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wileys-russo · 8 months

Note

I just got done reading your fic ‘passenger princess’ and I would a another small fic of Y/n actually buying a car or she’s makes Alessia think bought one.

Instead she rented it out for the week and Alessia hates the fact that she doesn’t have her passenger princess. And instead she becomes one for the week and girl tease her about to.

(Please only write if you want!)

passenger princess ficlet II a.russo x reader

little follow up ficlet to the original fic here passenger princess ficlet II a.russo x reader

"-and you think this is a good idea given the fact you two spent an entire day at one anothers throats already. about this exact argument which shouldn't have even been an argument in the first place?" leah sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as you nodded enthusastically.

"yes." you confirmed, the blonde sighing deeply. "i don't know how she puts up with you honestly, the poor girl deserves an award." your national captain shook her head, grabbing her empty lunch tray and standing as your jaw dropped. "leah!" you scoffed after her in offence, crossing your arms over your chest with a huff at her lack of support.

"you told her your plan?" lia chuckled, returning from the bathroom and watching the interaction as you nodded. "i thought she would be supportive but she basically told me i'm a terrible girlfriend and alessia deserves an award for putting up with me." you pouted at the older girl as you stood to join her.

"leah!" the swiss woman shoved the blonde who returned, swiftly glaring at the two of you. "what? she's a numpty and i personally am tired of having to pretend that she isn't an enormous pain in my side." leah shrugged as you again scoffed, launching at her and jumping on her back.

you clung on tightly as the three of you walked out of the lunch room and toward the gym for your final session of the day. "get off!" leah demanded trying to shake you but having no luck as you latched onto her.

"less help!" leah whined as your girlfriend entered the gym, laughing at something victoria said. "having to get someone else to fight your battles for you? some captain." you tutted, arm locked around leah's neck as the woman mumbled under her breath about how she wished she could drown you in the recovery pool.

"you either get off me right now or next camp i'll make you do hill sprints and burpees till you throw up." leah warned seriously as you rolled your eyes but dropped off her none the less, hurrying away toward your girlfriend before the older blonde could retaliate.

"partner up with me?" your girlfriend requested, pulling you into a warm hug as you nodded, flipping leah off over her shoulder as the blondes lips tugged into a smile and she turned away trying to hide it.

the older girl had been looking out for you for years and loved you like the younger sister she never had, so you knew she couldn't ever really stay mad at you.

"how was lunch?" you asked, laughing quietly feeling your girlfriend start to sway the two of you, refusing to let go of the tight hug you were sharing. "good, missed you though." she confessed, placing a discreet kiss to your neck and releasing you from her hold.

the two of you had made a pact to try and not spend every waking minute with one another at trainings, given the fact you lived together and were practically together almost every minute of each day you didn't want it to put any strain on anything now you were playing together as well.

"so i've been meaning to talk to you about something." you started, standing above the blonde spotting her as you all focused on upper body for the last twenty minutes of the session. "and now is a good time?" your girlfriend heaved as she racked the bar up and caught her breath for a moment, sweat beading at her forehead.

"it's nothing bad baby i promise." you chuckled as she reached back up for the bar again and nodded for you to add extra weight on. "are you sure?" you questioned, holding your hands up in a silent apology at the firm look she sent you, adding an extra 5kg onto each end at her request.

"go on then." alessia encouraged, reaching up for the bar as you helped her to lift it, watching carefully as she did her reps. "mm?" you hummed, distracted by the way her arms rippled and flexed as she pressed.

"what did you want to speak to me about love?" alessia smiled, knowing exactly what had you so distracted, the exact reason she'd added on weight being to impress you anyway, not that after years of dating she even had to try.

"i bought a car." you announced casually but suddenly, eyes widening as alessia's arms suddenly dropped, the bar landing on her neck with a loud thump as you hurried to help her lift it back up onto the rack.

"lessi are you alright?" you squatted down, hands on her leg and eyes shining with concern as the blonde struggled to catch her breath, waving away a few of the trainers who wandered closer to check on her.

