takes hold. Truthfully, you’re packed with so much adrenaline that you feel a little wild yourself. “You’ve been waiting to do that, huh.” 

“So fucking long.”

You are not surviving the night. And you don’t give a single shit.

But as shy and out of control as you feel around this man, you also feel safe—even in a faraway, dark building that you’ve never been in before. That’s gotta say something about him, right? 

Yoongi feels along the wall beside you for lights, purposefully bumping your chest with his front even though he’s securing a ball with an arm. When you question his joking decision with noises, a chaste kiss on your lips shuts you right up.

“You’re in the way,” he jokes through what you think is a smile, and you’re about to move when he flicks on a switch very far away from your shoulder.

Liar! Your jaw drop must be comical because Yoongi’s grin stretches astronomically wide. But you cannot find a retort because seeing him so chill while you’re stiff from paranoia has you at a loss.

Is this how he used to be all the time? This carefree, all caution to the wind? He’s so fucking handsome like this. No wonder he’s pulled so many hearts just like yours. 

When you still don’t find any words to say, Yoongi makes it harder, stepping so close that you have to swing the plastic container away. Taking one of your hands in his free one, he gives it a warm squeeze while murmuring,

“You’re so cute.”

“How,” you ask just as softly.

And Yoongi responds with lights in his eyes. “Just are.”

Your lips mesh with his as he keeps your fingers secured, and suddenly every cautious thing in your body gets launched into the skies, too.

But it ends as soon as it begins. And Yoongi backs away from you with a smile, 

“Eat.”

“Huh?”

“Eat, doll,” he orders before turning and dribbling onto the court.

When you call out that he hasn’t eaten yet, Yoongi tells you that he already did. When you look around to figure out where to even sit, you decide on the closest set of bleachers and make yourself as comfortable as you can.

Which is impossible. Because they’re bleachers. Which is now triple impossible. Because Yoongi just shucked off his hoodie and the only thing he had under it was his chains goddamn it.

If you weren’t already sitting down you would’ve fallen right into the next dimension. How the fuck are you supposed to eat in these conditions shit he’s walking over! 

Your throat seizes as Yoongi approaches, face trained as if he isn’t aware of his overwhelming presence. All he does is bend to place his sweater next to your legs. But the quick smooch on your lips makes you swoon harder than you ever have.

And the way his silver taps your chest makes you mentally hold on for dear life. Wait. What the fuck, Yoongi’s taking them off right now? Right in front of you? Just as you're supposed to eat oh okay he’s handing them to you great wonderful fantastic.

The metal links feel so warm yet slightly cold to the touch. Weighty, yet light. But you clutch them in your hand as you connect a gaze to his.

“Relax,” he orders, lightly slapping the side of your thigh. “No need to worry.” 

And with bangs swishing, he goes right back to the ball waiting for him. Leaving you starry-eyed to hell with silver in your palm.

…Did all of that just happen? Is any of this even real? Quite frankly, you fucking forgot what you were even worried about. 

No matter what he does—simple lay-ups standing in place, dribbling to different spots to shoot, or even lazily jogging after the ball—you’re so enthralled with his actions that you forget that you’re not supposed to be here. 

And it takes your last bite of food for something to finally hit you. How does Yoongi have keys to this place? Where the hell did he score those because you don’t think he ever mentioned anything about working here. Or anywhere else other than the studio. 

Yet another mystery to add to this walking, bare-chested enigma. 

But there’s another question forming behind your eyes the longer you watch him practice, the more you notice how he’s actually going hard. Yoongi’s really good right now. A lot better than what you’ve seen of him before. 

Has he been coming here more often than he’s let on? And why does he look so… serious? You’d be surprised if he even remembered you’re here. 

Setting your empty container down, you gather the chains in your hands again, deciding to slip them over your head for safer keeping. After, you grab a water before stepping down the bleachers, hanging a little ways away until Yoongi notices you’re courtside.

And when he sees you, he stops practicing immediately, jogging to you so sweaty and shining and gross and handsome and— “Wait, you’re all swea—”

You’re pulled into a kiss the same time you hear a basketball drop, salt on your tongue and damp palms on your cheeks. And you melt right into the shiny wood floor, drifting, drifting, sailing into dreamland even though you’re technically already there. 

“Sweaty,” you whisper into his hot breaths of exertion, a twinge between your legs when he kisses you even deeper—breathing, inhaling, taking you in. “Gross.”

“Thanks.” 

You flash a smile against Yoongi’s lips, giggling because this is all better than anything your brain could’ve conjured on its own. When you ask why he’s going so hard, all you get is a question in return,

“You’re perfect, you know that?” 

Huh? Blinking, you suddenly don’t remember your own train of thought. “What did I do?” 

“Nothing.” He presses a wet mouth to your nose. “Did you eat?”

Laughing, you reassure him, “I did, I did.” 

“Good. You bored?”  

“Huh?”

Yoongi leans to softly take your lips this time, and you want to say he’s approaching the legal limit for kisses tonight. “Thought you came over cus you wanna leave.”

“And stop seeing you play? I could watch this forever.” You squeeze the water bottle a little tighter. “Just checking on you.” Another strike hits between your legs when Yoongi takes another, lazier glide over your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you forward by your bottoms, fingers slick from use. 

You could do this for eternity, too.

“Well I got about five more minutes in me, so..”

This man. 

“Forever might be a stretch.” 

“Ah, shut up. Here,” you offer through a giggle, holding the water out for him to take. 

“Thanks.” When he does, he tilts his head at just the right angle to cut you through, gulping down liquid and making you do the same to your nothingness. 

So unfair. “You looked like you were going pretty hard.” 

Lowering the bottle, Yoongi shifts his jaw before taunting something a ways off. “I kinda was.” 

“It was kinda hot.” 

His laugh makes you smile, and his next swig makes you weep. “Nah, but. This is our practice gym. I can just zone out here, so. It’s been one of those things.” 

Ah. Was this one of the places Yoongi ended up during those months apart? You wish he could’ve brought you along sometimes. Or at least thought about asking. It’s nice just to be around him while he does something he likes. Gaining courage, you say exactly what’s on your mind, “You can always bring me, too. If you want.” 

And it’s true. You don’t really have to do much when you’re with him, because just being around him is what brightens your day. Lifts your mood. 

But you have to admit that watching him play basketball while shirtless is the biggest fucking win in history. 

When did Yoongi get so close? When did his eyes retreat so far away? “I didn’t wanna bother you with this,” he admits, a drop of sweat clinging onto his chin. “I don’t even put music on.” 

“You never bother me,” you whisper back. Hoping that he believes you and that he will start to accept that as fact. Because it is. “Even if you’re being annoying.” 

The bottle crinkles as he smiles, and there’s a soft kiss to your lips that has no real desire behind it. Just a nice peck that sends you careening down a hill of flowers. “You won’t be feeling that way tomorrow, babe.” 

“And why is that?”

“Cus of what I’m wearing.” 

And he says that while half-naked? Like any look on him could get any worse. “Oh,” you scoff out, fully calling his bluff. “As if.”

Well, fuck. You don’t enjoy the smirk plastered on his face. It has you both dreading and excited for whatever demon you’re gonna run into tomorrow. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugs as he starts to hand the water back. “We can go soon, by the way.”

“Okay.”

But before you can grab it, Yoongi pulls the bottle from reach. “Unless,” he teases. “You wanna play me.”

“What.”

His grin shines, face glistening and turning your insides to jelly. “You told me you’d win, so. Let’s see it.”

You said that? While sober? How does he remember something like that when you can’t even recall a time or place you’d tell him something so bold. “When!”

“Right after you woke up once. Said you’re a master?”

Oh. That was ages ago. Fuck, you already forgot how did Yoongi remember? 

“Oh. Well.” Your nose turns up in feigned haughtiness. “Wouldn’t wanna throw you off your game before a championship.” 

“Uh huh.”

“I’d make you cry what the fuck!” 

Water spills down your head in rivulets as you freeze, stunned and watching Yoongi jogging his laughs back to the bleachers like a punk. “Think you got something on your face, doll.”

“Yoongi!” What the hell possessed him to do that to you here? Racing after him with purpose, you slam into him just as he reaches for another bottle, shoving a laugh out of his throat and making him catch himself on hardwood. “Nu uh, gimme that!”

“It’s mine, I just ran out—”

“Bitch!” You lunge for another bottle lying further away, distancing yourself to quickly rip the cap off and to avoid feeling his slick back on your hands. 

And it’s a lawless gym as both of you start spraying water, arcs and splashes of bottled liquid spewing over the court and soaking into your clothes and his bare skin. Which proves to get worse and worse for your wellbeing the more he gets soaked in your attacks. 

Running ends up being the only option to avoid getting completely drenched, and you hightail it behind bleachers before your waist is grabbed. “Fuck!” 

“Uh huh.” 

You try to wrestle out of his hold, his wet forearm digging lovely into your stomach, and you’re temporarily let go just so Yoongi can spin you around. 

Your back connects with solid wall, the impact shooting a grunt out of your throat before you laugh out of pure disbelief. “I can’t believe, you got me to do that,” you rush out, sentence punctuated by your breaths more than anything else. 

Here you are. Under bleachers. With Yoongi’s skin caging you with radiating heat.  

You can only stare as he drinks you in, no doubt looking at his silver around your neck and your chest heaving from exertion. Butterflies float across your stomach when his smile drips, and you fold as soon as he swoops in. 

Everything in your being pulses hard. It’s so visceral that you teeter on the edge of sanity and logic, and the thoughts slipping through your mind are just as wild as you feel. Before you’re even aware of it, a mischievous finger slides along the hem of his shorts, and you jump at the downright boulders rolling down your front, 

“Careful, doll.”

“Hmm?” You feel bad. And it feels fantastic. “What was that?” 

More gravel slides down his tongue, and you shake at his attractive as fuck threat, “Fuck around and find out then.” 

Your giggles add feather lightness into his murky laughs, but you’re so preoccupied that you don’t notice his hand between your legs until he slaps the inside of your thigh. “Yoo—!”

“Unless.” He leans forward. “My baby’s too scared.” 

Holy fuck, you might be. Is he really willing to do something with you? In a public place very similar to where you’re gonna watch him play tomorrow? You don’t know why the fuck that’s attractive as hell, but it is. 

Yoongi grips your chin, eyes falling to your lips and brows knitted before claiming your lips even harder. And despite your bones vibrating to hell, you put your all into the kiss, relishing in the growing hardness you feel against your front. An animal starts to wake inside your core, and you almost feel like stroking it. Feeding it. Raising it only for it to consume you in return. 

“Fuck it, we’re leaving.” 

“Huh?” Dazed, you let your vision refocus as Yoongi chuckles at your hazy state. 

“Fuck this. I’m taking you home.” 

For some reason, the game makes you nervous today. Even while Taehyung strides into the gymnasium with you, there’s a lingering feeling swelling in your stomach, and you don’t have any reason for it yet. 

At least this is another rec center entirely. Because there’s no way you would’ve sat still knowing you had a clandestine meeting in the same place not even twenty-four hours before. 

But the activity already bustling around hardwood catches your attention. Not on both sides, since only one team is here, but they are active on the other end doing drills. 

Wow. They look really intimidating, matching jerseys that were clearly done professionally and warm-ups having a set routine. You wonder if this is gonna be a tough game for… Wait. That’s your brother under the basket. That’s them? 

Fucking hell, Yoongi was right.

Because you’ll already never get over how attractive he looks in athletic clothes.

But team jerseys? 

Seeing this man rock a basketball uniform with his toned arms and legs so visible makes you want to claw your way out of your invisible cage. 

When the hell did they even get those? And why is he already slightly drenched during the warm-up alone? 

As soon as you see him make a lay-up, you know for a fact that you shouldn’t be here. 

Yes, you’re gonna stay and yes, you’re gonna cheer for them all game. But you are absolutely gonna feel like jumping him, which will in turn make you wanna bolt and run all the way out of town every agonizing second. 

Shit, shit, shit. You’re gonna have to try your damned hardest to unstick your eyes from that man the whole time. Already, you can hear Taehyung’s teasing, and your groan is to lament your future state.

Your name suddenly rings across the gym, and four feet pause in your ascent up the bleachers. When you catch both him and Jimin waving you down from their courtside chairs, you tilt your head in intrigue. 

They want you to come over there? What the hell is this about? 

Sighing, you turn. “Guess I’ll go see what they want.” 

“Here,” Tae offers his hand. “I’ll save you a seat.” 

Your bag is transferred to his grip while you nod, and you step down onto the court, wondering if you’re even allowed to walk onto it to see them. And Jimin’s grin can be seen from miles away. “Come here!” 

You gingerly step onto shiny wooden floors, making your way over and becoming hyper aware that someone else notices your presence. But you’re so puzzled as to why there’s no one on the other side of the court yet because isn’t the game about to start? 

Where’s the other team? As you approach their row of chairs, your hands immediately find your hips. “What’s up?” 

Jimin’s eyes stay creased as your brother explains the reason he waved you down. A very stupid, very innocuous reason. “Can you keep score?” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why me?” 

Your brother uses his jersey to wipe sweat from his brow, and you wince at the brand new material getting gross already. “The girl that usually does it for us is sick.” 

“And you know the game,” Jimin quickly tacks on, rubbing at some tattoos on full display. Wait, are there more than you remember? When did he get more ink?

Your sibling asks another question you had in mind, “You aren’t gonna cover those?”

“Nah. Not today,” the man elongates in a stretch. “Just got another one. This one!” 

Ah, you were right. “I like it.” 

Jimin couldn’t look more proud. But enough of that because you really just wanna go back and observe the game from another place entirely. “Can’t y’all find someone else to keep score?” 

“We don’t think anyone else can,” your brother explains, looking over your shoulder. “At least, not the people coming to watch us.” 

Cool. You get to be met with heat and sweat from all these guys without compensation. How is this something you would say yes to? “Well. I don’t really feel like being a scorekeeper for free.” 

When your sibling laughs with Jimin, they share a look before he says so matter-of-factly, “Told you.” 

You’re sticking with that. If you’re gonna sit next to a bunch of smelly people, they’re gonna pay… you… somehow.

A ways down the row, you catch Yoongi dumping himself onto a random chair, head tilted back before he hangs it forward to wipe sweat from his forehead. 

And suddenly this temporary gig doesn’t seem terrible in the slightest. 

Because one, you can sit on a team bench that will have his fine ass right there. And two, this will give you a way to objectively focus on the game. You won’t have time to be distracted by a demon and his hair that’s gotten criminally long. 

“I’ll get us all dinner,” your sibling slices through your thoughts. “After we win.”  

“Fine,” you sigh, taking the end seat and shooting one more glance to the other side of the court. “Then I get to p—”

The air around you squeezes inward. And all sounds plunge underwater. 

Because you recognize someone you knew from a dark club walking onto the court, his team looking just as sharp and cocky as his eyes. 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. 

You don’t notice the way Jimin’s hands flex, nor the way a familiar presence walks up to join your brother. 

All you can do is stare back. 

And without even realizing. 

You’re already rubbing your arm.

-

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tbc. :((

-

a ha ha... so how do we feel? | taglist | discord!

a/n: okay, hello, loves. apologies this part took so damn long to post! can you imagine if i tried to post everything at once LMAOO yikes talk about too much at once. but i hope this part was enough to still be good on its own, and broken, pt. 2 will be... well. you can probably guess that's where a majority of my brainpower is going to go. a/n 2: thank you all for being here! it's been an amazing two years working on this series and i cannot tell you how grateful and appreciative i am to have such wonderful people alongside me. i hope this series continues to be there for you when you need it, bc it has become that for me, too. ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

#ITS FINALLY HEREEE #SHEESH #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts reactions #filter for fics: #*ryenfictalk #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #three tangerines #3tan11 #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #btsfic #*latest #ryenwrites

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Take Care of You [10]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 5.7k

Mood board and borders by @saradika

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[A/N: 🤡. I came back to life to immediately die off again i'm so sorry. here take this next part and all my love. speaking of my love, i already closed beta readers on tiktok but for anyone on here, if you wanna see why i've been so MIA, shoot me a message with your email if you wanna beta read my original work (i do ask that you do a questionnaire afterwards but that's just to help me out). But, imagine a scifi/fantasy where the book 'Six of Crows' meets 'The Last of Us', and I have good sources that y'all like TLOU👀]

[A/N pt.2: I did not edit this to the degree I should have and there is no tag list at the bottom i am so so so so sorry].

10: THE EVIDENCE IS PRETTY DAMNING

The ceiling wasn’t right. 

That was your first, foggy thought when your eyes opened. Rather than the bumpy, plaster speckles collecting dust it was smooth and off white. You slowly sat up with a groan, head spinning and mouth dry, and you blinked three times before your situation dawned on you. This was not your bed, not your house. Fuck. You set your hands on the bed to lean back then winced. With a hiss, you pulled your hand up and saw the bandaged injury from last night.

You cradled the hand with your other and turned to hang your legs over the edge of the bed. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a note on the nightstand. You leaned over. There was a full water bottle and a bottle of tylenol resting on top of a piece of paper. On the paper, in scratchy, nearly illegible, writing was, ‘Come downstairs when you’re ready. Feel free to use the shower and change if you want. ⏤Joel’. You dragged your fingers to trace the words. 

With a shaky breath, you grabbed the water bottle and took a couple pills in hopes to nurse the aches and pains you felt. You stared at the words again. Last night, Joel admitted to being married to Sarah’s mom and you had responded by passing the fuck out. You had tried to argue, demand more information, but your body fought against your curiosity. All the drinks you had prior and the fading adrenaline from the fight probably hadn’t helped. 

You rose from the bed with a groan and crossed to use the bathroom adjoined to Joel’s bedroom. When you flicked the lights on, you took the first movement to glance around the space. The walls were beige with white tile floors. On one side was a large jacuzzi style tub next to an expansive walk in shower. On the other was ample counter space and drawers with matching him and her sinks. In the back was the small room where the toilet sat and beyond that a walk in closet. The space was lived in. A dirty clothes basket off to the side half full, toiletries on the counter and on the shelves in the shower, you spotted a pair of glasses you had never seen Joel wear resting by the sink on the right side of the counter. That must be the one Joel used most. A toothbrush sat by it and you noticed water by the rim like he hadn’t wiped up when finished.

Also on the counter were a stack of clothes, you stepped toward it and saw it was a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants that must have belonged to him. On top of it was a brand new toothbrush. Your gaze lifted to look at yourself in the mirror and you flinched. You looked a mess⏤ your hair, your clothes, everything. You rubbed at your face with a sigh and slipped into a morning time routine despite the unfamiliar setting. 

Celina.

The name rang in your head over and over and over again. It didn’t matter that you had been only half with it last night. You remembered that clearly. As you cleaned up, your headache began to improve and by time you left the bathroom you at least felt human again. A new anger bubbled just under your skin. You couldn’t quite yet put your anger into words, but you knew it was there. After washing up, you traded the clothes you wore to the bar for the ones Joel left you. The shirt was worn out, like it was aged, and navy in color. It read ‘Miller’s Contracting’ with a number on it for contact. It reminded you of the kind of shirt a small company would make and not a multi-million dollar one. You tightened the waistband of Joel’s sweatpants. They were at least joggers so you didn’t have to worry about tripping over yourself.

You crossed the upstairs, open space to the stairs. Faintly, you heard the sound of someone moving around downstairs. A brief wave of nervousness had you hesitating at the top of the stairs, but it slipped away back to anger. It seemed that was where your heart was making camp this morning.

Slowly, you descended the stairs. The wooden floors under your feet didn’t creak or make noise as you padded into the living room first. A few couches were situated in front of a wall that held a large flat screen TV and a fireplace. The back wall was made of glass, a window and door all in one that revealed the back patio where a small pool and deck were, and the space beside it was the kitchen. Just as open as the rest of Joel’s house. The cabinets were made of dark wood with matching countertops and at the center was a large island with chairs. 

On the island counter looked like to-go boxes of food. You stared at them a moment longer, but a door hidden just out of view on the wall in the kitchen opened. Joel stepped into the kitchen nonchalantly until he spotted you and did a double take. He froze and stared. The two of you were actually similarly dressed. He had on a t-shirt that looked tight on his broad shoulders and a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips. Joel looked exhausted.

“Hey.” He said softly. “Mornin’, sug⏤” Joel stopped himself, it looked like he choked on his words, but he locked his jaw and changed direction. “Mornin’. How did you sleep?” You gave a small shrug and a tight lipped smile. “Right. How’s your…” Joel lifted his own hand. “Your hand?”

You lifted it up to stare down at it. The bandages had been pulled away when you washed up this morning. It didn’t look so bad. “It’s fine. Thanks for the⏤ the tylenol. And the toothbrush. And the,” You motioned to the clothes hanging off your frame, “You know.”

“Can I?” Joel nodded toward you.

“I said, it’s fine, Joel.”

“I…” He sighed and the look in his eyes was agonizing. “I know you’re pissed at me. Understandably so. But, please let me…”

You walked over to sit down at one of the tall chairs at the island counter and set your hand on the marble top. Joel mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ and disappeared for a quick second. He was back with a small first aid kit again. You twisted your lips when you felt his warm hand cautiously take yours. It was quiet as he reapplied a bit of medicine to the hand before wrapping it up again. 

“You don’t…” Joel started then cleared his throat. You never would have used the word anxious to describe the Joel you had gotten to know thus far, but nervous energy seemed to radiate off him. The tension in his shoulders looked painful to keep hold of. “I had breakfast delivered. Some stuff I know you like.” Joel pulled his hand away from yours. “But you don’t have to stay if you don’t wanna.”

“No. I want to.” You replied. Joel looked briefly hopeful. “I want to talk about this. I want⏤ to know. I want answers.”

“Right. Of course.” Joel nodded quickly. “I owe you at least that.” You nodded in agreement. Joel straightened from where he stood and ran a hand over his chest and shoulder with a quiet cough. “Can I make you something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice?”

You gave a small nod, mumbling a response, and watched as Joel put it all together. He poured himself a cup of coffee after serving you. Rather than take the seat beside you, he stood on the other side of the island counter across from you.

“You mentioned the girl from Vegas last night briefly, but how did you know…”

“Yo-yo told me you had a sugar baby before me. That you married her.”

“I did have a sugar baby before you, yes.” Joel sighed.

“Why did you lie to me?” You demanded.

Joel shook his head, “I never lied to you. I just⏤ I never told you, and you never asked.”

“Really?” You scoffed. “That’s what you wanna hang your hat on here? Semantics?” Joel hung his head then shook it a bit. “I didn’t want to believe her, but yesterday Nima texted someone she knows. A private investigator⏤”

Joel’s eyes widened, “You hired a private investigator??”

“I didn’t hire anybody! Nima just texted them and they confirmed⏤”

“You went to a PI before just asking me?” Joel replied sharply. You leaned back in your seat⏤ in shock at his audacity. He must have noticed how you felt because he held up a hand. “I just mean, that’s a huge invasion of privacy and all you had to do was call me⏤”

You pushed out of your seat and turned to leave. Joel called out after you before following. He grabbed your hand to tug you to a stop and you glared at him over your shoulder. You snapped, “If you’re just going to stand there and be defensive then there’s no reason for me to be here, Joel.” You pulled your hand out of his grip and spun to face him. “I understand that getting in contact with a fucking PI was a crazy move, but yesterday I felt a little crazy.” You scoffed. “I felt like an idiot. I felt like a naive, desperate idiot who got played. So, yeah, I let Nima text her cousin’s cousin’s cousin to find an answer because the thought of standing in front of you and asking⏤”

The rest of your words got caught in your throat. You didn’t want to get emotional in front of Joel. More than anything you wanted to keep your cool and be collected. Just in case he did break your heart, you could walk away with at least some of your dignity intact. Joel took a step closer. Thankfully, he didn’t try to touch you, but he did lift his hands slightly in surrender.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m being defensive. Hell, I'm being an ass.” You locked your jaw and let your eyes focus on something over his shoulder. Unable to stare into those deep, dark eyes. “This is… This isn’t an easy subject for me to talk about and I⏤ I panicked. I want you to hear me out. I want you to know the truth.” He shifted in his stance so your gaze was forced to meet his. The longing there made you suck in a sharp breath. “Please. Give me another chance to explain this. I’ll do better.”

You rubbed the back of your neck with your non-injured hand and gave a small nod.

“Thank you. Thank you.” Joel repeated himself. He took a step back but kept his shoulders facing you as if he thought you were a flight risk. Joel motioned to his couch. “Do you wanna sit? I’ll grab our drinks.” You sighed and meandered over to sit down on one end of his leather couch. Joel didn’t move back into the kitchen until after you were seated. He came back with both of your drinks and handed you your own before sitting on the other side of the couch. One cushion of space between the two of you. 

You took a sip, trying to gather your thoughts, before nodding once. “I want to know about your wife first. Celina, you said? I want to know about her.”

“Yeah.” Joel swallowed thickly. “Do you remember anything I mentioned about Sarah’s mom before?”

“I didn’t know her name.” You replied. “You said the two of you had dated for, like, three months?” Joel nodded. “She got pregnant, and you worked it out. Things were fine, but two weeks after Sarah was born she left. You never said the two of you got married though.”

“Because we didn’t.” Joel replied softly. “I asked. Proposed to her when we found out she was pregnant with Sarah, and she said no.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he wasn’t meeting your gaze anymore. Joel stared down at the coffee mug in his hands. “I loved her. She was my first real love, actually. I knew our situation wasn’t ideal, but… I wanted it to work. I saw a future with her.” Joel ran his thumb back and forth on the edge of his mug’s rim where it reached. He chuckled, “When Sarah was born… Those two weeks? It was⏤ It was good. But, uh, then she left.” Joel shrugged in a way that attempted nonchalance but did not meet the mark. “Her leaving hurt for a lot of reasons. For one, in no way was I prepared to take care of a newborn.”

You set your drink on the coffee table before leaning back. Joel stayed silent, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and you recognized the look of someone getting stuck in their own memories. You spoke up, “What happened then? When did you get married?”

“Celina is…” Joel began. He rubbed his jawline. “I spent a lot of time being furious with her⏤ hating her. Not just for leaving me behind, but for leaving Sarah. Sarah deserved better.” He shook his head. “But she… she came to me, needing help, and I⏤ I couldn’t say no. Not to her. And not because I still had any sort of feelings for her, but because no matter how angry I was at her she gave me Sarah.” A vulnerable softness filled his features and he finally lifted his head to meet your gaze fully. “Without Celina, I wouldn’t have Sarah.”

You could understand that. You knew that his daughters meant absolutely everything to Joel. More so, despite all the shit going on between the two of you right now, despite Joel arguing otherwise, you knew he was a good man. You had a very hard time picturing him saying no to anyone who came to him for help. 

“When did she come to you? And why? What problem is solved with marriage?”

“Three years ago. Just about.” Joel mumbled. “It’s… She was sick. Cancer. The only feasible treatment was going to bankrupt her because her insurance refused to cover the cost. Celina came back wanting to see Sarah. Get to know her before she died.” Your eyes widened in surprise at both the news and the confusion that came with trying to connect the dots. “I told her that was up to Sarah⏤ she was old enough to make that decision for herself and I was gonna support her with whatever she chose.”

You nodded slowly, “Okay…”

“Sarah decided she did want to meet her mom. And I…” Joel paused. He set his coffee mug down on the coffee table as well and laced his fingers together. He was fidgeting. Another nervous tick of his. Joel could never seem to keep his hands still when he was caught in his own mind. It was like his hands so desperately wanted to fix what stressed him out⏤ even if it wasn’t a physical problem they could fix. “I⏤ I couldn’t stop thinking… remembering…”

Joel squeezed his eyes shut, and the palpable pain had you shifting closer. It dawned on you. Words clicking in your mind. You set a hand on his forearm and gave it a small squeeze, “Your mom.” Joel had told you, ages ago, that he had lost his own mother to cancer. “You lost her. I remember you telling me.”

“Yes.” Joel unlaced his own fingers so he could settle one hand on top of yours⏤ still resting on his forearm. The tip of his thumb dragged back and forth against the knuckle of your index finger. Tracing the shape of it. “It wasn’t… It wasn’t the exact same, I know that, but… Sarah technically had already lost her once.”

“Joel…”

“I offered to pay. Pay for the treatment in full.” Joel’s thumb stilled to squeeze your hand once. “I’d cover all the costs, but⏤ but Celina refused. Said she didn’t want,” Joel scoffed with a humorless laugh, “Didn’t want to be a ‘charity case’. Said she didn’t come back for my money, or for me to fix the problem, she came back for Sarah.” Joel shook his head. “We argued in circles for God knows how long. We finally settled on this. If we got married, she’d have my insurance instead of her own. My insurance would cover most of the treatments and she’d pay what it didn’t.”

You understood that. It matched up with what you knew about Joel. “How is she? Now?”

“In remission. Since seven months ago, she’s been in remission.” A small smile flickered on his features. “She lives in Waco. Wanted to be closer to Sarah. One of the only reasons I could stomach all of us coming to LA while Sarah stayed in Texas for college. I knew she’d at least have her there in case of emergencies.”

Your face scrunched in question, “Then why… Why are you still married?”

“I don’t have a reason. Not a real one. Not beyond me just being lazy.” Joel said firmly. He held your hand tight, keeping it pinned to his arm, like it was a lifeline. “Up until now, it didn’t matter to me. It made no difference. That’s it. I swear to you, sugar.” The nickname fell out of his mouth like second nature. “And I’m working on changing that already. You can ask Tommy or⏤ or hell I’ll give you Celina’s number or our lawyer’s number. We started the official divorce paperwork the day you and I got back from Vegas. It was the first call I made after dropping you off at your place.”

You did believe him. As Joel held your gaze, all you could see in those soulful eyes was a deep desperation. An ache seeking the comfort that would come with reassurance. “I believe you.” You said softly and his eyes closed in relief. His entire body sagged as the tension seeped out of it. You really did believe him, and of all the ways this could’ve gone wrong technically you supposed this was the best case scenario. However, learning this made you realize what aspect of this bothered you more than most. You slid your hand out from under his. “Why… Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was… I was going to. After.”

“Why though? Why after?” You shook your head. “Why didn’t you trust me with this?” Joel’s face fell again. “I know we haven’t known one another for long, but…” You bit back your words before you admitted to the naive truth that you felt some sort of connection to him. That being with him was as easy as breathing and you foolishly let yourself get carried away. “I don’t…”

Joel quickly scooted closer, a hand held up in surrender, “Had nothing to do with⏤ with me not… I do trust you. I do.” Joel shook his head. “Me not mentioning this had nothing to do with you. It was me.” His words reminded you of Vegas. This excuse was sounding familiar and the more you heard it the harder it was to believe. He hung his head and winced. “I need to tell you about⏤ about Erina.”

“That’s…” You began. “Is that your sugar baby?

“Yeah.” Joel nodded. “But it was more complicated than that.”

“So, I’m gathering.” You mumbled. The words of frustration left your lips before you could filter them. In this situation, you felt you had every right to be upset and bitter, but the look of pained guilt that filled Joel’s features made every cell in your body vibrate with regret. It felt like you had just kicked a puppy, and those sad, brown eyes were heart wrenching. “Sorry.”

Joel shook his head quickly. “No. Don’t. You don’t need to be sorry. I do.”

“You’re talking to me⏤ answering my questions.” You replied with a small shrug. “The least I can do is not be petty.” You twisted your lips. “So? Tell me about her.”

“She wasn’t my sugar baby to begin with.” Joel started softly. He turned his head to keep his gaze on the mug sitting on the coffee table, and you found the story easier to stomach without those powerful eyes focused on you. “My company got hired for a job. It was a big one, which is why it came across my desk. Some summer project. A finance guy wanted his vacation house completely renovated in Malibu. I decided to take a more hands on position for the entire thing. Stayed on site to work.” It wasn’t a shock to hear. You were plenty aware that Joel spent most of his work time on site if he could. Joel only donned a tie for the board room when Tess wrestled him into it. “The guy who hired us wasn’t there, but his wife was. At least, I thought it was his wife.”

“But it wasn’t.”

Joel gave out a sad chuckle, “No. She wasn’t. Erina was… lively and energetic. She was fun, and I… It had been a long time since I experienced that kind of light hearted fun. Plus, the client, when he did come around, was such an asshole to her and I⏤” Joel sighed. “She left him midway through the project, but we didn’t get involved with one another until after it was over. When it started, it was great. The honeymoon phase was…” His voice trailed off as a small, sad smile crossed his face. You found your stomach churn in jealousy at him talking about this other woman. It was damn near nonsensical, but the emotion rose up regardless. “The issues started a while in. I realized that we saw the relationship differently. I thought… I thought what we had was real, and she only saw me as her new sugar daddy.”

For a while, we just went on. I didn’t think the difference in how we viewed things would matter. Stupid, I know, but… I thought I was happy.” Joel mumbled the last bit. He lifted a hand to rub at his jawline. “As you’ve probably figured out, I’m not⏤ I’m not good at this. Relationships and…” He tensed. “Some people are just better off alone, but I’ve been too hard headed to accept that.”

“Joel.” You interrupted the flow of his story at his claim. You didn’t believe that and you especially refused to believe it about Joel. “That’s not⏤”

“Things were still working until I…” Joel shook his head. “I told her about Celina. Tried to explain the situation to her, but when she told me to get divorced and I couldn’t⏤ that’s when it all started to crumble. I didn’t actually end the relationship until after I found out she was seeing a few other guys.” You opened your mouth the speak, the beginnings of a sentence you didn’t know how to end slipping from your tongue, but Joel suddenly turned in his seat to face you and the look in his eyes silenced any attempt at speech. He hesitantly reached out and let his hand settle on top of yours. When you didn’t pull away, he squeezed his grip tighter. “You and Erina are not the same. It wasn’t until after we stopped seeing one another that I realized how terrible our relationship had been. So please, please, don’t think I’m comparing you to her because I’m not. I know how she reacted is not some⏤ some default and you wouldn’t necessarily react the same, but… but every time I considered telling you about Celina, all I could imagine was you leaving. And I, selfishly, stopped myself from admitting the truth to you because I didn’t want to ruin this the way I ruin everything else.”

You murmured his name. Early on, you recognized Joel had trust issues, but you had never realized it stretched this far. Joel didn’t trust even himself. It broke your heart that he thought so poorly of himself. No matter how upset you were at the man you knew deep down he was a good. His mistake had hurt you, but it hadn’t been born of malice. You saw that now. Fear and self doubt had brought the two of you to this crossroads. 

“Joel, that isn’t true.” You said softly. “You don’t ruin everything.”

“The evidence is pretty damning.” Joel chuckled sadly. You opened your mouth to argue, but he shook his head quickly and held out a hand to stop you. “That’s not the point of… I should’ve told you. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I should’ve told you, been up front about it all, and I’m sorry.” Joel sighed. “I’m sorry, sugar.”

He had answered a number of your questions and with the truth came the relief of knowing.  Plus, the answer technically hadn’t been your worst case scenario. God knew your brain was plenty capable of thinking up some nightmare-ish situations. So in comparison, it would be worse. Still, there was an itch that hadn’t quite yet been scratched.

“Why… Why seek out a new sugar baby?” You asked. His experience with Erina had obviously been less than ideal so why try again? You shook your head, “Why me?”

“Those are two very different questions.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I …” Joel began hesitantly. You could see his thoughts jumbling in his mind as he struggled to string one along. Conversations like this were hardly considered Joel’s comfort zone so you did appreciate that he was trying. That went a long way as well. “Erina came back into my life not so long ago.” You felt your stomach drop and your heart clench painfully. The emotional response was so physical that it nearly made you sick. Joel must have noticed because he quickly reached out and settled a hand on your shoulder. “No. Not like that. She means nothing to me. She came to me wanting to get back together, harassing me about it, but I’ve made it crystal clear to her and everyone around us that I have no interest in restarting something with her. Especially now.”

“Okay…”

“The idea was…” Joel winced sheepishly. “The idea was to hire a sugar baby as a way to show her that I was serious. We were done and I was moving on.” It was ridiculous enough that from anyone’s else mouth you wouldn’t have believed them, but they had been said in Joel’s sincerity. “I know how that sounds.”

“Not good. It sounds not good.”

“I know. Everyone told me it was a bad idea. Tess, Sarah, Ellie.” You found it interesting that his daughters knew about their father’s love life to that degree. It spoke to how close they were and his stance on honesty. Joel chuckled. “Actually, the only person who agreed with me on the plan was Tommy, but I suppose that should’ve been a sign to give it up.” Your lips twitched up mildly in amusement. “But, deep down I knew it would hurt Erina, and I… I wanted to be petty.”

You shrugged, “And I’m apart of this… how? To annoy Erina?”

“No.” Joel said firmly, almost roughly. “Absolutely not. Remember the day you bought me that coffee? I said I had been meeting with some other, um, women?” You nodded and let him continue. “By time I made it to the that coffee shop, I had already half decided to give up the idea. It was obviously going poorly. I was literally just looking for someone I wouldn’t mind spending time with and I couldn’t even do that. But you were… God, meeting you felt like a breath of fresh air.” He messily ran a hand through his hair while his other continued to fidget. “You stayed on my mind and when I spotted you again…”

“I…” You tried to find the right words. The ones he would want to hear. It felt odd to give forgiveness for a misunderstanding, but you knew that’s what he was seeking. Validation. “I forgive you.” 

The relief on Joel’s face was staggering and when he held a hand out to you, you knew exactly what he was asking for. You closed the space and let him pull you into a hug. His warm, large hands enveloped you as he craddled the back of your head to hold you as closely to him as you could. You wrapped your own arms around him and lazily dragged your thumb up and down where it rested. 

You did forgive him for this. That was the truth and you meant it with your whole heart, but this entire experience was eye opening. You had fallen for Joel so dangerously fast. It made you realize that if this had been a different scenario, one of the nightmare-ish ones you imagined, it would’ve destroyed you. With the speed you were moving in, you would’ve hit the ground at a million miles per hour and shattered. You forgave Joel, but you needed to figure out a way to better guard your heart.

“I’m sorry for reaching out to a PI.”

“No. Don’t be.” Joel pulled back and the hand at the back of your head dragged forward to cup the side of your face. He sighed, “You were right. I should’ve handled this better, but I… I do appreciate you saying so.” The two of you sat in a moment of silence and for the first time since you met him that silence felt awkward. Joel must have felt it as well based on the clearing of his throat and fidgeting. “So… Are we— Are we okay?”

You nodded, “I think so.” The tension left Joel’s shoulders and you quickly stood. “I should… I should go.”

“You’re off today though, aren’t you?” Joel stood as well.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Stay. Please.” Joel motioned back to the kitchen. “Have breakfast. I called Tommy and he’s gonna bring over your stuff.” Your eyes widened in surprise and he shrugged. “Tommy is gonna bring over your friend who has your stuff I should say.”

You hesitated, nervous after this heart to heart, but Joel held out a hand to you. Equally a peace offering and lifeline. You just weren’t sure if it was a lifeline for you or him. You set your hand in his and he gave it a small squeeze. The smile on his face was soft and open. Two words you knew not many people were able to claim as a description with him. 

Joel led you back toward the kitchen and when you turned to try and go back for your mug he stopped you. He settled you on one of the bar stools, hands lingering on your hips briefly, before going back to the living room for both your mugs. 

“You know, when I pictured you spending the night here this wasn’t quite how I thought it’d go.” Joel chuckled and grabbed a plate. You leaned on the counter and waited since you knew that plate he was making was meant for you. It took a second for his words to dawn on you. Joel pictures you spending the night in his home with him? Your face and neck warmed at the thought. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had those kinds of ideas, but hearing it from him still made your heart flutter. Even with the disaster miscommunication still lingering in your rear view mirror. “Here. Lemme know if you want anything else.” Joel set the plate in front of you and handed you a fork. After making his own plate, he pulled the barstool beside you closer and sat down. He sat sideways to face you and his knee pressed against your stool. “We could, uh, we could have a day in.”

“Hm?” You took a bite of your food.

“We’re both in pajamas and neither of us have work.”

“You don’t have work?” You asked in surprise.

Joel shook his head. “I already called Tess and told her I wasn’t coming in today. Told her I was feeling sick.”

“Did she actually believe you?” You smirked.

“No.” Joel chuckled. “She didn’t. But she also didn’t call me out on my shit, so…”

He gave you a charming smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood, and you found you appreciated it. Things weren't perfect, but for the sake of what had been you were willing to try.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #sugar daddy!joel miller x reader #sugardaddy!joel miller #i forgot what tags i used to use #oh lord #uh #reader insert #joel miller

[pascals-doll]

DISPO

ellie williams x reader

『••✎••』 finally, time for date night. ellie takes you out to the busy city for a beautiful dinner that turns unraveling in many different ways. | WC: 9.0K

ೀ THIS IS A SERIES | FOR ALL PARTS GO HERE

SERIES MASTERLIST

ೀ PSA I LEFT YALL ON A CLIFFHANGER SORRY 👀 PLS DONT HATE ME

ೀ HEAVY FORESHADOWING ID SAY 😭 dispo is such a masterpiece of a song like can i eat the song ?

ೀ description: MODERN AU! CONVERSATIONS ABOUT HARD TOPICS (immigration, family death, bonding over trauma), HOMOPHOBIA AT THE END! IF THIS TRIGGERS U I ADVISE U NOT TO READ!TOXIC BEHAVIOR FROM EX SUGGESTIVE CONTENT ONLY! latina!reader, heavy description of reader having bronze/tawny skintone, mentions of smoking weed, mentions of reader’s insecurities, reader speaks spanish!, bff!dina, latino parents chismiando, brief background on toxic relationship, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, immense flirting, heavy makeout sesh, groping, no use of y/n (use of mama, bonbóm)

CHAPTER THREE

ellie made her way back to the repair lot like she had just won the lottery.

all she did was throw the plastic store-bag onto Joel’s work desk the second she got back into the garage, completely ignoring Joel.

she immediately whipped out her phone to open your contact that she had been dying to open ages ago.