"you did what?" alessia managed to spit out, eyes locked with yours as you bit your bottom lip. "i bought a car?" you smiled innocently, helping your girlfriend to her feet as the timers sounded for everyone to switch. "and exactly why have you gone and done that?" alessia demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring down at you as you took a seat on the bench.

"because i can?" you shrugged, laying down and gesturing for her to remove some of the weight, everyone instructed to start light and add on with more reps completed. "you don't need a car though." alessia continued, doing as you'd asked as you lay down and waited.

"everyone with a license can find a need for a car less." you laughed, knowing you were already getting under her skin and you'd barely put your plan into action. "not girls who have girlfriends who drive them everywhere." alessia reminded as you grabbed onto the bar, lowering it and beginning your first set.

"i cannot believe you'd just go ahead and do this without running it past me." alessia shook her head, scowl set deep into her features. "what like you consulted me before dropping almost four grand on a bag?" you challenged, eyes flickering up toward her as you racked the bar again.

"okay firstly, that bag was for you. secondly thats different to buying a car! where did you get it? what did you get? when does it come?" the striker fired question after question at you, adding on more weight as you commenced your second set.

"i'm a financially independent woman alessia i can spend my money on whatever i want. and technically i told you last week i was going to buy a car!" you reminded with a smile, racking the bar and catching your breath for a moment, arms burning.

"i thought that was a joke! and i told you that you weren't allowed anyway." alessia huffed, bright blue eyes staring down at you filled with irratation as you simply smiled up at her.

"and when have i ever done what you've told me to?"

"you're seriously not going to tell me anything about it?" alessia scoffed, hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel of her own car as she drove the two of you home. "nope." you popped the p with a grin, changing songs.

"hey i liked that one!" alessia complained with a frown, you rolling your eyes and skipping back to it as she smiled. "soak it in though." you added on, tucking your knees up to your chest as the taller girl gave you a confused look.

"soon enough my love you'll be here and i'll be there." you teased, gesturing to her seat and yours causing the blonde to let out a loud sarcastic bark of laughter. "oh baby you must have gotten too much sun today, you're so cute." alessia pouted mockingly as she turned the corner into your street.

"am i?" you smirked as she pulled into your driveway, slamming on the brakes seeing an unfamiliar car already parked in it. "you bought that?" alessia spat out, edging forwards to pull in next to the unfamiliar vehicle as you hummed, unbuckling yourself.

"oh no no no no. no fucking way you're getting behind the wheel in that!" alessia scoffed as the two of you slid out of her car, the blonde popping her trunk and grabbing out your kit bags.

"i already have, had to test drive it first!" you winked, sauntering toward the front door as alessia hovered behind, eyes roaming the sleek black porsche panamera parked in the driveway.

"how did it even get here?" alessia questioned, following you inside and dropping your bags by the door as you sat down to take your trainers off. "well baby when a mummy car and a daddy car love each other very much they-" you started to explain, cut off as alessia threw her own shoe at your head.

"james picked it up for me and dropped it off while we were at training, he works at the dealership so they gave me a sizeable discount too." you grinned, standing and heading toward the kitchen to start dinner hearing alessia follow after you.

for the next half hour she fired question after question your way, and you'd done your research so you were able to answer everything without a moments hesitation, only angering the blonde further.

"i actually cannot believe you. i'm going for a shower!" alessia scoffed, pushing herself up and storming off toward your bedroom, the door slamming after her.

with an amused smile you grabbed your phone and clicked call, settling in in between your shoulder and your ear as you continued to prep dinner, your older brother eventually answering after a few rings.

"it's perfect." you grinned right away, hearing his chuckle on the other end of the line. "i know. but i was serious if there is even the essence of any sort of scratch or mark or dent on it i swear to god you're dead." he warned seriously as you rolled your eyes, moving to toss the peppers into a pan.

"yes i know james i will take extra good care of your baby, i promised didn't i? why does everyone think i'm such a bad driver? the only reason i don't drive is because less actually won't let me!" you huffed, glancing over your shoulder to confirm your bedroom door was still closed, shower running in distance.

"you're an evil evil little woman sometimes." your brother sighed though you could hear his smile through the phone, the two of you always being incredibly close despite your six year age gap.

"she needs to learn her lesson one way or another! she's lucky i didn't actually buy a car." you grinned, switching your phone to the other ear as you began to cook off the vegetables in front of you.

"remind me again why you didn't?" he sighed, having loaned you his car for the next two days after much much begging on your behalf. "i don't really need one. i quite like having her drive me round everywhere, not that i'd ever tell her that." you admitted with a shrug.

"then pray tell why all this drama and winding her up for?" "well because i'd still like to drive the mercedes every now and then, and she won't let me!" "and you think this will make her more inclined to let that happen?" "yes, yes i do." "i hope its nice in this land of grand delusion you live in, i'll come visit at christmas." "ha, ha, ha. hilarious!"

the two of you spent a little more time catching up, organizing that james would collect his car from you on sunday after the match, himself and his fiance coming to watch you play.

you glanced up as you heard the bedroom door open, bidding your brother a quick goodbye and another quiet assurance you would be careful before ending the call.

"dinner's nearly done baby." you called out, your girlfriend ignoring you as she retreated to the living room and you heard the tv click on, shaking your head at her immaturity as you left her be and finished up cooking.

"kiss for the chef?" you held out her plate a few minutes later, the blonde sending you a glare and taking her plate, settling it on her lap and tugging her hood over her head as you smiled and took a seat beside her, the two of you eating in silence bar the sound of the tv in front of you.

having washed everything up and showered yourself you decided you were done with receiving the silent treatment, standing right in front of your stubborn blonde lover with a smile. "move." alessia grumbled, kicking at you half heartedly as you blocked her view of the screen.

"you're not seriously going to be moody all night over this are you?" you laughed, raising an eyebrow as the blonde shuffled across, craning her head to watch the tv past you as you sighed. "get off." alessia ordered as you flopped on top of her, moving to straddle her lap, arms locked around her neck tugging her hood down as she tried to move you off of her.

"lessi baby come on, you're being immature." you warned, playing with the baby hairs on the back of her neck with a coy smile. you could tell she wanted to argue that but chose to remain silent, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back into the lounge trying to put some space in between you.

"you know you can't stay mad at me, you're not even really that mad." you whispered in her ear, knowing exactly how to get her attention back on you as you pressed your face into her neck, tugging on her earlobe teasingly with your teeth.

you heard a quiet huff and a mumble for you to stop but you shook your head, shifting on top of her and softly kissing her neck a few times. "come on baby, talk to me." you whispered, grabbing her hands and forcing them to uncross, settling them on your hips as you pressed your forehead to hers.

"i'm simply just too gorgeous to ignore." you grinned, watching as the striker bit down on her bottom lip, clearly trying to stifle her smile as she tried to remain stoney faced.

"you're really gonna let a pretty girl sit on your lap, kiss your neck and not even smile at her? that's just bad manners baby." you tutted with a smirk, hands grabbing her face and forcing her to look up at you.

"i'm not sorry i bought it but i'm sorry i didn't tell you." you spoke, pecking her lips repeatedly until eventually her hands squeezed your hips, pushing you away slightly. "come on, you know i'm gonna look good driving it." you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows as the blonde finally cracked.

"you are truly truly insufferable to be in love with sometimes you know that?" alessia sighed, her hands sliding up the inside of your top and pulling you in closer again as your head dipped and you latched your lips to the sweet spot of her neck just below her jaw.

the blondes breath hitched and her fingers dug in tighter to your hips as your teeth sank into the warm skin, tongue running over the fast forming hickey to soothe the sting as alessia's right hand flew to the back of your head, pressing your face into her neck with a quiet demand you keep going.