“earth to ellie williams-miller!” joel semi-shouts in an attenpt tone get her attention.

ellie was too busy typing her fingers away.

gatúbela 💋

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u will be seeing me there as a customer alot more ⤶ 6:00 PM

✉️ ᴮᵉᵉᵖ..! one messageˎˊ˗

6:02 PM ⤷ i can get used 2 u as a regular ;)

ellie was cheesing at her phonescreen like a kid with their first phone.

can i call u later tonight? ⤶ 6:04 PM

6:05 PM ⤷ yess ill lyk when i get off work

get home safe ⤶ 6:06 PM

6:07 PM ⤷ ay ay captain 🫡

you both went home that night to enjoy a 3 hour phone call.

you both didn’t get any rest that night.

every morning felt like a blessed morning, especially waking up to a text from miss Ellie Williams-Miller.

you had learned her full name when you exchanged each other’s a few nights ago during your endless phone call with the inamoratà.

she was chivalrous and sweetly coltish.

she captivated you in such a manner, you never thought you could feel so whole before.

she had you smitten and you didn’t even notice.

Dina didn’t miss a single second of every moment. the way she couldn’t tear you away from your phone even during your shared daily binge of ‘Vanderpump Rules’ together.

Dina will never forgot that night you came back to Dina’s apartment from working at the convenience store. you had came through the front door, dropping your purse on the ground before screaming like bloody-murder.

Dina ran out of her room frantically to find her bestfriend capering around before twirling with her hands in the air “okay okay! just needed to get that out ma’system!” you exhale out, stopping in place like you were im the middle of a stage; performing.

you connected your excited eyes with Dina’s “are you on crack?” Dina asks you jokingly.

you chuckled “you won’t believe who just happened to walk up into store!” your question being rhetorical as your face beamed as you throw yourself onto her couch.

“i’m listening!” you spent the entire night, staying up and talking to Dina about how Ellie just managed to run into where you work.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

all of your mornings for a month now have consisted of dulcet messages from ‘green eyes’. you refer to the contact you gave her.

you would wake up and do your usual morning routine which now had one extra add-on to every part of your routine.

each moment was complimented by a graceful reminder of Ellie as you woke with a ping from your phone; knowing it was her.

she would call you while you made breakfast and ever since, she face-timed you once on accident in the middle of your morning toke; she now calls every 12 pm to smoke with you through face-time.

you both only really had time to talk as you both got busy quickly. especially since you learned that working at Joel’s car-shop is very time-consuming, ellie went on about one day.

Ellie moved to your hometown from Jackson five years ago which completely explained the country accent she carried in her voice.

she emphasized on how Joel got a job opportunity to be able to open up his own shop with his brother that had moved out here with his wife.

she told you about how moving to help him by working at the car-shop taught her a lot of patience. Ellie was very patient and percise about the things she did, it became a habit to do even outside of work.

ellie was probably also one of the greatest listeners you’ve ever met because when she listened, she understood.

she understood you.

even if it was through the phone, depicting her facial expression through a pixelated screen. ellie’s facial expressions never faltered from intentive and enthralled.

she understood the fact that when you told her you lived with your parents still.

how personally, you just couldn’t call all those times she asked as you were dying to answer.

she never pushed for questions out of you, allowing you to give her any information you chose to give her.

she just complimented you almost like it was perfect.

although she approached you with a more somewhat open-book while you reserved yourself a bit more, Ellie didn't mind it at all.

she was patient. very patient.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

you both had planned to go out together ages ago but it felt like the universe just loved to fuck with you.

the day you were supposed to go on the date with Ellie. you had spent your entire morning on Face-Time with Dina, trying to find out what to wear.

you had told your mom you were going out with a new friend you made last night. of course, latino parents cant help the chisme.

“si si, no, estoy feliz de que ella empiece a sentirse mejor después de ese chico ay,”( yea yea, no, im glad shes starting to feel better after that boy, ay)

“sí, saldrá con un amiga esta noche, está muy emocionada!” (yes, shes going out with a friend tonight, shes really excited!)

why was this bad? well because somehow-someway during all the chismiando between your family, it got to your ex’s family.

this later on resulted to him showing up to your work, trying to find you to talk fifteen minutes after you had just clocked out. you end up getting a call from your tía saying that "he needed to talk to you" which only made your heart anguish.

needless to say, the families were still in-close contact even with the messy break-up. the only reason is because you basically grew up with your bitch-ass ex.

he was your family friend for so many years, but it was so cute and innocent the little crush you had on him for years. you even went to the same schools together; both of your parents wanted you together, in a sense.

it was planned and as you got older, you began to realize.

he was your first everything.

anything you could think of, he was the one to cross it off your list. you can't say you regret it or anything because it was a love that festered for ages between the both of you. you just couldn't compare your relationship with him to much other romantic experiences.

he was all you knew.

while you all the people you knew were hooking up, experiencing different 'situationships'.

you didn't feel left out because it wasn't the 'hooking up and different talking stages'. it was the fact that the times that your ex did leave you; stating he needed a 'break' to do god knows what...

the 'men'.... if you could even call them that by the way they handled themselves. they weren't worthy, not even a moment of your time.

it was tiring and you found your eye-candy would be women, but you were too oblivious to know. you wouldn't realize the lingering stares and double-takes you would do whenever you found a woman attractive without thinking.

that being said, before time came to close of going out on that date with the woman you had growing adoration for because of how panicky you grew.

you hated breaking the news to Ellie, having to tell her family came up although you ended up calling her an hour later till midnight.

you were beyond alarmed now, knowing your ex had tried to reach you.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

regardless of all the 'bullshit' and Ellie picking up extra hours at the shop, you both finally were going on that date.

a part of you was slightly grateful for the delay, you got to be in her presence more; getting the chance to learn more about her.

you had spent the whole week preparing yourself. you didn't need any help getting ready, you were a pro in that department. you were mentally preparing yourself; preparing yourself to have a good dinner like you've never done that with someone before.

you've been on dates, but you wouldn't even pack your appetizer to go, not even getting a proper entree because you knew you would leave the table and that brainless moron before you even got your first bite in.

if we were to talk about dates with your ex, that is one thing you for sure both didn't do on dates; was talk. you would just sit there in silence enjoying the meal that you didn't have to pay for, that is one thing you will miss.

green eyes 🍀

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goodmorning stinky ⤶ 11:11 AM

✉️ ᴮᵉᵉᵖ..! one messageˎˊ˗

11:11 AM ⤷ foodmorning smelly

⤷ goodmorning** am i ur wish ☺️

corny ahh ⤶ 11:12 AM

but yes u are will u make it come true :3 ⤶

11:13 AM ⤷ u will jus have to find outt wont ya

ouu surprises u rlly tryna butter me up ⤶ 11:13 AM

11:14 AM ⤷ if u probs punched me

⤷ id lowk like it

??? 😭 shut up idiot ⤶ 11:15 AM

when shall i be ready by ma’am ? ⤶

11:15 AM ⤷ its hot when u speak like we in old times

⤷ how long do u need mama ?

ur making me blush oh my oh my ⤶ 11:17 AM

jkjk i get off work today at 2:30 ⤶

just an hour will be good :) is 4:30 okay with u ? ⤶

11:18 AM ⤷ cus of ur sarcasm i give u 15 mins 🤗

⤷ 4:30 is perfect i dont have work today so im all urs

haha hilarious ⤶ 11:19 AM

thank you for the ride :) i rlly appreciate it ⤶

11:20 AM ⤷ shhh

⤷ ofc like a real gentlewoman ‼️✂️

⤷‼️‼️*** THAT WAS NOT ON PURPOSE

⤷ im gonna kms

oh ellie baby u need a new phone or sum ⤶ 11:20 AM

but yes a real gentlewoman indeed ✂️ ⤶

i gtg :( ill ttyl green eyes ⤶

11:21 AM ⤷ ihy but lmk gorgeous

⤷ ill see u soon

💋 ⤶ 11:21 AM

“jesus! back up, you lookin’ mad scary” Dina’s voice rings through the speaker of your phone, bringing your attention back to the Face-Time you were on with her.

you let out a playful scoff as you got up from laying down on your bed "let me guess, Ellie?" Dina chimes in as she sees the way you were cheesing at your phone.

"yeah....." you let out a pleasant sigh like some toddler who finally got the ice cream they spent all day begging for.

"yeah-if you don't take your gay ass to work" Dina giggles out, mocking your tone at first "oh whatever! I'll call you later, pendeja" you giggle out with her before hanging up the phone and getting ready for work.

you swallowed the uneasy gut feeling in your stomach, putting music on before you began to put your hair up. you weren't going to let your paranoia and emotions get the best of you.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

work was longer than expected, you practically watched the clock tick with anticipation. you couldn't wait to clock out, quite literally run home, and get dolled up.

you don't remember the last time you got so euphoric over a date, the overwhelming excitement and nervousness brining your mental back getting ready for your first date ever; except you felt yourself even more overjoyed than the first.

since you were a kid, you loved dress-up. if it was one thing for certain about yourself, it was what you wanted and how you wanted it. you carried yourself in your appearance, making it your amor.

even in your most weak moments, you will admit that your look never failed to loom out. people were never ever able to tell when you were depressed or angry; masked perfectly by your bold makeup and clothing.

your outstanding clothing making up for your lack of self-assurance, never letting anyone even think for a second that you weren't full of experiences due to your confident personality.

people wouldn't be able to understand you, simply due to the fact that although you haven't lived much to find your inner identity. you knew who you who you were still in some imbalanced messy way. it didn't matter to a person at surface level because of your menacing demeanor, automatically making them nervous under your tigress gaze.

your ex began to hate it at some point as he found your vixen-self threatening to his masculinity. after two years of being together, you noticed how he began to try to control what you wear and how you did your makeup by trying to have a 'say' in what you wore.

when you never let it happen, you picked up on his automatic distance and at some point, even beginning to slut-shame you as way of insulting you.

the only reason you didn't like it was because of how you could pull anyone away from him, taking all his cheating ways away.

this feeling Ellie erupted in your soul, it was better than all your first's.

once you arrived home, walking in through the front door as you quickly greeted your parents before making your way up to your bedroom. you took your phone and sent a message to Ellie, letting her know you were home.

you immediately got to calling Dina as you began to shuffle through all the clothing in your closet. you wanted to wear something valiant but not flashy.

you began to throw out of their hanger's different assortments of bottoms, dresses, and different shirt combinations; soon your floor was covered in different clothing ideas.

"I don't want to wear something that makes her think I'm a hooker" you explain to your best friend through the phone as you showed her the past 10 different outfit options.

"girl, the options weren't even that raunchy! hmm, I say-the cheetah dress!" Dina affirms pleasantly through the phone screen. you pick up the skin-tight tube-slip dress to try it on once more.

it was covered in the cheetah print pattern, it made your body eccentricate as the dress hugged your curves and stopped at perfect mid-thigh length.

the dress brought out all your features perfectly. the print pattern complimented your tawny skin and stopped right above the chest, hugging your torso completely.

it was simple yet a statement piece.

you thought it wasn't too party-like nor too fancy while you checked yourself out in your long mirror "that's the one! pair it with a coat!" Dina cheers as you spin around for her in the camera's view for her approval.

"okay with what shoes!?" you ask you began to look for a coat to match with your dress.

Dina continued to help you put your entire outfit together. she helped you end up choosing your black platform slip mary-janes with a beige jean coat that had furry lining inside of the jacket.

you began to do your signature makeup look, your eyes never without the thick long black wing as your golden highlighter created a halo for your natural illumination from your bronze tone.

you added a muted pink blush to your face to cause the perfect hue on your cheeks before sealing your makeup look all together with your iconic cocoa lipliner, applying your lip combo.

you started looking through all your gold jewels, trying to find decide which jewelry would be perfect for this outfit. you choose these gold earrings that dangled, scattering your fingers with thick gold rings, and your neck being complimented by your golden rosario's and small shining medallions.

by the time you were ready, 4:30 rolled around in no time.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

you puffed on the joint that you hastily rolled in a way to calm your nerves before Ellie arrived, you were leaning against the bay window inside your living room as you dozed off into the front street of your house through the open window. you began to think about all the possible ways this night; alone with her could go.

just the thought alone could have shivers running up your spine as your stomach was queasy with butterflies. once you finished your joint, you seen a black car pull up to the front of your house, not even two minutes later; your phone rang out a ping.

you quickly checked yourself out once more before retouching any makeup you felt needed. you made your way to your front door, kissing your mom goodbye before walking out.

you felt and heard your heart pound against your chest with each step, you were thankful for that smoke break or else you would've been sweating right now. your body felt hot and flushed; you haven't even seen the woman yet.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

Ellie smiled at the little notification of your message from only a couple minutes ago before staying keeping an eye on your front-door.

Ellie was trying her hardest to swallow her nerves, she could only reminisce on the all the trouble she went through to even get an outfit that she thought was 'good enough'.

she made a mess of her room before just shoving it all to the side as she began to straighten her hair and throwing it up into a lazy half up-half down.

as Ellie was lost in thought, she peeped from the corner of her eye your silhouette from outside of her tinted car window get closer. Ellie wasted no time in opening her car door, stepping outside.

she left her door open as she made her way over to you.

the second Ellie's eyes fell onto you, it felt like the entire world stopped.

gorgeous wasn't even enough of a word to describe the way you looked.

you looked purely otherworldly, like you had been descended from Cleopatra herself.

Ellie was at a loss of words, your beauty completely striking the words right out her mouth as her steps haltered at the front of the passenger car-door. your prepossessing glamour completely capturing her as her eyes sparkled at you in awe.

but she wasn't the only one who was drooling.

your lip began to tingle in pain as you bit onto it, trying to stop your mouth from falling open as you shamelessly gawked at her. you didn't even notice her checking you out as you were doing the exact same thing.

Ellie was wearing a white crop top that stopped at the lower of her stomach, completely hugging her chest as the muscles of her arms flexed a bit as her hands were tugged away into the pocket of her fitted corduroy dress pants that bagged at the bottom. it was complimented by a black belt with a silver thick buckle, her semi-long crop top flowing above her dress pants perfectly.

she had an assortment of silver rings decorating her long fingers as her tattooed arms had a couple of different bracelets hugging each wrist and her infamous converse.

"oh fuck" you couldn't help but let your thoughts be audible as the light of the sunset now completely dawned on the both of you.

the way the sun sparkled onto her freckles, gleaming her green-hazel eyes while her hair was thrown up into the cutest hairstyle. Ellie was completely mesmeric, craving her completely.

your out-loud thought seemed to snap Ellie out of her own mesmerized daze. she threw you an awkward smile before opening the car-door to the passenger "just for you" Ellie slys out, trying to stop her breath from hitching.

you made her a complete mess under your gaze.

the sentence that fell from her delectable lips chimed through your ears like the melody of a song.

"why thank you" you say sweetly, your smile being slightly shy as you ducked into the passenger seat of her car as Ellie made her way back into the driver's seat.

"soo where are you taking me?"

you question once she was sat in the seat with a smile on your face "there's this fancy place-Joel recommended it t'me, it has a good selection of different cuisines." Ellie explains, her attention completely on you as her eyes can't help but continue to rake throught your body.

your heart fluttered, she really put alot of effort into this evening. it's not like you didn't think that she wasn't going to take you out somewhere nice but you just didn't think she would put so much thought by even going to ask Joel for advice.

you found is so sweet how she thought ahead and methodically by even choosing a place that didn't have a specific selection of food; not wanting to force you to eat anything you didn't like.

you were an observant person just as much as Ellie was, it was one thing that made you guys connect on a different level. you guys couldn't hide from each other as you both felt every emotion that radiated off each other.

she cared, she put everything together carefully.

"if that's not okay! we-we can go anywhere you want!" Ellie grew nervous as you stared at her, scared you weren't going to like her plans "oh! shut up Williams, i love it." you giggle out, reaching a hand over to put a finger in between her lips naturally before removing it but still slightly leaned into the atmosphere of her seat.

"you look-phew-there isn't even a word for how stunning you look" the compliment was sincere as she leaned into you more, closing the space between you two; not even thinking as she just completely soaked you in like her you were her biggest blessing.

she made you fall into putty with the flattery Ellie rushed into you "it's sexy knowing that we both smoked before this" you joke out, trying ease the overwhelming emotion fulfilling your insides as you could smell the mango cigarillo on her from the blunt she smoked earlier.

Ellie chuckles out which is only music to your ears "you look really amazing, els" your tone sheeped out as you continued the close intimacy between the both of you. the nickname fell from your lips like you had been saying it your whole life.

the tension was thick and oozing.

Ellie bit her lip in between her teeth as she couldn't help but give a big smile before looking away from your enchanting eyes.

"you ready for our date?" Ellie boosts like a little kid, it was the first time she had put so much effort into taking care and taking anyone out. she used to mainly go on cafe dates or to the movies because you barely had to talk.

this time was completely different, you were like a diamond in a sea of rocks.

Ellie felt the need to give you the best of her.

"I've never been more ready for anything."

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

you finally pulled up to the restaurant, the valet at front leading you to the reserved parking lot once the valet person handed Ellie her ticket. you insisted on paying for parking, but Ellie didn't even give you a meer second to dig into your black mini purse after making the suggestion.

"its only $20, don't worry about it" was all she said, her hand touching yours reassuringly.

you would never know it, but each extra hour Ellie picked up slaving away at black grease and car parts was going to be worth every penny spent on you; together tonight.

the car ride was beyond delightful as you and Ellie practically shared the same music taste, even putting her onto some old Spanish songs as she admired the way your voice sung each lyric; even trying to say a couple of the lyrics as you encouraged her.

"did you learn English or Spanish first?"

Ellie asked more questions about your ethnic background.

yes, she knew where your parents were from since you told her during one of the many Face-Time calls, but she wanted to know more about your personal experiences with your culture.

you thought it was sweet the blithesome demeanor she had when indulged into you every time you spoke.

you both bounced off each other, your energies working together as the natural flow of your egos meet like magnets, there was no worry about how you both looked to one another, no worries that anything you might say or do is wrong; Ellie didn't make you second-guess your own being as you didn't make Ellie over-analyze everything.

you both brought out the best and drowned out the hardest parts of the both of you.

the restaurant was located inside of a wide outside mall that had an area full of different dining places.

when Ellie parked the car in the open parking lot, she got out of the car and immediately went to open your door like the 'gentlewoman' she was.

she grabbed your hand as you put your two feet out, stepping each one down elegantly onto the outside pavement as her hand helped you up and out of her car before proceeding to shut the door closed for you.

you smoothed out your dress once you stood up as Ellie's hand rested on the small of your back comfortingly, your stomach was doing cartwheels and all types of fucking flips.

you both walked in through the front doors, close together as you are immediately greeted by the hostess.

"Hello there, good evening! do one of you have a reservation with us tonight?" the blonde woman asks as she smiles sweetly between the both of you "Yes, that'd be me. It's under 'Ellie Miller'" she replied.

you smiled at how she shorten her name which she only looked over to return sheepishly "perfect! follow me" the blonde hostess exclaims as she grabbed two menu's and began to lead you to your table.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

your table was a semi-booth, more tucked to the corner yet still in the semi-center of the extended restaurant walls.

the table was decorated with lit candles and a small-dangly chandelier above the both of you. the restaurant had fake vines all around the shelving's and ceiling. the place had a classical fairy-burrow esque to it.

the lighting was warm and dim, not overpowering the both of you at all as the rest of the restaurant blended into a shadow by the strong illumination from only the lit candles at your table, highlighting the both of you for only each other.

"I absolutely adore this place, thank you for taking me here." you were slightly awe-struck. sure, Cheesecake Factory is alright, but this wasn't just about the location.

it was how she was the one to take you here.

"I'm happy you like it, it looks better than in the pictures" Ellie jokes out as she held the menu in her hand, not even looking at it. you giggle out, playfully smacking the small of her hand.

you both began to scroll through the menu together, going over each thing as Ellie asked for your intel for anything your finger lingered on.

Ellie was also slightly becoming indecisive between the options she had her eyes on. almost naturally, you scoot closer into her, legs completed pushed up against each other, and snaking an arm around Ellie without a thought.

as you were helping her choose the waiter finally arrives.

"Hello ladies, how can i help you-" the waiter stops talking the second you both look up at him.

he was a tall man that had dreads falling down his face, concealing it slightly as you couldn't quite get a good look at his face, his tall frame and elegant work suit only in lighting's view.

you could see by the glint of the candles, the way his expression changed but his eyes weren't peeled onto the both of you. they were trained onto you.

there was this unruly tension that began to form and engulf the atmosphere.

you could feel the way his eyes glared into you, only you. you watched through the shitty lighting how his forehead creased, and his eyebrows snapped together before abruptly clearing his throat.

"So sorry! Good evening are you ready to order?" the tone wasn't the same although he excused himself, there was this dead and forced tone talking to the both of you.

you watched the way his eyes fell onto Ellie, feeling uneasy about the whole thing.

"mhm your excused, i would like the Chicken Tikka-Masala with seasoned rice. then for my girl-" Ellie tone came off as stand-offish, she wasn't oblivious to the actions of the waiter for whatever reason for his actions.

she gave you a soft smile as you began to order your dish of choice.

the waiter didn't say anything, completely noting down your order in silence as your eyed burned into him. there was something about him that itched you. not in a good way at all.

you tried to focus your vision and brain on him while trying not to alarm Ellie, it was like it was on the tip of your tongue.

he seemed familiar, he felt familiar.

your mind couldn't put a pin on it but this subconscious familiarization with him slowly begins to bubble a small anxiety inside you.

just like that, he walks away; not giving a second glance to either of you.

'if i could've only read his nametag' you thought.

"poor waiter was checking you out" Ellie teases causing you slightly giggle but you were too alarmed to give a genuine reaction.

that man was definitely not checking you out.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

Ellie was quick to make all that anxiety and harrowing thoughts vanish within the blink of your eye.

your meals were brought out to you with no problem by some polite woman, completely forgetting about the man as now all you could think about was the woman you were on this splendid date with.

the conversations were deep as you both died to know more like you were each other's favorite subjects. the both of you were so enthralled between the conversations you shared and the growing sexual tension.

you felt at such ease with her, Ellie could even help you open up about topics that you considered "hard to talk about" for the longest.

it was your very first date with her and you were already each-other's open-books.

you opened up to her more about your family. you told her about how your parents were immigrants and the second you turned 18 and your older sister was 25 and wanted to start her family; they put your childhood home under your name which is why you still lived with them.

you felt safe as you unraveled yourself. she listened to every family story, even the 'bad' ones.

you bonded over your family businesses and passion for one another's hobbies. you learned how she loved to play the guitar besides art, she also knew a lot about naturalism and camping.

you loved hearing her talk about her love for the outdoors, one of her stories being how she took a road trip with Joel once all the way to California for one of her birthday's; just so she could see the ocean.

Ellie opened up about how it was like growing up without ever getting to know her mom due to her passing.

you both didn't feel the need to hide the ugly from each other as you both indulged in it, not a single ounce of judgement or need for questioning.

you both just heard each other as your souls sang together.

you even enjoyed your meal in silence, usually hard topics could create a uneasy or awkward tone for the rest of the night but instead you both thought your meals were even more delightful.

there wasn't an ounce of awkwardness in the silence while you enjoyed your Indvidual meals; or insecurities between the two of you as you both made each other feel imperfectly perfect.

"wanna try some of mine, bombón?" the new little term of endearment fell naturally from your lips which caused the softest pink hue spread over Ellie's cheeks, barely visible.

"I don't know what that means but I love it." Ellie beams as she answers your question with the action of leaning her head closer for the spoonful of your food that you were holding on your utensil.

you giggle out as you feed her the spoonful as you take her in while she was leaned in this close to your face.

as you got closer to finishing your meals, you both reminisced about high school years. Ellie told you about how she picked up basketball which has the fault for the number of wife-beaters she owns. you told her about how you used to play volleyball. you were actually the best on the team because you were one of the only ones who knew how to do a proper carry. you only did volleyball till your senior year where Dina convinced you to join the Dance Team with her.

"oh, I need to know about those dance days!" Ellie cheered out as she gave you a playful smirk "well, where did you think I picked up those little moves from?" you leaned into her ear as you spoke lowly, your tone turning suggestive. frankly, as much as you hate to admit it. you aren't stupid to the fact that just Ellie giving you one look had your arousal, as a matter of fact, dripping.

Ellie was on the exact energetic page as you, the hazel in her eyes darken as her eyes pour into you "ah I see, I wonder what else you can show me" Ellie shamelessly flirted with you.

if both meals were done; Ellie was ready to handle the check and get you all to herself.

"depends baby, whatcha' tryna see?" your tone was laced with pure sexual insinuation as your lips brushed against her ear, causing shivers down her spine. Ellie leaned herself into you more before turning her head to be face-to-face with you; your lips brushing together.

you couldn't hear the way your hearts palpitate together in sync, only hearing each other's own individual hearts boom as you both become insatiable for each other.

"is it okay if I fix myself up in the restroom while you pay? will you meet me there?" your tone was only seductive and teasing as you took your hand to caress her lower thigh.

"go on mama, don't worry" her voice was barely above a whisper against your lips, you smile against them slightly before pecking them softly.

all she could do was watch as you. the way your ass hugged that dress as your tits perked up as you sat up, the way your bronze legs stepped away from her while you made your way to the ladies room.

Ellie eyes that were trained on your body walking away from her was obstructed by the tall waiter from before. this time he was standing closer, and Ellie got to get a better look at him.

"ready for the check?"

"yes, that would be amazing."

Ellie couldn't help but give the man a mean stare at the man as she signed off the check before placing her card into the checkbook.

he left without a word but took a double look, noticing how you werent sitting next to her.

once the check made its way back, Ellie didn't waste any time on making her way to that restroom.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

while you were in the restroom, you quickly touched up your lip combo; hoping for it only get ruined.

soon enough, Ellie walked through the restaurant bathroom door. you made eye contact with her before walking off into a stall. you shut the stall door behind you, but you didn't lock it.

of course, Ellie follows; this time actually locking the door behind her. she stalked her way closer to you as you were up against the fancy bathroom wall, shit even the stall had its own mirror.

she got closer and closer to you, only speaking up once she was face-to-face with you again.

"for someone who's never been with a girl before, you seem to know the gay agenda very well" Ellie couldn't help but joke although her face had a smirk smeared all over it.

the little sly remark that left her lips caused your cheeks to flush.

your arms wrap around Ellie's neck, pulling her closer to you "I've never been actively gay, but I should've known when I used to watch "The L word" when everyone was asleep in high school..." you grin, you were kind-of joking.

Ellie lets out a laugh "oh yeah mama, you are definitely into women." you smack her chest teasingly with a smile which she only softly grips your wrist, pulling you into her. now chest-to chest as your faces skim against each other.

♫₊˚.🎧 now playing: DISPO

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

"kiss me" it wasn't a question; it was more like a wish.

a wish you knew Ellie would grant whenever you wanted.

"your wish is my command, mama."

♫ ¿qué le habrán hecho a esa bebé? que está rebelá

no le gustaba antes prender

y ahora sin miedo quema

¿será que terminó con él? ♫

Ellie's lips waste no time in hastily meeting yours. the kiss was automatically filled with passion, finally relieving all the tension that oozed between the two of you for the whole evening; falling into the night.

Ellie's tongue swiped against the bottom of your lip softly causing you to let out a stifled whimper, she pulls away momentarily "ya'like that?" she teases, she knows you like it. she wants to hear you say it.

♫ ta dura la bebé, puesta pa ella, se le ve

que ella sabe lo que tiene

por cómo lo mueve ♫

you aren't the type to submit easily but god this time, every part of you was ready to do everything and anything she told you.

you still aren't the type to submit even as her hands raked up and down your back as her tongue loosens your lips ever-so-softly.

"mhmm" you let out threw a bit lip as your eyes hazed out as her lips continued their blissful synchronized rhythm.

"use your words" Ellie divulged.

"i-i like it when you kiss me-when y'kiss me, els" your voice fainted out as it slightly whimpered with the pecks that were being left alongside your face, down to your neck.

'when y'kiss me, els' your whimper replayed in her mind over and over again, like a broken record.

♫ salió a la disco a pasarla rico, a janguear

ahora está dispo, pero no cualquiera le da ♫

Ellies hands went from holding your back to now squeezing the thick flesh of your hips as her clothed corduroy leg came in-between your exposed legs while she leaned into you, burrowing her face into your neck.

Ellie's pecks quickly became open-mouthed kisses as she basically attacked your neck with her lips. she was determined on finding your sweet spot with each kiss she left on your neck, tainting you with her.

every single little suck and kiss from Ellie was a choked moan or luscious snivel. you couldn't help but squirm in her encaged embrace as her palms were flat against the wall, on each side of your head.

"aye milagro!" you lewdly moan out, you removed one of your arms from around Ellie's neck to cover your mouth with your hand. you could feel the smirk that took over her lips once she pulled away.

there it is.

♫¿qué tú crees, bebé?, a ver, olvídate de él

cho-cho-chócame, yo me pierdo en tu piel ♫

she attaches her lips to the nape of your neck which is where lied your sweet spot, softly sucking as you rustled your body against her.

the fabric of her corduroy pants rubbing the slightest bit against your soaked panties.

"hmm, ya'like that too?" Ellie lets out a content hum as she pulls away, continuing her teasing innuendos.

Ellie was a gentleman; she wasn't going fuck you on the first date.

but she knew to bring you otherworldly pleasure beyond just the sexual level.

"mm-yes!" your moan was rushed and hushed as you spoke against your mouth. you loved anything Ellie did to you like a drug, like you had gotten a taste of your own personal crack-cocaine.

Ellie's hands have now made their way to your ass, fondling the flesh through your tight printed dress as it began to ride up with each squirm you let out.

"tell me mama, has he kissed you here?" the question was sincere, Ellie wanted to learn about all of you.

"shut up els, please-do it again" you pleaded as the smallest pout fell upon your lips yet your cat-eyes burning into Ellie's dark and hazed out eyes.

"what did he do to you mama, makin' you fight all this pleasure? he ain't know what to do with all this, hm?" Ellie's demeanor became slightly dominant.

"what makes you think you can you handle me?" you put up a challenge as you picked up on the change, liking it.

she was right, he had never paid delectable attention to the sweet nape of your neck like she just did, but you would make Ellie earn that information.

Ellie didn't say anything, she only harshly squeezed your ass causing a dirty smile to tug your lips as you slightly spread your legs for her knee to fall into your arousal, pressing the forming heat between your legs against her clothed knee.

"believe me mama, once you're all mine. you gon'forget all about him-" she began to ramble against your skin as her lips brushed against each exposed area.

"I can't get emasculated by the fact my baby so strong, the way that body moves-" Ellie continued, squeezing your ass once more when saying "that body" as she pulls you even closer to her, completely off the bathroom wall and chest-to-chest with her.

"I'll get lost in all of your power and beauty, m'not no dumbass-i'll be your throne." Ellie devoted herself to you.

"and exactly for all that, our time will be a lot more special than this restaurant bathroom" Ellie finishes, leaving one last peck on your neck and shoulder before leaning back up to meet your lips with hers.

your heart was overpouring as she fixed your dress for you and even began to carry your mini purse for you.

you think you just fell in love, no. you know you just fell in love.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

you were both making your way out of the ladies' restroom 20 minutes later, hand in hand.

as you both were making your way to the front of the restaurant doors, you caught a quick glance at the male waiter from earlier which he didn't miss. you turn your head away without a second thought or care for who the man was.

Ellie reaches for the door handle, getting ready to step out.

except a voice calls out abruptly.

"excuse me!?"

you and Ellie's head snap back towards his direction. Ellie stopped herself from pulling the door open, her hand not leaving the handle.

"i wonder how he would feel if he knew his girl was a dyke"

before you knew it, you were seeing red.

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#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou smut #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams fluff #the last of us fandom #ellie williams series #lesbian #GATÚ🌺

[kookslastbutton]

Wild Ride ༓ jjk (m) I Pt. I

✑ Summary: 1980s—the peak of heavy metal and rock 'n roll. Bassist Jeon Jungkook wants to get in front of the trend with his up and rising band but not without hitting up his bitchin' hot manager first.

Pairing: 80s heavy metal bassist!jungkook x music manager!reader

AU/genre: pwp, smut, fluff, crack, decades au, band au, rockstar au, co-workers2lovers, e2l, two part drabble series? (Maybe 3)

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 1,877

Warnings: soft dom!jungkook x switch!reader, slight begging, babygirl (but not in the overly sub way), f*ngering, penetration, d*rty talk, teasing, cussing, wall f*cking, orgasm denial, f*ing in maintence closet, talks about fantasies, kook has groupies, surprise ending 😇

A/N: okay the summary is not the best also contrary to name, the car isn't in this chapter sorry 👀 anyway, I cant shake 80s JJK bc well, you know why. This was fun to write and I hope you enjoy 💗

"Ah Jungkook—"

"Shh, take it easy babygirl." He brings a hand up to cradle your jaw while the other slips between your thighs, flushing your back against his much firmer chest. "Don't want anyone to find us here do we? Or, you, I should say."

His words are provocative. Jungkook knows you'd never want to be caught dead with him but here you are, naked in some random maintenance closet with him.

The only thing that can be seen in the tiny room is the hallway light peeking through the cracks of the door and the occasional shadow walking by.

Everything else is to be felt.

"Fuck you smell so good." His soft, pillow-like lips graze the shell of your ear and you shiver, skin covering in goosebumps.

Two of his slender fingers sink into your heat not three seconds later and you realize the smell he's talking about...is not your perfume.

You're soaking wet.

And it doesn't help that Jungkook loves nothing more than to drag his fingers inside you at a painstakingly slow pace.

The reason he does it?

Because everytime he pulls them out, your moans get longer and his fingers get warmer and stickier with your cum.

"Want another?" His smoky voice vibrates near your ear. You're repulsed by how hard your walls clamp down on his digits by it, nevertheless, you manage a nod.

Jungkook smirks and adds a third finger, stretching you even more.

"Oh, fuck—" your breath hitches at the intrusion.

Jungkook wishes he could see your face better; mouth open and eyes closed as he pumps his fingers into you. But the way the back of your head lazily falls against his shoulder gives him enough of a view to be satisfied.

His cock swells in his tight black jeans.

He's sure you can feel it too.

"Kook," you moan, "Faster, please."

You beg to have the cord inside you finally snap but he doesn't change his speed. He curls his fingers instead, sweeping a wave of simutaneous pleasure and frustration through your whole body.

"So it's Kook now? Wasn't expecting you to be so endearing, manager." He snickers. "Not ten minutes ago you were calling me a total pain in your ass. What's up with that I wonder..."

He moves his tatted hand from under your jaw to kneed one of your soft breasts. Your nipples excite under his touch, pebbling instantly.

"Shit!"

You cruse when his thumb decides to flick atop your nipple. Jungkook repeats the motion a few more times before giving it a small tug.

"Is it because you like it?" He seethes. "When I'm a pain in your ass?"

Your hips buck as his fingers start scissoring inside you.

It goes against all you've worked towards, all the contracts you've signed, and promises you've made to yourself, that you are shamelessly enjoying the bassist you manage to finger fuck you into oblivion.

You could blame it on the fact that you're overstressed and Jeon Jungkook just happens to be a willing party for your stress relief.

But no.

He's hot. Fucking hot.

When he gets on stage, he burns it up. His messy long hair gets messier, his sweat glistens under the massive strobe lights, and damn does he go through electric guitars the same way he shreds through his shirts.

You've had to tell him repeatedly to take it down a notch because the budget for a new guitar after every gig isn't looking that forgiving.

And the band he's with is only starting to become big so pinching pennies is still a must until they get a more steady following.

Still, Jeon Jungkook has no god.

He walks his own path.

The band also has a ton of groupies who constantly throw themselves at the members.

Jungkook in particular has one woman begging to have his babies.

But you, his manager, the most off-limits person, is the one he's most likely to be impregnating.

The worse part?

You don't hate the idea—fuck.

"I'll take your silence as a yes," Jungkook calls you back to the present, his fingers quickening their speed inside you.

"Oh god!" Your feel your legs turn to jelly, pussy throbbing as the knot in the pit of stomach teases to unwind. "I'm about five seconds from coming."

Jungkook takes this as his queue to circle the pad of his thumb on your clit.

"C'mon babygirl," he growls, "Come on my fingers so I can make you come even harder on my dick. Can't wait to feel you drench them both. So fucking sexy."

You release on his hand a few, short heavy pants later—the first orgasm of the night.

Jungkook slips his fingers out of you and cleans them off by sticking them in his mouth.

"What?" He notices your baffeled expression. "If you dont think I'm going to enjoy every bit of you, then this is going to be a very long night for you."

You swallow hard and he turns you completely around so your chest to chest.

You forgot he still had his clothes on, tight black jeans with an open button down shirt that allows every trace of his abs to be the focus of every wandering eye—yours in this case.

"By the way," Jungkook says. "You're the sweetest I've ever tasted."

He brings your face near his with both hands, pressing a deep kiss to your lips.

Your fingers intertwine in his shaggy ebony hair at the same time, granting his tounge entrance into your mouth.

You continue to messily makeout with Jungkook for a bit longer until you find yourself pushing yourself off him to drop to your knees.

Jugnkook watches you with darkened eyes as you fumble around with his belt buckles, anxious to yank the damned thing off.

"Need me to do it?"

"Nope."

You unfasten his belt and push his pants, along with his underwear down until he's able to kick them off himself.

When you pop back up, you grab the tie loosely knoted around his neck and pull it towards yourself. You then walk backwards until your back's pressed up against the wall.

The coolness of the surface against your bare skin would make you shiver if it weren't for the fact you're already sweating.

"I guess I wont be asking you how you want it," he says, gripping your hips with firm hands before setting them just below your ass. "I'm lifting you into it now m'kay?"

You nod and place your hands on his shoulders.

As soon as he lifts you into a strong hold, you wrap your legs around his waist the best you can and let his cock sink into you.

Yeah.

It's big—bigger than you expected.

And from your positon, you feel every curve, girth, and weight of it.

"Ah fuck-!" He groans when he bottoms out. "This might be one fast fuck babygirl. You feel so fucking good around me. Tell me when to move."

"You can move," you say. "Please, please Kook."

At your command, Jungkook starts fucking into you. He tries to go slow at first to let you get used to his size.

But with every thrust of his hips, every time his cock hit your g-spot, you were letting out moan after moan.

Sinful sounds that'd make anyone feral—especially Jungkook.

It didn't help that you were practically ripping his shirt as well, clawing at it like a wolverine. Made him rethink not getting completely undressed before starting this whole sex fest.

"Jungkook!"

You scream his name when he can't hold himself back anymore, pounding into you with a cause.

"Fuck.Fuck.Fuck." He moans. "Taking my cock so well babygirl. So wet and tight, shit. So much better than what I imagined!"

"You were-imagining- tthis?"

You're barely able to talk as his cock continues to beat into you, hands hotly gripping underneath your thighs.

You knew Jungkook was strong. He worked out the most out of all the members but fuck—you might as well be his rag doll by now.

And you're convinced if he wanted to put you in seven different positions right now, he could.

"Hell yeah I do...you don't even wanna know all the nasty shit I think about doing with you."

You don't ignore his choice of present tense and your eyes roll up at the thought of it.

Sure men fantasized....everyone does that.

But about you?

From within Jungkook's mind?

God you could come just from the thought.

"But none of them, shit," Jungkook's pants get louder, a sign he's getting closer to finishing. "None of them compare to this— this is real."

After this, he tells you to wrap your arms as tight as you can around him so you do. Jungkook proceeds to get you both to your release in mere minutes and countless moans later.

"Jungkook! Fuck, Jungkook!"

The way you scream his name ought to let anyone odd passerby know what you two are up to. Neither of you care at this point when your peak is so, so close.

"Gonna come Kook—Jungkook—Jungkook!—JUNGKOOK!"

He knows your close and its feeling hella good but the way your screaming his name is a lot less like pleasure and more like...

"Time to get off your ass Sleeping Beauty!"

He suddenly blinks his eyes open, rubbing them with his hands as a very blurry outline of you stands in front of him.

You don't look pleased with the way your eyes are like freshly sharpen spears towards him—still drop dead gorgeous though.

"Jungkook, did you hear me? You're on in five minutes! I spent months getting this gig for us so can you please get off this sofa, grab your guitar, and for the love of might button up your shirt! You're gonna have about twenty groupies on their knees, begging to have your babies or lick chocolate off your abs if you don't."

Jungkook remains stunned. Hating that what just happened was once again, another one of his lucid dreams.

"Oh also," you pipe before strutting back to meet the rest of the band. "We might be getting a new drummer. Kim Taehyung. Heard of him?"

Jungkook can only shake his head no.

"Me neither. But kid found us somehow and called me for an audition."

A/N: yup yup ☺ tysm for stopping by. Part 2 is Tae Tae and I will make a series masterlost soon. LMK your thoughts 💞

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagine #bts x reader #fic:wild ride #kookslastbutton

[yelena-bellova]

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Five

Chapter Five: Soundtrack of Life

Plot: Y/n, Joel and Ellie journey to Bill and Frank’s house, where Joel and Y/n are forced into a conversation.

Word Count: 11.2k

Warnings: tlou ep.3 spoilers, language, guns, canon-typical violence, mention of killing (16+)

A/N: You guys blow this thing up more and more each week and I’m blown away each time. I see all your lovely comments, even if I don’t respond. A gentle reminder that this is a 16+ fic and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist who does not have their name on their page. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

Regarding this chapter, I did NOT intend forit to be this long. I honestly thought because the episode was all about Bill and Frank that it would be the shortest, but here we are. It contains one of my favorite scenes of the entire series, I’ll let you guess which one it os 😉

—————————

May 16th, 2002. Austin, Texas.

Y/n considered herself a fairly confidant person. She kept her fear reserved for things like family emergencies, natural disasters…things out of her control.

Not first dates with men she’d known a week.

She was pacing her kitchen, heels clicking against the linoleum floor and her sundress swishing each time she looped around. Her hands wrung themselves against her abdomen. She had never felt so nervous about a date, not even in high school. She figured it was a warning sign of some type. Either she was making a huge mistake or a fantastic decision. She rested her head against one of the cabinets and prayed it was the latter…

Outside Y/n’s complex, Joel had just parked his truck. Dressed in a long sleeved plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, jeans and dress shoes, he felt constrained. Like his chest had expended three sizes and the shirt was no longer able to accommodate it. Or was he just hot? Hungry?