"maybe, but you're still in love with me anyway."

you glanced up from your phone hearing your girlfriend yell your name from the front door, hearing her footsteps thump toward you as you zipped up your kit bag. "where are my keys?" alessia demanded, bright blue eyes menacingly staring you down.

"your keys? baby would i know where your keys are?" you played dumb, knowing exactly where they were given you'd hidden them before going to bed last night.

"i am only going to warn you once. go and get them, and give them to me. now!" alessia warned, scarily calm. "my love i would but i don't know where they are. and if we don't leave now we're going to be late, and i don't really fancy running laps for that today, do you?" you smiled, stealing a kiss as she scoffed and you made a beeline for the door.

"and just exactly how are we getting to training then genius?" alessia questioned, grabbing her bag from the dining room table, sighing heavily as you turned to her, smug smile on your lips as you twirled your own keys around on your finger.

"i'm driving, passenger princess."

"i can't deal with this much longer. i'm driving home!" alessia growled as she flopped down in the chair beside you, ready for video debriefing for their upcoming match against Everton in a couple days time.

"no you are not. i'm not allowed to drive your mercedes? you're not allowed to drive my porsche." you smiled as she sent you daggers, wanting nothing more than to smack the smug look right off your face.

"hey russo do you need your missus to straighten your chair for ya too?" katie teased, harshly kicking the back of the girls chair causing it to swivel round as she settled in behind you both, alessia having been teased all day by your team mates about the fact she'd been demoted to passenger princess, most of them already keyed into our plan.

"fuck off macca." your girlfriend grumbled spinning around again as you sent katie a beaming grin, the irishwoman winking at you and ruffling alessia's hair, yanking her hand back as the girl lunged at her.

"so less, tell us a bit about your first experience being cuffed by your woman? how does it feel to lose your lady balls?" jen turned around from in front of you and asked holding out a fake micrphone in the blondes direction, and if looks could kill the scot would be ten feet under.

"alright alright lay off her would ya!" beth stuck up for her national team mate who sent her an appreciative smile.

"besides girls the world needs passenger princesses, there's no shame in switching sides." the older girl added on with a wicked grin as alessia groaned and buried her face in her hands, jonas and the training staff clapping for everyones attention.

the onslaught of teasing continued throughout the rest of the session, alessia resorting to throwing her headphones on over her ears as she stormed out of the change room.

"you need to put that poor girl out of her misery, this is enough!" lia warned, pinching your leg as you whined and leaned into leah on your other side who wrapped an arm round you.

"yeah you made your point mate, time to give her a break." the older blonde agreed with her work wife, kissing the side of your head affectionately before pushing you away and standing.

"give her a break? need i remind you its normally me being relentlessly teased by everyone? if its not for the passenger princess status its for something else she's dropped me in!" you huffed, tugging your spray jacket on.

"ah to be young and in love." leah sang out, patting your head and again telling you to come clean as lia agreed, causing you to sigh deeply as you followed them out of the change rooms and toward the parking lot.

hugging both older women goodbye you wandered to where your girlfriend stood beside your brothers car, sour look on her face and headphones slung around her neck as her eyes searched for you, finally spotting you walk toward her.

you didn't unlock it at first, making a point to gently nudge her out of the way, allowing you to open her door for her with a charming smile. "only the best passenger princess treatment for you baby." you gestured for her to get in as she sighed but remained silent as she slid into the car and you closed the door after her.

"oh god lessi please no!" you groaned as you pulled out of the lot, country music filling the car as alessia connected to the blue tooth. "passenger princess chooses the music baby girl." alessia smirked, making a point to turn it up louder and start singing along as you rolled your eyes.

after an insufferably western drive home you sighed in relief as you parked up in the driveway besides your girlfriends white merc, smacking her on the leg with a frown as she called out that she missed it today, blowing the car a kiss.

the moment both your feet crossed the thresh hold of your shared home, the door closed and you squealed as alessia roughly pushed you against it. "so where are my keys then?" the taller girl quirked an eyebrow, smile playing on her lips as her body trapped you against the door.