Joel tightened his grip on the steering wheel and shut his eyes. He was nervous.

It had been at least one, maybe two years since he’d been on a date. A neighbor’s daughter that Joel had felt obligated to go out with so that it would sate his street in their constant attempts at setting him up. It had been much longer since he’d voluntarily sought someone out. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself it wasn’t marriage. They were just going to dinner. If nothing happened, it wasn’t the end of the world…

Joel sighed, but he wanted something to happen…

He picked up the roses from the passenger seat, a nod to the night they’d met, pocketed his keys and stepped out of the truck. He felt dazed as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. 41B, Y/n had told him. When he reached the door, he hesitated to knock. Such a minuscule part of the night, but the mere act of coming to her door felt like the beginning of…everything.

Three raps broke Y/n from her panic party.

She’d put on an old record, hoping it would ease her nerves. It hadn’t done a thing. She stood up straight, drawing a deep and tried to force confidence through her body.

When Y/n opened the door, Joel lost any and all words he’d been thinking over in his head. She was dressed in a simple yellow flowered dress, but it was her wearing it that melted Joel. She looked like sunshine itself.

“Hi,” she smiled.

“Hi,” Joel exhaled, “Sorry if I’m late.”

Y/n looked at the clock near the door, “Only a minute. I think I can excuse that.”

Joel huffed a nervous laugh. What came next?

“These are for you,” he stated, holding out the flowers.

Roses. Y/n was shocked that Joel had remembered the tiny detail of their night in the bar. Tommy’s nickname was going to stick so long as she stuck around the Millers, she had a feeling…

“They’re gorgeous,” she giggled, “You’ve got a good memory.”

Joel gave a half shrug, rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans after.

Y/n felt like her brain had stopped processing for a split second. She jumped back to reality, “Come on in, I’ll go get these in some water.”

Joel followed her into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. It was modest, minimally decorated but the walls had pictures strung all over them. He could already tell she was more sentimental than materialistic. The roses had been a good decision.

Y/n made her way to her kitchen, carefully balancing as she crouched down to dig through her cabinets for a vase. Flowers. He’d brought her flowers. What guy did that on a first date? Was that a Texas gentleman thing? She didn’t particularly care, it was one of the sweetest gestures someone had ever made towards her. And tying it back to the night they’d met made it that much sweeter.

“Nice place,” Joel called from the entry area. The apartment was open so if the front door was one end, the kitchen was stretched twenty feet away from it.

“It’s decent,” Y/n replied, filling the vase with water, “Moving was such a spur of the moment decision, I didn’t think I was going to find anything.”

Joel awkwardly balled his fists at his side, he didn’t want to walk too far and cross a line. It was only then that he realized there was music playing.

“Linda Ronstadt,” he blurted.

“Oh yeah,” Y/n smiled, heading over to turn off her record player, “You like her?”

“Love her,” Joel replied, good taste in music was another box ticked for him.

“Okay,” Y/n announced, more to encourage herself, and crossed the room, “All set.”

She grabbed her purse off the hook and Joel opened the door for her.

“Where are we going?” Y/n asked as she locked the door.

This was the part Joel was dreading most of all. “Yeah,” he began, shoving his hands in his pockets, “There’s a place ‘bout ten minutes away called Tito’s. It’s, uh, it’s not the fanciest place but-“

Feeling a sudden, and most likely brief, wave of confidence wash over her, Y/n turned around and put her hand on Joel’s chest.

“Hey,” she smiled, “I don’t care about any of that. I work in a hardware store, I’m not expecting Seasons 52.”

Weight both lifted and slammed into Joel’s chest. If Y/n’s laugh could warm it, her touch could give it new life.

A corner of his mouth quirked upwards, “Okay.”

With an affirmative nod, Y/n allowed Joel to lead her down the stairs, open the car door for her and take her deep into the Friday night Austin scene…

—————————————

Tito’s had ended up being the perfect place.

There was very little a fancy restaurant could add to a date. Sure, the setting could be romantic, but that didn’t guarantee romance. At the end of the day, whether you went to the biggest hotel in the city or a fast food joint, it all boiled down to feeling that spark.

Joel and Y/n’s spark could have set fire to Austin.

“So wait,” Y/n tried to contain her laughter, they were seated out on the patio, “Tommy seriously nailed his pants…to the wall?”

Joel took a swig of his Budweiser and shrugged, “And tried to blame the nail gun.”

Y/n covered her mouth as she snorted, “So no tequila the night before a job anymore, huh?”

Joel shook his head, pointing off into the distance, “And a mile down the road, he just shot straight up in bed because I told you that story.”

Another round of laughter. “Oh gosh,” Y/n sniffled, “Can’t imagine what you two were like as kids.”

“You have any brothers or sisters?” Joel asked, every time he asked her a question, he got to stare at her. It had made him more chatty than usual.

“Two,” Y/n answered, “Sister and a brother, both older.”

“Baby of the family,” Joel observed.

“Yes, and as the age-old tale goes,” Y/n scrunched her nose and smiled, “I’m the little lost bird. Brother’s an Ivy League english teacher who vacations in Europe every year. My sister’s married to a ridiculously successful doctor and just had a baby.”

Joel listened carefully, coming up confused. “I’m not following,” he said, wiping his mouth with his napkin, “What about that makes you lost?”

“They’re both very settled,” Y/n answered, swirling her beer, “They both knew exactly what they wanted in life and they went for it. One of the whole reasons I moved to Austin was to try and find that…thing, you know?”

Joel nodded, “Yeah, I get it,” he decided to lighten the mood, “And the hardware store’s it, huh?”

Y/n smiled and rolled her eyes, “No, the hardware store’s not it. But it makes me happy.”

“That’s a step in the right direction, then,” Joel commented, never taking his eyes off of her.

Y/n could have sat there for the rest of the night just enjoying the warmth of his stare. “So,” she shook herself out of the daze, “What about you? Is construction your thing?”

Joel laughed under his breath, “Pays the bills. Wasn’t originally what I saw myself doin’, but it’s work.”

“What did you want to do?” Y/n asked.

“Music,” Joel answered, “Guitar.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, “You play?”

“I used to,” Joel said, knowing the question that would come after. That was the true test…”Still do sometimes, just for myself.”

“What made you stop?”

Joel sighed, staring down at the condensation that his beer had formed on the table. Either he was about to bring the night to a grinding halt or…well, he hadn’t seen the second option yet. From anyone.

“I met someone,” he started, “We had a kid. She ran out on me pretty soon after. Not a lot of time left over to go around playin’ gigs.”

The chatter around them seemed to fade as Y/n took in the reality of Joel’s answer. He was a single father, and had been for a while, it seemed. All of him made complete sense suddenly. The constant worry lines on his face, the responsibility, the work ethic…

“Boy or a girl?” Y/n took a chance and asked.

“Girl,” Joel answered, a small smile coming to his face, “She’s about to turn thirteen.”

Y/n continued, “What’s her name?”

Joel was surprised, more than surprised, that Y/n wasn’t running the other way. There weren’t a lot of women who willingly took on single dads. Here she was wanting to learn about his little family.

“Sarah.”

Y/n nodded, letting the information rest on the table. “Sarah,” she echoed, “What’s she like?”

“She’s…” Joel let out a laugh under his breath, “She’s incredible. Gets straight A’s, plays soccer, got room in her heart for just about everyone she meets…”

Y/n listened enthusiastically as Joel told stories about his stories as a single dad. How Tommy was helping to raise Sarah, how the three of them were extremely tight knit, how he wished his long hours didn’t interfere with getting to spend time with her…not even for a second did she think about leaving.

“You love her so much,” Y/n blurted before she could think it through. She just had to say it.

Joel smiled warmly over his beer bottle, “She’s my world.”

It was a moment so tender, it almost broke your heart. Joel was letting Y/n closer than anyone else had gotten…ever. And she wasn’t pulling away, she was digging in.

Inside the restaurant, there was soft music playing over a dance floor. Joel and Y/n had eyed it all evening, wondering if their night would inevitably end up there. From outside on the patio, they could hear the song change to one they both knew.

“I love this song,” Y/n said in passing.

Joel had been waiting all night for his nerves to calm or for the perfect song to transcend pass the anxiety. This was as good as it was going to get.

“You wanna dance?”

Y/n’s smile spread across her face, “Yeah.”

Joel stood and held out his hand for Y/n to take, their palms tingling at the touch. He kept a loose hold on it as he led her into the building, snaking through the crowd and onto the dance floor. Their were couples packed wall to wall, but they were able to find a pocket of space just for them.

Y/n’s heart did double time as she rested her hand on Joel’s broad shoulder. Joel pulled her towards him, connecting their hands and holding them up. They hadn’t yet been this close and it felt as intoxicating as they thought it might.

Joel’s hand rested on the higher part of Y/n’s hip. He exhaled shakily, hoping she hadn’t noticed. Slowly, they began to sway to the soft guitar.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you….

It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do….

They moved as one, Y/n’s gaze resting over Joel’s shoulder because she knew if she looked in his eyes, she’d be overwhelmed.

Joel’s desires were doing battle with his self-control. He wanted to wrap himself around her entirely, leaving no space between their bodies. He would, of course, leave it up to her. She got to decide where the night went.

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you…

And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you…

Their chests brushed against each other, sending a thrill through their bodies. The second it started to fade, Y/n chased it, inching closer to Joel till their torsos aligned.

Joel’s head instinctively turned towards her just as she looked up. Y/n’s nose grazed his cheek, his beard delightfully scraping her skin. If they had intended to make eye contact, they never made it there. With Joel’s breath fanning her face and the scent of his cologne enveloping her, Y/n didn’t dare move and disturb the perfection.

No, I don't wanna fall in love…

(This world is only gonna break your heart)

Feeling confidant that she wouldn’t pull away, Joel’s arm slid around Y/n’s waist, his hand resting across her lower back. Y/n’s skin felt inflamed, like the building’s walls had fallen and the heat of the night was swallowing her whole. Her cheek fell against Joel’s closing the very last bit of space that laid between them.

No, I don't wanna fall in love…

(This world is only gonna break your heart)

With you…

That was it, it was a done deal. There was nothing left for them to do but let themselves fall. Their hearts hammered in time with one another, their respective anxiety intertwining at the base of their souls and transfiguring. Instead of a storm, raging, crashing, knocking them over, it became a wave, powerful and passionate. Drawing strength from each other, they allowed the full force of their feelings to flood them.

When the night was over, Joel drove Y/n back to her apartment. They’d chatted on the drive over, but the dance had left them both stunned. Where was there to go from there? What were they supposed to say when a whole conversation had been had in each other’s arms?

They walked up the stairs, coming to Y/n’s door and nervously pausing.

“I had a great time,” Y/n said, fiddling with her keys in one hand.

“Me too,” Joel smiled, broader than his usual thin lipped smirk.

The space between them grew tense. Who was supposed to ask who out for a second date? Were they supposed to kiss? What was-

“So…” Joel set aside all his excessive thoughts, “Did I earn a shot at a second date?”

A laugh rippled through Y/n’s body, thankful that he’d been the one to bring it up. Drawing from Joel’s confidence, she closed the space between them and placed a hand on Joel’s shoulder.

“I think your chances are pretty good,” she softly told him.

Joel’s heart throbbed at both Y/n’s touch and her words. His hand found its way to her waist, not wanting to let the closeness go just yet. They only needed to move a few inches, just a few measly inches and then they’d have it all.

Joel’s breath fanned Y/n’s lips as they allowed themselves to be drawn into one another. The delicious space, hanging on the edge of desire and satisfaction, was enough for them. That was how they knew there was something different to what they felt. Just to be close was enough.

“Maybe we should wait,” Y/n whispered in their shared space, pressing her fingers into Joel’s shoulder a little, “Wouldn’t want to rush anything.”

The tip of Joel’s nose rubbed hers, admitting a defeat that didn’t feel like one. “Wouldn’t want you to think you can take advantage of me or somethin’,” Joel smirked, “I have my reputation to think of.”

Y/n’s laugh mingled with Joel’s, her skin tingling as he brushed a stray piece of hair from her face.

“I’ll call you,” Joel assured.

“I hope so,” Y/n smiled before daring to press her lips to his cheek, “Goodnight, Joel.”

“Goodnight,” Joel choked out, the touch of her kiss paralyzing him.

She unlocked her front door and headed in, Joel stood on the welcome mat until the lock clicked. Alone in the concrete hall, he boyishly kicked his foot and grinned.

Y/n rested her forehead against the front door, shaking her head and grinning.

Joel got down to his truck, started it up and fell back in his seat.

Y/n laughed against the door, playing the night back in her head.

Joel smiled and slapped the steering wheel.

They felt weightless.

—————————

2023. Outside Boston.

Grief hung like a storm cloud over the group.

Y/n had left Joel and Ellie to make a lavatory out of nature, and was walking back. They’d camped overnight in a forest, a few miles outside of Boston. Joel had instructed they were leaving as soon as the sun came up.

When she got back to their camp, she found Ellie sitting up against her tree near the creek, Joel’s jacket draped over her legs.

“He’s still not back?” Y/n asked.

“Nope,” Ellie popped her lips.

Y/n rolled her eyes, if Joel was going to boss them around, he needed to comply with his own demands. She set off into the forest, going the same way he had.

The sound of the larger creek welcomed her. She scanned the area, looking for Joel’s tall frame and finding nothing. She slapped her hands against her legs in a shrug, if anything had happened to him, they’d be dead too. Where was-

The scrape of stones caught her ear.

Y/n gazed down to see Joel, hunched over on the river’s bed of rocks. With a fair bit of distance between them, Y/n could see him stacking stones. He was building a cairn.

He was building Tess a grave.

Y/n’s feelings contradicted themselves. Joel’s loss of the woman he cared for felt karmic, in a way, and yet the sight of him, so broken and empty, reminded her that bitterness had no place commingling with loss.

She didn’t disturb his memorial, she simply leaned against a nearby tree. Tess’ last wish hadn’t been selfish, she had begged for protection for Joel. They were, perhaps, the most heartbreaking final words Y/n had ever heard. She’d promised Tess, what else was she supposed to do? She couldn’t let Tess die in a horrific sacrifice thinking that Joel would meet her soon after.

Y/n sighed, letting her head hit the tree. The day was already exhausting her.

She decided to let Joel have a few extra minutes, walking back to their campsite. Ellie was in the exact same position as when she left. All of this trauma was being rehashed for one girl, but Y/n still believed she was worth it.

Footsteps behind her signaled that Joel was back from his solitary service. He didn’t look in either Y/n or Ellie’s direction, only trudging to his backpack and squatting beside it. It had been a near silent walk from Boston, Ellie asking Y/n an occasional question or Joel giving directions. They were all avoiding each other for different reasons.

Joel blamed Ellie.

Y/n blamed Joel.

And Ellie blamed no one, but could sense tension when she saw it.

“You want your jacket back?” Ellie asked Joel, testing the waters.

Joel continued digging through his backpack, responding with a small shake of the head. He still refused to look at her. The only gesture he made was after digging out and taking a bite of food, he threw the remainders to Ellie.

“I’ve never been in the woods,” the girl continued talking, “More bugs than I thought.”

Y/n leaned up against a tree, waiting and watching how the interaction played out.

“Look, I’ve been thinking about-“ Ellie started.

Joel rose to his feet, throwing his backpack over his shoulder, “I don’t want your sorries.”

Ellie sat forward, “I wasn’t gonna say I’m sorry. I was gonna say that I’ve been thinking about what happened. Nobody made you or Tess take me. Nobody made you go along with this plan. You needed a truck battery or whatever, and you made a choice. So don’t blame me for something that isn’t my fault.”

Joel’s eyes scanned Ellie before looking to Y/n, who simply raised an eyebrow at him. She was in total agreement. And the truth was, Joel didn’t have a reason to put any of what happened on Ellie. But he wanted someone to be angry with, someone to fling his grief at so that he wouldn’t have to deal with it any longer.

The rational side of him won out. He gave Ellie a small nod, mentally collected himself and picked up his rifle. It was time to hit the road.

Ellie got up and handed Joel his jacket, “How much longer?”

“Five-hour hike,” he answered.

Y/n collected her backpack, tied her jacket around her waist and came to stand with Ellie.

“We can manage that,” the girl shrugged, she was the most confidant out of all three of them.

Joel glanced over at Y/n again, the two of them communicating their indifference wordlessly, before turning on his heel.

Y/n put a hand on Ellie’s head and waited for Joel to be out of earshot, “Attagirl.”

Ellie smiled up at the woman and they fell in step a few feet behind their guide.

Joel got them out of the woods and onto a dirt path, leading their party silently and expecting the same in return. Y/n was perfectly content not to utter a word, but Joel was quickly learning something she already knew; Ellie didn’t do “quiet.”

“You’ve gone this way a lot? No infected?”

“Not often, no,” Joel answered.

“What are you looking out for?” Ellie asked.

“People.”

“Oh,” she rested a beat, “Are Bill and Frank nice?”

“Frank is.”

Y/n stepped forward to walk alongside them, keeping to Ellie’s side. “You haven’t told us anything about them,” she spoke up.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Joel answered.

“I’m entrusting two strangers with our lives,” Y/n scoffed, “There’s a lot to tell.”

“They’re good,” Joel said with finality to his tone.

“Oh, well…” Y/n mumbled under her breath, she was over the whole What-I-Say-Goes front.

Ellie was undeterred by their bickering. “How’d you get that scar on your head?”

Joel sighed, already exasperated and it was barely morning.

“What? Is it something lame?” Ellie inquired excitedly, “Like, you fell down the stairs or something?”

“I didn’t fall down any stairs,” Joel answered.

“Okay, so what then?”

Joel paused before speaking, “Someone shot at me and missed.”

Y/n hated the jolt of concern that shot through her chest. Old habits and all that.

“See, that’s cool,” Ellie insisted, “You shoot back?”

“Yeah,” Joel said.

“You get him?”

“No, I missed too. It happens more often than you think.”

Ellie thought it over, “‘Cause you suck at shooting or, like, in general?”

Joel glanced at her, vaguely insulted, “In general.”

Ellie fell back a step to get a look at Y/n. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Y/n echoed.

“How’d you get this scar?” Ellie poked the white mark on her bare shoulder. She didn’t feel comfortable touching Joel, but she was comfortable with Y/n.

By now, Y/n had scars littered all across her body. Ellie could have pointed to almost any one of them and she would have had to think about where it came from. But the one in the rivet nestled between her scapula and her clavicle was one she could never forget.

“A bullet ricocheted off a wall,” she answered, “Hit me instead.”

“That’s slightly less cool than his,” Ellie commented.

Joel caught himself before he hung back a step to get a look at the mark. It was instinct to worry about her.

“You know, seeing as it’s just the three of us,” Ellie began, “I was thinking I should prob-“

“No,” Joel cut her off, already knowing what she was after.

“Yeah, well, Y/n might feel different,” Ellie said, looking to her only ally.

“She doesn’t,” Y/n answered, smirking slightly at her blind enthusiasm.

They walked a few more feet before coming up on a once-white building.

“Cumberland Farms,” Ellie read the sign.

“Hang back a minute,” Joel instructed them both, though he knew it was useless, “I gotta grab some stuff I stashed.”

“Stashed?” Ellie questioned as she followed, “Why do you have stuff stashed here?”

“You ask a lot of damn questions,” Joel complained.

“Yes,” Ellie smiled, owning every bit of her personality, “I do.”

Joel forced open the door to the old storefront and they entered. It looked just about the same as how he and Tess had left it a few years back.

“So are you gonna answer me or what?” Ellie continued.

Joel relented, “We hide supplies on routes, in case we find ourselves short on gear, which I currently am ‘cause-“

“No way,” Ellie zipped over to the other side of the room, honing in on an old arcade game.

Joel ignored her, Y/n simply smiled to herself.

“You ever play this one?” Ellie asked without really seeking an answer, “Oh, I had a friend who knew everything about this game. There’s this one character named Mileena, who takes off her mask and she has monster teeth-“

While Ellie continued chattering, Joel was pacing the floor, trying to remember where his hiding place had been. Y/n crossed her arms and watched amusedly.

“You forgot where you put your stuff,” Ellie stated.

Joel was quick to defend himself, “No, I’m just zeroing in on it. It’s been a couple of years.”

Ellie and Y/n peered over at one another, sharing a knowing smirk.

“Go see if you can find anything in back,” Y/n instructed, Ellie would have gone even without the prompting, “Practical.”

“Trust me, it’s all been picked over already,” Joel grunted, shaking a wall display.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Ellie replied in a sing-song tone, “Is there anything bad in here?”

“Just you,” Joel called out.

“Ah,” Ellie rolled her eyes, “Getting funnier…”

Y/n set down her backpack, deciding to help speed up the process so they could get back on the road. She walked over to a section of floor that Joel hadn’t searched yet and started kicking around.

“I don’t need help,” Joel muttered.

“If we leave it to you and your shitty memory,” Y/n strained as she shoved a shelving unit with her shoulder, “We’ll be here till dark.”

Joel didn’t want to get drawn into an argument, he also couldn’t resist the person starting it. “My memory’s fine.”

“Oh, really?” Y/n waved a hand across the floor, “Point to the treasure.”

Joel’s lips thinned in frustration, mostly with himself for not being able to find the stash before she latched onto it.

“It’s somewhere on this aisle,” he begrudgingly told her.

“This aisle,” she repeated, the two of them going in opposite directions.

After a minute or two, there was a sound from the back room. “You all right back there?” Joel called.

“Yep!” Ellie replied.

“How likely is it that she’s doing something she shouldn’t be?” Joel asked Y/n, who had weeks more experience curbing Ellie.

Y/n jumped in place on a loose piece of the floor, “100%.”

Joel exhaled and continued searching, eventually feeling a slight raise in one of the tiles. He kicked a few old newspapers aside to discover his hiding spot. And better yet, he’d found it before Y/n did, taking away the opportunity for gloating.

He knelt down and flipped open his pocketknife, cutting open the cover and removing it.

Y/n stopped her hunt and came to crouch down next to him, visually sifting through the supplies. There wasn’t much.

It went against Joel’s natural programming to not be concerned when the back room went silent. Ellie had been gone long enough to have picked through everything at least twice. “Ellie?”

No response.

Now Y/n was on edge as well, rising with Joel. She raised her voice a little louder than him, “Ellie?”

They both unholstered their guns, walking in rhythm together towards the back room. Joel stuck a hand out to form a barrier between whatever unknown threat might have been lurking and Y/n. She annoyedly shoved it away and aimed her gun at the doorway.

They unclenched when Ellie walked out, touting a box of tampons. “Picked over, my ass,” she commented.

Y/n and Joel returned to the stash, Joel unloading his assault rifle and Y/n picking through a tin of first aid supplies.

“What are you doing?” Ellie asked Joel.

“There’s not much ammo out there for this thing,” he replied, bringing the lid back down over the supplies, “Makes it mostly useless.”

Ellie saw an opportunity, “Well, if you’re just gonna leave it there…”

Joel stood to his feet and made direct eye contact, “No.”

Y/n stood up, slung her backpack over her shoulder and lightly pushed Ellie ahead of her. Tess was no longer there to keep occupy Joel and she wanted to put as much space between the two of them as possible.

They were on the dirt road for another hour or two, time didn’t seem to matter in the middle of nowhere. Ellie barely complained, content to take in all that nature had left to offer. At some point, Y/n and Joel had fallen in step with one another. Even sworn enemies would have cracked under pressure and started hurling insults at one another. Their ability to stay silent with one another was unmatched.

“So,” Ellie eventually killed the quiet, “Are you ever going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Y/n replied.

“Why you two broke up.”

Joel scrunched his eyes shut, the darkness of his lids a more preferable place to be.

Y/n took the hit and answered, “We never said we dated.”

“You didn’t have to. You knew each other in Texas but you don’t talk,” Ellie began to list off her reasons, “And when you do talk, it’s only to fight.”

“Friends fight too,” Y/n suggested.

Ellie scoffed, “Not like you two.”

There was passion that bled through Joel and Y/n’s arguments that was only born from love. It was one thing they’d never be able to change.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Ellie continued, “I’ll just know that I’m right.”

Joel stopped short, putting a hand up to Ellie and trying to stay calm. “You do not need to say every fuckin’ thing that pops into your head,” he said, driving certain syllables harder than others.

Ellie was unfazed by him, turning her gaze to Y/n. “Was he always this grumpy?”

Y/n sighed, her time in Austin was a piece of her past she didn’t want anyone having. The obviousness of her and Joel’s fractured connection bothered her, it made it that much harder to sever it entirely. She picked up the pace again, getting ahead of Joel and Ellie.

Joel’s eyes followed her, something inside of him twinging against his will. He spared a glance at Ellie and continued on the path.

“Yeah,” Ellie smiled to herself, “They dated.”

They walked a little further before Ellie got distracted by something in a field. “Holy shit,” she exclaimed.

Up on a hilltop lay the rusted remains of a plane crash. The three of them stopped, it was getting harder for Joel and Y/n to remember a world where things like airplanes had existed.

“You fly in one of those?” Ellie asked,

“A few times, sure,” Joel answered.

“Yeah,” Y/n said.

Ellie’s excited eyes scanned the wreck, “So lucky.”

“Didn’t feel like it at the time,” Joel recalled, “Get shoved into a middle seat, pay twelve bucks for a sandwich…”

“Or hit turbulence,” Y/n remembered.

“You got to go up in the sky,” Ellie stated, her voice filled with wonder. Another simple pleasure stolen from her…

Joel had always been more of a realist than Y/n, who wanted Ellie to hold on to whatever pieces of happiness she could. “Yeah, well, so did they,” he added, killing the levity of the moment.

“Grim…” Ellie commented as they continued walking. “So everything came crashing down in one day?”

“Pretty much,” Joel answered, giving Y/n space to interject. She’d gone silent again.

“How?” Ellie asked, “I mean, no one was infected with Cordyceps, everybody’s fine, eating in restaurants and flying in planes. And then all at once? How did it even start? If you have to get bit to be infected, then who bit the first person? Was it a monkey? I bet it was a monkey.”

Y/n almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Almost.

“It wasn’t a monkey,” Joel answered, “I thought you went to school.”

“FEDRA school,” Ellie replied quickly, “They don’t teach us how their shitty government failed to prevent a pandemic.”

Joel sighed, he couldn’t fault her for wanting to know how her world was destroyed before she’d even gotten there.

“No one knows for sure, but, best guess,” he began, “Cordyceps mutated. And some of it got into the food supply. Probably a basic ingredient like flour or sugar. There were certain brands of food that were sold everywhere, all across the country, all across the world. Bread, cereal…”

Joel and Y/n didn’t have to look at one another to know they were having the same thought.

“Pancake mix,” Joel continued, “You eat enough of it, it’ll get you infected. So the tainted food all hits the store shelves around the same time, Thursday. People bought it, ate some Thrusday night or Friday morning. Day goes on…they started to get sick. Afternoon, evening, they got worse,” Joel paused, a flash of blood coming to his mind, “Then they started bitin’.”

Y/n shut her eyes, as if it was all playing out in front of her again.

“Friday night,” Joel was able to push out, “September 26th, 2003. And by Monday, everything was gone.”

Y/n didn’t know whether to scream or stay quiet. Her entire world had come crashing down in a span of 72 hours.

“It makes more sense than monkeys,” Ellie said, then looked at Joel, “Thanks.”

“Sure,” he replied. Joel still wasn’t sure what to do with her, but he was trying. He only had to try for a few more hours, anyway.

Y/n kept her eyes down as she walked, only stopping when Ellie and Joel fell out of step. Joel had his arm stretched over Ellie’s chest to keep her in place.

“What now?” Y/n asked, nearing her breaking point with patience.

“We’ll cut across the woods here,” Joel directed.

“Isn’t the road easier?” Ellie asked.

“Yeah, it’s just,” Joel took a breath, looking ahead to Y/n, “There’s stuff up there you shouldn’t see.”

Y/n chortled, she couldn’t take any more of his mood swings. One minute he didn’t care, the next he was watching out for their sensitive eyes?

“Well, now I have to see,” Ellie sang, walking ahead to join Y/n.

“I don’t want you to,” Joel pushed.

“Newsflash, Joel,” Y/n announced, “It’s the fucking apocalypse. We’ve all seen things we don’t want to see.”

Joel paced after them, chasing Ellie more than his ex, “I’m not kidding. Ellie!”

“Can it hurt us?” Ellie asked as Y/n fell behind her.

“No,” Joel answered truthfully.

She spun around to face him as she strolled, “You’re too honest, man, Should’ve said axe murderer.”

While Ellie walked ahead, Joel sped up to match Y/n’s pace. “I’m serious, she shouldn’t see it.”

“You know what,” Y/n didn’t break stride, “I’m sure our delicate little sensibilities can handle whatever it is.”

Anger is intoxicating, but it can also be all-encompassing. It can numb all other senses, blinding all other emotions until the red is staining every part of someone’s perspective. Y/n’s rage with Joel was deceiving her into thinking everything that came out of his mouth was either an insult or an overreaction. Joel knew that the second she found what he was trying to shield her and Ellie from, she’d regret it instantly. But it was futile to fight her.

“Uh, whatever it was,” Ellie called from the front of the group, “Think it’s gone.”

Y/n felt sure of herself as she trudged on, until the details of Ellie’s expression came into view and she followed the girl’s eyes. There in a ditch, lay skeletal remains. If you reconstructed them, they probably made up about a dozen people.

“About a week after Outbreak Day, soldiers…” Joel started to explain to Ellie, “Went through the countryside, evacuated the small towns. Told you you were going to a QZ, and you were…if there was room…if there wasn’t…”

“These people weren’t sick?” Ellie inquired.

“No,” Joel replied, “Probably not.”

“Why kill them?” Ellie continued, “Why not just leave ‘em be?”

“It was their fucked up way of trying to contain the infection,” Y/n spoke up, trying to hide her trembling breath. It wasn’t the first open grave she’d seen, this was one of the easier ones to stomach. This was all bones.

Y/n turned on her heel, eager to get as far away from the hellish memories as she could.

————————————

Eventually, they made it to where Joel told them Bill and Frank lived. It was a small chunk of a town completely gated by a tall fence.

“Stay here,” Joel instructed Y/n and Ellie before punching in the entry code on the gate’s keypad. He let them go through first, it was the only place safe enough to do so.

Y/n’s breath caught in her chest, it was the first time she’d seen an actual town in…she’d lost count of the years. The white picket fences, the boutique shops, the houses. Actual houses. It nearly brought tears to her eyes, it reminded her so much of Austin.

The three of them walked to Bill and Frank’s house, the nicest looking one on the block. Joel took notice, however, that the flowers decorating the front porch were dead. Scorched by the sun. Bill would never let that happen.

He opened the front door, taking cautious steps into the entryway. Y/n and Ellie followed close behind.

“What the fuck,” Ellie elongated, it was probably her first time inside an actual house.

“Bill?” Joel called out. No answer. “Frank?” Nothing.

Shit.

“You stay there,” Joel directed Ellie, not looking Y/n’s way since she was going to do what she wanted anyway, “Ya hear anything, you see anything…yell.”

Joel and Y/n didn’t make it more than one step before Ellie spoke up, “What if they’re gone?”

No. Joel couldn’t think about that. He didn’t want to grieve over one more person.

Y/n set off down the hallway, keeping her pistol drawn at her side. Joel had gone through the kitchen, but the two rooms were connected. They made it to the bedroom door at the same time, Joel knocking and jiggling the knob. Nothing.

“Would they leave?” Y/n asked.

“No,” Joel shook his head.

The back porch door shutting got their attention.

“Ellie?” Y/n called, getting nothing in return. She set off back to the dining room where they’d left her, Joel just a step behind.

She was sitting at the table holding a piece of paper. Her expression was undeterminable, like she was between emotions and deciding which one to land on.

“It’s from Bill,” she finally told them.

Y/n sighed, holstering her gun, taking off her backpack and settling into a chair between Joel and Ellie. Joel put away his weapon too, neither of them needed to pretend there was any hope.

Ellie scanned the envelope the letter had come from, “‘To whomever…but probably Joel,’” she tossed it back onto the table, “I figured I fell under “whomever.” It came with this.”

She slid a single car key across the table.

Joel shrugged his backpack off next to Y/n’s, but wouldn’t sit. “So they’re dead?”

“Mm-hmm,” Ellie hummed.

Joel turned away, the very little emotion he let himself feel coming to the surface.

“You-you wanna?” Ellie offered.

He shook his head, “Go ahead. You do it.”

Y/n leaned against her knees, holding her hands to her lips, bracing herself.

“August 29th, 2023,” Ellie began to read, “If you find this…please do not come into the bedroom. We left a window open so the house wouldn’t smell, but it will probably be a sight. I’m guessing you found this, Joel, because anyone else would’ve been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps. Hehehehehehe-“

Ellie looked up in confusion, Y/n gave a small nod for her to continue.

“Take anything you need,” she kept going, “The bunker code is the gate code but in reverse. Anyway…I never liked you, but still, it’s like we’re friends, almost…And I respect you. So, I’m gonna tell you something because you’re probably the only person who will understand. I used to hate the world and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong, because there was one person worth saving. That’s what I did. I saved him. Then I protected him. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do, and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep-“

Ellie sucked her bottom lip, not knowing how to proceed. None of them had to ask what the next two words were.

Joel stepped forward robotically and took the letter, reading the rest over silently. Tess’ name struck a blow to his body, he wanted to curl in on himself.

“Stay here,” he mumbled, striding towards the front door with barely contained hurry.

Y/n shut her eyes, keeping her hands in a praying position. It was the first time in twenty years she couldn’t tap into the anger that lived inside her. She felt pure sorrow that Joel had to lose someone else he loved, regardless of whether he’d ever admit to loving Tess.

Outside, Joel took deep breaths that at one time would have been described as cleansing. But he felt no better when he inhaled than he had before. Bill’s letter weren’t just his last wishes, it was a call to action. He couldn’t have known the situation Joel was in when he wrote it, but he supernaturally addressed every part of it. He lifted up a silent apology to Tess, for not being able to save her.

Joel crumpled the letter in his palms and let it drop to the grass. He held up the key Bill had left him, forcing himself to move to the garage doors and open them.

Y/n and Ellie sat up straighter upon hearing the noise. “Stay here,” Y/n echoed Joel, rising up and heading out to see what he was doing.

She walked around to the open garage doors to see Joel hunched over the front of a truck. The hood was open and he was investigating its internal organs. Y/n had barely caught a glance at the empty spot where the battery should have been before Joel slammed it shut. There went that happy thought…

Joel’s eye caught the refrigerator nearby, a couple cans of oil and other auto supplies sitting on top of it. Bill had been a survivalist, it was his nature to prepare for every possible outcome. He crossed the space and opened the fridge, spotting the materials needed to construct a car battery from scratch

He smirked, maybe they had been friends…

Y/n joined him at the door, she was no mechanic but the men throughout her life, Joel and Tommy included, had taught her enough about car repair to know they were battery parts. A spark of hope lit inside her.

It dwindled in both her and Joel when the reality of what it meant hit them.

Y/n suddenly felt too close to him, she moved away and crossed her arms, going to stand on the furthest side of the truck. Joel didn’t move until she stopped, coming to stand on the other side of the vehicle. They wanted a proper barricade between them.

Y/n had made a promise to Tess that she would protect both Ellie and Joel. In the moment, it had seemed like the only honorable thing to do. Now, staring down the task itself, she wanted to admit her selfishness and run. Run back to the QZ, back to the Fireflies, back to the only semblance of safety she had. And with every turn she made in her mind, Ellie was waiting for her. Ellie was at the center of this all. She was the job. Everything else came second.

“If we do this,” Y/n started, her words slowly and cautiously calculated, “You are going to have to start treating me like an equal. I am not some delicate flower that you need to protect and I’m not some child in need of protection. We’ve already got one of those. I live in the same world you do. I didn’t hesitate to kill that Clicker,” she pointed behind them as if the monster’s carcass was present, “And I won’t hesitate going forward.”

Joel looked up at her out his eyebrows, “Can you blame me, last time I knew you?”

“We don’t need to keep bringing us up,” Y/n shook her head, a joyless smile on her face, “We are completely different people. Matter of fact, think of us as strangers. We only know each other from this point forward.”

Joel thought it over a second, accepting the truth of it. “Okay,” he said, “But you have to trust me that I know the best way to get to Wyoming-“

“I don’t trust you,” Y/n retorted.

“I don’t trust you either,” he echoed, bitterness rising to both their surfaces.

Y/n bit down on her bottom lip, if this was going to work, they needed to put away all of their past. Not just the good parts.

“We have to put this on ice,” she said, “What matters…is her. That is all that matters. Not us, not what happened…her.”

Joel’s thumb twitched against the hood of the truck. There were many questions he’d been wanting to ask Y/n, but there was one that was non-negotiable if he was going to take on this task with her

“Do you actually believe that she’s the answer to this?”

Y/n’s face softened, only slightly, but enough for Joel to see the gleam hope in her eyes. “I do,” she replied, earnestly.

Joel breathed a heavy sigh, looking down at the truck. He glanced back up at Y/n, scanning her up and down as if to take full stock of the woman she was now. “Okay.”

Y/n nodded, her body alight with apprehension. “Okay.”

A ceasefire had been called.

“I’ll start on the battery,” Joel announced, eager to get away from the conversation as quick as he could, “Can you do a once over on this thing?”

“Yeah,” she answered, forcing past the hurdle that was doing something Joel asked of her.

They worked in silence, Y/n checking that the car was in working condition and Joel constructing their battery. It was the first time they’d been able to tolerate each other’s presence in the last two days.

After a half hour, when Y/n was long past done, Joel stepped back and examined his work. “It’s gotta charge for a while,” he announced, “But it’ll work.”

“Okay,” Y/n sighed, glancing over at him before heading back out the garage. Joel was close behind.

They came back into the house, finding Ellie waiting for them at the table still.

“Show me your arm,” Joel ordered, he needed to be 100% certain that she was safe to transport.

Ellie stood and rolled up her sleeve, the second bite still had blood caked around it, but it was clearly healing. They had no reason to doubt it would continue that way.

“I just finished makin’ a truck battery,” Joel said, “It’s charging right now.”

“Okay,” Ellie replied, her face showing a hint of hope.

“And I have a brother in Wyoming,” Joel continued, “He’s in some kinda trouble, and I’m heading out there to find him. He used to be a Firefly. And my guess is he knows where some of ‘em are out there. Maybe they can get you two to wherever this lab is.”

Ellie’s eyes bounced between Y/n and Joel, “All right. Uh,” she began to fiddle with her hand, “Listen, about Tess-“

Joel held up a hand, he took a second to collect himself before speaking. “If I’m takin’ you with me, there’s some rules you gotta follow. Rule one, you don’t bring up Tess. Ever. Matter of fact, we can just keep our histories to ourselves.”

Y/n made a mental note of where Joel was emotionally.

“Rule two, you don’t tell anyone about your…condition,” Joel focused his eyes on Ellie, trying to drive the point home, “They see that bite mark, they won’t think it through. They’ll just shoot you. Rule three,” he pointed between him and Y/n, “You do what we say, when we say it. We clear?”

“Yes,” Ellie answered.

“Repeat it,” Joel demanded.

Ellie took a breath, “What you say goes,” she looked between the two adults once more, “Are you two gonna be able to get along?”

Joel glanced over his shoulder at Y/n, who was leaned up against the door frame. She had her hands tucked behind her as if she was trying to make herself as small as possible. They communicated their truce with their eyes.

“We’ll be fine,” Y/n said to Ellie, maybe saying it would make it so…

Joel sighed, it felt like he was signing on a metaphorical dotted line. “Okay,” he finally said.

The three of them stood in the dining room, all with their own separate reservations but with no choice in the matter. They needed each other, even if no one dared to admit it.

“So what now?” Ellie broke the silence.

“We grab what we can,” Joel responded, “Let’s check the bunker first.”

He brushed past Y/n, who followed with Ellie in tow, and located the hidden entrance to Bill’s bunker. Joel climbed down the ladder first into the pitch black room. Flipping on the lights revealed walls of canned goods, guns, supplies, various tools and first aid kits. In the middle lay a desk setup with a laptop playing music and monitor screens showing footage of outside the house.

“Ho-ly shit,” Ellie said for both her and Y/n, “This guy was a genius.”

“Little bit,” Y/n added, scanning the walls, “Back then, everyone called people like him crazy. I’m guessing he was okay with it.”

Joel went to work at the computer, switching off the song.

“Why was the music on?” Ellie asked.

“If he didn’t reset the countdown every few weeks,” Joel explained, “This playlist would run over the radio.”

Ellie glanced over the screen, assured now of her theory from the day before about Joel’s radio codes. “‘80s.”

Joel didn’t really care anymore, “Grab some cans from over there. Nothin’ dented or swollen.”

Ellie wasn’t so easily distracted, she was still gazing at the guns. “Dude,” she started to draft another pitch.

“No,” he replied without even looking up at her.

“There’s a whole wall of them,” she declared, as if that made a difference.

Joel shot her a glare, signaling there was no discussion to be had. Searching Y/n out again and receiving a frown in response, Ellie backed off and went to collect the canned goods.

Y/n traced her fingers across the wall of guns. She doubted her pistol was going to get them very far. It had taken an assault rifle and an axe just to kill the Clicker that had attacked them.

She loathed to ask Joel for help, but she was good at shooting, not specs. “Which one takes the most basic ammo?”

Joel peered up from the monitor screens, the sight of her standing amongst so many weapons was still a little shocking. “That beige and black one,” he nodded in her direction, “Standard shotgun.”

Y/n nodded once in awkward thanks and removed the gun from the wall, testing the weight and feel of it. She crossed the room to one of Bill’s work tables and took a box of bullets, stuffing it in her jacket pocket.

“I’m gonna start upstairs,” she announced, strapping the shotgun over her back and climbing up the ladder.

The three of them worked around the house, collecting any and all supplies they could possibly need. Ellie found toilet paper, Y/n found some unopened dry goods, Joel found clothes for them. It was strange to think that once upon a time, desires had felt like essentials. A new TV, concert tickets, expensive wine…Y/n felt like she was seeing heaven when Joel pulled out a box of women’s t-shirts.

Joel monitored the battery closely, it wasn’t charging as fast as he wanted it to. “Needs another hour,” he told them.