"what if i could tell you something even better than that?" you challenged, tilting your head to the side making her sigh lightly. "or, you just tell me where they are, now." your girlfriend requested again, hands slipping up your top, her palm pushing against your abs holding you even tighter against the wood behind you.

"okay. firstly, they're in the wardobe under the shoe rack." you started as alessia sighed, raising an eyebrow as you continued. "secondly; i didn't buy a car." you grinned, your girlfriend stepping away from you with a frown, following after you as you moved around her.

"what do you mean you didn't buy a car?" alessia questioned, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "i didn't buy a car." you shrugged and grabbed two protein smoothies out of the fridge, handing one to the blonde and pulling yourself up to sit on the counter.

"baby i'm going to need you to explain more than just those five words please." alessia sighed, moving to stand in between your legs. "that's not my car, it's james. he let me borrow it for a few days to teach you a lesson!" you smiled, taking a sip as alessia's jaw dropped.

"sorry, you what?"

"admit it, you didn't hate being a passenger princess and i look hot behind the wheel." you grinned, swinging your legs to and fro as your girlfriend looked on dumbfounded. "so let me check i'm following. that car, not yours?" alessia questioned as you hummed with a nod.

"alessia!" you laughed as she buried her face in your chest with a loud groan, the vibrating sensation somewhat ticklish. "thank god." the girl sighed, hugging you tightly as she remained bent over, her face pressed into your chest as you fondly carded your hands through her hair.

"you're not mad?" you smiled as she tilted her head up, chin resting on your sternum as she looked up at you. "oh i am furious, but also quite impressed? and a little bit dumbfounded that you managed that so easily." she sighed with a shake of her head, your hands still playing with her hair.

"never underestimate a woman scorned." you teased, your lips meeting hers in a tender kiss as alessia straightened up, arms wrapping around you, hands pressing into the small of your back and pulling your body as close into hers as she could get.

"but do you admit its not terrible to be a passenger princess sometimes?" you pulled away and raised an eyebrow questioningly. "its not terrible." alessia agreed as you grinned happily. "maybe i will give you some driving lessons in my mercedes, maybe." the taller girl agreed as your grin widenened.

"buzzin!" you mocked her thick accent causing her to pout. "i do not say that all the time!" she whined, head falling to your shoulder as your hand gently caressed the back of her neck.

"oh but my love, you really do." "if you only have the car till sunday i guess you can drive us to get breakfast tomorrow."

"buzzin!"

#alessia russo x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #alessia russo #woso blurbs #engwnt #woso

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

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Am I the Asshole for taking my SIL to an anime convention?

My (42M) SIL (29F) has autism and was living with my MIL until she suddenly passed away from heart failure back in 2022. My wife (40F) and I both knew SIL likes to cosplay and go to conventions. Figuring that’s something she and MIL did together, I decided to tell her I want to take her to an anime convention the following year. We chose one that worked out for all of us, timeline wise, along with the costs of transportation, hotel, etc.

Now, this may be a controversial opinion, but I hate anime; nearly all of it is hypersexualized (aside from one, which I’ll get into in a moment). It makes me cringe that my oldest daughter (13F) loves anime, and that that’s all she ever wants to watch. Personally, I feel she’s getting too old for cartoons, but since I also have two younger children, I let it slide.

Prior to actually leaving for con, SIL had sent emails of videos and blogs all about attending anime conventions. Clearly eager to prepare us. She also had outbursts over all sorts of things and lashed out at us on multiple occasions; her emails were often filled with negativity, and simmering rage. In between all of this, we had her relocate to an apartment closer to us.

Anyway, SIL, my daughter, and I go to the airport, we get to the hotel and check-in. We explored the city for a few hours. Now, before all of this, SIL claims she has a “low heat tolerance”, and complained the entire time whenever we walked from Point A to Point B; yes, the city the con was at has good transit and yes I insisted we walk anyway. It’s good exercise! This led to her throwing a fit when we reached a museum I really wanted to check out. We took an Uber back to the hotel and I don’t hear from her again until the next day when we met up to have lunch.