“They have hot water!” Ellie exclaimed, soaking her hand under the garage’s running faucet, “I’m takin’ a shower. And then you’re showering, because seriously,” she turned to Joel and scowled as he headed back to the house.

Joel stopped what he was doing, unsure of how to respond. “I smell that bad?”

Y/n was sorting through some shelves, collecting a few tools they could take with them for the truck. “I’m not even answering that,” she replied.

Joel took what he could from her answer. “You take the next one,” he offered, trying to put his money where he mouth was and bench their grudge.

“Should I be offended?” Y/n fired back, raising one eyebrow. “Thank you,” she finally said.

Joel gave a nod in reply before getting back to work.

Y/n eventually headed inside to wait for Ellie to be done. The girl emerged with wet hair in fresh clothes.

“That felt so good,” she groaned in happiness as she passed Y/n in the hall.

“I bet,” Y/n smiled, “There extra towels in there?”

“Yep,” Ellie called, she was already halfway down the stairs, passing Joel as she descended.

If Y/n and Joel had dodged any awkwardness in the past 48 hours, it had boomeranged back around and slammed into them. They stood in the hall, keeping three feet of space between them and struggled for words.

“I’ll be quick,” Y/n said finally, heading into the bedroom that connected to the bathroom.

“Sure,” Joel replied, fiddling with his fist at his side.

Showers were one thing that no one ever took for granted anymore. Water supply in the QZ wasn’t consistent, one day you could have warm water and the next it’d be ice cold. You couldn’t count on anything to stay the same. So when Y/n had complete control of the temperature and made it burning hot, she felt like she could cry from pure joy.

Joel stood outside the bedroom door, leaned up against the wall. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Sweet images of early mornings with Y/n stormed past his defenses, flooding his brain. How she looked with wet hair, the smell of her skin after using some soap he couldn’t remember the name of…he tried to ignore the fact that it was all on the other side of the door.

Y/n emerged from the shower a few minutes later, having gotten all the dirt out of her hair and nails, and wrapped a threadbare towel around her torso. She quickly dried off and changed into the new clothes Joel had found them. It was a plain t-shirt, a men’s button up to go over it and a plain pair of jeans. Gone were the days of dressing up because you felt like it. It was a stupid thing to miss, but Y/n felt the loss regardless.

Dressed, she opened the bathroom door. The sound signaled that Joel could come in.

He came around the corner, having just put his memories to bed when he saw her. Pruny, barefaced and natural…the way he’d always loved her.

“All yours,” Y/n muttered, unable to break the eye contact they held.

Joel cleared his throat and his mind, “Thanks.”

“I’m just gonna be here,” Y/n gestured to the dresser and the attached mirror, “Try and get a comb through my hair.”

“Okay,” Joel nodded.

He walked past her, their shoulders brushing as he did, and closed the bathroom door behind him. It was the first time they’d touched in twenty years.

Now anger was rarely ever born from just anger. No one hated someone just to hate them. There was always something deeper beneath it. More often than not, anger found a companion in heartbreak. They’d collide, morphing together to make something so complicated, you couldn’t tell one apart from the other.

Y/n reached for a spare comb, her trembling hands causing her hair to catch in the teeth. Harboring the anger had been effortless, it was a fire that stoked itself. It was the pain, the flame that started the blaze, that was causing her to feel like she was burning, from the inside out.

The tears welled in her eyes, she refused to let them fall until her reflection was nothing but a blur. She dropped the comb on the dresser, and fell back onto the bed. It could no longer be contained.

Joel had broken her, destroyed her. The loss of him was a hurt that had refused to fade with time. She could feel her heart splitting back open just being around him, the same way it had the day that they’d parted. She wanted to scream, to cry, to break the way she had after he’d left. With the simple act of calling a truce and playing nice, she had reopened the wound she had spent twenty years trying to heal with her unbridled bitterness. She was bleeding out.

On the other side of the door, Joel was propped up against the shower with one hand. Rivulets of the stream dripped down his hair and face. He stared down at the drain, his emotions mixing and swirling much like the water at his feet. Joel had never considered himself particularly favored by the world. There were only two times when he’d felt like there was some higher power bestowing happiness upon his unworthy head.

The first was when Sarah was born, when he got to hold her for the first time.

The second was when Y/n entered his life.

Now her mere presence felt like a punishment. A reminder of what he’d done to her, a child’s taunt of a love he could never go back to. Knowing she was on the other side of the wall caused every muscle in his body to tense. Joel was still himself, regardless of what the pandemic had turned him into. The guilt he’d long tried to drown was rising to the surface, threatening to rebel and throw him underwater. Mixed with the fresh loss of Tess, he was overwhelmed. If he didn’t keep repeating the same three things to himself, she lied, she’s a liar, she’ll lie again, he would collapse entirely.

Y/n sniffled, rubbing her fingers under her eyes in a desperate attempt to stop her tears. She was so tired of crying over Joel. She wished for blind hatred, not the memory of his smile. Bitter regret, not the ghost of his lips. She couldn’t take another time of looking into his eyes and seeing the man she had loved with her whole heart.

Had they known that with a mere twelve feet of space and one shoddy door between them, it still wouldn’t have changed anything. Their chapter was over.

Needing distance, Y/n got off the bed and combed her hair as she walked down the stairs. She found Ellie seated in the front room at the piano.

Ellie turned to her and smiled, “Well, that’s an improvement.”

Y/n bristled, “Be nice to me. I am keeping you alive, after all.”

Ellie hummed as if that was up for debate and turned back to the piano, “You ever learn to play one of these?”

“A little,” Y/n replied, coming to join her, “I played as a kid, not as much when I was an adult.”

“You wanna play something?” Ellie suggested, it didn’t feel like it was for Y/n’s benefit so much as her own.

Y/n motioned for Ellie to make room and settled in next to the girl. It had been over twenty years since she’d felt ivory beneath her fingers, and this one was a beautiful model. She wracked her brain for songs where all the chords were still intact.

She placed her hands accordingly, pressing down on the first keys.

“Slow down, you crazy child,” she softly sang, “You’re so ambitious for a juvenile. But then if you’re so smart, tell me, why are you still so afraid?”

“You can fucking sing?” Ellie cried excitedly.

“Where's the fire, what's the hurry about,” Y/n kept going, “You'd better cool it off before you burn it out. You've got so much to do and only so many hours in a day.”

Ellie swayed a little, taking in the curiosity of the person she hardly knew, yet liked better than anyone. She couldn’t help herself from sneaking a finger onto a key and quickly pressing down.

“Don’t mess me up,” Y/n laughed as she continued to play, “But you know that when the truth is told, that you can get what you want, or you can just get old.”

Joel had just pushed his wet hair back and buttoned up his shirt he’d found. Renewed by the hot water, he grabbed the stick of deodorant he’d used and left the bathroom. The music and it’s sweet accompaniment drifted through the bedroom door, hitting Joel and rendering him breathless for a moment. All he could feel was her, wrapping her arms around him with each word.

Ellie continued to hit random keys at inopportune times, Y/n’s knocked her shoulder against hers.

“You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through,” Y/n crooned, her grin causing her to enunciate differently.

Joel quietly made his way down the stairs, feeling his body unnaturally relax with each note Y/n sang. Her voice hadn’t changed at all.

“When will you realize,” Y/n did a little flourish with the keys, leaving Ellie no room to mess with the melody, “Vienna waits for you.”

When she removed her hands, Ellie clapped and whooped. The mood had been so dark since the day of the shootout, it felt like a single ray of light was shining down on them.

Joel watched her sing the last line from the hall, it was like his memories had come to life right in front of him. How hard was it to bury the past when it was everywhere you looked?

Ellie turned around and saw Joel, “Well, don’t you look pretty.”

Y/n rotated on the bench and faced Joel. It was unfair that he seemed to be getting more handsome with age. With his hair slicked back and his plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, it stirred up a singular butterfly in her stomach. She was quick to put it down.

Joel’s eyes flashed to Y/n before catching himself and looking back to Ellie, “Shut up.”

He tossed her the deodorant. “Nice,” she commented, swiping it on before handing it to Y/n. “Hey,” she trailed after Joel, “Did you know Y/n can sing?”

Y/n snorted as she used the antiperspirant. Ellie was the only thing keeping her spirits up on the trip. Everything else hurt, but the young girl’s joy acted as a balm.

Joel went back out to the garage to confirm the battery was charged up. He installed it quickly and headed back into the house. “We’re good to go,” he announced, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Ellie and Y/n grabbed their jackets and bags, the three of them filed out of the house in hopeful silence. They shoved their things in the back seat of the truck, leaving one side clutter-free.

“Why don’t you take the front?” Y/n suggested to Ellie, already climbing in the back.

Ellie jumped into the passenger side, a toothy grin spread across her face as she started fiddling with the foldout mirror.

“It’s your first time in a car?” Joel asked from beside her, not the slightest bit amused.

“It’s like a spaceship,” Ellie said wondrously.

“No, it’s like a shit piece of Chevy S10,” Joel grumbled, “But it’ll get us there…I think. Seatbelt.”

Ellie glanced up from playing with the radio dials, confused.

Undeniably in sync with each other, Y/n reached through the gap between Ellie’s seat and the window as Joel reached over the girl and pulled the belt over her body. “Seatbelt,” Joel repeated.

Ellie took it from him and clicked it into place, “So cool…”

Y/n watched from over their shoulders. It wasn’t lost on her how it had taken no time for Joel to start acting like a parent again.

Joel started up the car as Ellie dug through the glove compartment. She held something up to Joel that Y/n couldn’t see.

“Put it back…” Joel directed, “Ellie…”

Ellie ignored him, popping in the cassette tape and hitting play. Soft guitar rang through the truck’s speaker system. Ellie was about to skip the song when Joel and Y/n piped up at the same time.

“No, no, wait-“

“No, leave it.”

Their words collided, surprising them both. It was the first thing they’d agreed on.

“This is good,” Joel said as he made a turn, “This is Linda Ronstadt. Do you know who Linda Ronstadt is?”

“You know I don’t know who Linda Ronstadt is,” Ellie rolled her eyes.

Y/n smirked from the back seat before the nostalgia washed over her again. The song had been a favorite of hers for decades, but there was one night in particular she distinctly remembered playing it on.

Joel drove down the path that led to the gate, letting the song fill the cracks of him left by all the beauty disappearing from the world. There was still a musician living inside him. “Oh, man…” he muttered.

In the rear view mirror, Y/n and Joel’s eyes flickered to one another. The second their gazes connected, they diverted them back to the road. In their minds, they were back in Y/n’s shitty apartment, leaving for their first date.

“Eh,” Ellie remarked, “It’s better than nothing.”

Y/n couldn’t contain the chuckle that bubbled from her lips, nor could Joel hide his flash of a smile. She was going to make them both feel ancient before their journey was over.

Joel pressed the gate code on the remote Bill had left in the garage, the gate opening for them like the parting of the Red Sea. Even he, in all his jadedness, felt some sort of hope.

Y/n settled against the window, taking one last look at the town Bill and Frank had kept up over the years. Their legacy was one not of sadness, but of renewal. They had supplied her, Joel and Ellie with the resources to go forward with their journey. They were helping them in their mission to change the world. It was a kindness she’d never get to thank them for, but she’d certainly never forget.

They drove into the sunset, golden hour embracing them and welcoming them onto the open road. Maybe, just maybe, this was the turning point for them…

————

A/N: Just an FYI, we hit the 50 mentions limit so the taglist will be split between the post and the comments :)

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking @endofthexline @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @pedrosmexicangf @scarlettequinn @ao-sleepy @toinfinityandbeyonce2 @deanlovescassie @turmoil-ash @sorrowjunky @kpopslur @xxlilyxx90 @midgetpottermills @presidential-facts @scoopsnini @tubble-wubble @jamesdeerest @burninggracesandbridges @star-wars-lover @lucyhotchner @cococola-cocaine @witheringhqarts @fall-writes @alwaysdjarin @xxmoonn @emilia-the-artist @wand-erer5 @boneyarrd @lizard-zombie @itwasallinmyhead1 @cassidylea123 @paleepeaches @mxltifxnd0m @kettlekatie @ultimate-cinephile @gloryekaterina @caramelkatsukis-bitch @whovianayesha @memeorydotcom @deadunicorn159 @get0ut0fmyr00m @siriuslymooned @emmyeed

#Joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #Joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #twenty years later

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (03)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n; new chapter !! also added navigation and some lists to my profile where you can find right here <3 you can find my masterlist, idea/wip dump, a link to my ask box where you can send in thots, requests and even comments; alongside my ao3 ^^

hope you all enjoy this chapter and lmk if you can guess which korean web series one of the scenes are from 👀

hint: it involves a certain kpop group

it was the beginning of fall when your family moved to daegu.

though it wasn’t a big or dramatic move, since you’re moving from the big city to a smaller town in the same province, it was still big to you because it was your first moving experience.

you vividly remember watching the colored leaves fall from the branches and onto the pavement, being stepped on by pedestrians and you imagined they made those ‘crunch’ noises as depicted by the many cartoons you’ve watched.

you were only 5 years old.

“___, are you excited to see our new home?” your mother asked from the passenger seat, turning to see you kneeling on the backseat, admiring the outside view. you turned to her with a big smile, letting out an excited ‘mm!’.

smiling at your enthusiasm, your mother turned to your father who was driving; reaching out her hand and placing it over your father’s resting on the armrest of the car. “do you think she’ll like the place?”

intertwining his fingers with hers, your father gave your mother’s hand an assuring squeeze, “i’m sure she will,” he spoke, “if she doesn’t, we’ll just have to hope it grows on her.”

your mother laughs at your father’s statement; at the same time hoping that it wouldn’t come to that.

the car stops in front of a white double-story terrace house. the second floor had been extended into a balcony and you notice the few familiar plants from your previous house put on display. half of the wall on the outside of the second story was an exposed brick wall, which adds a little bit of red-orange aesthetic to the full white design of the house. the ground level had a black gate, with two front doors in the same colour with floor-to-ceiling tinted windows.

getting out of the car, you ran up to the gates, attempting to climb them before your mother rushed over and picked you up. “sweetie, that’s dangerous!” she pointed out, a frown on her face.

your father was at the boot of the car, stacking two of the many boxes together before making his way to the gates. “honey, the keys are in my back pocket, could you get it?” reaching out a hand into your father’s pocket and fishing out the keys. unlocking the gates and the front door, your mother placed you down on the ground to help your father with the boxes while you decide to explore the interior of the house.

running up the stairs to the second story of the house, there were three gray colored doors. being a curious child, of course you went through all three of them. you opened the first door that revealed the master bedroom, which of course is going to be occupied by your parents. the second door lead to a bathroom; and when you reached the third door - a pink sign was hung on the door with your name written on it.

pushing the door open, the first thing you noticed was a pink bed tucked nicely in one corner of the room. across it was a white study table with a few trinkets decorating the surface, followed by a wooden closet right next to it. at the foot of your bed stood a similar level bookshelf, filled with all your favorite books and coloring books; alongside some of your plush toys.

“do you like it, babygirl?” came your father’s voice from behind you. whirling around and flashing him a big smile, you excitedly nod your head as he crouched down to your level, giving your hair a ruffle.

“i’m glad you do.”

he then proceeded to pick you up and placed you over his shoulder, legs hanging over his shoulders. “daddy!” you squealed, giggling as he gave you a piggyback ride.

“honey! ___!” your mother called out, “come meet our neighbours!”

you stared down at the young boy from your father’s shoulder while he stared back up at you.

as your father sets you down from his shoulder, the roles switched; you’re now staring up at the boy while he stares down at you.

seeing how the staring contest would not end anytime soon, your mother placed her hands on your shoulders, introducing you to the young boy and the woman standing next to him who you deduced to be his mother.

“my, what an intense staring contest,” she chuckled. “we’re the lees’! that’s my husband, and this is ___, my daughter.”

“intense, indeed,” the woman chuckled. “we’re the chois’. it’s nice to meet you, ___. this boy here is seungcheol, my son. my husband’s out back dealing with the garden.”

she then looked down at seungcheol, lightly patting his shoulders, “cheol, did you bring what i asked you to?”

snapping out of the staring contest he was having with you, seungcheol handed you a paper bag which you accepted after getting a nod of confirmation from your mother. looking inside the bag, you see a container of brownies, a small ‘wah…’ leaving your lips.

“mom and i baked them last night! we hope you’ll like them!” seungcheol said with a big grin on his face.

placing a hand on your head, your mother smiles, “our little ___ will definitely like them. she has an incredible sweet tooth.”

“no, i do not!”

“___, sweetie,” your father spoke up, “you ate half a tub of ice cream in half an hour.”

“daddyy!!”

you were 7 when your little crush on seungcheol began.

you were in the playground, swinging on the swingset with your bear plush in your lap when a group of boys approached you. “that’s our swing,” one of the boys spoke, arms crossed as they stared down at you.

you stopped swinging and looked at the group, “you can’t claim a swing. it’s a playground for everyone.” visibly upset by your response, the boys stepped closer so that they would tower over you. “well, this is our swing now. get off.”

“no.”

you could see the face of the boys turn red - from anger and embarrassment that you were refusing to follow their instructions. as they continued to stare down at you, one of them noticed your bear plush, snatching it out from your lap.

“hey!” you shouted, getting off the swing to try and get your plush back, “give him back!”

“nuh-uh,” the boy retorted, raising it up above his head so you can’t reach it, “that’s what you get for sitting on our swing!”

you then shove at the boy, crying out, “i said give him back!”

“back off, girlie!” another boy said, shoving you back with a harder force, causing you to fall back onto the ground of the playground.

as the boys walked away with your bear plush, leaving you to cry on the ground. they tossed it around, occasionally dropping it on the floor and purposefully stepping on the poor plush, later on acting as if they didn’t mean to do so. witnessing the boys’ treatment towards your plush,  you pulled your knees to your chest, hugging it as your cries grew louder.

“___?” a worried seungcheol called out.

crouching down in front of you, seungcheol places a hand on your head, gently petting it in an attempt to comfort you. “___, what happened? why are you crying? are you hurt anywhere?” you attempted to answer him. but, due to your crying, you had a hard time forming words, only letting out harsh pants and whimpers.

“easy there, ___,” seungcheol said softly, “take a deep breath, okay?”

when your crying calmed down, the older boy heard the laughters of the group of boys. turning his head towards their direction, he saw them taking turns throwing a plush bear at each other. seungcheol recognised the plush bear - it was the very same plush he had gifted you on your 7th birthday.

he then turned back to you, noticing that you were looking at the group with a frown on your face. pressing his thumb against your forehead, he gave you a gentle smile, “don’t frown like that, you’ll get wrinkles.”

turning back to the group, he let out a sigh, “they took your bear?”

you sniffled as you nod your head, wiping the snot from your nose with the sleeves of your hoodie. “do you want me to get it back for you?”

“p-please…”

nodding his head, seungcheol got back up on his feet, ruffling your hair before making his way towards the group of boys.

“hey, you rascals over there!” he called out.

you don’t know why, but you felt your heart race, a small blush forming on your face.

after seungcheol had gotten your bear plush back from the group of boys (mainly by scaring them off because imagine an older, taller boy approaching you with a scary look after talking to the girl whose bear you had snatched), he walked you back to your house.

as his parents were out working, it wasn’t unusual for seungcheol to spend some time at your place with your parents as he waited for his to return home. sitting beside you on the porch of the backyard of your back garden, seungcheol was eating a piece of brownie your mom had baked while you enjoyed a cone of vanilla ice cream.

“you need to learn to stand up for yourself, ___,” seungcheol spoke, placing the now empty plate next to him and looked at you. “but, i have you to protect me!” you responded with a smile on your face, earning a small laugh from the boy. “i know, ___. but, i can’t always be there for you.”

“d-does this mean you’re leaving me…?” you asked, tears welling up in your eyes. “oh, ___,” seungcheol said softly as he places a hand on your head, “that’s not what i mean. i meant it as in, there will be times where i can’t always be with you. you remind me of a puppy,” he chuckled. “maybe that can be a nickname for you, hmm?”

when your eyes light up and nod excitedly at the older boy, he lets out another laugh and ruffles your hair.

“alright then, pup.”

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwoo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetener @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnotthelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @minhui896 @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp

#kpop #seungcheol smut #seventeen fanfic #choi seungcheol #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen #scoups fluff #scoups fanfic #scoups smut #scoups scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen scoups #scoups #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol #scoups x reader #scoups imagines #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #cheolaholic.fics #cheolaholic.RoL #cheolaholic

[bella-rose29]

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 5

Christmas Eve part 2

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: swearing, family members are mean (are we seeing a pattern?), can you tell that I love lebkuchen from the number of times it got mentioned, they kiss again but for like 2 seconds, then they kiss again later for longer than 2 seconds 👀, reader's grandpa isn't supportive of her job (but it's ok because lockwood saves the day), a pigeon was harmed in the making of this chapter (but it lives!), drinking (alcohol), lockwood talks about his family and the Christmases he spent without them, reader comforts him, there is so much communication but somehow so much miscommunication at the same time??? and I'm annoyed at myself for doing this (but it's necessary), this part does not have a happy ending at all (I'm sorry)

series master list

"Well," Lockwood started, looking around at everyone gathered. "I suppose it started in March."

He paused for a moment, trying to figure out where to go from there. "We were on a job, just the two of us, in Kensington. A couple wanted their house clearing out before they properly moved in, and called us. Everything was going perfectly fine, and then we realised that our clients hadn't told us everything about the property, and we were dealing with three Limbless in an enclosed space." Y/n remembered that job well. It was one of the few cases that she'd actually gone on with just Lockwood, and they had been arguing for most of it about the best way to get rid of a Limbless.

Their argument had attracted the other two that were out in the garden.

"Y/n was brilliant, of course, using her Talent to locate the Sources of the three of them while I covered her, but I got held up in the corridor by some Type Ones that had appeared and she was left on her own. I only just got there in time to throw a salt bomb at the Limbless behind her and give her the extra second that she needed to wrap up the Source, but I don't think I've ever been more scared in my life. I really thought I was too late and that I'd lost her." His voice sounded thick with emotion, and when Y/n met his eyes they were watery. She tried not to frown, since it was strange for her to see him so affected like this. Lockwood cleared his throat, and looked back at the crowd. "Then of course I realised that I couldn't live without her and I asked her on a date. She said no, despite my attempts at baking her favourite cake and all the flowers." He cracked a smile, and people around the room laughed.

"Well you did look rather pathetic, Ant. I sort of wanted to watch you suffer a bit more." That much was true at least, since any time she got to watch him squirm was entertaining to her.

"Well you certainly got your share of that, darling," he huffed, and Y/n bit back a snort at the frustrated look on his face. "I had to ask her about six times after that first one before she finally said yes. We've been dating since the middle of April."

"It was eight, but who's counting?" Something about his story didn't sit right with her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe it was how close it was to what had actually happened on the job, or maybe it was the dread of all the questions she'd get about her job once people started mingling, wanting to know if she had a backup plan in case this line of work failed, or if she realised how dangerous it was.

Maybe it was the way that Lockwood had looked at her when he was talking about losing her.

~~~

"What are your intentions with Y/n?"

"Don't be stupid," John said, whacking his brother Sam on the arm.

"No, but really, what are your intent- oof!" Sam had been tackled to the floor by John, and Lockwood did his best not to flinch.

He'd been dragged into the library a few minutes ago by Y/n's brothers, and although he was the smallest, Tom was currently the most frightening as he stared Lockwood down from across the room, despite the two eldest brothers currently scrapping on the floor.

"Did... did you want me to answer that, or...?"

"I mean, it would be nice to know," Will piped up, eating straight from a packet of lebkuchen in the armchair opposite. Lockwood didn't think he'd ever seen the man without some sort of food nearby. He sat forward in his chair slightly, trying to come up with a good enough answer that would mean he could go back to the party. John and Sam stopped punching each other to hear his answer.

"I'm mostly just happy that she even gave me a chance, if I'm being honest." That much was true, but Y/n's brothers didn't need to know that he was talking about her acceptance of a position at his company and not the mythical relationship that the two of them had been in for eight months. "I know that I'm incredibly lucky to have her, and I can promise you that I won't do anything to screw that up."

Sam and John seemed happy enough with his answer, and Lockwood started breathing a little more easily. Tom was still staring at him, and Lockwood could have sworn that the boy hadn't blinked the entire time. Will snorted, shaking the bag around to get the last crumbs of lebkuchen out. "Yeah, sure. What's the real answer? No more of that crap, because it's obvious you rehearsed that to make us happy." When Lockwood didn't say anything for a moment Will prodded him again. "Go on."

He clenched his jaw, wondering how he could say anything nice about Y/n when she hadn't said anything nice about him for nearly three years, and looked out the window. A memory flashed up, and despite it having only been that morning, he was surprised at how quickly he'd forgotten the interaction.

Since when had she memorised how he took his tea?

He didn't think that Y/n had ever made him tea before, always making it a deliberate point to make a pot for everyone but him, and yet that morning while they sat in bed she had done it perfectly as though it were second nature. Then his mind drifted back to the night before, and he felt his face warm up at the memory of the mistletoe. He cleared his throat.

"I guess..." Lockwood sighed through his nose and clenched his jaw again. It was starting to ache. "I guess that's true, what I said before-"

"You guess?" Will interjected. Lockwood hadn't thought that he would be under this much scrutiny, but he was starting to sweat uncomfortably. He'd rather be dealing with Barnes right now than be sat here.

"It is true," he amended, making wary eye contact with the man. The packet of lebkuchen was neglected in Will's hand, hanging limply as he sat forward to question his younger sister's boyfriend. "She's incredible - the most incredible girl I've ever met - and I truly am aware of how lucky I am that she chose me. I'm not exactly... easy... to be around sometimes because of my agency, but she deals with me perfectly. She deals with me more than she should, to be honest." He frowned, thinking again about how he needed to figure out how to apologise to her. Nothing he had said was a lie; in fact, he didn't think he'd said anything more true about Y/n the entire time that he had known her. She was incredible, since her Touch was so powerful and unlike anything that he had ever seen before. And he did count himself lucky that she, despite his horrible words, still decided to work for him. And she did deal with him, more than anybody should, and she did it by being just as much of an arse to him as he was to her.

Maybe they were good together after all.

A thud on the window made everyone turn to look at what had made the noise, and Tom finally broke eye contact with Lockwood.

"Pigeon," Sam said, having been closest to the window. "I think it might be- oh no, it's just got up and flown off. Don't tell Mum though, she'll have a fit if she sees the mark it left."

"Alright, I think we're done here. You're free to go, Lover Boy," Will said, waving his hand vaguely at Lockwood and scrunching up the empty lebkuchen packet. Lockwood got up to leave, but upon opening the door a body fell face first into his chest with a small 'oof!'

"... Darling?" Lockwood asked, confusion lacing his voice. The figure looked up and offered a smile.

"Oh, hi! I was just... wondering where you were, Anthony." He tried to not let it show how much it affected him to hear his first name in her mouth, but the slight intake of breath that he took probably gave him away. It didn't help that Y/n was in that dress, since she looked so stunning that he couldn't focus on anything but her.

"You're so obsessed with each other," Lockwood heard Will mutter from behind him, and he realised with a start that they had just been staring at each other and blocking the doorway, penning the others in the library. When they went to move, however, Sam stopped them.

"Mistletoe! You can't break tradition!"

"Ugh, again? Did Mum plant an entire fucking garden of it?" Y/n said, peering up at the sprig that hung over their heads. "They're not gonna let us leave without doing it."

"Alright. Let's get it over with then," he whispered into her mouth, and he couldn't help but feel the exact opposite when she pressed her lips to his.

~~~

"So," Y/n's grandfather Richard started, and internally she groaned. He had used the tone of voice that meant he was about to start asking about work, and she was dreading this conversation. "Being an agent. Are you still sure it's what you want to do with your life, Y/n?"

"Yes, Gramps. I'm sure. I have been doing it for years now."

"But there are so many other things you could be doing! Jobs that you could actually be good at!"

That stung a little, and Y/n sat back slightly in her chair. She loved her Gramps, and most of the time he was one of her favourite family members, but he'd been alive before the Problem had started and didn't understand that things had changed since he was a kid. He believed in her in most other ways, just not when it came to her life as an agent, which was one of the only things she was truly passionate about (other passions included drinking tea and hating Lockwood).

"I don't mean to intrude," a voice piped up, and once again Y/n found herself wondering how the hell Lockwood managed to always turn up at the right time. "But Y/n is one of the best agents in the country, sir. Her Talent is so incredibly unique and that's what makes her so brilliant at her job." He perched on the arm of the chair that she was sat on, and she frowned when she felt the urge to rest her head against his thigh.

"Well how can you possibly know that!"

"Gramps, this is my boyfriend, Anthony? You met him briefly last night?"

"Oh, is it? Right, well I suppose you would know then! Tell me, is she too much of a pain sometimes?!"

Lockwood hesitated slightly, glancing down at where Y/n sat in the chair and frowning a little at her Gramps' question. "If anything I'm the pain. I don't know why she keeps me around to be honest." He sounded so sincere about it that for a moment she forgot that he had ever said anything horrible about her. The rest of their conversation faded into background noise as she remembered what she'd overheard earlier.

It was probably breaking all sorts of moral laws to eavesdrop on her brothers' interrogation of Lockwood, but then again she'd made her boss her fake boyfriend to fool her entire family, so she figured that she was well past being entirely moral about things. And besides, she hadn't been intending on listening in at first, she'd just been walking back from using the loo and happened to hear them. She couldn't get Lockwood's words out of her head, and she'd been replaying them over and over since.

"She's incredible - the most incredible girl I've ever met - and I truly am aware of how lucky I am that she chose me."

What the hell did that mean? Was it a lie that he'd made up to make them happy? But then she'd also heard Will prodding for the truth and his exclamation that whatever Lockwood had said before (which she hadn't heard) was obviously fake, so did he just come up with a better lie?