She’s cosplaying a character I don’t recognize and doesn’t tell me anything about them when I asked; it was clearly supposed to be a boy character, though.

Next day, I got a text from SIL; she unexpectedly got her period. Great. Since she asked, I run and get her some pads, only to have to wait an hour in line. Also great. She’s cosplaying another character I don’t recognize. Some magical creature or a doll of some kind. Anyway, us three go into one of the viewing rooms to screen this anime SIL was insistent on showing us. Some Sherlock thing. My daughter likes it, and I’ll admit, I enjoyed it too; I think it is very kid friendly.

Last day, once again, I don’t see or hear from SIL until we meet up in the hotel lobby waiting for our ride to the airport. Seems she had a good time though. She was dressed as one of the kids from that hero anime my daughter likes. She also bought my daughter an axolotl plush (her favorite animal). Going through security was hell; SIL had the nerve to have an attitude the whole time (again later claiming she was overheated and cranky from her period). After we got home she claimed she was never traveling anywhere with me again.

In the days following, she returned the luggage my wife had leant her, having booby trapped it with a photo with the glass broken. Then informs me that her account was overdrawn (I would have gladly paid for more than I did, if she hadn’t been so bitchy).

When we went to her apartment to discuss this, she made the same claims: that she was tired and cranky from the heat, made worse from her period, that I was stressing her out half the time, but that she was grateful despite that because when her mom died, anime conventions were the first thing she was ready to give up.

She also claimed the photo she broke was taken the same year she first attempted to take her own life, and that triggered a panic attack on top of the meltdown she had after returning home.

And the kicker: apparently her mother barely spent any time at conventions, and only sometimes tagged along because she “wanted a vacation”.

Now she claims that I -I repeat I- ruined that Sherlock anime for her. And now is planning to attend a few more cons…Alone.

So what say you? Am I the Asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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enchantedbarnes · 1 year

Text

Uncle Buck Returns

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Aunt!Reader

Summary: Our little menace of a nephew has secured a date for you. Here is part 2 to Uncle Buck.

Word Count: 1401

Masterlist: One | Two | Three | Four | Five

A/N: what in the actual f👀 is going on 😅 I was expecting maybe 10 or so people to read Uncle Buck. My notifications haven't stopped going off since I posted. Thank you so much everyone that read it and enjoyed it. I hope you also enjoy this little continuation. P.S. GIF replies are my love language so if you enjoy send me your best (or worst 😈) 🫶

As soon as the pair returned home and walked through the front door, Benji skipped his way in shouting, "MAWWAGE! MAWWAGE IS WHAT BWINGS US TOGEVAH TODAYYYY!" Arms high above him as he rushes through the living room in search of his parents.

"Benji, please don't make me regret letting you watch my favorite movie," you sigh, flopping onto the couch, hands covering your face.

He stopped short and looked back at you, "Have you the wing?" He bowed and giggled then turned back around to continue on with his search.

"You're back!" Your sister shouted while she snatched Benji up into her arms, covering the small boy in kisses. "Did you have so much fun with Auntie today? Why are we shouting Princess Bride quotes?" She gasps, "Did you get to meet the dread pirate Roberts??"

Benji looks up at her in confusion, "What? No Mom, we saw Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson! And guess WHAT!"

"Ohhh, what?!"

He whispers into her ear and throws his head back laughing like a tiny evil madman.

"You did what???!" She laughs.

You groan from the couch.

She walks both of them over to you.

"Did I understand him correctly, is there something we should know? Are you betrothed to a super soldier?"

"I'm gonna go throw up," you groaned again.

Sweating doesn't even begin to cover it.

Your entire body feels like it's on fire.