Tonight, she thought. Tonight I'll talk to him.

~~~

When the last guests had stumbled out of the front door, singing loudly and bumping into each other because they had had too much to drink, everybody left in the house let out a sigh of relief.

Y/n mumbled a tired 'good night' to everyone as she pulled herself upstairs, and Lockwood followed after her. He'd been helping her father tidy up a little before turning out the lights, to save some of the food that needed refrigerating and chucking other things in the bin. She had been worried when her dad first started talking to Lockwood, but then she'd heard her father laughing and had decided that they would be perfectly fine together.

Now she collapsed face first onto the bed, not yet worrying about the chill in the room.

"I can see why you were dreading that," Lockwood said, his voice sounding too loud. She'd had to down a few drinks that afternoon to deal with the sheer number of questions and comments from family members and friends, and now her head was aching slightly.

"Can you get me some water?" she asked, but since her face was still buried in the duvet it came out muffled. Lockwood's footsteps shuffled around for a while, and then went silent, and Y/n huffed in annoyance. Of course he'd just get himself ready for bed and not worry about her, that was so typical of him. She pushed herself upright, wincing when the room wobbled a little and the pain increased in her head, then frowned when Lockwood reappeared, something in his hand.

"Here. I couldn't find any painkillers though, so I'll just go and fill that up when you're done so you can try and sober up before bed."

Oh. Maybe he wasn't being so typical after all.

"Thanks," she muttered, taking the glass from him and eyeing it warily.

"It's not poisoned, darling. If I was going to kill you I wouldn't do it in a way that might mean you could come back to haunt me."

"Charming."

He sat down on the bed next to her with a sigh, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. "You know," he said, not looking at her. "This hasn't been... the worst Christmas I've ever had."

"No? You're spending it with me." He gave her a wry smile, finally bringing his gaze up to meet hers.

"Yeah, that's not really that bad."

Oh.

"Really?"

He hummed in answer, nodding slightly, then got up and walked over to the fireplace. They sat in silence while Y/n finished off her water and Lockwood got the fire going, and once she headed over to sit next to where he was crouching she realised how cold she had been before. He sat back, leaning on the chair behind him. Y/n was hunched over her knees, empty glass dangling in her grip. She could have done the same as Lockwood with the armchair behind her, and god knew her head needed something to rest against because despite the water dulling the ache it was still pressing against her temples, but she didn't think she could see Lockwood's face at that moment.

"The first Christmas after Jess passed was the worst."

Her head snapped to look at him where he sat to her left, but he was staring into the fire, eyes transfixed on the flames but looking at something far away. She didn't say anything, instead just letting him go ahead in his own time.

"The ones after my parents died were hard, sure, but at least I had Jess around and we knew what the other was going through. Then she was gone too, and I was nine years old in a big house that was suddenly empty of the family I had spent my life being loved by."

She knew that his family were dead since the absence of any of them was shockingly present in 35 Portland Row, but he had never told her anything. She'd had to learn it all from Lucy, George, and Holly.

"That first one was horrible. I don't think I stopped crying for longer than an hour the entire time, and I couldn't sleep because I kept replaying it over in my head. I could have helped," he whispered, and Y/n could see that his eyes were glistening in the light of the fire. "I could have saved her, if only I hadn't-" he cut himself off, his voice growing too strangled to continue. Quickly she placed her hand on his arm, turning her body to face him.

"Hey, hey," she said quietly, drawing him into her arms. Her glass had been abandoned on the floor, her hands now holding Lockwood's body in her lap instead. His head was resting on her chest while his arm wrapped around her stomach, the other supporting his weight, and Y/n told herself that she was only allowing this to happen because she hadn't yet sobered up.

She wasn't sure how long they were there for, her leaning back at an awkward angle to allow room for Lockwood to lie on top of her and curl into her side while he sniffled, but after a while she found that she didn't mind stroking her fingers through his hair (which was surprisingly soft) or having his weight on her (it was like having a weighted blanket).

"Thank you," he muttered after a while, sitting up and wiping at his face. He paused in his movements when he realised that their faces were much closer together than was normal for two people that didn't like each other. The memory of that morning when she had smoothed out his collar and he had been about to say something came back, and when his gaze flicked between her eyes and her lips she drew in a breath.

"Anthony?"

And then he was surging forward, kissing her with the same passion that he had hated her with while she reached up to grab his shirt, not caring that she was wrinkling the fabric that she herself had smoothed out that very morning. How could she think of anything but him when the two of them had finally crashed together like a tsunami hitting cities?

How could she think of anything but him when he pulled her on top of him?

And how could she think of anything but him when he sighed her name into her mouth and it sounded sweeter than the tea he drank?

And then she was thinking about him entirely, and remembering everything that had happened since they met, and suddenly kissing him was a terrible idea.

"She's not good enough for the company."

She pushed away from him with a start when those words blared in her mind like warning alarms, the memory of what she had overheard in the library around four months after starting to work for Lockwood and Co. She hadn't heard anything before, but the disdain in Lockwood's voice told her it was about her. She had run upstairs to make sure she didn't hear any more of what he thought about her.

"Y/n?" he asked now, voice hoarse from crying and kissing, and his expression was desperate as he watched her press her hand to her lips and take shaky breaths. "Y/n? What is it? Wh-"

"Don't," she snapped, standing up and trying to forget the feeling of his hands on her body. "Don't... just don't, Lockwood." He was getting up too, scrambling after her and reaching out to stop her from slipping away.

"I don't understand-"

"Don't understand what?! We can't- we hate each other, Lockwood!" The venom in her voice made him stumble back a few steps. "You never wanted me at your company and you made sure that I knew that!"

"I-"

"I heard you telling the others that I wasn't ever going to be good enough for you, and then a few hours later after a job you're telling me that my Talent is incredible?! What am I supposed to think?! And then you spend the next however many years being a complete dick to me and complaining about me, so I do the same because clearly being nice didn't work, and now you're here at my fucking family Christmas event pretending to be my boyfriend and kissing me when you don't need to-"

"Of course I need to! I know I was horrible to you-"

"An understatement," she scoffed, crossing her arms.

"-but I'm trying to figure out how to apologise to you because I know that I've fucked up and I need to fix it!"

"So you kissed me?!"

"No! Yes! That wasn't an apology!" He rubbed his hand over his face, clearly frustrated with how it was going. "It was a mistake- no, Y/n, I didn't mean it like that!"

"A mistake?" she whispered, her eyes stinging with fresh tears. "Kissing me was a mistake?"

"No," he said, tone filled with desperation. "No, Y/n, I just meant that I shouldn't have done it before apologising to you because then it would seem like... I don't know! Like I was doing it just to try and trick you into accepting my apology or something!"

"Were you? Doing it to trick me? Because right now I can't tell what the truth is, Lockwood!"

"It wasn't a trick. It was never a trick, and I'm an idiot-"

"Yes, you are."

"Would you just listen to me?!" he shouted, anger seeping in to his body, and Y/n took a step back at the look in his eyes.

"What, like how you listen to me?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Yesterday, on the platform, when I was talking about my family being a lot and how it was hard for me and I'm actually related to most of them, and I couldn't imagine how hard it would be for someone to be introduced to all of that in one go. You just assumed that I meant it would be hard for you because your family is dead, and then when I tried to explain you cut me off and gave me the cold shoulder because you didn't fucking listen, Lockwood. What I meant was it would be a lot for anyone, no matter their own experience. Hell, even George has said that he would rather be blocked from the Archives for life than ever meet my family, and he's got almost as many relatives as me!"

Lockwood didn't say anything for a minute, instead just standing still and staring at her while the fire in his eyes died down, and Y/n shook her head. "This?" She gestured between the two of them. "This will never work. We will never work. Because you never wanted me and no matter how much I want you to like me in the same way that you like the others, you never will. And I will never be good enough for you." That was one more person to add to the list of people that she needed to meet unnecessarily high expectations for in order to be even noticed. She wiped at the tears that had slipped down her face while she was talking, the salt making her cheeks itch.

"You're right," Lockwood finally said. "I won't ever like you in the same way as the others." He stopped there, looking down at the floor. When he went to speak again, however, he lifted his head to an empty room, and the bathroom door shutting him out.

Y/n ignored his attempts to talk to her through the door, shoving the duvet and blankets that she had quickly grabbed into the bathtub and plugging her headphones into her walkman so that she didn't have to hear the rest of his cruel words and excuses.

She had craved something different with him, and it had fucking destroyed her.

And now she had to wake up on Christmas Day and pretend that she was hopelessly in love with the fake boyfriend who had just broken her heart.

part 6

Tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list! <3

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #deck the halls (and not your partner) #enemies to lovers #fake dating #christmas

[helsensm]

I cannot hold it in anymore I am absolutely OBSESSED with your art and the way you draw Lao.

I also would like to inquire….. just perhaps… what are your top head-canons for him, and/or your opinions on popular ships for him/which ones you like?

No pressure!! I hope you are having a wonderful day 🧡

me, trying to act normal every time an awesome artist I look up to says something nice about my art

Thank you so much! first of all, please take this Lao with you, he's yours now~

now let me preheat my bad english.....

Most of my Lao headcanons (if they are not related to a particular art I made) were yoinked from another ppl, because DAMN FELLAS your brains are sexy. 😏 So you might have heard some of them already, but here's my top general hcs for him.

NOTE: we are talking about the current timeline mk1 Kung Lao

- Lao is very expressive with his hands and he's THE TOUCH person. Just look at how many times he took Raiden by the shoulder in the first chapter alone?? He'll be pushing, and patting, and shoving, and punching you all over while telling about his breakfast or something.

- Lao is struggling with inferiority complex. Since childhood he was under a tremendous amount of pressure, he has to do things right, to be better, or else he would be mocked or punished. Now he believes that he should be the best, or he would not be taken seriously. He's constantly seeking validation in his peers, causing him to act cocky and over-confident.

- Anger issues, usually when someone questions his skill.

- People call him lazy because he tries to act like everything comes naturally to him. In reality he trains hard and takes things seriously. Like, he's fighting with a RAZOR RIMMED HAT fgs, it's not something you can master in a day! Also he always got energy running through his veins, lucky bastard... *cries in iron deficiency*

- He makes his hats by himself. With his hands. He designs and creates. ALL of them. I will die on that hill.

- He's a slow to trust, but ride or die as a friend.

- He's a trouble maker FOR SURE, but not a bully. He's respectful and polite to most of the people (if they don't provoke him), also drinks his respect-women juice.

- Master of sass and sarcasm. And yes, I think he swears, but in the right circumstances or the right company.

- He's got rizz NOW, but in his teens he had zero game because he could not keep his mouth shut and would scare off the person with the most ridiculous piece of idiocy.

- I read it in one fic and really loved the idea that Liu Kang "told the blossoms" about Kung Lao, and they really liked him 🌸 so now they are following him around and bringing him news and gossips, that's why there's always those goddamn petals aroung him aasghGHHHj 🌸🌸

- He's rolling his eyes at Johnny, but they quickly become besties.

- He actually has a cold relationship with Liu Kang. Don't get me wrong, he trusts him, respects the hell out of him and will run into a wall for a man. But I think Liu will distance himself because of all the memories of HIS Lao and how badly they sting. oTL

- That smile and a bow Lao did after loosing to Raiden? He meant that. Loosing hurted BAD, but the pain was pushed aside by the sence of pride and happiness for his best friend.

oh shit, this is getting out of hand, I'm starting to think about the other timelines and dynamics, we'll be here all week hhhhgh

About the popular ships... Well, I'm a big fan of railao (yeah NO SHIT who would have thought), but I am a multishipper, so I'm just happy to see my fav characters feeling good in someone's hands. 😊

I really like the liulao and laoliutana for several different reasons. 👀 The johnshilao (or is it laojohnshi..? erm) was the one that didn't impress me at first (love the Lao just third-wheeling with a tired expression <:'D), but recently I'm starting to warm up to all the different dynamics these three can have. And that is, in no small part, thanks to you and your kenlao agenda 👀💖 damn you created such a nice cozy universe for them I'm 🥺💕💗💖

Bi-Han/Lao is a bit random, but I love how catto did them, they are such a cute pair of assholes! >:3

ummm, yeah, so I'm going to stop there ahahhH. Thank you again for asking and for all the nice little feels your art provides, I admire you tremendously~

#my asks #my art #kung lao #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #helsensm art

[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter Five: Cats, Cluelessness, and difficult communication

Max Verstappen x Reader x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris

Chapter Summary: a brief interlude in the off-season before 2020, Sebastian adopts Charles, Max struggles to communicate his feelings, and the reader makes a new friend 👀

Warnings: mentions of SH, reader over does it again, seizure like episode, Lando is awkward, Charles is awkward, Max can't do feeling well yet, jos verstappen

Notes: ah yes, the gang is all here now. I have more action coming in the next part. Maybe also some fluffy stuff. I've been trying to get some blurbs done for what isn't shown in the long chapters because I've had to cut down on some things. I would love to give y'all some content of our duo, trio, or quartet doing something specific.

Previous <-

Masterlist

The end of the season means a bit of a break for the drivers. A chance to spend some time with their families. For her, it means spending time with Sebastian and Hanna in Germany.

The trio had wanted to officially introduce themselves. They knew, but the three barely got a chance to interact all together. It would be nice to catch up anyways.

They are all sat at the dining room table. Even the littles wanted to join in on the conversation. Mostly they spout of randomness as they listen but it’s still endearing to everyone.

The three are sat in a row. Charles far left, the female in the middle and Max on the right if her.

“So I’m curious, who gets the middle of the bed?” Seb laughs at his own question. Hanna playfully hits his shoulder. Charles and Max both look at her. She just rolls her eyes as they both start laughing.

“Are you three moving in together?” Hanna asks this time. Genuine curiosity, unlike her husband.

Charles almost chokes. He hadn’t thought about it.

He’s thankful he’s not the first to answer. “Are you saying you want me out?” It’s a playful question from the girl. She’s smiling like an idiot at the banter.

“Of course not. You’re welcome here forever.”

Max swallows his food then joins the conversation. “We were actually planning on moving some things to my apartment since we’re here.” Now Charles feels out of place. Was he not asked yet for a reason? They hadn’t been together long so it would make sense. “Charles lives in Monaco already so I figured his things would be easier to move.” Max explains.

Now he’s confused. Something Max can clearly see. They make eye contact for a moment and Charles is left a mess. “Unless you don’t want to anymore?”

Charles is shaking his head no at lightning speed. He definitely wants to. He’s tired of living alone and throwing himself pity parties over breaks. Plus, he learns he sleeps better when he's not alone.

~

Moving feels more sentimental to her this time. She had more stuff than when she was fifteen.

Sbeastion offered to let them fly private with him to help move her stuff to Monaco. She wanted to, but it was unnecessary. Most of her belongings that she needs fits into an extra suitcase.

Max and Charles both kept asking her if she had anything else. It was getting on her nerves a bit.

Hanna and Seb had done the same thing when she first came to Germay. Though she had less then. Hanna had taken her to get some new clothes because her t-shirts all had holes in them.

Flights were weird. The first class has two seats for each row, meaning that one of them got to sit somewhere else. They often played musical chairs on the plane because of this.

She'd always had an affinity for even numbers.

It was an interesting dynamic they had created. Charles and Max are barely a month apart, and she's just turned nineteen. They get to do things she can't yet. But she's gentle and knows exactly what they need and is far to gentle for what she's been through.

Charles felt that he was playing catch up with the other two. He was new to this and still new to them. He, however, was the best at communication between the three.

Max, having grown up in an interesting family setting, is aggressive and protective. His communication skills are lacking, but he would do anything to keep his significant others out of harms way.

Today was one of those days that Max was struggling communication wise. It had started after an intense phone call where the other two were attempting (and failing) at deciphering dutch.

She'd offered to sit next to him if he needed consoling, but he decided to sit further away from the two. Leaving them to figure out what happened.

This had brought the thoughts of even numbers. If they were flying with four of them, Max wouldn't be able to mope alone.

"Do you think it was Jos?" Charles asked. His eyes had been on the Dutch for most of the flight.

"I would assume so given that he was speaking Dutch, and he doesn't do that with many people."

Both sigh. Jos had been on Max's ass about moving up into a championship title. Che was ready to have some words, either him, next time they were together, and Charles was going to start making a point to celebrate every placement in a race.

It didn't take long to get to Max's apartment. It's not the most luxurious, but it's comfortable. He's planning to get something worthy of the three of them after he gets a title.

Max had successfully locked himself away in his bedroom. The other two left to figure out what he needs. Maybe it is just a time thing?

"Is he usually like this after a call with Jos?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "It depends on if he's praising or berating."

"Can we help him?" Charles is eyeing the closed door and her. His brain working out every way to get him to open up.

She smirks. There always one thing that cheered up Max.

~

Max was choking back tears. He felt weak. Like he was never going to he enough.

He felt bad for stomping off the way he did, but he didn't want his partners to see him like this.

He hears the soft rape of knuckles against the door. "Mon Amour? Can we please come in?"

He grunts, but the Monegasque takes it as approval.

Charles peeks his head in. His gentle steps are coming closer to Max. He doesn't look up. He just keeps his head buried in his pillow.

Charles doesn't say anything, which he appreciates. Just sits down on the edge and lets Max's body dip towards his. Then he's running his fingers through Max's hair.

It's not long before another set of footsteps are padding into the room. These ones softer then Charles, telling Max it's y/n.

She's successfully moved both Jimmy and Sassy into the room from their hiding spots and is holding his favorite movie. She sneaks in and closes the door behind her.

They spend the next couple of hours lying in bed with the cats and watching their movie.

Max feels himself calming down. They don't talk about anything. Aside from occasionally copying the lines from the movie they've watched far to many time.

It's after that he feels like he can say something. His mind finally grounded back to reality. "I'm sorry for shutting you both out. I was just... agitated, I guess."

The Monegasque has his fingers back in his hair in an instant. "It's okay, you needed space. Do you want to talk about it now?"

The youngest places sassy on his chest as a way to comfort him. Her hands intertwine with his.

"Just frustrated that my dad thinks I'm not trying. He started spouting that I'll never get anywhere at this rate."

"That a lie. Jos is obviously lacking brain cells." The youngest pipes. "I can throw him into a wall if you want?"

The idea actually makes him smile.

~

Charles was the next to move things in. Though it was mildly awkward explaining to his family why he was moving somewhere else.

Turns out he can't keep a secret. His family is accepting. Pascale welcomes both into her home. She takes a particular liking to the quiet girl who is still always between the two older boys.

His stuff takes up more of the apartment than hers. The contrast of red and blue is now showing everywhere.

"If Charles is red, Max is blue, and I'm always in the middle, does that make me purple?" She spouts while unpacking a box of ferrari shirts.

Max spits out the water he was drinking. Charles starts wheezing. And she is laughing at her own comment.

"Where did you come up with that, Chéri?"

"Just a thought I've been sitting on since we started dating."

"You're not wrong, though." Max is wiping his mouth clean from the water.

~

It's weird going places together. Not errands and things, but social gatherings. Charles has asked to keep things private for now. He's not fond of the questions people have about the nuances of their relationship.

They came and left separately. Usually, depending on who wanted to leave first, the other would wait about fifteen minutes.

A few months into the break, Lando Norris decides to call Max and invite him and his lover to a party. He does the same for Charles a minute after he hangs up with Max.

The three of you have to hold in your laughter as Charles tries to get through the phone call listening to the same details.

Despite what Lando said, this was not the type of party any of you are used to by now. At least not Charles and Max. She'd been to few and got overwhelmed by it all pretty quickly. Sometimes, she'd use it as an excuse to get the boys out of the apartment so she could have the cats to herself and play around with her powers.

Charles and Max both hate it when she does it alone. They've found her on the floor passed out on multiple occasions. She doesn't care, though. The visions and nightmares of her father were more reason to keep going.

Regardless, this party is small. Just a few drivers who had been in town or live in Monaco are here with their partners.

Kika and Pierre, George and Carmen, Alex and Lily, Carlos is here along with Daniel. Charles is seated in a solitary chair. The couches have been taken. Daniel and Lando on either side of him.

It feels nice and intimate in a way. She hadn't seen many drivers just get together to hang out like this.

Charles is ever the gentleman and offers her the chair, which she takes. Him and Max are now making themselves comfortable on the floor in front of her.

They're eating, drinking, laughing, and sharing stories from the past. It's nice and relaxing.

She taps Max's shoulder, alerting him that she's going for water and asking both boys if they need anything to which they reply no.

She spots Lando in his kitchen getting a drink. It's not an alcoholic one, just juice that looks like it could be alcohol.

She turns on his tap for water, and Lando jumps out of his skin. His eyes rapidly look between her and his cup.

"I like to mix my alcohol with juice...?" His voice sounds unsure. Does he think it's not okay to just have juice?

"Juice is a good choice, in my opinion. Alcohol is strong and feels funny sometimes."

Lando visibly relaxs. "Promise you won't tell anyone? They laugh at me sometimes when I do this."

"I promise."

~

Lando was around more after the party. He seemed comfortable around her and Max. He'd opened up about his anxiety to them and played far to many games with Max.

What they were not expecting was for Lando to show up at their apartment door at three o'clock in the morning. His breathing uneven body shaking like a leaf.

She knew what this was. She'd had plenty of panic attacks.

She guides him inside to the couch and is trying to asses the situation. Get his breathing to calm down so he doesn't hyperventilate.

It takes ten minutes until he's calm.

"Did something happen?"

"Just a nightmare, and I couldn't calm down after."

"Did you walk here?"

He nods his head yes. Exhaustion flooding his eyes.

"Is Max asleep?" He asks.

"Should be. He sleeps like a rock most of the time." They both giggle. Lando is now able to relax in a calm environment.

They are interrupted by two sets of footsteps. Charles and Max come barreling into the living room. Panic on their faces one minute and embarrassment the next. Lando staring at the with the utmost confusion.

The older boys are shirtless and in sweats. Max's arm protectively outstretched in front of Charles.

"...oops."

~

Lando is not stupid. He may be the youngest on the grid currently, but he's not stupid.

He saw how the three of them looked at each other. Charles definitely touched them both far more than what friends do.

Originally, he thought he was crazy for watching them. Yet he couldn't help but be intrigued. How they all interacted. How they just flowed together.

Now he sits on their couch. Max looks like he's guarding Charles and y/n. The Dutch has yet to sit down and is leaning against the wall. Charles is sitting across from him with the females head in this lap. His fingers running through her hair.

It's a terrible feeling. Like he's left out of whatever this is. Three of his best friends spend all their time together, and he's just here. Young and naïve Lando.

"Did you have a feeling this would happen, Mijn liefje?" Asks Max from his perch on the wall. She shakes her head no in response.

Lando had heard about her knack for predicting future outcomes. He'd heard rumors about magic and tarot cards, but she'd never said anything to him.

"Well, you're welcome to stay here in the extra bedroom, and I can't take you home in the morning."

"That sounds nice, thank you."

~

She woke up exhausted. She felt guilty for not having warned Max and Charles. Her mind to far gone that they were mad at her. She spent her night trying to get any glimpse of their future but didn't get anything useful.

She hid herself away in the master bathroom. The wet towel and the floor her new best friend.

She could smell breakfeast. Max is cooking for all of them. They learned quickly not to let Charles cook. Lest they all die.

She was in bed with them this morning. Only crawling out from their hold when she felt them stir.

Every question puts her further into the fog. Was she going to lose them? Are they upset with her? Is Lando okay with them? Would he tell people?

It's too much for her head.

She goes for another attempt. She knows she's overdoing it. The further she goes with less time in-between brings her closer to the edge of her body going numb.

Nausea creeps into her stomach, but she sees them. Further down the line. Happy and four.

Four? This could be shocking, and yet somehow, she already knew. Her mind just needs a but of confirmation that it's possible.

The nausea gets stronger. Her nose is bleeding heavily. She pushed it past the limit.

They won't mind, though.

~

Max is making breakfast and quietly humming to himself. Charles has his hands on his hips, the two of them swaying back and forth to the tune.

"Do you think I should go check on her?" Charles mumbles into his shoulder.

"She may want space after last night, she was taken off guard and might need to peocess." He explains, then turns his attention back to the pan.

"I'm worried, though. She was crying last night after Lando went to bed, and I don't think she slept."

Lando slides around the corner. His face lighting up at the smell of food. "Can I... can I have some?"

Max laughs at the Brit's excitment. "Of course. I made enough for all of us."

Lando sits himself on top on the counter. Watching the Dutch and Monegasque lean into each other. He takes notice that someone is missing. "Is y/n okay?"

Both boys sigh with heavy concern. "She had a rough night." Explains Charles. His body is fighting the urge to go get her. "I can't take it anymore, I'm going to check on her."

Charles leaves Max and Lando in the kitchen. His legs taking long strides back to the bedroom.

"So you guys all sleep together? Not like sexually- I guess - I mean at night to sleep."

Max smiles at the Brit. His curiosity was nothing he didn't expect. "Yeah, we pile into the same bed at night. All of us sleep better that way."

Lando hums. His palm rubs his face with anxiety. "Would you ever add a fourth?-'m asking for a friend..."

Max already knows. Somehow, someway, he already knows where this is going. "Depends. It took months of discussion before Charles joined us. But I'm sure if the right person came along, we'd be open to it." Max turns around to face Lando and shoots him a reassuring smile.

Lando's cheek tint pink, and Max knows exactly what he wants.

~

Charles leclerc is usually someone who panics. This time was no exception.

He'd seen plenty after his six months of being together with his partners. Particularly how the femal among them is prone to violent behaviors against herself. He's seen all of her powers now and how they affect her if she uses them too much. He's been there to help soothe her after night terrors while Max fetches her water.

He was glad she opened up to him about her past more. He knew the generally what had gone on but no details, nothing like what he knew now.

The prospect of her father coming back for her at some point is what drover her to the breaking point on most days.

Now, Charles is faced with a locked door and the sounds of thrashing from the other side. He'd tried picking the lock, something him and Max both learned to do after instances like this, but his hands are far too shaky to maneuver the pins.

So he does the only other logical thing and breaks the door down. Only enough that he can lean it somewhere and not let it fall on her, but it felt cool to kick it in.

Charles has seen a lot of things, but this is completely new. Her muscles are tensing at a rapid speed, and her eyes are rolled back into her head. Her breathing movements are unatrual.

"Max!"

It takes ten seconds, and he's there. His body and mind reacting to the situation. He's trying to hold her in his arms. Attempting to wake her up from whatever trance she's in.

Max hisses through his teeth when he touches her. Her skin in his searing his hands. Yet, he pushes through.

Charles feels helpless. "What can I do?"

"This has happened before. She must have forced a vision. She'll come out of it, we just need to make sure she dosen't die in the process."

The two boys are then lifting her body of the floor. Charles now carries her to the bed while Max runs around grabbing things. Mostly ice to cool her down. Charles rambles on to her about nothing and everything. Max said they should talk to her, giver her some to help bring her back.

Both of them forgot they left Lando in the kitchen. The Brit left to finish making breakfast in light of their emergency. Again, they are shocked to see his pale face watching the scene unfold before him.

"Can I help?" Is all he can manage.

"Do you want to trade places with me? I think the liquid benadryl might help."

Lando is taking over for Max tentatively. He takes the ice pack from the Dutch and places it on her forehead.

Lando can see the sweat and tears mixed with fresh blood. It's scary, and he's nervous. Why are they not taking her to a hospital?

Normally, she's the one calming him down. She always knows exactly what he needs to hear. He's not been in this position, and it scares him to see her like this.

He slides one hand down to her bicep. His fingers tap out the melody to her favorite song. A trick she used on him to bring him back to earth when he got in his head.

About halfway through, she's sucking in a breath, her body sitting straight upwards. Her eyes are no longer stuck to the inside of her head. She's still sweating like mad, and her body is twitching, but she's awake.

She's breathing heavily. Dry heaving and coughing into herself. Her hands are quick to find Charles and grasp at him, searching for the familiar comfort.

Lando watches her intently. Her sobs are painful. They sound broken, like whatever she's just been through was some sort of of torcher.

"Chéri, can I set you with Lando for a moment? I need to tell Max you're awake." Charles whispers gently. Lando takes note of how he's cradling her. His hands on the back of her head and under her legs to support her weight.

She barely nods her approval. Her body is slid close to Lando, who embraces her. Attempting to replicate what Charles was doing. He finds himself tapping the same melody on her knees.

"Was that you tapping? When I was asleep?" She chokes.

"Yeah, could you feel it."

She nods her head against his body. "You brought me back, thank you."

Lando lets his body relax into hers, knowing he at least did one thing right today.

~

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Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @ipabloramos @jayda12 @faithm120601

(comment if you want to be added)

#x reader #fanficion #f1 fic #formula one #formula 1 #racing #angst #max verstappen #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x you #lestappen #max verstappen x charles leclerc #max verstappen x lando norris #charles leclerc x lando norris #charles leclerc #lando norris #f1 x reader #mclaren f1 #mclaren racing #mclaren formula 1 #f1 #f1 imagine #ferrari formula one #scuderia ferrari #ferrari racing #redbull f1 #red bull racing

[stylesispunk]

"I couldn't want you anymore"

artist! Joel Miller x florist!f! Reader

series masterlist | prologue | next | materlist

summary: when Sarah's mom comes back into Joel's life to fight for their past relationship, Joel needs to convince her he is in a happy relationship with the florist next to his gallery in order to make her go away. The problem is, that he and the florist can't stand each other's guts or that it's what he thinks.

warning: no warnings for now and age gap ( reader is 28 and Joel 36).

a/n: okay!! This chapter is out earlier than it was planned but is not a longe one so.. welcome haha. I hope you enjoy the first stop of this journey 👀 Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. happy reading 💌 also remember, english is not my first language so if sometimes everything sounds stupid, blame my brain and the mix of three languages there

Bee or annoying bee. That’s how Joel had referred to you since the day he laid his eyes on you for the first time when he saw you surrounded by a thousand flowers. 

You arrived here on a Monday morning exactly four years ago. At first, Joel thought you were one of the cutest people he had ever seen in his then 31 years of life. Even when you were the complete opposite of him in every way. Meanwhile, Joel was organized, you were spontaneous and messy and people around town seemed to love you for it. You were nice to everyone, to Sarah, and even to his brother, but to Joel, you were completely closed off. Yes, you smiled at him weakly every once in a while or even asked him about his day, but your smile never reached your eyes, you were simply polite and everything else. So, since that day, Joel decided he didn’t like you.

He didn’t like the flowers you sent to his daughter on special days, neither did he like the flowers you sent to him every time he had a new exhibition in his art gallery, and he didn’t like it when your flower shop also became a little coffee shop for people passing by. He simply didn’t like anything coming from you. 

You made him feel weird in the stomach, and he didn’t like that feeling.

And now, Joel didn’t know why he was in this position. He wanted to slap himself once he told his ex or how he liked to call her, the woman who birthed Sarah, that you were his girlfriend. In his defense, he was desperate at that moment He wasn't thinking straight and you were the first person who came to his sight at that moment. He only knew he didn't want the woman who abandoned him with a tiny baby years ago, back into his life.

So, once you were left speechless at the "This is my girlfriend" statement, he reached for you immediately with the promise he was going to tell you everything, so you left the gallery in peace but not without sending daggers at Joel.

After that, Joel invited Lauren into his gallery, desperately trying to find a way to convince her that he had moved on from them. He wasn't the same naive person he had been back then. But she was determined to rekindle their relationship and see Sarah in order to become the family they were meant to be, and she wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Joel, I understand that you've moved on with your life. But Sarah deserves to know her mother, and I want to be there for her."

Joel nodded; his heart heavy with the weight of their shared history. "I want what's best for Sarah too," he said, "but it's not that simple. You broke my heart when you left us alone.” 

Lauren reached out and placed a hand on his arm, a gesture of reconciliation. "Joel, I'm not asking for your forgiveness right now. I just want a chance to be a part of Sarah's life” she said. “And maybe now that we’re both grown adults, we can make it work between us.” 

“I told you I have a girlfriend” he lied again, trying to escape from this particular situation.

“The one who left?” she scoffed “You need a woman, Joel. Not an annoying girl” 

Joel didn’t utter a word, but for the first time since he met you, he felt the need to stand up for you.

A few hours later, after the crazy events from earlier in the morning, Joel found himself standing outside your flower shop, feeling a deep sense of humiliation. He knew he had some explaining to do, and he hoped you would at least hear him out.

As he entered the shop, the familiar sweet scent of flowers enveloped him, you were behind the counter, arranging some bouquets of flowers, pretending you were too focused on your work to even acknowledge his presence. 

"Bee" Joel began cautiously, "we need to talk."

You didn't look up from your flowers as you spoke: "Oh, what do you wanna talk about, my dear boyfriend?” 

Joel winced at the reminder of the lie he had told.

“You’re such a baby” you continued “Pretending I’m your girlfriend in front of... whoever that woman was?"

"Sarah's mother. I know it was a terrible thing to do, and I'm sorry. She showed up out of nowhere, and I didn't know how to handle it. I panicked."

At that piece of information, you finally looked up, locking eyes with Joel's. "So, what? You just decided to drag me into your mess?"

"No, it wasn't about that," Joel replied quickly. "I don't want her back in my life, and I thought if she believed I had moved on, she'd leave. I don’t really know.”

Your anger seemed to soften slightly as you listened to Joel's explanation, but still, you remained guarded. "That doesn't excuse your actions, Joel. We’re not friends” you said. As a matter of fact, “You can’t just use me like that.”

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know we haven't exactly been friendly neighbors here, and I take responsibility for that. But I promise you, this was a desperate move, and I didn't mean to involve you like that."

You continued to arrange the flowers, with delicate movements. "Why didn't you just tell her the truth?"

“What truth?”

“The one that you are so fucking annoying you can’t even keep a woman by your side” 

Joel's response was sharp, filled with resentment. "Like you could keep a man with you," he scoffed.

The words hung heavily in the air, making the tension between you two grow into a battle, a bitter word exchange. 

You clenched your jaw, your eyes narrowing as you met Joel's gaze. "Don't pretend you know anything about my life," you retorted, your voice tinged with anger.

Joel's expression hardened as he shot back, "I know enough to see that you're all smiles and sunshine to everyone else, but you push everyone away, especially me."

The words cut deep into your ego, and you felt the frustration arising. "Maybe I pushed you away because you're so judgmental and closed off," you fired back, not willing to back down. “Now, get out of my shop you will kill my flowers with your stinky mouth” 

“No,” he stated.

“What?” you asked, sending daggers at him.

“I won’t go because I need your help”, his voice almost a plea. 

Your eyes widened in disbelief at Joel's tone. "You've got to be kidding me," you exclaimed once you realized what he meant, the frustration in your tone was evident. "After all this, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?"

Joel's expression was one of desperation as he replied, "I know it's a lot to ask, and I understand if you don't want to do it. But I promise it's just one more time, and I'll make it up to you somehow."

You crossed your arms and tapped your foot on the ground "Joel, you've already pulled this stunt once today. Why on earth would I agree to do it again?"

Joel took a step closer, looking earnestly into your eyes. "Because this is important to me. Lauren is not someone I want back in my life, and I need a way to convince her to leave for good. Please, just help me one more time."

“But it is not important to me!” you exclaimed, making Joel stop his rambling “You are not my friend. I don’t own you anything” 

Your words cut through the tension, and for a moment, Joel was reminded of just how much you two didn't get along. He felt a pang of guilt for dragging you into his mess and into his life. 

Once you finished with the flowers, you set them aside. She leaned against the counter, studying Joel carefully. "You know, you’re ridiculous, right?” fakely smiled at him. “You’re a 36-year-old man fake dating a girl” 

Joel winced at your words. He knew he had acted irrationally and put you in an uncomfortable position, but hearing your frustration made it all the more stupid.

"I understand if you're angry," Joel admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I never should have involved you in this mess. It was unfair to you, and I'm truly sorry for that."

You let out a sigh in annoyance at Joel's request "Fine, I'll do it, but with one condition."

Joel's face lit up with hope. "Name it."

“You cannot fall in love with me,” she said, in a completely serious tone. 

Joel scoffed…I mean, there is no way he could possibly love you in that way. 

Joel chuckled, a nervous laugh escaping him. "Bee, trust me, the last thing on my mind right now is falling in love with anyone. Especially you" he placed his hands on the counter, almost touching your fingers “I could say the same about you. Don’t fall in love with me, baby” 

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his response, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "Oh, don't worry, Joel. Falling in love with you is impossible," you retorted, matching your tone with his.

Your expression became serious; locking eyes with Joel "I mean it, Joel. No matter what happens during all this, we can't let it go beyond pretending. We both know we can't stand each other, and that's not going to change."

Joel nodded in agreement. "I couldn't agree more, Baby. After this is over, you’re back to only being a pain in my ass and the most insufferable person I know.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes again, but you still offered a small smile. "Uh! that isn’t a nice thing to say about your girlfriend”, she pouted. 

Joel chuckled with a playful smirk "Ah, yes, how could I forget? My lovely girlfriend”

With the agreement in place, both of you understood the boundaries you had placed before doing this act. It was a peculiar arrangement, born out of necessity rather than desire. After all, it would last a few days or maybe some weeks. But Joel would do everything for his own and Sarah's sake, and you were willing to play along with it because, after all, you were a people pleaser.

As the tension eased, you continued to arrange more flowers, and Joel looked around your shop. Every single part of it held pieces of you. From the scent to the colors, it suited you. 

"I appreciate your willingness to go along with this, Bee" Joel said sincerely, breaking the silence "It means a lot to me, even if we can't, you know, stand each other."

You gave him a small nod. "I hope that from now on, you stop ruining my flowers.” 

Joel smiled "Promise” 

Joel raised his hands to shake hands with you, in a gesture to seal the agreement. You accepted his hand, and for a brief moment, your skin met his in the handshake. There was electricity sparkling at the touch, one that neither of you had anticipated. Swiftly, both of you let go of each other's hands, leaving an odd feeling lingering in the air.

“See you around,” Joel said, trying to cut the tension left in the air.

“See you” you answered, this time without meeting his eyes as you felt the blood rushing into your cheeks.

Joel turned and headed back to his gallery, with that strange feeling he hated so much settled in his stomach.

a/n: Okay this is the first official chapter of this story, this is more like an introduction of their agreement, but more is coming. I really feel inspired because last week spring began here so..flowers and more flowers. i have so many ideas for this one so i hope you like the story and the following chapters. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, please. Take care and see you soon.

p.s for those who read my other fic. I promise the next chapter will be posted by the end of this week or during the next one

tag 💌: @joeldjarin @borhapparker @fatima-marisa @kirsteng42

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller series #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel x reader #Joel Miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascar character imagine #pedro pascal

[mint-yooxgi]

{9} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humour

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Slight focus on Jongho)

Words: 12,135

Warnings: Violence. Arguments and verbal fights. OC gets some sense slapped into them by Reina, literally. Mentions of blood and of small cuts being inflicted to a wrist to draw blood. Mental Illness: mentions of anxiety, depression, and PTSD. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Not me staying up to post this when I have work in a few hours lmfaoooo anyways, this chapter turned out much longer than I expected! So, yay!! I'm quite happy with how it turned out, cause I feel like the stress of the situation is a sort of catalyst to the argument that ensues. I'm just glad I was able to get in everything that I wanted. It definitely starts off a bit tense, but the ending is quite light and happy. Also, potential smut next chapter anyone? 👀 As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

The moment Yeosang feels you brush against his mind, he’s appearing in Reina’s apartment.

“Sweet baby, Jesus.” Reina places a hand over her racing heart as he now stands across from her in the living room. “You weren’t kidding when you said they can just appear.”

“I told you,” you chuckle, moving over to stand beside him. 

You notice that she rests just a tad bit shorter than him as she looks him over, her arms crossed over her chest.

“So, you’re Yeosang.” She takes a moment to look him up and down. “The musician.”

“And you’re Reina.” His brow quirks slightly in amusement. “The best friend.”

“The one and only.” She grins, tucking the tome further beneath her arm. “Though, you had longer, blond hair the first time we met.”

Yeosang spares a glance at you out of the corner of his eyes. “That I did.”

Briefly, you lean into him, explaining lowly what Reina remembers of the incident.

He nods in understanding.

“So,” Reina’s voice draws both of your attention back to her, “you play the violin.”

“I do.” Yeosang confirms with another brief nod of his head.

“A little birdie told me that you learned a specific melody for her.” There’s a knowing lilt to her voice as she says this. “Well done.”

The corners of Yeosang’s lips quirk upwards. A certain pride begins to fill his chest seeing as he cannot get a read on Reina’s thoughts anymore. There seems to be a spell blocking her mind from his, keeping her opinion of him secret. Though, from what she’s implying right now, he assumes that he’s gotten her approval. Or at least, some of it.

“You can do your best friend interrogation later,” you step over to playfully nudge her shoulder. “We’ve got another pressing matter to attend to.”

“Right, right,” she waves you off as the two of you step back over to Yeosang. “Sorry, I can’t help it. Now that I know, I need to make sure they pass my inspection and everything. They may be Kings, but I’m still your best friend.”

You snort out a laugh just as Yeosang places a hand onto each one of your shoulders.

“You know that your approval of them won’t change how I feel.” You grin. “Also, brace yourself: bend your knees, and close your eyes. It helps with the nausea the first few times.”

You barely make out the confused furrow of her brow when Yeosang is teleporting the three of you back home. Once the foyer is in view, you notice Reina stumble forward, and you immediately move to steady her on her feet.

“I warned you,” you chuckle, helping her straighten back upright.

“I don’t think there’s a proper warning for that.” She grumbles, brushing some stray flyaways out of her eyes. She blinks a few times after that, further clearing her vision.

From down the hallway, you notice a few of the other guys file out of Jongho’s room. The commotion must have drawn their attention, and you watch as Reina tenses ever so slightly as the commanding presences of the Kings of the Realm washes over her. The worried pull of their brows could definitely be mistaken for looks of irritation.

Only, she doesn’t have a chance to dwell on it all that much for Sudaem is stepping out of the room.

A gasp of awe escapes Reina, bypassing all of the males to walk right up to the gorgon.

“You must be Sudaem.” She extends her hand out to the female. “I’m Reina, baby caster. Nice to meet ya!”

Sudaem seems taken aback by Reina’s forwardness, and you can only chuckle fondly as you lightly push your best friend into the room.

“We can do proper introductions later.” You finally step into Jongho’s bedroom, seeing that he hasn’t moved a single inch since you last left him two hours ago. Stella seems to be absent as well. “We’re on a tight schedule here.”

“I’ve prepared everything that I could,” Sudaem addresses you. “There are a few things left that the spell requires, other than the caster’s performance.”

“What else does the spell need?” You inquire, watching as Sudaem moves over to the side to grab her own spell book that has been resting open on top of the dresser this whole time. Wordlessly, she hands it to Reina.

“It will need your blood, since you are connected to him in such a way currently.” She says, bringing a brass bowl filled with ash root, along with a few other things, over to you.

Carefully, Reina places her own tome down onto the dresser, balancing the other spell book effortlessly in her hand. You can see her eyes darting over the words on the page, and you just know that she’s taking in all of the instructions with excruciating detail. Her mind is practically racing behind her eyes, suddenly feeling the pressure of this moment building on her shoulders.

“This is a complex spell.” She comments, worried gaze darting over to you.

“It is.” Sudaem is the one to answer, a nod to her head as she holds the bowl beneath your wrist.

You turn to look at the males standing at the side of the room. “I’m going to need a blade.”

You can see the hesitation on their faces even before they say anything.

“If this is going to work-“

“We know, Dearest,” Yeosang grimaces. “We just don’t ever like seeing you injured, no matter the context.”

“I understand that,” you incline your head. “But-“

“I’ll do it,” Hongjoong steps forward, a small dagger appearing in his hand and glinting beneath the candlelight that illuminates the room.

The curtains have long since been drawn, blocking out any and all natural light. Even the door to Jongho’s room has been closed since you’ve all reentered it, only the faint flickering of the flames causing shadows to dance over the walls.

Carefully, Hongjoong grabs your wrist in his free hand, thumb gently stroking over your unmarred skin. He glances upwards briefly, noticing how you nod subtly at him. A small, reassuring smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“How much blood is needed?” He directs his question towards Sudaem, not even bothering to break eye contact with you.

“At least five drops.” She replies instantly, holding the bowl steady all the while.

Hongjoong nods his understanding, and you can sense the tension in the room radiating off of the others as he brings the edge of the blade to your skin. A flick of his wrist and blood begins dripping into the bowl beneath you. Yet, as always, the pain of such a wound never comes, and from how intently he seems to be staring at your wrist, you know that he has something to do with it.

Not even ten seconds later, Hongjoong’s thumb is tracing over the small incision. Smooth skin replaces the open wound as he heals you without another word, turning his sharp gaze briefly to Sudaem. She scurries away, moving beside Reina with the bowl after hearing his silent command loud and clear.

This should be plenty of blood, anyways.

“All that’s left is to cast the spell,” Sudaem says, and you notice how everyone’s gaze suddenly turns to Reina.

She blinks. “No pressure, or anything.”

“If you can summon the Eight Kings without knowing what you are, you should have no issues with this spell.” Sudaem comments, and you sense the slightest bit of reassurance leaking into her tone.

Your brow quirks slightly.

Taking a candle into her hand, Reina holds it just above the brass bowl that Sudaem clutches beside her. Lightly, she tilts it, allowing the wax to begin dripping into the mixture periodically. Steam begins to rise from the bowl as Reina begins chanting, focussing her energy into casting this spell for the time being.

The bowl bursts into flames, Reina’s voice echoing throughout the room and commanding your attention. Faintly her eyes begin to glow, the whites taking over every visible colour as an intense wind kicks up inside of the room.

You hold your breath, feeling Hongjoong place a comforting hand onto your shoulder just as you reach for Jongho’s own. You can tell that you’re not the only one holding on to another as a lifeline in this moment, worry clear on all of your features as you glance between Reina and Jongho continuously.

The blaze within the bowl begins to die down, along with the wind. Not even a moment later, all of the candles go out, and the room is shrouded in darkness.

Subconsciously, you tighten your hold on Jongho’s hand.

A blink, and both Mingi and San have relit the candles, bathing the room in a warm amber glow once more. The bowl still smokes, but no longer are Reina’s eyes glowing. The only difference seems to be the rise and fall of her chest as she desperately fills her lungs with air.

“Did it work?” She meets your gaze, a sort of hesitance to her voice.

Some complicated spell that was, there weren’t even multiple components to it.

Quickly, you turn your head to face Jongho, noting the steady rise and fall of his own chest. You don’t notice any physical changes, so you lean into him, lifting your free hand to caress the side of his face.

The whole room goes still, anticipation lingering throughout. Not even the flickering sound of the flames can be heard as you all watch Jongho intently, waiting for that tell tale sign of movement beneath his lids.

Except, it never comes.

Your whole body freezes, heart suffocating painfully inside your chest.

“It didn’t work…” your voice is small, words nothing more than a whisper on your lips.

Tears begin to well in your eyes as your throat tightens. You were betting everything on this spell, not even bothering to think of the consequences of it not working. You had faith in Reina, and you had faith in him.

“You must have done something wrong.” Mingi rounds on Reina, a stern frown pulling at his features.

The gorgon shakes her head, devastation clear on her features. “She didn’t.”

“Did we have all the proper ingredients?” Yunho directs his question towards Sudaem, stepping in beside the stunned gorgon.

Sudaem stands there, hands trembling as she clutches the bowl in front of her. Her lips part periodically, like a fish out of water as her snakes begin shifting restlessly over her head. Her slate grey eyes shine with unshed tears, fear freezing her to her spot.

“It should have worked,” she whispers, whole body beginning to shake. “We did everything right: the ingredients, the preparation, the caster.”

“We knew there was going to be a possibility that it wouldn’t.” Seonghwa keeps his voice low, though you can still hear the panic seeping into his tone.

“Are we sure it was the right spell?” San begins pacing, his hand coming up to support his chin as his mind races with what to do.

“It has to be,” Sudaem answers lowly, blinking a few times to clear her vision. “There’s no other spell he could be under, and this is the only one I know to bring him back.”

You opt to remain quiet, mind reeling with all of this information, and lack there of around you. Desperately, you attempt to come up with a solution for a problem you don’t know all of the variables for, drawing a blank each time.

Hesitantly, Reina shifts over to the dresser. She places the spell book in her hands gently on top of the wood, pulling her own tome closer to herself. Slowly, she begins flipping through the pages, skimming through the words until she finds the section she’s looking for. Once she does, her eyes dart over the lines quickly, brain scrambling to comprehend everything going on around her.

A call of your name from her draws your attention.

“Don’t dissociate just yet, and get your ass over here.” Reina states, quite firmly, without taking her gaze away from the book.

Wordlessly, you move over to her side.

“Dissociate?” There’s a hint of worry to Wooyoung’s voice.

Reina points to the page for you to read before turning around to face the others in the room.

“She’s about to get into her own head again,” she blinks, crossing her arms as she leans back against the dresser. “Can you not see the signs?”

A low warning growl escapes San’s lips.

“Don’t growl at her.” You turn your head to look at him from over your shoulder, brow tugging downwards disapprovingly. “She’s only trying to help.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn back around. Reading the words on the page explaining the ‘Veil of the Hypnos’ spell keeps you grounded for the moment, head spinning with what you can do to save Jongho.

“You all need to keep talking.” Reina instructs. “I’m still new at this whole witching thing, but tell me everything you know about this curse he’s under.”

The several males all share a brief look, but it’s Sudaem who speaks first. Calmly, she explains all that she knows about the spell to Reina. Everything that she’s already told you.

Your body goes still, mind churning as you hear the details once more.

“So, he’s stuck in a plane between this world and the next.” You state, blinking blankly down at the page before you.

“Every second lost he could be straying further from his body.” Sudaem confirms, fingers nervously wringing together. “Not to mention what else creeps through the veil.”

You swallow thickly, lips pursing into a thin line. Softly, you begin to nod to yourself.

Reina spares a look at you out of the corner of her eyes. “I know that look.”

“We just need to bring him back to his body.” You’re somewhat just speaking out loud at this point, but you do not shift your eyes away from that page open before you.

The words ‘connection’ and ‘high emotion’ practically glare back up at you.

You turn to look at Reina.

A silent conversation seems to be happening between the both of you. She tilts her head in inquiry, to which your eyes widen exasperatedly. A moment later, her brow furrows in concern while you begin to nod quite eagerly.

“No.” Her tone is firm as she shakes her head. “No way in hell.”

“What?” There’s an even bigger look of worry pulling on Wooyoung’s face as he looks between the two of you.

“Three-hundred and fourteen seconds.” You say. “That’s all you need to give me.”

“That’s just over five minutes.” Hongjoong’s brow furrows in confusion, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Read the page and tell me that that’s not what it’s implying.” You practically slap your hand over the tome open on the dresser beside you. “I can bring him back."

“There is no way I am putting you under the same curse as him just so you can, what? Stumble your way through the veil and attempt to find him?” She replies, her eyebrows practically raising into her hair as her voice rises in pitch. “I am not killing my best friend. That spell hitting you is suicide.”

A hushed understanding passes over the room and panic immediately seizes each male.

“You’re thinking what?” Seonghwa’s eyes look about ready to bug right out of his head, needing to rest a hand against the wall for support.

“Not if I’m prepared for it!” You counter. 

“We’re not putting you under to lose you, too.” San’s voice is firm, a hint of desperation shining through as he looks to you.

“Petal, we need to think this through.” Yunho’s worried tone comes through, his heart pounding restlessly in his chest.

“I have thought it through.” You turn to them. “If this is the only way we can get Jongho back-“

“It’s not the only way.” Sudaem cuts in, her eyes somewhat glazed over as she stares at the ground in thought.

“It doesn’t matter!” Wooyoung is frantic, crossing the distance between the two of you in an instant and holding you at arms length. “We just got you back! We can’t lose you again.”

“This is my choice, Woo.” You reply, placing your own hands gently atop of his own and sliding them from your shoulders.

“No,” San shakes his head. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

“This is insane.” Mingi begins pacing, pulling at his roots once more.

“I’m thinking perfectly fine.” You reply calmly, turning meeting Hongjoong’s wide eyed gaze. “Wasn’t it you who told me that the first step to sanity is embracing the insane?”

“Now is not the time to be arguing about this.” Yeosang crosses his arms over his chest. “Dearest, you can’t say something as reckless as that right now. We might lose our brother, don’t make it so we lose you, too.”

“You won’t lose me.” You shake your head.

“You don’t know that!” There’s genuine fear in Seonghwa’s eyes as he falls to his knees. He looks about ready to start pleading with you in a moment, genuine desperation clear on his features.

“The spell didn’t work when we tried it on Jongho to bring him back,” Hongjoong attempts to keep his voice calm, levelheaded. “What makes you so certain it will work to bring the both of you back this time?”

“I’m connected to all of you, aren’t I?” Your gaze darts around the room, and you notice how Mingi, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung have all started to cry.

“Starlight-“

“Hold the fuck up!” Reina cuts in, furious gaze locked on you. “Are you negating the fact that I will not be casting such a spell on my own fucking best friend?”

“Reina-“

“Don’t you, ‘Reina’ me! I’ll admit, we’ve done some stupid fucking shit before, but this takes the cake!” She slams her hand on top of the dresser beside her. “Do you realize what you’re fucking asking of me? In front of them no less?”

Her free hand points in the several male’s direction, clear panic on her features.

“I understand-“

“I don’t think you do!” Her eyes blaze with an unrivalled fury, the whites of her eyes beginning to glow.

“Um, excuse me-“ A timid voice attempts to cut through the thicket of booming arguments being thrown around the room.

“They would be doing the exact same thing for me right now if I had been the one to actually get hit!” You counter, arm flinging out in the direction of the bed Jongho rests upon to point at him. Briefly, your gaze darts around the room. “You’re telling me that none of you would be thinking any differently if you knew that this was your only option left?”

“There’s a difference, Dearest,” Yeosang grimaces. “We are not human.”

“Excuse me-“ The voice is a little firmer this time, but still gets ignored.

“Don’t you dare play the entities card on me right now.” The tears of frustration you so desperately attempt to hold back begin to streak down your face. “What happened to us being equals?”

You fail to miss the side-eyed glance Reina gives you, backing away slowly from the rising tension in the room.

“That’s not fair, and you know it.” Mingi’s voice is low as he freezes in his spot.

“No, what’s not fair is the double standard you all have when it comes to doing things for me.” You counter, voice rough with the rawness of your emotions. “So, you all can risk your lives for me whenever it pleases you, but when I wish to do the same for one of you it’s suddenly not okay? I’m the reason Jongho is in this godforsaken mess in the first place. Am I not allowed to want to right my wrong? Am I not allowed to want to save a man I love?”

“You know we’ve never blamed you for this, Baby.” San states, wiping away his tears using the back of his hand.

“Petal, we’ve talked about this,” Yunho grimaces slightly, taking a half step towards you only for you to avoid his reach.

“If this is the only option we have, then I will gladly sacrifice myself for someone that I love.” You see the devastation on their faces as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“But, what about us?” Wooyoung’s voice is small, probably the quietest you’ve ever heard him.

“What about you?” You cross you arms over your chest, a slight frown pulling at your features.

“Are you that desperate to ignore our own feelings on the matter?” San meets your gaze, and you can feel your throat tighten.

“Of course not!” You immediately reply, shaking your head.

“We swore that we would always protect you, and now you want to risk your life for a plan that might not even work?” Mingi shifts restlessly from foot to foot, his hair sticking out in odd ends.

“We don’t know it won’t work.” You reason. “Besides, I’ve survived much worse than some measly little curse.”

Collectively, their breaths hitch.

“Don’t go there.” Seonghwa’s hands brace himself on the floor, his tears spilling freely onto the hardwood beneath his palms.

A low, warning call of your name sounds from Reina.

“We have already almost lost you more times than we ever thought we would,” Hongjoong states, keeping his voice low. “Don’t add another mark to the tally.”

“Then, what are we supposed to do, Hongjoong?” Your hands desperately run over the top of your head, fingers digging into the skin of your skull.

He remains silent, the others offering no other solutions, either.

“This is my choice,” you breathe out. “A choice I know all of you would be making if that were me on that bed right now.”

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Wooyoung replies, quite exasperatedly. “Your guilt is blinding you from reason!”

“You think I’m doing this solely out of guilt?” You turn your gaze to the younger demon standing near you, your eyes blazing with a sort of pained fear. “That’s not fair and you know it.”

“Do you think that we don’t know exactly what you’re going through right now? That we don’t understand exactly how you’re feeling?” Seonghwa’s voice is strained, glancing up at you through tear filled eyes. “What’s not fair is you making light of the worst night of our lives.”

Your breath catches, and you swear your heart stops. A second later, and your hands are balling into fists at your sides.

“Do you really think that night was any better for me?” Your eyes are bloodshot from all the crying you’re doing, voice cracking as your whole body shakes. “You only got to see the aftermath. I had to live through it! I’m still living it. Every time I close my eyes, if I don’t watch my every goddamn thought, she is there. She is everywhere I look, and she continues to torture me even in death. She has woven herself so deeply into my life that each time I think I pull a thread loose, another appears to take her place.”

“Petal,“ Yunho takes a concerned step towards you again, nothing but sorrow pulling at his features.

“Do you think I’m not terrified to wake up every morning, only to discover that this has all been some elaborate fabrication that she has made in my mind to continue torturing me with?” Your admission has them all freezing in their spots, tears beginning to fall freely down all of their faces. “I never want another person to experience even an ounce of pain that she made me suffer through, and now Jongho could fucking die because of my mistake!”

“Don’t make his sacrifice into something horrific.” Mingi shakes his head, voice barely above a whisper as he attempts to reign in his emotions for the moment. “He would have done what any of us would have in that situation.”

“That’s exactly my point!” You raise your hand a bit exasperatedly in the air. “You cannot avoid the truth that’s always been right in front of you. That’s not fair at all.”

“You think that it’s fair to Wooyoung that you avoid the dance studio because of what she did to you in it?” Yeosang’s voice cutting through the darkness of the room surprises even you. He keeps it steady, watching you with a cautious gaze the whole time.

The aforementioned male remains quiet, a new sense of stillness travelling through the room as Wooyoung suddenly avoids your gaze when you look to him.

“Do you think it’s fair to Seonghwa that you do the same to his tailor shop?” Yeosang adds lowly. San places his hand onto the elder’s shoulder in worry, but Yeosang just shrugs him off before continuing. “You haven’t even looked at the art room or the garden since everything happened. Do you think that’s fair to Yunho? To Hongjoong?”

“Yeosang-“

Yunho’s own worried protest gets cut off by the aforementioned male.

“You haven’t even touched the piano since that day at your parents house,” he continues, keeping his tone steady as he watches you physically trembling before his very eyes. He can tell that you’re doing whatever you can to hold yourself together at this point in time, but you’re simply a moment from falling apart. “Do you think doing something this reckless will reclaim those parts of yourself that you lost? Have you even tried getting them back?”

A brief silence.

“Maybe I don’t want them back.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, yet you fail to realize exactly how your words sound to everyone in that room.

Reina’s eyes are wide as she watches the crestfallen expressions overtake each male’s face. He gaze darts around the room, noticing how nearly all of them barely keep themselves together, whole bodies shaking as the two tallest males fall to their knees.

The sound of the slap reaches your ears before you feel the harsh stinging on your cheek. 

A gasp of surprise escapes Sudaem, her hands coming up to cover her mouth in shock as she stares at the scene before her. Reina’s hand still rests in the air, your head turned harshly to the side as several low warning growls resonate throughout the room.

No matter what the circumstances might be, you are still their Queen, and they will do whatever they can to protect you.

Little do any of you see the way Jongho’s fingers twitch subtly in his sleep.

“How dare you fucking say that in front of me.” Reina’s voice is low as she pulls you upright and holds you firmly at arms length. “Do you even know how that sounded? Directed at them of all people? Pull yourself together. Now is not the time to be arguing about this. You said it yourself, time is of the utmost essence! Sudaem has been trying to tell you all something for the past ten minutes. So, pull your head out of your ass, and stop being a selfish, heartless crab!”

This seems to snap you out of your angry stupor, blinking at your best friend a few times to clear your head. Only, just as you begin to nod along with her words, Reina is torn from you, being pinned to the wall by her throat.

“Don’t you ever speak to My Divine like that again.” Seonghwa’s voice is low as he leans into her, nothing but a harsh whisper on his lips. The eldest looks completely crazed right now, tears streaking down his cheek as his eyes flash in warning.

“Raise your hand against Our Queen like that again, friend or not, and it will be the last thing you ever do.” Wooyoung seethes, gaze pitch black as he stands just behind the eldest for the moment.

“Seonghwa, Wooyoung,” you manage to step over to them, pulling them away from Reina in an instant. “She’s right.” 

Your best friend crumples to the floor, coughing slightly as she attempts to catch her breath.

Turning to face all of the males once more, your shoulders deflate. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“We can talk about it later,” Yunho’s voice is soft as he helps Mingi back to his feet. “Okay, Petal?”

A small nod is all he receives in response.

“Geez! You weren’t kidding when you said they’re extremely over protective.” She wheezes, using you as a support as you help her back to her feet.

“You were the one brave enough to slap me in front of them.” You chuckle, feeling all of their eyes on you.

“More like stupid enough.” A weak smile tugs at her lips as she leans on you for the moment. She lets out a chuckle of her own, teasingly nudging your side. “Well, stupid is as stupid does.”

“She’s slapped you before?” There’s a hint of irritation in Mingi’s voice when he says this, head tilting forward the slightest bit in disbelief.

“We’ve been roughhousing since we’ve been young.” You shrug. “She’s the only one allowed to slap me, and I’m the only one allowed to slap her. Only when we’re being ridiculous, of course.”

“She still hurt you.” San stands tense across the room, hands balled into fists at his sides.

“Because I was hurting you.” You meet his gaze briefly before turning back to face Sudaem. “My apologies, you were going to say?”

The gorgon straightens a bit in her spot, clearing her throat as she feels everyone’s eyes on her. Nervously, she shifts from foot to foot, her snakes falling silent around her as their tongues flick out to scent the tension slowly dissipating from the air.

“I was just going to say,” she looks to you, “this isn’t our only option.”

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, there’s another spell that will put you under, and enable you to walk through the veil without having to use the ‘Veil of the Hypnos’ curse.” She explains.

“Then, what are we waiting for?” You take an eager step forward.

“Petal, we need to talk about this,” Yunho’s worried voice reaches your ears, the events of the past ten minutes still swirling through his mind.

“Hang on a moment, I’m not done,” Sudaem raises a hand in the air in a halting motion. “This one does indeed have a time limit, and you cannot wander too far from your body lest you actually wind up lost in the veil forever.”

You swear you see Mingi pulling out his hair again just as Wooyoung turns around with an exasperated huff.

“There’s no winning with this, is there?” Hongjoong sighs, shaking his head.

“How does it work?” You motion for Sudaem to continue.

“Well, again, since you’re connected, you would have the best chance of finding him if put under.” She begins. “Your mind would essentially be transported to the space between realms and set to wander freely for about five minutes. Then, we’d have to pull you and whoever you’re holding on to back out. At least this way we guarantee you won’t die on contact from the initial casting of the spell.”

“And if I can’t find him?” You spare a glance at all of them around the room. “What then?”

“Then, we’ll take it from there.” Seonghwa sighs, running a hand through his hair.

Your lips tighten into a thin line, turning back to face Sudaem as your thoughts race. Shifting, you rest a hand on top of the dresser to support yourself with as you look down at the ground. Blinking a few times, you think everything over.

“This all has to do with the mind being separated from the body, right?” You spare a glance at Sudaem.

“In a way, yes.” She confirms. “The body cannot live without the mind.”

“What if the mind had a physical attachment to this realm? Would that give me more time? Would it make the spell easier?” You meet her gaze, and you know she can see the gears turning in your mind.

“It’s possible, but I’m not sure.” Sudaem replies honestly. “It might make it easier when you get called back to your body, though. You’d have a direct path back to it, no matter how far you were.”

You nod your understanding, turning to face the several males standing off to the side once more. One brush against all of their strings lets them know exactly what you’re thinking.

The several males share a look.

“We don’t like this, but at least it’s a better option than the other one.” Yunho crosses his arms over his chest.

“We’d rather it be one of us that goes under.” San adds, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

“There are things worse than just mist floating around inside the veil.” Seonghwa breathes out, somewhat shakily.

“Then, I’ll be quick. If anything happens, I’ll tug back so you know to pull me out right away.” You state rather firmly, turning back to face Sudaem. “What do I need to do?”

Sudaem spares a glance around the room, the faintest hint of apology on her features as she meets the King’s gazes. Then, taking a deep breath, she begins.

Which is exactly how you find yourself sitting on the edge of Jongho’s bed, his hand held tightly in yours not even five minutes later.

“We’re going to need more of your blood.” Sudaem holds that brass bowl in her hands once more.

Mingi, Wooyoung, and San all curse under their breaths.

“I will gladly bleed again,” you state, rather firmly. “I will bleed as many times as it takes to ensure that this works, and he comes back to us. It’s what I would do for any of you, and I know you would all do the same for me.”

Any words of protest that had been building on their lips fail, frustrated looks of understanding passing over their features. You’re right, and even though they don’t particularly like this, they’ll deal with it. They have to.

Again, it’s Hongjoong that gently slits your skin, taking your pain and making sure to heal you as soon as possible. This time, though, Sudaem paints a symbol over the back of your hand, mirroring it on Jongho’s as his is still held firmly in your own.

Softly, you brush up against that maroon string in your mind before grabbing ahold of it as tightly as you can. This string will be your lifeline to him, and you hope beyond everything that your theory of it guiding you to him is correct.

A second later, you feel the rest of the guys doing the same to you. You don’t even need to look at any of them to sense the worry and slight hesitation that they all have lingering in their thoughts, for you sense it loud and clear through the mind links.

They move in closer.

“You’ll have just over five minutes if this all goes well.” Sudaem tells you, moving over to stand beside Reina who holds the one spell book in her hands.

“Angel, are you sure about this?” Wooyoung’s frantic voice reaches your ears, and you can see the concern still clear as day in his gaze as he looks at you.

“Positive.” You nod, and despite the shakiness to your breath, you believe that this will work.

“Any sign of danger, and you immediately contact us to pull you out.” San reiterates, cupping your cheek and forcing you to meet his gaze. “Okay, Baby?”

“Okay,” you nod your understanding, briefly leaning into his touch before turning away from him.

“We’re right here, Petal.” Yunho steps closer, sitting beside you on the bed and placing a hand onto your back in comfort.

You smile. “I know.”

Lovingly, you brush against their strings. Although it’s slight, you can just tell how much that simple notion helps them to relax.

Lifting your head, you turn to glance at both Sudaem and Reina. “I’m ready.”

Two nods from either female greet you in response. 

“Remember, send a pulse through the bond after every minute that passes so I know how much time has elapsed, and that I have left.” You spare a glance at them out of the corner of your eyes. “After the fifth one, if I don’t tug back immediately, wait fifteen seconds, and then pull me out.”

Nods of understanding are seen around the room from all of them, and you notice how Yeosang comes to kneel beside you. A blink, and he’s grabbing your free hand into his own, clinging to you for dear life. You don’t even have to look at him to know how worried he is. Not only that, but how remorseful he is for the way he spoke to you. The sorrow is written all over his face.

He will never forgive himself if they can’t pull you back out. The last thing he wants is for your final memory of him to be his harsh tone reminding you of your own trauma responses. He knows it wasn’t right of him to say those things and make you feel worse than you probably already do. Especially right now.

“Let’s do this.” Determination shines in your eyes as you look down at Jongho resting on the bed. Silently, you tug on that maroon string connecting your mind to his, sending reassuring thoughts his way.

I’m coming, Baby Bear. You swallow, somewhat nervously. Wait for me.

Not even a moment later, Reina begins immediately focusing on the page before her, while Sudaem holds that bowl close by. Softly, Reina begins chanting, her eyes beginning to glow white as power surges through the room. You can feel the mark on the back of your hand beginning to burn, and when you look down, it begins to glow a deep red. Again, a breeze picks up throughout the room, shifting the flames as shadows dance along the walls.

Then comes the silence, followed immediately by the darkness of all of the candles going out once more.

A blink and the flames are reignited.

“Did it work?” Hesitantly, Reina glances around the room.

All eyes are drawn to the bed where they see your limp body resting in Yunho’s arms. Your eyes are closed, and the symbol drawn in your blood glows faintly. Luckily, your chest seems to rise and fall steadily in even breaths. Faintly, all of the males in the room brush against your mind, holding onto that connection for dear life.

Your five minutes start now.

The first thing you notice when you go under is how light your body suddenly feels. It’s as if you’re floating upon a cloud, swaying gently with the breeze.

Your brow furrows, and groggily, you begin to blink your eyes open. Slowly, you begin to stand.

Fog surrounds you on all sides, a bright light shining from behind you. Turning reveals a faint archway, multiple colours streaming through the pale golden light. Familiar colours which seem to stretch out and attach themselves to you.

Sparing a glance down, you nearly jump back in surprise.

There, resting peacefully on the ground, is your sleeping body. You notice your arm stretched out to the side, and following the path it makes reveals Jongho’s body laying directly beside yours. Your fingers are intertwined, a faint red glow emanating from your hands.

At least you have a marker to make it back to.

Backing up slightly, you watch as those colours stretching out from the archway move with you. A moment later, and they seem to pulse with movement.

Your eyes widen in understanding. A minute has already passed.

Turning around to face the vast expanse before you, you attempt to peer through the fog. The faintest outlines of a maroon line can be seen in one direction, and you cling harder to that string in your mind.

Gently, you give it a small tug.

Something roars in the distance, and you feel your blood run cold. Whipping your head from side to side, you fail to see anything close by. Yet, that doesn’t prevent you from putting one foot in front of the other quickly in order to begin following that faint maroon line further into the mist.

The only sounds that reach your ears are that of your breathing, and the constant repetition of your feet scraping along the ground. Frantically, your eyes dart around you in search of any signs of movement, or shapes through the mist. You have a creeping feeling of being watched, and you know to trust your instincts for the moment, especially when in a place like this.

Feeling the second brush against your mind, you quicken your pace. Again, you tug lightly on that maroon string, and this time, a low growl sounds in the area, much closer than before.

You follow it.

“Come on, Baby Bear,” you mutter, eyes desperately scanning the mist for something. Anything. “Where are you?”

With every step you take, you notice that faint maroon line becoming brighter and brighter. The fog seems to be thinning too, and you can begin to make out faint shapes in the distance. One seems to be much large than the three surrounding it, and as you get closer, you begin to see corpses of… things lining the ground.

Limbs are twisted in odd angles, black blood splattered against the pale grey ground. These things appear creature like in shape, some having leather wings like bats, while others are more dog like, but they’re all about the same size. Not to mention they all seem to be that same pale grey colour as their surroundings.

Just as you feel that third brush against your mind, you see them.

A large brown grizzly bear fends off the last three of these creatures. One gets trapped in his maw, while another is torn apart by his claws. The last creature manages to jump on his back, sinking it’s own claws into his skin as he cries out in pain. Only, the bear manages to roll over quickly, crushing the smaller creature beneath its tremendous weight.

He stands back to his feet as he shakes out his fur, starting with his head.

You’d recognize that movement anywhere, and before you can stop yourself, you begin sprinting towards him. Another frantic tug is given to that maroon string and you watch as that bear lifts its head in your direction almost instantly.

Warm, brown eyes meet your gaze, and you swear you see that maroon line leading directly to him light up with a vibrance unlike ever before. In a few bounds, he’s reached you, nuzzling his snout into your neck and stepping in as close to you as he can.

What are you doing here? His voice sounds a little frantically inside of your mind, and you physically breathe a sigh of relief.

I came to get you. You brush your hands over the top of his head tenderly, wrapping your arms around his neck and practically sinking into his soft form.

It’s dangerous here. You shouldn’t be-

Neither should you! You immediately cut him off, pulling away to stare deeply into his eyes.

The fourth brush is felt against your mind.

We need to hurry back, I only have a minute left before they pull us out. You motion behind you with your head.

How do you know which way you’re going? I’ve been lost in here for days. The furrow of his brow is clear, even while in his bear form.

You smile. I’ve got my lights to guide me home.

Instantly, you picture connecting his string to all of his brothers inside of your mind, and the way you feel the land around you begin to tremble lets you know that they’ve all felt it. Only, you have less than a minute to make it back to your bodies before they’re pulling you out.

Subtly, you notice Jongho’s eyes glance over to the low glow of the colours attached to your form. Bending down, he motions for you to craw onto his back. 

Hop on.

Without hesitation, you do.

Jongho immediately takes off into the fog, chasing those colours that drift through the air and connect you to all of them back home.

A warning screech echoes in the distance and you hear Jongho curse lowly.

Stay low to my back, the ones with wings are ruthless. He instructs, picking up his pace the slightest bit.

You do as told, clinging to his fur for dear life as Jongho races through the mist and back to that bright archway that begins to shine faintly in the distance. Luckily, you don’t see anything chasing you, but you know better than that. The faint flapping of wings, and pounding of feet upon the ground behind you lets you know that more of those creatures are giving chase, and they don’t seem to be relenting anytime soon.

With each passing second, you can see that archway getting closer and closer. Faintly, the outlines of your bodies can be seen laying on the ground, not having moved a single inch since you left them there about four and a half minutes ago. In fact, you’re positive that fifth brush will be coming at any moment now. You just hope you can both make it in time.

The second you feel that fifth brush against your mind, you go tumbling from Jongho’s back mere feet away from your body.

A frantic call of your name is heard above the hissing surrounding you, feeling pain erupt on your arms as claws dig into your flesh.

Blinking up at the creature, you see a sight that tears a shriek from your lips. It has no face, except for a jagged slit of a mouth where its chin should be. Rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth greet you as its lips pull back in a what appears to be a gleeful grin. Leathery wings protrude from its arms, it’s claws pinning you in place on the ground as your blood spills from your wounds.

The faintest hissing of the word ‘human’ on the air draws your attention. A horrid hissing that is filled with excitement the more it echoes around you by varying creatures, all of whom begin to step out of the fog and surround the two of you endlessly.

A blink, and the creature is swiped from above you, being torn in half by Jongho’s claws.

You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, blood rushing through your veins as you roll over quickly to avoid another dog-like creature pouncing on top of you. Luckily, you roll right into your own side, eyes wide as you see Jongho a mere foot from you.

A frantic call of his name escapes your lips as you reach out to him, knowing you only have mere seconds before you’re pulled out of this veil and back to reality. So, you fight with everything that you are to hold on for as long as you can. Until you can feel his hand in your own.

It’s as if the word around you moves in slow motion. You begin to feel an unfamiliar tug at your mind, pulling you backwards through the archway by your head. It’s as if a hook has been placed right behind your forehead, jerking you backwards unforgivingly as Jongho shifts back into his human form. Desperately, he reaches out to you and his own body with each of his hands, fingers just brushing against your own. 

At the same time, the creatures surrounding you all lunge. Snarls sound all around you as they attempt to reach you before you can escape, hissing about not letting such a delicacy leave.

The last thing you see is a wall of creatures swarming you as you pass through the veil. You experience a brief feeling of falling, your hand tightening around something warm as you sink into the abyss surrounding you.

You close your eyes.

A gasp escapes you as your whole body jerks upwards in Yunho’s arms. Blinking a few times, you clear your vision, noticing how you seem to have slid off of the side of the bed and onto the floor. Still, Jongho’s hand in held in your own.

Your breathing is frantic as you heave air into your burning lungs, head turning every which way to gather your bearings. Yeosang rests beside you, clinging onto your opposite hand as he presses it to his forehead. The chest your back is pressed against belongs to Yunho, and you notice the others surrounding you with looks of complete worry on their features.

Your whole body aches, but you force yourself back onto the bed, much to their discontent.

“Dearest,” Yeosang reaches out to you, brushing one of his thumbs near your chin.

You shrug him off, glancing a hint of red now lining his skin.

Breaking your hold on his hand, you wipe at you nose. Pulling away reveals your own blood, and you begin to wonder just how long your nose has been bleeding for.

No wonder they all look so worried.

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong kneels in beside Yeosang, placing a gentle hand onto your thigh. Though, with how badly you feel him shaking against you, you cannot tell if it’s more for him or for you at this point.

You nod, turning to face Jongho on the bed.

“I had him.” Your voice is no more than a whisper, tears leaking out of your eyes as you look down to see him still in that calm state of sleep. “He was right there.”

You practically collapse on top of him, sobs wracking your entire body as you pull your intertwined hands up to your chest. It’s faint, but you swear you feel his fingers tighten against your own.

The room is quiet around you, but it seems somewhat brighter than before. Someone must have opened the curtains to let the natural light of day in around you. It’s warm, and you swear you can feel a ray of sunlight shining directly onto your cheek as you keep your eyes closed for the moment. Warmth of which is mirrored in the way a hand tenderly caresses the back of your head.

“My Darling,” a rough voice, strained from lack of use over the past day and a half, reaches your ears. “Why are you crying?”

Your whole body freezes, breath catching in your throat as your heart skips a beat inside of your chest. Tentatively, you shift your head, peering up at him through tears which blur your vision.

A blink, and they clear, falling upon your cheeks like rain against a windowpane.

Your lower lip quivers as you watch him sit up with you in his arms, his warm, brown eyes searching your face carefully. His hand that had been gently cradling the back of your head shifts to cup the side of your face tenderly, brushing away your tears with his thumb.

A moment of stillness travels throughout the room.

In the blink of an eye, you’ve fully collapsed into his arms, a fresh round of sobs tearing from your throat. Your whole body shakes as apologies fall endlessly from your lips, hands desperately clinging onto him as if he may disappear again at any given moment.

Softly, he shushes you, cooing gentle reassurances in your ear as he rocks you back and forth while in his arms.

“I’m okay.” He keeps his voice low, holding you to him as desperately as you cling onto him. “You’re not at fault.” Your breath hitches. “You’re not at fault.”

You sob harder.

“We’ll be in the foyer.” Reina’s soft voice reaches your ears, and you assume she’s guiding both herself and Sudaem out of the room to give you all some privacy.

More apologies fall from your lips a you bury your face into the side of Jongho’s neck. With your void down for the moment due to the requirements of the spell, they can all tell that you’re no longer just apologizing to the youngest anymore, but to all of them. Yourself included.

“It’s alright, Darling.” Jongho strokes a hand tenderly down your spine as his brothers all come to sit around the edges of his bed. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s good to have you back.” Yunho nods once, quite firmly, at his younger brother. His voice is strained, and it’s not just from seeing you in such a fragile state yet again.

Jongho smiles faintly. “It’s good to be back.”

Desperately, your hands cling to the front of his shirt.

“I should have listened to you,” you’re babbling at this point, but you don’t care. “I didn’t think-“ a sharp, stuttering inhale, “you almost died because of me.”

“Hey, hey,” Jongho grabs you gently by your cheeks, pulling you away from him so you can meet your gaze. “Stop that right now. I know how worried you were about your sister. Do you not think I’ve experienced that same worry when you are threatened?” He rests his forehead against your own, staring deeply into you eyes. “It is not your fault.”

“But-“

“No ‘but’s!” He places a finger against your lips, soon beginning to wipe away the dried blood with the edge of his blanket. “I wanted to help you, to protect you, and I would gladly do it all over again in a heartbeat.”

You fall silent, fingers curling the slightest bit tighter against his shirt.

“I thought…” you squeeze your eyes shut.

A brief look is shared with his brothers around him, and his heart squeezes painfully as they divulge with him their memories of the final moments before, and shortly after, he succumbed to the spell.

Jongho’s grip tightens around your body, his voice low, “My Darling, you know I could never blame you for this.”

Your breath hitches in your throat once more.

“You are not at fault.” He breathes. “I sincerely apologize that I ever made you believe that you were.”

You shake your head, sniffling all the while.

“But I did, Darling.” He rests his chin on your shoulder. “I hurt you when you were in such a fragile state, and now you won’t stop blaming yourself for something that was completely out of your control. If anyone is to blame, it’s that fucking bitch.”

Low growls of agreement sound from around the bed.

Slowly, you begin to calm down, yet all you can do is nod your head.

“What-“ Jongho’s breath catches in his throat, “what happened while I was out?”

The whole time his brothers share with him their memories of the past thirty-three hours or so, Jongho sits on his bed completely still. You swear that he’s stopped breathing all together, his chest barely rising and falling as you continue to cling onto him for dear life.

The second you feel something wet land on your shoulder, you pull away to stare into his eyes.

Tears stream endlessly down his face, a look full of nothing but painful sorrow resting on his features.

“You-“ his voice trembles, and he can barely get the words out. “You fell.”

Again, you attempt to shake your head, “no-“

“You fell because of me.” Utter devastation suffocates his very soul, guilt beginning to rise and crush his heart from the inside out.

“It was a misunderstanding.” Your hands now rest on his shoulders as you sit in his lap, your legs resting on either side of him.

“My Darling, I am so sorry-“

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Your voice is firm as you cut him off.

“Neither do you.” He responds without a second of hesitation.

You fall silent for a moment, blinking shamefully as you avert your gaze. “Yes, I do.”

Finally, you turn to face the other seven males still in the room with you. Luckily, Jongho settles you between his legs, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you to his chest for support.

Glancing upwards, you look around at the males before you.

“I apologize for what I said earlier.” Your voice trembles the slightest bit with the weight of your emotions. “I didn’t mean those words to come out the way they had, but they did. I shouldn’t have kept everything bottled up for so long inside. I should have told you, and I should have considered your own feelings towards the matter.”

“Baby,” San’s worried voice reaches your ears, his eyebrows drooping as he watches you avert your gaze to your hands.

“I should have been more honest with you all about how I was feeling.” Your thumbs begin to nervously rub over one another. “I never meant to hurt any of you.”

The males all share a brief look.

“We were all in the wrong.” Hongjoong says, words barely above a whisper. “We should have known you were barely holding it together all this time.”

“How can you know if I don’t tell you?” You exhale a low breath, allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

“Dearest,” Yeosang goes to reach out for you before stopping himself. Almost shamefully, he retracts his hand. “I apologize for what I said to you. It wasn’t the time, nor place to dump that on you, nor was it right of me to do so.”

“But you were right.” You spare a glance upwards to see Yeosang staring down at his own hands. “By avoiding reminders of her, I had inadvertently been avoiding all of you. That’s not fair to any of you, or what each of those spaces mean to us, and I apologize that it took me this long to realize that.”

“We weren’t lying to you when we said that we would get through this together,” Wooyoung cracks a small, hesitant smile in your direction.

Softly, you nod, wiping at your eyes all the while. “I was so focused on my own trauma, I neglected your own.”

“We all deal with things in different ways.” Mingi clears his throat, bringing a hand up to dry his tears.

“That’s no excuse for what I did.” You reply. “For what I said.”

“You were right, though.” Seonghwa swallows thickly. “If that was you, we would have done whatever it takes to get you back. Consequences be damned.”

Jongho squeezes your waist slightly, assuring you that his brother speaks nothing but the truth.

“Aren’t we all a great pair,” you chuckle teasingly. “Letting our emotions always control us.”

A snort is heard from Wooyoung. “Maybe not always.”

Even his brothers shoot him playfully incredulous looks.

“Only when it comes to each other,” Hongjoong sighs, somewhat wistfully as he finally stands back to his feet.

“If you start having doubts again, or anything of the sort, you tell us right away, Baby.” San meets your gaze, a somewhat firm look shining behind his eyes. “Okay?”

“The same goes for me with all of you,” you take the time to look around at all of them once more, seeing them smile softly at you in response.

“You do not have to suffer alone, Petal,” Yunho smiles assuringly in your direction. “Your worries do not burden us at all.”

You nod, shifting off of the bed with the help of Mingi and Seonghwa.

“I guess some habits are just that hard to break.” You sigh.

“Baby steps, My Love,” Hongjoong moves over to the door, a gentle smile tugging at his features as he looks back at you. “Baby steps.”

Wiping at your eyes a final time to ensure there’s no more evidence of your tears, you begin to exit Jongho’s room. You don’t even need to look their way to know that they all follow closely behind you.

Breaching the foyer, you see both Sudaem and Reina conversing softly on one of the front couches. Both spell books rest closed on the table before them. However, as soon as Sudaem senses you, she’s hopping up from the couch, he snakes shifting almost bashfully over her head.

Her gaze darts to Jongho just off to your left. “I’m glad to see you well again, King Jongho.”

Reina stands, a small quirk to her brow.

Without wasting another moment, you walk directly over to the two women and wrap them in your arms.

“Thank you.” Your voice is low, nothing but raw gratitude seeping from your tone. “For everything.”

Softly, you feel Sudaem rubbing your back while Reina pats you gently.

“I’m glad I could help.” Sudaem whispers, pulling away to stare deeply into your eyes. “If you ever need anything else, you know where to find me.”

“I appreciate that,” you smile, nodding as you step away to give them both some space. “Know that the sentiment is shared.”

“Anyways, I best be going now,” Sudaem shuffles slightly on her feet, reaching over to grab her spell book from the coffee table that rests beside her. “I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Wait, how will I be able to contact you for lessons?” Reina’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and you recognize that almost desperate look shining within anywhere.

The corner of your lips quirk upwards knowingly.

“If you ever need me, send word with Stella.” Sudaem smiles, and you watch as Reina nearly swoons.

“Okay,” she nods, quite enthusiastically.

“It was lovely meeting you!” Sudaem directs the comment towards your best friend as she waves goodbye, her snakes hissing happily.

“You, too!” Reina waves back as Sudaem walks over to the guys for the moment.

“Uh, would it be okay if one of you-“

“Already on it,” Yunho smiles lightly at the gorgon, teleporting her back to her own domain in an instant. In a blink, he’s returns, straightening out the front of his shirt slightly.

“So,” you wiggle your brow teasingly at Reina, “Sudaem, huh?”

“Shut up.” Reina grumbles, pushing you playfully.

“She’s sweet, isn’t she?” A knowing smirk tugs at your lips as you watch your best friend avert her gaze somewhat bashfully.

“So,” Reina clears her throat, composing herself a bit better for the moment, “introductions now, or later?”

You motion to the guys with your hand, letting them decide for themselves if they’d like to introduce each other to your best friend. Your void has long since been back up, so you take the time to brush against their minds now.

Immediately, they all brush back.

“I think introductions are a great idea,” Hongjoong says, a small quirk to his lips. “After all, you helped save our brother.”

She nods, a kind look resting on her features as they all incline their heads to her in thanks.

“Hang on a second,” you lift a hand once more in a halting motion as you look at Reina. “How did you know that Yeo was what he was when he dropped me off?”

“I’ve seen portraits,” she shrugs, “but I didn’t know their names. My gran was adamant about not,” she clears her throat, nose scrunching as she prepares to imitate her grandmother, “incurring the wrath of the Eight Kings by invoking their names.”

You can’t help it, an amused snort escapes you.

“So, I recognized him, but I didn’t know which one he was until you told me his name.” She explains, to which you nod your head. “I am very interested to learn which ones are which based off of what you told me.”

Just then, a loud mewl is heard from the hallway leading to your room. A loud gasp is escaping Reina’s lips as a black cat struts into the room, tail flicking back and forth eagerly in the air.

“Is that Kuroo?” Her lips part, an excited smile pulling at her features.

Softly, Kuroo weaves his way through all of your legs, brushing languidly against both yours and Mingi’s the longest. A moment later, and he’s trotting over to Reina who bends down to extend her hand out to him. Cautiously, he sniffs at her fingers before beginning to rub his face all over her.

Giggling, she begins to scratch at his head, Kuroo beginning to purr loudly all the while.

“Well, aren’t you just the handsomest man of the hour.” She coos, chuckling as Kuroo chirps back happily in response.

“Oh, no, don’t say that.” Wooyoung sighs, almost exasperatedly. “It’ll go straight to his already overinflated head.”

“But he’s so cute!” She coos, picking him up to hold him in her arms. “And fluffy!”

A content mewl greets all of you in response.

“Kuroo is Sammy two-point-oh.” You say, watching as understanding passes over Reina’s features. “Just less of a troublemaker.”

“Ah,” she nods, rocking him gently in her arms, “I see.”

Softly, she begins cooing at him once more, and you can just tell that he’s just loving every second of it.

“Okay, so,” you quirk a brow, “introductions?”

“Oh, wait,” Reina’s lip quirks mischievously in the corner, “can I guess?”

You snort out a laugh, gaze darting to the males beside you who shrug nonchalantly. “Be my guest.”

“Hang on, there’s actually one of you who I’ve been dying to know whom is who since she told me.” She admits, eyes scanning over all of them. “I know him,” she motions to Yeosang with her chin seeing as she holds onto Kuroo for the moment, “but which one of you is Yunho, the painter?”

Said male’s brows raise slightly in amusement, waving his hand to indicate that he is who she’s looking for.

“I would give you a thumbs up, but my hands are full,” she chuckles. “Either way, nice.” An approving nod is sent his way. “So far, you’re my favourite.”

The looks all several of his brothers send him in mild disbelief has a laugh falling from your lips.

“It was the portrait, wasn’t it?” You turn to look at Reina, a grin tugging at your features.

“Literally, why isn’t it hanging right there?” She shifts Kuroo over to her one arm, motioning to the central wall behind the front desk. “Guy paints what is presumably the most beautiful portrait of a gorgeous lady you’re all in love with, and you can’t even display it in your front foyer?”

Reina tuts, shaking her head teasingly.

“Don’t give them any ideas,” you whisper lowly.

Mingi tilts his head slightly in acknowledgment. “She does have a point.”

“See!” Reina replies, somewhat exasperatedly. “The cat dad understands!”

“Cat dad?” Mingi quirks a brow.

“Are you not Mingi? The one who got this little rascal for her?” Reina pats Kuroo lightly on the butt, receiving a small whine from the cat in response.

“I am.” He confirms. “How did you-“

“He rubbed against you the longest out of all of you,” she blinks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. In the next moment, she pulls the cat away to brush her nose against his own, a teasing lilt to her voice, “besides his mommy.”

A hand comes up to muffle your laughter as you hear Kuroo complaining loudly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s embarrassed. He jumps down from Reina’s hold quite quickly after that, strutting away back down the hallway and towards you room.

You walk over to Reina, flinging an arm around her shoulders as you lean on her teasingly for support.

“Okay, so,” you grin, “You technically know four of them.”

“That I do,” she hums, gaze briefly darting over to meet Jongho’s. She sends him a polite smile, noticing how he nods briefly back. “Let’s see, we’ve got the cook, the dancer, the tailor, and the one who should have told you he liked playing with knives sooner.”

At her words, Hongjoong’s eyebrow twitches.

“Ah-ha!” She points at him, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “So, you’re the one she got with the steak knife.”

A snort of laughter is heard from Wooyoung at this, and even Yeosang, San, and Mingi all have a hard time suppressing their chuckles.

“You’re lucky, then,” Reina continues, a devious look shining behind her eyes as he quirks a brow. Despite your attempts to stop her, she holds you off from covering her mouth. “Normally, she just threatens to stab you instead.”

“Reina,” your voice is a bit exasperated as you whine out her name.

Despite the fact that they all quirk their brows in some way, Wooyoung looks the most visibly eager to learn more.

“What else does she threaten to do to people?” He leans the slightest bit forward, excitement gleaming in his gaze. Though, he knows that he’s not the only one dying to know.

“Well, not so much actually threaten, but she has very vivid rants about certain people.” Reina hums knowingly. “My ex is one of them.”

“Yeah, well,” you turn to look at her. “He deserves to get his dick ripped off and shoved down his throat for what he did to you.”

“Case in point,” Reina chuckles knowingly, motioning to you beside her with her hand. “Though, I’d say that was one of your more tamer ones. Wouldn’t you?”

You shrug lightly, a slight hum escaping you.

“Anyways,” she turns her attention back to the three remaining males she’s yet to identify. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that you’re the dancer,” she points at San, “he’s handsy,” she points to Wooyoung, “and you’re the ‘pretty boy’.”

Seonghwa’s eyes look as if they’re ready to fall out of his head for the second time that day as both Wooyoung and you burst out laughing.

“Oh, you were doing so well, too.” You pat her on the back.

Lowly, Seonghwa begins to grumble about being referred to as handsy once more, crossing his arms over his chest. A large pout tugs at his features all the while as his brothers all chuckle around him.

“It was one time!” He frowns.

“Oh, it was more than once,” the corner of your lips quirk upwards in a knowing grin. At the way his pout deepens, you’re quick to add, “I never said I didn’t like it.”

“Ew!” Reina slaps your arm teasingly. “There are children present!”

“Children?” Yeosang quirks an amused brow.

“Yeah,” Reina snorts. “Me!”

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes. “Who was it that called me to drive her to the ER because she got her-“

A hand is slapped over your mouth quite suddenly, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips. Not even a moment later, her face is contorting in disgust as she pulls her hand away, wiping her palm on your sleeve, seeing as you licked her.

“You are gross.” She sticks her tongue out at you.

“You love it.” You playfully bat your eyelashes at her in response.

“Yeah, yeah,” teasingly, she gives you a light shove while rolling her eyes.

None of the males across from you can prevent the way loving smiles pull at their features as they watch you interact with you best friend. It seems as if the more time you spend with her, the more you relax. A fact of which they could not be happier about. Besides, you seem to be having fun.

“Anyways, you’re half right about Woo being handsy number two, though,” you motion to the aforementioned male with your chin.

“Hey!” He whines, a dramatic pout tugging at his features.

“You’re still in second place, Sunshine.” You grin fondly, mirth dancing behind your gaze as you meet his own.

“Oh, damn,” Reina says. “I really screwed up at the end there.”

“You were off by one each, if you rotated them to the left,” you pat her back assuringly.

“My bad,” she smiles somewhat nervously.

“At least you didn’t say Mingi was the cook,” San grins, his eyes crinkling at the sides.

“Hey!” Said male whines.

“To be fair, I thought he was handsy at first,” Reina shrugs.

Yunho immediately bursts out laughing, slapping Mingi on his back as the younger male begins to turn bright red.

“He definitely could be,” Hongjoong sighs, shaking his head somewhat fondly.

“If you think I’m bad with my fantasies…” Wooyoung trails off, immediately taking off down the hallway as the elder male begins to chase after him.

Reina laughs, looping her arm around your waist. “I can tell it’s never a dull moment with these guys.”

“You have no idea.” You smile lovingly at them, seeing the way Kuroo now chases after Wooyoung, too, with Mingi in tow.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” she turns her head to you, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Wanna give me a tour of the house?”

#yandere ateez #ateez scenario #ateez imagines #yandere kpop #yandere au #yandere jongho #yandere san #yandere seonghwa #yandere wooyoung #yandere yunho #yandere yeosang #yandere mingi #yandere hongjoong #hongjoong scenario #san scenario #mingi scenario #jongho scenario #yunho scenario #seonghwa scenario #yeosang scenarios #wooyoung scenario #kpop scenario #kpop au #demon au

[stvharrngton]

a lesson in romantics; lesson eight

summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

a/n: we are soon coming to end of this series :( i will try to post the next couple of chapters sooner rather than later. there will also be an alternative ending chapter 👀

characters: steve harrington x fem!reader, mentions of background

word count: 1.5k

warnings: angst to reconciliation, mentions of a toxic relationship (no heavy detail), fluffy ending

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @nix-rose

series taglist: @pbs-theundeadmaggot @alana4610 @onceuponaoneshot

SERIES MASTERLIST

THE AQUARIUM, JANUARY 1993

It was field trip day.

A day that Steve had a love hate relationship with. He loved being able to take his kids off somewhere educational yet fun but hated having to watch them all beyond the comfort of his own classroom.

Steve was particularly nervous for another reason. There were three chaperones on this trip, himself, the older biology teacher who didn’t particularly like him and you. He thought it was karma, the universe's way of telling him he did wrong. Either way, he wasn’t looking forward to today.

It had been a couple weeks, almost a month, since the altercation with Steve. You had been awkward and distant with each other, not really engaging in conversation unless you had to. And don’t get it twisted, it’s not that neither of you wanted to speak to one another, but you just really didn’t know what to say.

The short bus journey was terribly awkward, Steve was last on the bus after making sure all the kids got on fine and sure enough the only free seat left was next to you. He shot you a sheepish smile, fingers coming to rub at the hairs on the nape of his neck as he asked you if the seat was taken.

You engaged in small talk but it was nothing like it used to be. The smooth, easy flow of your conversations all but gone. It was funny really, how one short exchange had cast this dark, gloomy cloud over the both of you. You knew something had to give, one of you had to say something, had to address the situation but who would pluck up the courage first? You had no idea.

Steve found himself feeling distracted all day. His brain swirls with thoughts of you, how he should confront you, what he should say. His eyes constantly wander to where you were with your small group of students just up ahead, the deep blue of the water reflecting onto your face, illuminating your features.

“Mr. H?” A small voice spoke up in the background, snapping Steve out of his trance. He spun around on his heel, eyes wide behind his glasses as he tried to search out the source of the voice.

“Yeah, yes. Sorry,” he stuttered, cheeks heating up at how flustered he was becoming. His usual, calm, cool demeanour faltered because he couldn’t stop thinking about you, “Can you repeat the question?”

It was then that Steve decided enough was enough. The tension between you too became insurmountable, too much to handle. When he imagined having this conversation with you in the past week, he never thought he would be doing it in the middle of the school field trip but he was dealt this hand, and Steve was going to roll with it.

When it came around to lunch, the kids scattered across the cafeteria area, he spotted you in the corner on a table with Mr. Cooper. What you didn’t know was that Steve gave the older teacher five bucks before you all broke off for lunch, begging him to give you two five, ten minutes alone.

Steve’s plastic tray clattered against the table as he sat opposite you. Your eyes flitted up to him as you continued to chew the mouthful of your sandwich. His hair was slightly dishevelled, like he’d been pulling on the strands, his tie was off centre, the usual light in his eyes a little dimmer than usual.

“Can we talk, please?” Steve asked quietly, his voice shy, an octave above the bustling noise of the cafeteria.

“Steve, I–,” you sighed, your gaze falling on him properly now.

“Please?” He begged and you immediately grew sympathetic. He looked so dejected, so down. And you couldn’t bear to see him like that for much longer.

You eventually agreed. The air between you felt thick, the atmosphere heavy. You searched your brain for the right thing to say but you came up with nothing. Your mouth was open but no words came out. Luckily Steve was ready to step up to the plate.

“I just–,” he sighed, taking a second to collect his thoughts into something coherent, something that wasn’t just a beg for forgiveness, “I just wanna say I’m sorry if I over stepped and upset you, really, I didn’t mean to. The last thing I would ever want to do is upset you.”

You nodded as Steve spoke, taking in his words for what they were. He spoke with honesty and sincerity, pleading silently with his eyes that you would understand.

“I care about you and I just want what’s best for you,” Steve continued. He never imagined he’d be having this sort of conversation with you but he did care about you and did want the best for you and you deserved to know that, “but I crossed a line and shouldn’t have said what I said and I’m really sorry for that.”

“Steve,” you sighed, a weary smile on your face, “it’s okay, really. I shouldn’t have snapped, my head was all over the place and I just reacted badly, at that.”

A sense of relief washed over you, a tense weight off your shoulders as Steve made the first move. You were glad he did, the awkward atmosphere beginning to weigh you down. You longed for things to go back to how they used to be. Especially now.

“Anyway,” you continued, your shy smile turning into one of sadness, your gaze floating down towards your lunch, “you were right. About my ex, I mean.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed at your statement, his features painting with concern. He glanced at your hand that was lay flat on the table, your nails clacking against the top of the surface. Fuck, did he badly want to reach out and curl his fingers around your own, taking your hand in his to reassure you.

He wished he never asked you what you meant when that cynical smile appeared on your face, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you refused to look Steve in the eye. The fear of him uttering the sullen phrase of I told you so is too big. Steve would never do that to you, could never do that to you.

“We started speaking regularly again after New Years and he started asking me about here and the school and if I’d made any friends,” you started, fingers messing with the sleeves of your woolly sweater, “so I told him about Robin and Nancy and you and it all just sort of went south. Especially when I mentioned you.”

Steve felt an unfathomable rage overcome him. The kind that made the tips of his ears turn red, the kind that made his blood boil inside. Until he remembered he was sat in the middle of an aquarium cafeteria, surrounded by students.

“He just— he just got so angry ‘cause I said I made friends with a guy. Started saying he couldn’t trust me and all that? I never even agreed to get back together at this point, he was just being so nasty, Steve.”

You shrugged your shoulders in an attempt to shake off the guilt you felt, the regret and betrayal soon following after. You felt stupid, if you had to be truthful. Wondering why you couldn’t just listen to Steve. You wouldn’t have had to put yourself through the beration if you did.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he spoke quietly, so as not to irk any of the students close by, “I’m so sorry, you don’t deserve that. I hope you told him so as well.”

You laughed at that and Steve smiled. It was a sound that he used to know well, a sound that he missed dearly.

“I did give him a piece of my mind,” you giggled, “it was a proud moment.”

The field trip was soon over, your time at the aquarium was up. The teachers ushered the kids back to the bus, taking roll call as the hopped on one by one. You took the seat you had sat in on the way here, this time with Steve looking much happier to be sitting next to you.

The bus ride back to Hawkins High was much more mellow, the kids talking amongst themselves in a quieter fashion than you were used to. Your eyes peered out the window as you smiled to yourself; you were just glad that things would be going back to normal with Steve. The tense air had cleared, the slate wiped clean.

You glanced down to your lap where you noticed Steve’s hand was conveniently placed in the middle of the joined bus seat, fingers drumming against the worn down leather as his gaze was focused on the road in front. You took the opportunity to place your hand over his much larger one, your fingers sliding effortlessly through the gaps between his own. Steve immediately turned to look at you, his eyes flitting between you and your delicate hand placed over his.

You said nothing. Simply letting a small smile tug at your lips, your hand squeezing at Steve’s in the middle of the bus seat and that’s how you remained for the journey home.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #teacher!steve #alir #k.fic

[cutesyscreenname]

A Cowboy Like Me : Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Series summary:

I've had some tricks up my sleeve

Takes one to know one

You're a cowboy like me

Javier Peña is a playboy, sleeping his way across Bogotá, never settling down. And he's used to being the only one. What happens when he meets his match? A friendly challenge between friends couldn't hurt, could it? Unless that friend is you...

Chapter Summary:

Javi is your friend, your coworker, your neighbor and a royal pain in your ass. He always thinks he has the upper hand but he doesn't know you have a little secret.

Pairing: Javi Peña x f reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: language, allusions to sex, drinking alcohol/being drunk, not much really

Notes: This is my first fic, I actually started another one but this Javi idea snuck into my head and we'll here we are. I just kept thinking, what if Javi was down bad for a fem reader who is as much of a slut as he is? A little turning of the tables? And what happens when they finally collide 👀 I don't have a concrete plan for how things end up where they're going so bear with me. I hope you enjoy it!

Playlist:

Rain assaulted the panes of your bedroom window seemingly from nowhere, a blitz attack to break through the standoff between humidity and air pressure. If it wasn’t so frenzied it would feel like a release.

You couldn’t take your usual leisurely stroll to the office this morning, considering the current weather. You silently thank the DEA’s preference for efficiency and budgeting as your corner apartment was sandwiched between those of your fellow agents, Murphy across the hall and Peña to your right.

Your appreciative mood sours when you get no answer from Steve Murphy’s door, realizing he likely had left already to afford his wife the same respite you were seeking from the rain and drive her to work at the clinic. You knew Peña would still be home, the catch was you didn’t know if his (very noisy) overnight guest would still be lingering this morning. Maybe it was just the expected awkwardness of meeting a coworker’s hook up or perhaps it was having to stifle the urge to look at them with pity when they practically purred to him “call me, Javi baby” as they carried their heels down the apartment staircase; either way you didn’t exactly enjoy meeting his conquests.

Preparing for whatever scene lurked behind his door that it was still too early in the morning to witness, you rapped three times on the wood beneath the peep hole. The tension in your shoulders subsided when, as soon as your hand pulled away, there he was in the threshold fully dressed and seeming to be on his way as well.

“Buenas, chiquita. Looking for a ride?” his small smirk and the spark in his eye letting you know he was expecting you.

“I don’t know, Peña, did you tire yourself out giving someone else a ride last night? Your friend sounded so grateful."

"Oh I’ve got plenty of energy, muñeca. You looking for a different kind of ride?” He stepped what would appear, to the layman, uncomfortably close to you but you don’t waver. It’s all a part of the game.

“En tus sueños, Javi,” you almost whisper before turning on your heel and bolting down the stairs as you yell behind you. “Last one to the car buys coffee!”

“Mocosa…” he mutters to himself, following behind you. He slides two fingers into the pocket of his button down shirt to find nothing there. You lifted his smokes before bolting to the car.

He sighs and shakes his head when he slides into the driver seat of his car that you’ve already let yourself into, both of you drenched just from the sprint to the vehicle. You think you catch his eyes gliding over your soaked blouse but quickly decide it’s more likely a glare of annoyance at your early morning antics. Javier didn't see you that way.

“You sure about that energy, Peña? Better hit the coffee shop post haste.” You tip the pack of smokes toward him in an offer, as though it’s yours, a lit cigarette already dangling lazily from your lips, a small smile tugging at one corner of your mouth.

Javi plucks the whole pack from your fingers and lets out a low chuckle, lighting one for himself before slipping them back into his shirt pocket.

“Fine, pendeja. The first round tonight is on you, though.”

And this is the way it was between you, a never ending game of wit and sarcasm, playing chicken and skirting the edges of propriety. Always in jest, always reigned in long before invisible lines were crossed, made easier by Steve playing mother hen to the two of you.

Always just a stupid game.

Sliding into the curved booth that evening at your favorite watering hole, you finally took what felt l like the first full breath of the day since stepping into the agency this morning. The moment your toe touched the speckled tile you and Javier’s easy expressions turned to grimaces at the mountains of paper work on each of your desks.

“Settle in, kids,” Steve grumbled from behind his own paper piles, “we’re gonna be here a while. I made coffee.” Endless stacks of red tape redundancies and dead end phone tips had your neck sore, eyes strained, and a dull ache settling between your temples.

You take a deep, cleansing breath as the time worn cushion gives way to your form and the dim lighting offers reprieve to your tired eyes. This is just what you needed after today.

“First round on you, kid, don’t forget.” Javi chides as he observes you sinking into the booth, Steve taking a seat next to you.

“Tell you what, Peña. I’m not moving for at least 20 minutes so why don’t you be a lamb and go grab those for us?” you say. It’s a statement, not a request and he rolls his eyes as you slide a few crumpled bills to him at the end of the table. “Quick like a bunny, sweetheart, or I won’t tip ya.”

Steve does nothing to hold back his laughter at his partner’s expense and Javi sends the both of you a death glare before snatching the cash and walking away to the bar.

“You sure know how to ruffle his feathers, man.” Murphy shakes his head lightly and chuckles, lighting a cigarette.

“Ah it’s too easy, he’s such a delicate flower.” Your eyes drift shut as you take another deep breath, enjoying the soft upholstery beneath you and inhaling the pleasant mix of liquor, leather, and smoke that permeates the small bar.

“Maybe more than you know.” Steve mutters quietly. You couldn't even be sure you were meant to hear it until you crack an eye open and see him looking at you with an expression that’s almost…solemn.

You open your mouth to ask what the hell he means by that but the words die on your tongue as Javi reappears, three whiskeys in hand and confusion painted across his strong features.

“Damn, Murphy, I leave for two minutes and she hurt your feelings already?” he throws a conspiratorial wink at you and slides into the booth on your other side.

The blonde agent’s face softens and he recovers from the moment so quickly you think you must have imagined it.

“Ah you know I’m sensitive, Javi. And this one’s just so damn feisty.”

“Yeah she is.” Javi pinches your cheek and you swat him away.

“Hey man I was napping!”

“Ah, ah, ah, cariño, I need my wing man awake.”

“Oh so I’m just dead weight?” Steve gasps, feigning offense.

“Second string, Murphy. I’m the MVP.” You jest, taking a generous sip of the amber liquid in your glass.

“Well now you’ve both hurt my feelings.” He pouts while you and Javi snicker.

The truth was, Javi didn’t need a wing man. Women seemed to clamor for a chance to fall into his bed; a never ending parade of Bogotá’s finest ladies rotating in and out of his apartment, keeping you awake with their…appreciation. It annoyed you endlessly, your precious sleep stolen as you lie awake thinking there’s no way he’s THAT good.

This is why you never brought your own conquests home. Why deal with the intrusion of your space, the prying eyes of your nosy partners, and the inevitable task of shooing them off? No reason to when you could simply whisper ‘lets go back to yours’ and get a night away from Javi’s theatrics before sneaking off to work early and slipping into the fresh shirt from your desk before Thing 1 and Thing 2 arrive to the office.

While Javi’s reputation was public knowledge, your escapades remained confidential and you preferred it that way. It kept things easy between you and the two men that had become your closest friends, maintained the dynamic that worked so damn well. Not to mention, you didn’t need it to be broadcast around an agency of frustrated men that you were no stranger to a one night stand.

You don’t consider yourself a centerfold by any means, but you know you must have a certain allure from the way that you never had to go home alone if you so chose. No need to give cause for the DEA bachelor’s club to start making pit stops at your desk to ask the time and look for files that don't exist.

You liked your little secret night life anyway, always one to keep your cards close to your chest, but after a couple more whiskeys (and a shot of tequila somewhere in between) your lips become looser.

“You know the more you two drink the more you start soundin’ like me.” Steve teases from his spot in the booth. As the alcohol warmed your cheeks and loosened your vocal chords, you and Javi both let your Texas drawls slide thickly over your words like honey from a road side stand.

“Hey now-“ Javi starts, but you cut him off.

A little more sauced than your cohort, and somehow even spunkier than you usually are, you point your finger at Steve with purpose. “Look it here, pal, we don’t sound nothin’ alike. Texas is a whooole different ball game. Did Tennessee used to be it's own country? Hmm? I didn’t think so.” You said with determination and a slight slur, ending an argument you were having with no one.

“I reckon she’s right.” The brunette man slung his arm around your shoulders in solidarity. Steve raised his eyebrows and smirked at the spectacle of drunken Texas pride before him, entertained by his friends that were much more inebriated than he was.

“Should we tell him?” Javi whispers to you loud enough for anyone to hear.

“Well bless his little heart, he don’t know?” You don’t know either, but you can see that it’s a part of the bit so you’re going to play along anyway.

Javi takes a dramatic breath before looking at the other man solemnly, “I didn’t wanna offend you, bud, but…”

He steals a glance at you and throws another wink your way, “turns out everything’s bigger in Texas.” Javi waggles his brows suggestively and you dissolve into a fit of giggles together.

“That’s what they say, isn’t it?” Steve leans back in his seat and sips the beer he’d switched to earlier in the night.

“Oh it’s what they ALL say, I hear ‘em every time I try to sleep at my place.” Both of the men next to you shoot you a surprised look, wondering what would come out of your mouth next.

“That can’t be true, I don’t have a guest every night,” Javier offers, “gotta sleep occasionally.” He's quipping back, playing the game as usual, but you’re just getting started.

“Well, seems like. I guess your nights off are just the ones when I’m not home, Casanova.” You tease, casually taking another pull of your drink that was mostly melted ice now.

“Not home?” Steve looks at you with his head cocked. “What’re you doin', playing secret agent without us? Girl’s out to catch Escobar all on her lonesome.”

“Nah, nah, naaaah. I’m doin’- like Javi does,” you stumble over your words, “entertaining my companions. He’s a cowboy. Like me.”

You miss the way that Javi’s jaw nearly hits the floor, unable to control his expression with the liquor coursing in his veins. Steve doesn’t, though.

“Well I’ll be damned, chica, who woulda thought it.” Steve laughs, still keeping a steady eye on his partner’s reactions.

Javier didn't expect you to be celibate, and maybe it was bit archaic to assume, but he never imagined you to get around like he did. And he really didn’t want to. Pushing the imagery from his mind, Javi set aside his shock and the little antagonistic twinkle forming in his eye has Steve standing up to try and wrangle you both home before something stupid falls out of his friend’s mouth. But it’s too late.

Neither of you are moving to follow him and before Steve can start his rounds of ‘its getting late’ and ‘let’s call it a night’ Javi pipes up.

“I don’t fuckin believe you, cariño.” He takes a thoughtful drag from the cigarette between his plush lips before tapping it on the edge of the ashtray. After a brief but pregnant pause he continues. “In fact I think you’re home every night. Ear pressed to my fuckin wall, apparently.”

Anger bubbles up hot and sudden in your chest. He was still playing, still jesting. So why did red suddenly paint your complexion and creep over your field of vision? This cocky bastard. Pendejo. You’ll be damned if Javi gets the last word here, especially if that last word insinuates that you sit like a sad puppy next to your shared wall eavesdropping on his sex life.

You lean in close to the man, catching the musk of cologne and sweat radiating from his warm body. His shirt is unbuttoned into a deep v, skin glistening from the humidity and the alcohol. Javi watches as your pupils expand just so, the slightest shade of blush blooming across your cheeks.

Doubling down, you poke his exposed chest with two fingers. He shivers and you think it must be your hands, cold from wrapping around your low ball glass.

“I’ll prove it to you.” You reach up to pat his cheek before leaning back into the booth with resolve. “After this next drink.”

When you stand to cross the room and falter it’s Javi’s strong hands that fly to your waist to steady you. A burning sensation flutters beneath your skin where he holds you in place. It feels like a leather car seat on a summer's day back home. The sear of the supple material, jarring at first on the skin that peeks out from cut off shorts, soon absorbs and melts into you, sweet like sunshine, until you have to peel yourself away at your destination. Like you have to peel away now from his grip.

Seeing his opportunity Steve takes your hand and begins ushering the two of you out towards his car. Javi, seeing that his ride is leaving, gives in as well.

“Come on, sweetheart. We can have another drink when we get home. Tell Connie all about your secret love life, how’s that sound?” your friend coos to you in an effort to put you in the car willingly.

“Steve - I fucking love your wife.” You manage as you all but fall into the back seat behind where Javi already sits in the passenger.

“Same here, kid. ‘swhy I married her.”

Before Murphy can even choose a radio station a faint snore floats up from the backseat, your eyes glued shut as sleep takes you. The men stay silent on the drive home.

Let me know if you wanna be tagged for this series, I'm starting a list ☺️☺️

#javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javi pena #javi x reader #narcos fic #javi pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena #javier pena x y/n #javier pena x ofc #friends to lovers #narcos fanfiction #cowboy like me #dont blame me #look at this godforsaken mess that you made me #dont call me kid #romance #first fic #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro x reader #Spotify

[suga-kookiemonster]

satisfy 06

summary⇢ “listen,” taehyung says, eyes wide and eager as he smiles at you. “i figure we can just help each other out. i scratch your back, you scratch mine.” but when you find yourself suddenly in need of a massive favor, exactly how much scratching are you willing to do? pairing⇢ seokjin/reader, namjoon/reader, taehyung/reader, …..jimin/reader word count⇢ 4.8k genre⇢ smut | escort!au | ceo!au (kinda) warnings⇢ none, really. just a few suggestive memories and oc having a crisis 👀 a/n⇢ and now, my dear friends, we finally make it to the epilogue! 🥹 thank you to everyone who has stuck with this fic over the years, and i'm extra grateful to everyone who has dropped in my inbox at any point to scream their feelings about it to me--as well as everyone who has enjoyed it enough to reblog and share! 💜💜 you guys are the ones who really keep me coming back to share my writing on this hellsite, and i truly, truly appreciate you for helping keep fandom fun and alive. i hope you've enjoyed this ride as much as i have enjoyed taking you on it! 🥰😈 mood for this chapter is this song~ thanks again, everyone! 💜

chapters⇢ previous | series masterlist

Just as they were scheduled to, your employers jetted off overseas, leaving you to your own devices for the next three weeks. You weren’t going to lie—it felt bizarre for your calendar to be so open after months of near bursting due to constant activity. But honestly? It was truly refreshing to suddenly have so much downtime. And after your last Kim encounter, you definitely felt your break was well-deserved.   

So, you used the sudden breathing room to catch up on other parts of your life that had been suffering. The next few days were spent burrowed beneath the covers and gloriously unconscious, your truly exhausted body ensuring sleep to be your first priority. Initiating the wildest sexual encounter you had ever had—and probably would ever have—on a Thursday meant that you luckily only had to miss one lecture, and you happily did so, knowing the slides would be online for you to look over later. And though you weren’t asleep the entire weekend, even when you were awake, you didn’t part with the comfort of your bed for long—eating takeout in it and watching true crime documentaries in it and actively ignoring the way your skin tingled when your mind strayed to the other activities you had done in it not too long prior. 

(And if you were being honest, it was a little hard to not linger on what you had done. On what you so easily allowed the Kims to do.) 

When you did allow yourself to linger on it, it almost felt like a fever dream. Some abstract, depraved fantasy that your overactive mind had cooked up. But the ache in your muscles, the tenderness of your pussy—these were tangible proof that it had all been real. That the flashes of hot tongues and gasping breaths and shivering pleasure that kept creeping back, no matter how you tried to distract yourself, were memories, not figments of your imagination. You knew you should probably feel some sort of shame over it, but honestly? Other than astonishment that this was what your life had become, other than the expected fatigue—

You only felt satisfied.

Satisfied that your own needs had been spectacularly met, of course, but also with the knowledge that your employers were even more satiated than you, and that you had done that. You couldn’t help but glow with a sense of pride when your doorbell rang one afternoon and you were handed a gorgeous flower arrangement, the corresponding card detailing that the unexpected, expensive gift was from Kim Seokjin. Months ago, you probably would have felt mortified to receive them—especially with the intimate knowledge of what exactly he was thanking you for—but you had earned those flowers, dammit! Earned that, as well as the absurd amount of money Namjoon unceremoniously wired you in between the texts he sent you every few days to check on you. 

You always gave your all to whatever you set out to do, and this was no different. You were a hard worker, period. No one could fault you for being pleased with the successful results of your efforts.     

So yes, you spent those next few days relaxing and recuperating and feeling rewarded. And when you finally felt enough like a human to leave your nest of pillows and blankets, you used your newfound freedom from distractions to catch up on other parts of your life you had been inadvertently ignoring—the first being your schoolwork, and the second, Jimin. 

You did a double-take when your text thread showed that the last time you had messaged him had been a week and a half ago, unbelieving. Though busy, the two of you never went that long without at least checking in, and for him to not reach out either? You couldn’t help but worry that maybe he had forgotten about you. Found someone much more interesting, someone prettier and much more available to be showered with his attention than you. 

But luckily, your slow spiraling was immediately halted when the timid Hey you sent him resulted in his bubbly, smiley face-filled reply barely a second later. 

And so now, there you were, meeting him in person for the first time in over a month.

“Sorry I’m late,” you told him as you approached the table, slightly out of breath from your hustle there. “Traffic was crazy and the Uber driver seemed afraid of driving, or something? Like, this probably isn’t the job for you if driving in the city makes you that nervous.” Because yes, when Jimin asked if you could meet him for dinner, you were surprised when he chose a spot downtown. And you were even more surprised when you finally arrived and realized that said restaurant was apparently an upscale hotspot, especially considering the meals you usually shared together consisted of nothing fancier than takeout or something you could grab from the convenience store.

He immediately stood up to wrap you in his arms, giving you a comforting squeeze that reflexively had you melting into the warmth of him before he let go. God, he smelled good. “Glad you made it in one piece,” came his amused reply, eyes twinkling as he reached over and politely pulled your chair out for you.  

You did your best to tamp down the familiar delighted butterflies that always sprung up within you when you were near him. There was something more pressing that needed to be addressed. “Jimin,” you hissed out the corner of your mouth, warily looking around. “You didn’t tell me this restaurant was so nice! I would’ve dressed up more.” Because as it was, your simple cocktail dress wasn’t really cutting it. The tables had cloth tablecloths that no doubt were removed and washed between each seating. There were multiple chandeliers sparkling from the ceiling, for fuck’s sake! Jimin had told you to wear something more on the nicer side, but he never told you this nice, and you could tell immediately that you were underdressed. You had been so excited to see him again that you just got in the car without even bothering to google the place first. 

Jimin waved a dismissive hand, visibly unbothered as he retook his own seat. For his part, he had actually taken the time to throw on a rather smart blazer over his dress shirt and slacks, his hair carefully styled and slicked back. “You look beautiful, as you always do.”

Your eyes shifted to the table, a shy but pleased smile inching across your lips. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for meeting me. I was worried you’d forgotten about me.”

You couldn’t help the incredulous snort that escaped you. “Me forget about you? No, of course not, Jiminie. I’m sorry for dropping off the face of the earth—I’ve just been so busy—”

Jimin’s raised hand halted your rambling, the gentle crinkle of his eyes calming your frazzled nerves. “Don’t worry,” he smiled. “I totally get it—I was just teasing. I could tell you had a lot going on, and so I just didn’t want to bother you. You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

Didn’t you, though? Would he feel the same way if he knew just what had been taking up all your time? You reflexively swallowed, sifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Yeah, school has been running me ragged.” And it’s not a lie. Just not the full truth.

“No kidding. I think I got seven hours of sleep total last week, so like I said, I totally get it.” Before it even registered that he was reaching for you, his hand was already enveloping yours, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your palm. “I’m just happy we have the chance to get together now. I missed you.” 

You felt yourself immediately soften into putty at his admission. “I’ve missed you too, Jimin,” came your soft reply. Dazedly, you tried your best not to visibly show how much his unexpected touch was making your heartbeat skyrocket, but from the pleased curl of his lips, you weren’t entirely sure you were successful. 

It didn’t matter, because just as easily as he had reached into your space, he was now letting go, pulling his appendage back to his side of the table to pick up his menu.  

As if waiting for a lull in your conversation, the waiter chose that moment to approach your table. “Welcome to Serendipity. Have the two of you dined with us before?”

“I haven’t,” Jimin replied, expectantly looking your way for your response and finding you scrabbling for your menu instead.

“Me neither,” you squeaked, flustered that you had been too busy making heart eyes at Jimin to even give it a cursory browse. “Is there anything you recommend?”

The waiter reached over a little to direct you a slip of paper on your table that had gone unnoticed until this moment. “You can find our current specials here—I’m a big fan of the salmon, but everything on there is excellent. And we’re actually currently running a dinner for two special, that’s been really popular. One appetizer to share, two entrées, and a dessert to share.”

Yes, it didn’t surprise you that that would be popular—along with how nice the restaurant was, you had noticed immediately when walking in that it was filled with couples who were clearly having romantic nights out.

“I think we’re still deciding on food.” Jimin’s voice cut through your thoughts. “But can we please see a wine list?”

Wine? Your brow raised, not opposed, but surprised. In all the time you’ve known each other, alcohol has certainly never been a stranger—you’ve had late night study sessions together, accompanied by chicken and beer; you’ve gotten shitfaced together at bars after particularly rough exams. But something about this felt…different. In this restaurant, much fancier than you anticipated, surrounded by couples, sitting across a candlelit table from where Jimin was poring over a wine selection that you knew had to be really expensive—this was undoubtedly more intimate.  

You idly cleared your throat, not daring to linger too long on the dots your mind couldn’t help but connect. Because it obviously couldn’t be that. It had to be a coincidence.

“_____,” Jimin said, the slight raise in his voice cluing you in that this wasn’t the first time he had tried to get your attention. “How does this one sound?” 

You blinked our of your thoughts, finding both him and the waiter looking at you expectantly. “Whatever you choose is fine!” you croaked, slapping on a smile for good measure.    

“Excellent choice. I’ll bring it right out,” the waiter said with an affirmative tilt of his head, and then the two of you were alone again. 

It was quiet for a bit while you both properly perused your menus, though from the corner of your eye, the curious glances Jimin was sending you didn’t escape your notice. You were acting weird. You were acting weird and he could clearly tell you were acting weird, but ever since you noticed the restaurant’s romantic atmosphere, you couldn’t help it.

“These prices are kinda wild, huh?” came your attempt at normal conversation.

Jimin took it in stride, lips curling in amusement. “Yeah, they’re definitely overcharging for those stuffed mushrooms. But don’t worry about it—I invited you out, so this is my treat.”

You shook your head immediately. “No, no, I can’t let you do that! I was just making a comment. Don’t worry, I have enough money to pay.”

He let out a bemused sigh, shaking his head, and if you didn’t happen to be looking directly at him, you might have missed him say under his breath, “You’re not gonna make this date easy for me, huh?”

You immediately choked on your own spit, eyes bugging at what you thought you heard. “D-Date?” you repeated incredulously.

Jimin’s spine went stiff, eyes widening as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. You could only watch in amazement as it was his turn to look shy, pointedly averting his gaze to his menu and letting out a chuckle that sounded suspiciously nervous to your bemused ears. When you continued to gape at him, waiting for some sort of explanation, he was forced to continue.

“Yeah,” he hedged cautiously. “That’s what I’d hoped. Would that be a bad thing?”

You couldn’t answer right away, staring him down like he had grown two heads and wondering when he was going to burst out laughing with a Gotcha! You should have seen your face.  

Always one for great timing, the waiter chose that moment to come back with your wine, taking his sweet time pouring it into each of your glasses and cheerfully chatting about the region it came from. You didn’t hear a single word, too focused on the way Jimin studiously avoided your stare, on the noticeable flush that had risen up his neck and was fanning across his cheeks. It was only after you apologetically asked for more time for your meal orders—your mind too frazzled to pick something on the spot—that he left again. Jimin took a long swig from his wineglass.

“Sorry,” he murmured, still not looking at you. “I probably should have let you know my intention beforehand, but I was nervous you wouldn’t come, or I’d chicken out of doing it, or—”

“Your intention?” you parroted dazedly. 

Another generous swallow of wine, the liquid courage coaxing his eyes to meet yours. “I wanted to take you out somewhere really nice,” he admitted. “Show you a good time and work up the nerve to properly ask you out again.”

“On a. Date?” Your lashes fluttered, an involuntary response to your brain short-circuiting. “With me.”

His lips twitched. “Yes, with you, silly.”

“Why?”

“You’re really going to make me say it? Before our food gets here?” He was fiddling with his napkin, but despite his clear nervousness, his gaze was now unwavering and his voice was clear. “Because I like you, _____. I have for a long time.”

These were words that you had only heard him whisper in your wildest dreams, when your subconscious thoughts were no longer being restrained by your common sense. And as such, you could only gape at him, sure you were about to wake up any second.

Your unintentional silence triggered Jimin’s tongue into overdrive, and you could only struggle to make sense of his rambling as he proceeded to tell you how much your friendship meant to him and how he was afraid confessing how he felt would affect it, but he just couldn’t take it anymore. How his feelings for you were growing by the day, and the recent time spent away from you was maddening and only confirmed to him how much he wanted to be with you. And so he felt he had to at least put it out there and try.

And the longer he talked, the more your eyes welled up with horrified tears, panic gripping you by the throat and squeezing, tight, tight.

This was nothing short of a nightmare. 

You would have never agreed to your arrangement with the Kims if you had thought in a million years Jimin would have ever been a serious option for you. 

Absolutely not. You would have swallowed your pride, maybe taken that loan from Tae instead. Would have also taken as many odd jobs as you could to pay him back, would have forgone sleep completely and struggled a ten times more than you were now just so you could pay off your debts. Hell, you would have even just fucking dropped out. Would have taken the semester off and attempted to come back whenever you could scrounge up the appropriate funds. 

But never, never ever, would you have done what you had done. 

Because now, not only were you contractually unable to be with the man you’ve—in an attempt at self-preservation—refused to acknowledge you were in love with, but even if you found some legal way to quit now…there was zero chance Jimin would still want you when he knew. Less than zero. And you couldn’t blame him for that, because who would?

Beyond overwhelmed, you did the only sensible thing you could in that moment—you burst into tears.

Your sudden sniveling immediately halted Jimin’s rambling, eyes wide in alarm and looking every bit as distressed as you. “Ah—don’t cry!” He leaned over the table, cradling your face in his hands and swiping your tears with his thumbs. “You don’t have to feel the same way, _____. I’ll get over it, please don’t cry—”

“No,” you blubbered, beyond miserable. He couldn’t be more wrong. “I do! Jimin, I feel exactly the same way, I just…” Your eyes welled up anew, unable to tell him the truth. “I c-can’t.” 

“You can’t?” he repeated, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His eyes roved your face for any possible answers, nibbling slightly on his bottom lip in thought. “…Is this…” His thumbs were still caressing your cheeks, gaze gentle and open as he quickly glanced around to see if anyone was paying the two of you any attention. When it was clear no one was giving your table more than a few curious glances, he said quieter, “…Is this about the arrangement you have with Tae?”

Everything froze. Your eyes locked, Jimin patiently waiting for your reply. Hysteria trickled through your veins, held only a bay by the disbelief slamming into you harder than a freight train. “W-What arrangement?” you blurted reflexively, a touch too loudly to be believable. 

It was Jimin’s turn be caught off guard, hands slowly dropping from your face and returning to his side of the table, though he was still leaned over it so he could still whisper to you, “You know.” He looked at you pointedly, mouth downturning a bit in his confusion. “With him and his brothers. The arrangement.” 

Jesus Christ, this was not happening. There was no way that this was actually happening to you. There was no way that the man who unknowingly held your heart in the palm of his hand was fully aware that you were fucking his best friend for money. Deny, deny! “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

He didn’t say anything for a few moments, still visibly puzzled. But the two of you only sat in an awkward silence for a few more moments before he snapped his fingers, a light bulb clearly going off. “Ah! You can’t say anything because you signed an NDA, right?” 

You swallowed thickly, unable do anything more in that very moment than stupidly stare at him like a deer in the headlights. 

“I’m sorry, that was stupid of me,” Jimin chuckled, smacking his forehead for good measure. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize that sooner. Obviously you’re under NDA.” 

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. Weren’t sure from the gentle smile he was now sending you if he even expected a response from you. Luckily, Jimin kept talking. 

“But it’s okay—I already know everything, so you don’t have to hide it,” he reassured you. You didn’t feel assured. You felt like you were in the Twilight Zone. ��Taehyung told me about your agreement when you started it months ago.”

If you were flustered before, that was nothing on what you were feeling now. Now, half-thoughts were ricocheting across your brain too quickly for you to grasp anything of substance but your internal screeching. “You know everything?” you repeated incredulously. This time it was you who leaned over the table, meeting him in the middle. “Taehyung told you?!”

“Of course he did!” Color rebloomed across his cheeks, but he didn’t shy away from the bewildered stare down you were giving him. “He’s my best friend and he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be stepping on any toes. He…knows how I feel about you.” When you only continued to stare at him, he nervously added, “Who do you think got me the reservation for this place to begin with? The waitlist is literally a year out.”

“I’m sorry, I just—” You pulled back so you could reach for your wineglass, allowing yourself a few healthy sips to give your mouth something to do other than flap about like an idiot while you stalled. Jimin didn’t call you out on it, just waited patiently and topped off your glass when you set it back down again. 

You took a few steadying breaths, ultimately choosing to lean back closer to Jimin. To the casual onlooker, the two of you were just another couple making heart eyes over a romantic dinner. And considering the rather lewd and illegal turn your conversation had just taken in this very public place, that only worked in your favor. “Let me get this straight,” you whispered, carefully choosing your words in case you still managed to garner an unwanted audience. “Taehyung told you the deal he has with me. Months ago.” Jimin nodded. “And you’ve known this entire time about our…arrangement, but never told me you knew.”

“I swear I didn’t at all mean to keep that a secret,” he murmured, expression contrite. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or embarrass you or anything like that, so I’ve just been waiting on you to bring it up at your own pace. But I didn’t take into account that you would never bring it up because you would be under NDA, which, again, now that I say it out loud was an extremely stupid assumption of me not to make. I’m sorry.”

“So. You have feelings for me,” you reiterated, ignoring the delighted shiver that raced up your spine at the words. You had to be sure. “But it didn’t bother you that your best friend…propositioned me? You have no problem with me being…involved with him and his brothers?”

“You were caught between a rock and a hard place and the grind never stops. You know I know that better than anybody,” he replied with a shrug. He swallowed, discreetly ensuring no one was paying the two of you any attention before he added, “You think you’re the only one who’s sucked dick for money?”

Your eyes widened, jaw dropping a little before you could catch it. Was he…implying what you thought he was implying? There was no way. You had to be reading into it. 

But ultimately, all of this was irrelevant. When the ghost of Seokjin’s mouth on you came to you unbidden—the phantom weight of Taehyung’s body, the haunting reprimand of Namjoon’s stern hand—

You shook your head, unsuccessfully dispelling those unwanted, lingering thoughts. Your gaze skirted to the table, despondent and embarrassed as you finally set free your hushed admission. “Jimin, I’ve done more than suck dick for my money.” 

There was a pause, an agonizing one that felt like an eternity, and then he was lifting your chin with a finger and guiding you to meet his eyes.

“Again.” He reached for your hands, thumb tracing patterns over your knuckles. His smile was a soft secret. “You think you’re the only one?” 

He held your gaze, not looking away even though your mouth just flapped uselessly as you struggled to regain your bearings. So he did mean—

“Does knowing that bother you?” Jimin asked quietly, expression now carefully neutral. Seriously asking, and giving you the proper space to process and answer. “Does it change anything?”

“No.” The truth, though delayed, left you as easily as a breath. He was still Jimin. “Of course not.”

Jimin’s resulting grin turned his eyes into crescents. “Soooo…what I’m hearing is that we’re clearly on the same page and are both Team Fuck Bitches, Get Money.” 

Boy, did you wish you could smile back. Wish you could share in his obvious relief. But while you assumed his exploits were in the past, the same couldn’t be said for you, who was actively under contract. “Jimin, I’m still…employed,” you couldn’t help but point out. “And still will be for a while. That really doesn’t bother you?”

“It really doesn’t,” he insisted. But your continued hesitance had him pulling back from you, hands busying themselves with reaching for his wineglass as he carefully asked, “Should it? Is there something else I should know?” A couple sips of wine to steel himself before a  cautious, “Do you have feelings for any of them?”

“No!” you blurted. Despite the amount of time and intimacy you had been spending with the Kims, romantic feelings had never even crossed your mind. Your pussy certainly felt some things when she was getting some action, but your heart had never gotten involved. Your heart was too busy crowding in your throat at that very moment, threatening to fling itself at the man in front of you.

Jimin took your sincerity for what it was, a pleased twist to his lips. “Then it’s all fine with me. And again, Tae’s been aware from the beginning that I’ve been intending to ask you out, so that expectation has been there since the beginning. All three of them agreed to the deal knowing that I might be in the picture if I ever decided to put my big boy pants on and tell you how I feel. They’ve been expecting it, so they’re cool with it.”

“They’re cool with it,” you parroted blankly, completely flabbergasted. This was absolutely not how you foresaw this night going, and you never would have thought your life would ever take a turn like this in a million years. “They’re cool with it, and so are you?”

“I don’t mind sharing your time,” he shrugged. “So long as I’m not sharing you.”

“And you don’t see that as the same thing in this…situation?” you asked incredulously. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

Jimin puffed out an amused laugh. “Wow, you really are trying to talk me out of this, huh?”

You waved your hands. “Absolutely not, that is the last thing I want! I just. I come with a lot of baggage, and I don’t want any of it to come as a surprise. As busy as I’ve been the last couple weeks? That’s becoming a reoccurring normal. And Jimin, I just feel really shitty.” You swallowed. “Because I can’t promise you everything that you deserve to be promised right now.”

Jimin’s face softened as he listened to you, visibly much more comfortable now that you had successfully reassured him just how badly you wanted this. And oh, did you want it. You weren’t sure how this could ever work, but god did you want it to.

“Not fair,” he repeated under his breath, eyes glazed over in thought. “Hmmm.” 

“Is there anything I could do?” you hedged. You weren’t really sure what that could possibly be, considering the ironclad situation you were in. But now that you had been given a glimmer of your heart’s desire, you couldn’t let it fade away. Not if you could help it.  

His reply wasn’t immediate, still lost in thought. But when his eyes finally refocused on you, smoldering and intense, you couldn’t help the way your breath caught in response, the way your heart quickened. “Here’s an idea of what we can do to make it fair. What if you continue to work for them, just as you are now. And then…” 

He was thoughtlessly swirling his wineglass, momentum pulling the ruby liquid into slow, circling waves that would be rather hypnotizing if you weren’t already caught in the snare of his gaze. When he leaned across the table again, the way you followed suit was as easy as breathing. A lovesick sailor willingly lured to possible danger by a siren’s song. “Whatever you do for them, you do for me. How does that sound?” 

You let out a soft breath, just the thought of it immediately electrifying your every atom. Sparks danced excitedly beneath your skin, his soft, sultry tone curling your toes in their shoes. 

“Fair.”

His Adam’s apple dipped excitedly, lips parting.

“So sorry to interrupt,” someone suddenly said from beside you. It was the waiter again. You had completely forgotten about him. Completely forgotten everything other than the restless tap of Jimin’s fingers against the table. “I just wanted to check in to see if you were ready to order?” 

“Yes, I think so.” You didn’t look away from Jimin—still hadn’t even glanced at the menu. Your tongue swiped over your lips, and his gaze darkened in response. 

“But I think we’d like it to go.”

chapters⇢ previous | series masterlist

#taehyung smut #namjoon smut #seokjin smut #bts fic #bts smut #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #jimin x reader #mine #husband #bae #mr. worldwide #the tempter #fic: satisfy

[thevillainswhore]

Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

Pairing: Stalker!IT/tech!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

(snippets/mentions of Carter Bazien x F!Reader and Ending, Beginnings!Frank x F!Reader)

Summary: Bucky, the IT and technology expert of your office, has been secretly obsessed since the moment he set his sights on sensitive, naive, little you. But, your only fault is your repetitive ability to get your heartbroken by fuck boys. So, naturally, he has to do whatever it takes to make you see he’s perfect for you… right?

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Stalking, mentions of smut (p in v, male masturbation) violence, grievous bodily harm, dark elements, possessive behaviour, hacking, reader is very naive, Bucky is a hell of a warning here (will add more with the upcoming chapters) PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS - THIS IS A DARK FIC!!!

A/N: We are finally here!! 😭 incase anyone doesn’t remember, I teased this fic a longgg time ago and it makes me so happy to announce its now live 🥹 as mentioned before this is a multi part story - I’m aiming for 3 parts but it could be more with me who knows 🤣 I also changed the my moodboard bc my last one did not include inclusivity and that is the goal here 💗

So now onto my appreciations ❤️ first of all I need to thank @mickeyhenrys for helping with the fic title - she’s a genius and I’m so thankful! Next, I need to thank @sgt-seabass for the help with the IT/cyber security aspect of things - she was absolutely amazing with providing all the information I needed and I’m super grateful for it. And last and certainly not least… my beautiful @rookthorne. my god I can’t even begin to thank you for all the help you’ve given me on this. To beta’ing this fic, helping me a lot with my moodboard even when I was a pain the ass 🤣 and just supporting me in general with my crazy ideas - this fic sprouted from our brainstorming and looking back from then to where this has flourished now is amazing 💗 thank you for being the beautiful person you are and inspiring me to grow as a writer. I love you so much 🥹

Now onto the fic, please enjoy the start of this crazy, wild ride and good luck - you’re gonna need it… 👀

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

Bucky glances over at you through the window that seperates the two of you, gushing about your new date already. It took you a week, maybe two, to get over the last guy. And here you were, yet again, in the same conversation with the same co-worker, debating about which dress you were gonna wear tonight. 

Did it matter anyway? 

The same shit happens every time. You go out with a new prize idiot, get laid, wait for them to text you back (spoiler: they never do), and you sit there, crying and wondering where you went wrong. 

It was frustrating. 

You only ever go out with the conventional ‘fuck boy’. The same three-piece suits and quiffed hair that looks like it’s been cemented to their skull with product and arrogance, both in equal measure. 

When were you going to get it? You choose the wrong type of guy, every single time. And yet, you wonder why they never stick around long enough to make things official, or to settle down. 

You were gullible; so naive.

The perfect girl that Bucky has kept his sights set on from that very first day that you begun working in the same office.

That’s when you walked into my life, Angel. 

It wasn’t all that new for it to rain in New York. Heels clicked and splashed through the deep puddles of the pavement, and leather briefcases bumped against each other in the chaos of the crowds as Bucky made his way to work.

He found he didn’t so much mind the repetitive routine – his life had never been exciting. It gave him peace of mind to hear all the usual sounds and to witness the usual frenzied rush from his run down apartment all the way to his office.

 

He liked his job, truly. It’s what he’s always excelled best in and it’s what has kept him in his comfort zone. There was never no real need to talk to people as all communication or pleas for help were addressed in an email. Those who didn’t email always dragged themselves to his office and slammed their technology down on his desk, grunt or curse at him, before primly walking back out again. 

That would anger most people – the blatant disregard for his existence and the treatment similar to that of a scolded dog, but Bucky’s been there for ten years now, and over those many, many days, he had gotten used to it. 

It was a bonus, however, that nobody questioned him once on how he managed to fix every problem with their device with so little information as a curse and a demand to get it working.  

Pushing the door open, Bucky expects to be walking into a normal day at the office. Paying no notice to the hustle and bustle of his colleagues at work.

That is until he’s stopped in his tracks. 

The surprise of seeing the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on; a woman that was sunshine and everything he dreamed of personified standing in the lobby. He watched you speak to anyone that paused to say hello. 

The errant thought of such an innocent bunny smiling for all that gave her attention made his cock twitch in his pants. He wanted to give you that attention that you craved.

Never had he been so entranced by and enamoured in anyone. He thinks he could stay like this forever, almost blown over by his new found obsession that made his hands shake and the whole volume of blood in his body to rush to his rapidly swelling cock.

That obsession called and rooted for him to take the few steps and cover the distance to reach you, when he was abruptly shunted forward by another body slamming into his back. 

He spun around, ready to curse the person for being so oblivious, when he saw Brock. “Hey man, why the fuck were you just stand- Oh, I take it you’ve seen the new hire, hot isn’t she?” 

The predatory smile on Brock’s mouth physically made him recoil.  Looking Brock up and down, clear disgust in the sneer and glare of his expression, Bucky turned and stalked away towards the stairs in a bid to head to his office. 

His closest safety net, the office where he spent his days, came into view and he slammed open the door, only to fall back onto it, his breath coming in sharp pants. Wildly, he glances around him and then out of the blinds that shroud his office from onlookers. Nobody was paying attention to his moment of crisis and doubt, except, he finds you glancing over your cubicle wall. 

You send a small wave, one of which Bucky can’t believe is directed at him, and you smile broadly – a kind gesture. He can’t remember the last time someone smiled at him like that. 

Bucky hastily looks away and strides over to his desk, adjusting the sudden tent of his slacks before he turns to sit in his desk chair to start his day. 

Who the fuck is she? 

The day starts slow, each task as mundane as the last, when you finally get a chance to talk to Sasha, your favourite co-worker. “I really think he’s going to be the one this time.” You can’t stop grinning, wiggling in your seat from excitement to be going out with Frank this weekend – the party that you met him at still fresh in your mind. 

“Girl, you said that last time! With... What was his name again?” Sasha groans, her chair swivelling so she could face you fully. You stare at her with a furrow in your brow while she stumbles to remember the name. “Chad? No, I don’t think that was it… Chris?” 

“His name was Carter.” There's heartbreak evident in the way your voice turns to a solemn whisper when speaking of him, and your eyes start to water as you begin to think about how your previous date left you high and dry after your night together – only to ghost you the next morning. Your lips start to tremble at the memory. “And I thought we said we weren’t going to speak about him anymore.” 

Sasha notices your dejected expression. “Shit honey, l’m sorry. I just want you to be happy.” You nod once, wiping your cheek with your palm. “Car-” She hesitates, and then frowns. “He-who-shall-not-be-named was a rich asshole, he doesn’t deserve you and he can choke on a dick.”

The crass statement shocks you. “Sasha!” you admonish, glancing around the office for anyone milling about that may have overheard. Although you were never one to bad mouth, you couldn’t help the small giggles spilling out at her vulgar words. 

Sasha’s abrupt and scandalous nature has always been the exact opposite to your docile character, but she was the first true friend you had made in the office – always looking out for you, taking care of you, and with your doe-eyed persona, the men can’t help but desire to have a piece of you. 

It is a blessing that she always knew how to pick you back up when you were down, no matter how many times you would come to her in tears over the same problem. 

“Anyway, I promise this one is different,” you promise. The sadness that gripped you a second before fades with the humorous nature of your friend. Sasha shoots you a look. “I didn’t even match with him on Tinder! We met at that party–the one I told you about, Daphne’s?”

“I remember,” Sasha murmurs, nodding. 

The memory flashes across your mind, and you shake your head slightly. “He looked so silly with the little tiara on his head. He came up to me and we talked a little–said I looked really pretty and that we should meet up sometime,” you explain, almost imploringly – you desperately want her to understand that it was a good thing. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it–for me to get myself out there?”

Pride makes your voice strong, unwavering in it’s conviction. Stepping out of your your social circle is a huge step, and by the softening in Sasha’s gaze, she thinks so, too. 

The night you met Frank swirls in your mind, clouding it as you stare dreamily at the wall beside Sasha’s head.

The party was in full swing – loud cheers and clinking bottles and glasses filled the night air, while the pounding bass music rattled your chest. Your friend, Daphne, had left to go smoke in the corner, abandoning you to your own devices by the pool. 

Fairy lights had been strung up from pole to pole above you and you were admiring them, when Frank caught you by surprise.

“Hey doll,” he greeted, and you glanced at the six foot Prince Charming in a wool coat and tiny tiara. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in the corner?” 

Frank had thrown you a dashing smile and you found you couldn’t maintain eye contact with his intense gaze – you swore you fell in love on the spot.

To say you were flustered would be an understatement. “M-Me?” 

Frank almost looked amused. “Well, just between me and you dollface… I don’t see anyone else nearly as pretty as you here.”  

As the night went on, Frank continued to sweep you off your feet. You genuinely had no clue how desperate you made him over your sweet little dress riding up your thighs when you fiddled with the the hem. Or when you started to feel shy and you crossed your arms to try and hide yourself – only to squeeze your tits together. It gave him the perfect image of how they would look bouncing up and down on his cock. 

The way he stared at you so sweetly, acting as the perfect gentleman made the butterflies in your stomach swoop and flutter up a storm. You had planned a date with him at the end of the night and you were beyond excited. 

Snapping out of your daydream, you focus back into the present, aware enough of your surroundings to see Sasha clicking her fingers sharply in front of your face making you blink. “Hello? There she is!” She sits back and rolls her eyes. “Jesus girl, I was calling your name for ages. Where did that cute head of yours wander off to this time?” 

“Sorry! I just got caught up in Frank again,” you sigh, dreamily. 

Sasha scoffs. “C’mon, he can’t be that cute. Show me a photo of him.”

You clap your hands and squeal, rushing to search through your bag for your phone to show her just how lucky you are to have someone as wonderful as Frank interested in you. Scrolling through the photos you’d taken that night, you finally find the one you couldn’t stop admiring; him with that silly tiara sitting atop his soft, fluffy hair that you could imagine running your hands through all day, wrapped in a snug jacket with a cigarette between his fingers and blowing out smoke the side of his perfect lips. 

His eyes fixed intently on one thing. You. 

The image sends a shiver down your spine, and before you get too carried away, you turn your screen to face Sasha. 

After a whole minute of considertory silence, she finally speaks up, her voice aweful. “Holy fucking shit, babe. I wanna lick his face.” 

Your jaw drops. “Sasha, oh my god, you can’t just say that!” Laughter threatens to bubble over and your cheeks heat in response.

“Watch me,” Sasha teases, and you both dissolve into laughing fits.

Bucky is seething. He doesn’t think his teeth could be grating together any harder; grinding to dust until his jaw clicks. While your laugh is melodic to his ears, and his heart leaps and bounds at the sound of your voice, even muted from his vantage point of his office, he saw how upset you looked when your co-worker mentioned him. 

Carter. 

Even thinking his name gets his blood boiling. But, he wills himself to calm down. To just breathe. There was no point in getting worked up over that spoiled prick anymore, he’s dealt with after what he did to you –  the very lengths Bucky had to go to get that video Carter took on his phone deleted. 

You, the not so innocent whore on your knees for someone who wasn’t him, begging for Carter’s dick down your throat until you were suffocating; saliva drooling from your chin and dripping down onto your heaving tits.

Bucky can feel his cock twitching in his trousers at the thought of you being so submissive. Pity floods him – you didn’t even realise how Carter had not only ignored your texts that morning, but he had also planned to send that precious gift you had so willingly given to him, to all of his friends and ultimately ruin your life.  Leaving it in shambles for you to pick up the debris of your professional career and sociality with so little care.

Bucky wasn’t the most pleased with you after seeing that video in the first place. It was such a foolish decision to trust and allow that sleazebag to film you. 

He took it upon himself to remove every trace of the video. After all, he was a good person, what a man should be.  

Such a good man that he paid a visit to Carter, leaving him with a few of his own gifts. A black eye, fractured skull, and a break in his right femur that may, or may not have, resulted in him taking residence in the local intensive care unit fighting for his life.

“All I want is for you to be happy. And who better to make you happy than me?” Bucky wonders quietly at his desk, the door to his office wide open so he can hear you chatting to your friend. “I would treat you so good–dote on you every hour of every day, never let you out of my sight, either.”

The next train of thought is one he will not voice aloud, but the vision of him fucking you hard and rough, just as you deserve, until you cried for more – for all of what he could give. 

“You’re better off with me,” Bucky grumbles. His lips turn down into a grimace and he glares at the cubicle wall that separated you from him. “You just don’t know it yet, bunny.”

Nevertheless, here you are, flaunting your latest boy toy off to your friend. 

The pencil he’s been tapping absentmindedly on his desk stops suddenly and small pieces of wood splinters by the second until it snaps in half,  almost capturing your attention – head whipping side to side in search of the noise until you give up and go back to your conversation. 

Pain laces through his hand when the wood scratches his palm, reddening lines etching themselves in retaliation for his daydreaming.

He’s got to be more careful with his frustrations. 

You have hardly ever looked in his direction, let alone spoken a single word to him. Why would you? Not many people did, if he is honest with himself. His shoulder-length dark hair that is always covered by the same black cap in combination with his piercing and brooding stare didn’t give off the best impression, or invite conversation. 

Bucky was not a popular man, even thinking back to his early school years. He was always considered the loner, the nerd, the creep. No sisters or brothers to grow up with; distant parents who paid no mind to him or bothered to foster and nuture his affinities. 

The lonliness of his childhood paved the way to the depths of his desperation. Intelligence was something he had an abundance of, and weaponising the skills of his cyber skills was an underutilised talent of every one of his past employs. 

It never assuades or lessens the burden of need for affection. A craving that naws like a festering wound in his barren heart, for something that could make up for the miserable nights of self reflection and doubt; wondering why he was never enough for his parents, or popular at school where the girls would fawn over him.

Something for his own; to be just his and unable to be taken from him, not by anybody. 

I’m right here, Angel. You just don’t ever see me. 

Bucky has done nothing short of pine after you from afar; stealing glances and furtive wanders to get close in any way he can. 

He knows you wouldn’t go out of your way to talk to him – you don’t run in the same circles and you are definitely not socially compatible. That doesn’t stop him from imagining how soft your skin must be, or how flawlessly your body would melt against his as he railed you into his bed. Your heavenly little cries of his name, breathless chants pleading him to “Keep going!” and “Don’t stop!” never leave his mind. They fuel his needy desires at night until he can get the real thing, whimpering your name until his voice is hoarse as he fucks his fist over and over and over – the thought that it was your hand or your pillowy lips guiding him into ecstacy pushes him to the very brink of insanity. 

The dreams will do for now, he thinks privately as he stares at you through the glass pane of his office wall, straight to your cubicle, the sound of your laughter echoing down the hall and muffled through the glass. He’s managed for the last six months since he first saw you, it’s fine. 

Impatience chips away at his resolve, though, and his fuse is shortening by the day.  No matter what it takes, no matter who you think is good for you right now, Bucky will have you, and when he does… He’s not ever letting you go.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky smut #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #dark bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x female reader

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Meet the Greyhounds

Plot: On the first day of season training, the Greyhounds welcome the newest member of AFC Richmond and Y/n gets a crash course in Ted Lasso’s unconventional coaching methods.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: language, use of f!reader (16+)

A/N: Here we are again, now with the Greyhounds entering the story…👀

As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged, though I’m still only tagging 16+. Enjoy!!

————

Contrary to the whirlwind of her hiring, Y/n’s first week at AFC Richmond was nothing but calm waters.

The first few days had been spent mostly in meetings with Higgins, learning the basic operations of parts of the club she’d be involved in. She bounced back to the KJPR offices every few days for a meeting with Keeley. Already, there was a rhythm developing to her days.

Y/n took the weekend to set up her office, driving over a few boxes of books, wall hangings and office supplies to Nelson Road Stadium. Season training started on Monday and Y/n knew it was her last chance to get settled before the work truly started.

On Sunday evening, she stayed late organizing her desk the way she liked. When she was finally done, taking a final satisfactory look at the space, she collected her coat and locked up for the night. She was on her way out when she noticed up the stairwell, there were still lights on.

Thinking only her and the night cleaning crew were still around, Y/n shuffled up the steps. The closer she got, the better she could make out the light was coming from Rebecca’s office. Not only that, she could hear mumbled curses.

Y/n rapped her knuckles twice against her boss’s door, poking her head in just enough to show who it was.

“Oh,” Rebecca breathed, sat behind her desk, “Come in.”

Y/n took a cautious step through the doorway, giving a little wave, “I saw the light and didn’t know who was still here.”

“Well, I shouldn’t be here,” Rebecca replied, trying to put on a smile for Y/n, “Not till tomorrow anyway.”

Nodding, Y/n shifted her coat in her arms.

“You’re here awfully late as well,” Rebecca changed the subject.

“Oh,” Y/n answered, “Finally took the time to unpack everything. Figured it was a good idea before tomorrow.”

“Good,” Rebecca replied.

It went without saying that there was something wrong. Rebecca had no reason to be there.

“Is everything…” Y/n shifted in her spot a little. She was skirting one of the professional lines she valued. “Alright?”

The moment the question hit the air, Rebecca’s facade cracked. The edges of her smile drooped ever so slightly and whatever faux cheeriness had been masking her eyes faded.

“Do you read many tabloids, Y/n?” Rebecca asked.

“Not actively, but,” Y/n answered, her eyes darting between the floor, the lamp, anywhere other than directly at Rebecca until absolutely necessary, “I see things.”

Rebecca knew, without asking, what headlines she was referring to.

“My ex-husband recently purchased West Ham United,” the woman began to explain, “He poached one of our coaches from last season and…” Rebecca shook her head from the ridiculousness of it all, “There was just a headline that…”

Y/n waited for her boss to find the words, knowing they probably wouldn’t come. Nor did they need to.

Rebecca inhaled, “I suppose I shouldn’t let it get to me but…”

“Hey,” Y/n held up a hand, “There’s no judgement here.”

Rebecca gave a genuine smile, thankful for the understanding. “Well, we both need to get home and get some rest,” she said as she rose from her desk.

“We do,” Y/n was thankful the subject was shifting from personal matters, “Goodnight, Ms. Welton.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me you’re going to call me that the entire season,” Rebecca sighed, half-laughing at the formality, “Rebecca.”

It shouldn’t have mattered, but Y/n felt most comfortable with her barriers in place. However, going up against Rebecca was a fight she knew she’d lose.

“Alright,” Y/n conceded, the only time she planned on doing so, “Goodnight, Rebecca.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” Rebecca said in return.

That night, once she returned home and settled in bed with a cup of tea, Y/n did research on the enemy. Rupert Mannion, Rebecca’s ex-husband, had indeed purchased West Ham United at the end of last season. He’d gone one step further and hired Richmond’s old coach, Nathan Shelley. There was much speculation as to why the former kitman had left and why he’d chosen specifically to work for Rebecca’s ex. Several tabloids had framed the upcoming season as a battleground not only for the Greyhounds and Hammers, but the ex-spouses as well.

Y/n shut her laptop and rubbed at her eyes. She could uphold all the professional boundaries she liked, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t become a part of a deeply personal fight.

—————————

Come Monday morning, the parking lot at Nelson Road was packed.

Season training had begun.

Y/n had gotten in early, having stopped by Keeley’s office to pick some papers up, and had yet to cross paths with any of the Greyhounds or coaches. She wasn’t trying to avoid meeting them, but she also wasn’t actively seeking out the opportunity. There was safety in the isolation of her office with the only intruder being Higgins every once in a while.

It was around 10 when the first knock at the door came.

Y/n looked up from her desk to see Sam Obisanya standing in her doorway.

“Ms. Y/l/n?”

“Yes,” Y/n answered with a small smile.

“Ah,” Sam took one step inside the office, “I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself. Sam-“

“Obisanya,” Y/n finished for him, rising from her desk to come and shake his hand, “I may not be a football fanatic, but I know your work.”

Sam laughed humbly, Y/n didn’t think there was such a thing until then.

“You’re very kind,” Sam let go of her hand, “I heard you were hired over our break and I wanted to be one of the first to say ‘welcome.’”

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Obisanya,” Y/n replied, feeling genuinely touched.

“Please,” he smiled, “Call me Sam.”

“Sam,” Y/n nodded, she was 0 for 2…

“Are you finding everything okay?” Sam asked.

Y/n glanced at the space around them, “Everything I need so far, yes.”

“Ah, good,” Sam grinned, “Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. It’s a lot to get used to.”

“Well, I’ll agree with you there,” Y/n chuckled, “But really, Sam, thank you. I genuinely look forward to getting to see you play this season.”

“Ah,” Sam’s hand briefly touched his chest, “Thank you. I hope you have a wonderful day.”

“You as well,” Y/n replied as the midfielder headed back through her office door. Her Youtube observations had been correct; Sam Obisanya was as genuine off the pitch as he was on it.

A few moments after settling back at her desk, a second knock came.

“Hola, Ms. Y/n!”

Dani Rojas.

“Hi,” Y/n greeted, a little surprised, “You must be Mr. Rojas.”

“Dani, please,” the player grinned, “I wanted to come and officially welcome you to Richmond.”

Y/n rose from her desk and crossed the room once again. “That’s very kind of you, D- oh!”

Dani had pulled her in for a hug and had practically lifted her off the ground. In any other case, Y/n would have slingshotted them both into the HR office, but she could tell his intentions were 100% pure.

“I hope you will be very happy working here with us,” Dani said, finally releasing Y/n from his arms, “It is like one big family.”

Y/n chuckled awkwardly, trying to hide her dismay at the thought from someone who was the human embodiment of joy.

“I’m sure I’ll be quite content,” she replied politely, “And I look forward to seeing you play, Dani.”

“Oh, thank you,” Dani said, his grin hadn’t dropped half an inch since he’d arrived, “I look forward to getting to work with you.”

“You too, Dani,” Y/n nodded, “I hope you have a great day.”

“You as well,” Dani wished cheerily before exiting Y/n’s office.

Y/n stayed in the middle of the room a moment longer, trying to process the interaction. She was half sure that within the next thirty seconds, another Greyhound would come through her door.

She wasn’t wrong.

Five minutes after Dani, Colin Hughes and team captain Isaac Mcadoo showed up. While their greetings were less personal than Sam’s and they let Y/n stay on the ground, unlike Dani, they took their time to welcome her. Two minutes after them, Thierry Zoreaux swung by. Just as he was leaving, Jan Maas took his place. In and out, the Richmond players seemed to form a never ending stream of well wishes.

As Will, the team’s kitman, was on his way out from his introduction, Y/n decided answers were worth seeking.

“Can I ask,” she tapped her pen against her desk, “How did you guys even know I was here?”

“Oh, Coach Lasso told us,” Will answered plainly, “He wanted us each to stop by and introduce ourselves. See if you needed anything, officially welcome you to Richmond.”

Y/n nodded, it all made sense now.

“Got it,” she politely smiled, “Well, thank you, Will. I definitely feel welcomed.

With a polite farewell, Will left Y/n on her own once more. She felt like locking the door just to ensure she could actually get some work done. She was pleased to know that the team she worked for wasn’t comprised of inconsiderate pricks, but their kindness had been more than overwhelming.

“Alright, Ted Lasso,” she mumbled to the empty room, “Message received.”

Itwas an hour later, after five more stop-bys by various Greyhounds, that Y/n escaped her office. She headed to the cafe to grab a tea before her morning meeting with Rebecca and Higgins. She made it in and out without any more ambushes, and headed on her way to Rebecca’s office.

Just as her eye caught on one of the placards on the hallway wall, a door swung open at Y/n’s side. She froze as the emerging body nearly bumped into hers.

“Whoa,” the culprit said as they too stopped in their tracks.

Y/n awkwardly laughed as she held her tea in the air, trying to prevent a mess.

“Sorry, that was on me,” the man apologized as the door swung back into place.

“No, no,” Y/n exhaled, “It’s on me for not paying attention.”

The man breathed out a laugh as Y/n brought her arm back into her side.

“And nothing’s on anyone so,” Y/n gestured to her tea, “Could’ve been worse.”

Finally looking up at the man in front of her, Y/n recognized him instantly.

“You’re Jamie Tartt.”

Jamie pursed his lips and pointed a finger at Y/n, “And you’re the new girl? Keeley’s new hire?”

Y/n didn’t love the sound of her position being explained so casually. “Miss Jones hired me to do some work for Richmond, yes. Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Ah,” Jamie nodded, attempting not to laugh at the formality, “Coach wanted us all to come by and introduce ourselves.”

“Well, you saved yourself a trip,” Y/n replied, somewhere between a polite and genuine smile.

Jamie chuckled, his hands awkwardly clasped in front of him. “Well, good to put a face to the name.”

Y/n nodded a little, “Same to you.”

“Right, well,” Jamie bent at the knees and flashed Y/n a smile, “See you ‘round, I guess.”

“See you around,” Y/n returned.

Without another word, Jamie and Y/n walked off down opposite ends of the hallway.

As she climbed the stairs up to Rebecca’s office, Y/n made a note that the Jamie Tartt she’d (quite literally) run into was, indeed, far different than the ill reputation he’d built for himself. He seemed perfectly pleasant, a little blunt, but polite nonetheless. It didn’t seem like the Greyhounds didn’t have any bad eggs.

Switching back to work mode, Y/n knocked on Rebecca’s semi-open door.

“Ah, come in, Y/n,” Rebecca quickly greeted.

Y/n walked in and saw that Higgins and Ted were already standing across from Rebecca’s desk.

“Hey, it’s the newest Greyhound,” Ted said cheerily.

“So sorry I’m late,” Y/n apologized, setting her purse and tea down on the coffee table. She was happy to bypass Ted’s greeting with nothing more than a polite smile.

“Oh, no it’s fine,” Rebecca waved her concern off before turning back to the matter at hand, “As I was saying, everyone alive has picked Richmond to finish in 20th place this season.”

Y/n came to stand between Higgins and Ted.

“Except for the The Daily Mirror,” Higgins interjected, “Which has us finishing ‘twentyelf.’ An adorable but devastating typo.”

Ted hummed, “Okay. Well, you know what? I predict all their predictions ain’t gonna come true. So it looks like we got ourselves a prediction Mexican standoff,” Ted turned to Y/n and Higgins, “Or as they call them in Mexico, a prediction standoff.”

Y/n wondered if the man had an off button.

“Well, the worst part is they’ve picked Rupert to finish in the top four,” Rebecca said with a heavy sigh.

“Rupert’s gonna play this year?” Ted asked in all seriousness.

“What?” Rebecca replied, “No.”

“You’re referring to West Ham United,” Y/n spoke up, trying to move the conversation along, “Correct?”

“Precisely,” Rebecca said, “Everyone thinks he’s better than us.”

“They,” Ted corrected his boss, “Everyone thinks they are better than us.”

Rebecca nodded a little too fast to be considered normal, “Yes, that’s what I said. They. So, what’s the plan? How are we going to beat him?”

Once again, Ted caught the error that Y/n knew was no error at all. “Them.”

“Exactly,” Rebecca replied.

“Oh, boy,” Ted said lowly.

“You know, this might be a good time for us to update our roster,” Higgins spoke up, “Put some more firepower in the team.”

Rebecca pointed towards Higgins, “That is an great idea, Leslie.”

“I agree,” Y/n threw in her support, thankful the conversation was moving back towards work, “Plenty of opportunity to make a big fuss over it, get people excited, pack the stands a little more.”

“Let’s put some feelers out, shall we?” Rebecca continued, glancing over to her manager, “Ted?”

“Well, I know Roy and Coach Beard are workin’ on some new tactics,” he answered, “And, you know, the fellas we already got are gelling real nice. I think we’re gonna do just fine this season.”

If Y/n could have measured the indignity on Rebecca’s face, she couldn’t have.

“Ted, this team doing ‘just fine’ is a far cry from you telling me we’re going to win the whole fucking thing.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raised just as Higgins exclaimed, “Whoa!”

“Did I really say that?” Ted asked, just as shocked.

“Yes, you did,” Rebecca’s voice raised an octave as she pointed towards her couch, “Over there after the Man City loss. Just before you blasted half a liter of Pellegrino in my face.”

The memory finally rang Ted’s bell, “Oh, right.”

“Wait, what happened?” Higgins confusedly asked.

Y/n nearly raised her pen to ask questions but decided against it.

“That,” Rebecca pointed towards Ted, “Is the Ted Lasso I want coaching my team this season. The one who’s willing to fight. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ted nodded, “You watch, from now on, I’ll be floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee. Except I won’t die immediately after using my stinger. I plan to float and sting for the entirety of the whole season.”

“Excellent,” Rebecca’s expression finally shifted and she looked to Y/n, “I apologize if we’ve thrown you into the deep end of our problems.”

Y/n held up a hand to signal there were no issues, but she was a little confused as to what the purpose of the meeting had been.

“I have a very important lunch meeting with one Miss Keeley Jones,” Rebecca continued as she collected her purse and came out from around her desk, “For some much needed girl talk.”

“Hey, tell her we said howdy and…” Ted wished before looking to Higgins.

“Yo,” Higgins added in a deep voice.

Rebecca looked to Y/n last.

“Tell her I’ll be in tomorrow,” Y/n added, still holding onto her binder.

“Okay,” Rebecca left out the door, off to the KJPR offices.

Y/n sighed as Ted and Higgins began to converse over the later’s out of character greeting.

“Hey, Y/n,” Ted tapped her on the arm, “You settling in alright?”

“Yes,” Y/n nodded, adjusting the waist of her skirt, “Very excited to get started.”

“Well, don’t be afraid to stop by if you need anything,” Ted smiled, missing the slight edge to Y/n’s words, “Or if you just wanna chat. Roy and Beard’d love to meet you.”

Y/n gave one more cordial nod before crossing the room to retrieve her belongings. “I’m sure we’ll cross paths at some point,” she replied, desperate to escape, “But I really do have a few things that need to get done. I’ll see you both later.”

With a trail of goodbyes from Ted and Higgins, Y/n vacated the office as quickly as she could without being too obvious. Not only did she feel it was a waste of a meeting to simply discuss the team’s standings, but no work had really been accomplished. She did, however, learn a great deal more about Rebecca’s mindset for the season than she’d set out to know.

When she returned to her office, Y/n shut the door and locked it. No more interruptions, no more distractions, she could do what she was here to do…her job. If the only way she could do that was by literally shutting Richmond out, so be it.

—————————

Much later in the day, Y/n took her second scheduled leave back up to Rebecca’s office. There was a West Ham press conference being held and Rebecca had requested her presence for the viewing. Something about PR strategies, but Y/n suspected she was partially valued as another essential piece in the takedown of Rupert Mannion.

She arrived just as Higgins was coming to stand behind Rebecca’s desk with her.

“Has it started?” Y/n asked as she crossed the room.

“Just about to,” Rebecca breathed, steel in her voice already.

“Are you sure you want to watch this?” Higgins made a point of asking.

“No, I don’t want to, Leslie,” Rebecca replied, as she loaded the stream link, “But it’s part of my job. I need to be ready to comment if Rupert were to say something snide about me or the team.”

Y/n came to stand on the other side of Rebecca, “I agree. Preparation isn’t always fun, but necessary.”

Rebecca blindly gestured to Y/n as she clicked away on her screen, she only looked up to glance out her window. “Where are they, by the way? Shouldn’t they be training now?”

Y/n peeked out the glass, she hadn’t noticed that the team was completely absent from the pitch. Odd for the first proper day of training.

“Oh,” Y/n said, coming to stand a little closer as the laptop screen changed, “It’s loading.”

Rebecca scooted her chair closer as the feed went live and a West Ham United backdrop became visible. Striding in from off camera came Rupert Mannion, calm, collected and charming.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, welcome,” he announced, “Lovely to see you all, and thank you for selecting our humble little football club to do so well this season.”

As the press let out chuckles, Rebecca reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a small pink box. Y/n watched as her boss pulled it open and angrily shoved a bite of a thick biscuit in her mouth.

“Twat,” Rebecca mumbled through a half-full mouth.

“The person you are here to see,” Rupert continued in a grandiose tone, “The Wonder Kid himself, our new manager, Nathan Shelley.”

Rebecca’s ex extended a hand towards his right and seconds later, Nathan and him exchanged places in the center of the room.

“Thank you,” Nathan smiled once he was seated, “Very nice to be here. I’m pretty sure I said ‘wunderkind.’”

Silence from the press.

“This is the same Nathan Shelley who was the kitman here,” Y/n said, half-asking, “Became assistant coach and then stole over to West Ham?”

“Yes,” Higgins answered as Rebecca was chewing, “Rather a hasty and heated exit.”

Y/n hummed in reply, nothing about the man struck her as particularly hasty or heated. The tabloids had painted a much different picture of the man. As Nathan stuttered over his answers, Y/n sensed nothing but a rather awkward humility.

She was proven terribly wrong over the next two minutes.

Nathan’s answers came quicker and were delivered with more confidence. At some point, they became biting. The sudden character shift felt like a reverse of Jamie Tartt’s, from the little Y/n had observed of both.

“Coach Shelley, regarding your old team, AFC Richmond,” one of the reporters began, “Any idea why everyone is expecting them to finish 20th this season?”

Y/n shifted in place as they awaited Nathan’s answer. Something about the smile that pulled at his cheeks just before he spoke unsettled her.

“Probably because there’s no 21st.”

If there was tension in the room before, it had just intensified tenfold.

“Meow,” Higgins commented.

Y/n turned to her co-worker, “Hasty and heated, you said?”

Before they could hear the next question, the Twitter alert on Y/n’s phone sounded from her jacket pocket. She’d set up alerts for the club, each Greyhound and the coaches. Pulling out her phone, the keyword ‘AFC Richmond’ was the first one she saw.

Her eyes widened, “Oh, no.”

Higgins tugged out his phone half a second later.

“What is it?” Rebecca asked.

Y/n and Higgins looked to one another, Higgins braving it and showing Rebecca his phone. Displayed on both their screens was a picture of the Greyhounds, led by Ted Lasso, climbing down a manhole into a sewer.

A PR nightmare.

Y/n distractedly looked up at Rebecca’s computer screen, still scrolling the tag. Someone had asked Nathan a question regarding the photo.

“Yeah, well, it makes sense,” Nathan answered, “They probably have to train in a sewer because their coach is so shitty.”

The press both gasped and laughed, each reporter’s eyes lighting up at the headline possibilities.

Rebecca slammed her laptop shut, fuming.

“Oh, boy,” Higgins broke the silence.

“Coach Lasso needs to address this,” Y/n spoke up, going into strategy mode, “Immediately. This is being turned into memes as we speak.”

Rebecca took a deep breath, pressing her hands together and to her lips in an effort to retain calm. “I will be speaking to him the second they are back,” she answered, before looking up to Y/n, “Come up with some potential response for the press conference.”

“Absolutely,” Y/n nodded, already out from behind Rebecca’s desk, “It’s best if the players don’t say anything either. Don’t give Coach Shelley any more ammunition.”

The day had officially turned and while Y/n had prayed for actual work to do, she hadn’t wanted it like this. Was this the gig? Digging Ted Lasso out of whatever absurd headlines his actions created? Combatting bitter ex-coaches?

Come 2:15, fifteen minutes before Ted’s press conference was scheduled to begin, Y/n gathered the notes she’d made and headed downstairs. She waited outside the press room until Ted came out of his office.

“Coach Lasso,” Y/n called, coming to walk alongside him, “The press are all ready for you but I think it’s important to address the matter of the picture trending on social media. The best strategy is not to stay on it too long, but don’t laugh it off. I wrote down a few responses that might be of use.”

By the time she’d finished, they were stood outside the press room once more.

“I appreciate it, Y/n,” Ted thanked her, “But I think I’m gonna Buffalo Wild this one.”

“You’re gonna-“ Y/n began to question the sentence before connecting her dots, biting down on her lip, “Wing it?”

“Exactly, Tom Clancy,” Ted smiled easily before heading in through the side door and leaving Y/n in the hallway.

With no one else around, Y/n took the opportunity to take a deep breath, throw her head back in frustration and scrunch up her face. Things were about to go from bad to worse.

After collecting herself, she rounded the corner of the hall and entered the press room through the back door. Rebecca was already waiting at the rear of the room.

“Did he take the suggestions?” Rebecca whispered as Ted began to speak.

Y/n inhaled deeply, “He did not.”

Side by side, the two women tried to contain their emotions and project confidence towards whatever was about to be said.

Though his ability lay in questionable standing, Y/n was surprised at how well Ted handled himself. The reporters and him had a rapport that Y/n shouldn’t have been shocked by. For all the comical flaws he possessed, Ted Lasso was likable. It wasn’t many coaches who would compliment a reporter on her new choice of hair color before she asked her question.

“Coach, how are you feeling about the unanimous opinion that Richmond will be relegated at the end of the season?”

“Yeah, that’s true, isn’t it?” Ted replied, “Expectations for us are as low as a rattlesnake’s belly button, huh?”

A few chuckles and smiles from the press.

“But, hey, we got 38 chances to prove all them folks wrong though, right?” Ted continued, “Yeah. And my hopes are as high as a giraffe’s top hat. Next question. And if it’s ‘why is a giraffe wearing a top hat?’ Don’t ask me, man. Go ask a giraffe.”

Y/n felt like she was regaining the ability to breathe as the midwestern wit was accepted. Ted chose his next interrogator, Marcus Adeybo, who was clearly known but in a new position judging by the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ of the press room.

“Do you have any response to comments made earlier today by your former assistant coach, Nathan Shelley?” Marcus asked.

Y/n tightened her hold on her notebook, Rebecca pursed her lips. They waited with bated breath as Ted thought over his next words with great care.

“Uh, yes, I do. Yeah,” Ted began, pausing with a small smile before continuing, “I thought it was hilarious.”

Through her peripherals, Y/n could see Rebecca was less than pleased. She was thrown herself, but decided to wait for Ted’s full answer before reacting in full.

“I mean, he came and got us, didn’t he? No doubt about that,” Ted laughed, “Hey, but that’s Nate the Great for you, you know? He’s the same way on the pitch. He’ll find the tiniest weakness in a team and just wanna attack that, you know? I mean, he’s a junkyard dog, man. And smart. They’re real lucky to have him over there at West Ham. I wish him the best of luck.”

For all her schooling and experience, Y/n found herself watching Ted in pleasant surprise as he pulled out a strategy she never would have thought of.

“I guess I am a little surprised that’s all he could come up with,” Ted kept going, shrugging slightly, “Especially against me. You know, not one joke about me being a dumb American? Come on, man. It’s sittin’ there. I mean, I’m so dumb…”

Ted’s grin hung open as he waited for a reply to a joke that clearly only served on one continent.

“Y’all are supposed to say ‘how dumb are you?’” Ted helped them out. One reporter raised their hand, “Gary?”

“Why?”

“I-I mean, it’s just classic joke structure,” Ted answered, “Give it a shot. I mean, I’m so dumb…” he nodded towards another reporter, “Lloyd?”

“How dumb are you?”

“Okay, well,” Ted raised his voice loud enough for the room to hear, “I’m so dumb, that the first time I heard y’all talkin’ about Yorkshire pudding, I thought it was a fancy word y’all had for dog poop.”

A few laughs came quietly.

“I mean, I’m so dumb,” Ted continued, waiting for the next line. A slightly confused chorus of questioning his intellect followed.

“Yeah, okay, well, whenever I text someone over here about money, I still spell pounds L-B-S.”

Y/n allowed herself to smile, realizing that there had been no point in giving Ted any suggestions. He was far better on his own.

“Look, man, I’m not a great coach,” Ted shrugged, “Probably ain’t. You know, I’ve been doing this sport now for three years, and I still get a chuckle every time someone talks about a handball violation.”

Shaking her head as it happened, Rebecca nudged Y/n with her elbow and held up her phone. There was a text from Keeley.

Way to let Ted be Ted!

Quickly, Y/n pulled out her own phone and opened up Twitter. Sure enough, there were tweets pouring in under Ted’s name, filled with nothing but praise and ‘LOLs.’

“Yeah, and not one crack about my appearance?” Ted continued, “About this mustache? I look like Ned Flanders is doing cosplay as Ned Flanders.”

Finally, the whole press room was laughing. Even Rebecca had found her smile once again, reserved as it may be for the unconventional approach.

“When I talk it sounds like Dr. Phil hasn’t gone through puberty yet.”

Y/n covered her mouth as she snorted.

“Yeah, I’m more corny than Kevin Costner’s outfield,” Ted waited for the joke to land, with no such reward, “Oh, I lost you on that one. Yeah. Field of Dreams? No?” Ted glanced to the back of the room and spotted Y/n who gave him a slight nod, signaling she understood it. “I guess y’all don’t really like baseball over here, so why would you like movies about it?”

Ted briefly bent down to check his phone, giving Y/n and Rebecca the chance to glance at one another. Rebecca sighed and Y/n shrugged with one hand, the wheels were entirely off and there was no point in trying to reattach them.

“Well, hey, how ‘bout this one?” Ted went on with a new strength, it seemed, “Regarding my panic attacks, I’ve had more psychotic episodes than Twin Peaks.”

The room filled with laughter again, including Ted’s.

“I mean, I’m so crazy…”

This time, both Rebecca and Y/n joined the reporters in asking just how crazy Ted Lasso was.

“There we go,” Ted said approvingly before continuing another round of self-depreciation.

As Y/n watched the room, and Twitter, sing Ted’s praises and reject Nathan Shelley, she made a mental note. No more notes on speaking to the press. Ted was aiming to kill with kindness, and she wasn’t planning to stand in his way.

Names and press conferences, the only things she planned to bend on.

—————————

By the end of the day, Ted was trending heavily and by association, so were the Greyhounds. The manhole picture had been thoroughly memed and it would take a week or two for the image to get lost in the Twitter-verse. Regardless of how good Ted was with the press, Y/n suspected there’d be several more sewer-type messes to clean up.

The sun was just setting as Y/n headed out to the parking lot. A few stray players had stayed late and were trailing out, most of whom she’d already met.

As Y/n searched through her bag for her keys, she heard a familiar voice wishing a teammate a good night. Jamie Tartt.

Y/n glanced up as the striker walked towards the car parked two spaces apart from hers.

“So tell me,” she called across the lot, “Do you guys save the sewer visits for special occasions or am I going to have to get used to doing this kind of damage control daily?”

Jamie chuckled, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “Uh, yeah, that was a new one.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n’s smile was barely perceptible.

“Coach was tryin’ to teach us a lesson,” Jamie explained, standing at the boot of his car, “See, everyone’s got us finishin’ dead last, but we’re supposed to let that shit flow,” Jamie made a sweeping gesture with his hand, “Like the canals in the sewers.”

Y/n’s tongue poked her cheek as she tried to understand the teaching moment.

“I know it sounds bizarre,” Jamie admitted, most of Ted’s methods sounded insane outside the Greyhound’s locker room, “But he had a point.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n replied, before grabbing her keys, “Well, whether the shit was literal or metaphorical, you guys just made my job a hell of a lot more interesting.”

“Hey, you didn’t have to fuckin’ go down there,” Jamie’s voice jumped an octave.

The two shared a laugh before moving to unlock each of their cars.

“I’ll see ya,” Jamie said with a smile.

“See ya,” Y/n replied, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Once she shut the door, she let her head hit the headrest. The day had felt like one big preview of how the season would go, and if it continued that way, Y/n was in for much more than she’d bargained for…

——

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