You agreed to meet Bucky for a late lunch the following day. You've been sitting on the floor by your closet for what you thought was 30 minutes now, staring into the clothing abyss, spiraling into an internal panic.

You don't go on dates. You keep to yourself. It's comfortable. Living in a combined household with your sister and her small family you're certainly never alone.

What are you even supposed to talk about?

Your current job is nothing super exciting to talk about. You do like to go to concerts and musicals... However you can't really imagine the 106-year-old super soldier going to a pop punk or metal show, nor do you imagine him attending Wicked 3 times. Note to self: do not bring up Rogers the musical. Yikes.

Your sister has already talked you off a ledge 3 times since last night when you got home.

While still wallowing in self pity and loathing, two outfits are scattered by you and you have three more in your arms.

Your sister walks by your open door and backtracks peering in.

"Y/n," she sighs, "just wear the first outfit. You'll look great, I promise." She walks over and grabs the armful of clothes from you, dumping them on the bed and grabbing the first outfit. Your favorite pair of black jeans and a sweater you bought specifically because it was so damn soft.

The doorbell rings and your eyes widen. "He's early?!"

"He's on time, you would have noticed if you weren't staring into space for the last hour."

"WHAT?!"

"Don't worry we'll keep him distracted while you finish getting ready."

"Oh sure, don't worry. That fills me with all the confidence..."

"Benji has already asked him to marry you, what's the worst that could happen now?"

"I don't even want to think about the answer to that. So many possibilities come to mind."

You grab your outfit and start rushing around.

"Can I get you something to drink, Bucky?" Your sister asks while she moves about the room.

Bucky and Benji are seated at the kitchen table, just off from the living room. Benji is across from him with his tiny arms crossed on the table, and a very serious look on his face.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Ok, I'm sure she'll be down in just a moment. Make yourself at home. Hopefully we will see you around again soon," she smiles, "I'm just gonna go switch the laundry over quickly. Benji," she looks down at him while pointing two fingers at her eyes and then over to him, "behave yourself," she warns while leaving the room.

The table stare down continues.

"Where do you live?" Benji asks.

"In the city," Bucky answers.

"You have a house?" Benji fires back.

"Apartment."

"Own or rent?"

"Rent."

"Where’s your office?"

"I don’t have one."

"How come?"

"I don’t need one."

"Where’s your wife?"

"Don’t have one.."

"Yet," Benji squints with a tiny smirk, "but how come?"

"It's a long story."

"You have kids?"

"No I don’t."

"How come?"

"It's an even longer story."

"Do you prefer dogs or cats?"

"Both are fine."

"Do you have one?"

"I have a cat. Names Alpine."

"Is Steve Rogers really on the moon?"

"What's your record for consecutive questions asked?"

"38."

"He's up there all right." Bucky answers with a nod.

"Your metal arm and regular arm match well with how ginormous your muscles are."

"How nice of you to notice."

"I’m a kid, that’s my job."

Bucky raises a brow, "Why am I getting the 3rd degree here?"

"Just checking in on my investments. If this didn't work I was going to ask our neighbor Frank, but he kind of sucks," Benji shrugs his shoulders.

Before Bucky can question the language and what the 8-year-old said, you walk into the kitchen and quickly look back and forth between the two of them.

"Oh no, how long have you two been alone in here?? What did he say?" You ask Bucky, looking over at Benji quickly after, "What did you say??" Your eyes narrow.

Benji grins and holds your purse up for you. "Have fun storming the castle," he cheekily smiles with that glint in his eyes.

"Benji," you glare down at him.

Bucky clears his throat while standing up from the table. Walking over to you he points to a small bouquet of flowers that were already in a vase waiting on the kitchen table, "Um, these are for you…" he smiles.

"Thank you so much, they're beautiful," your reply is breathless while you look at the arrangement filled with a small mix of your favorites.

"He also gave me this," Benji holds up an RC truck with a Captain America shield painted on the side.

"That was very nice of him, did you say thank you?"

"Duh," he rolled his eyes while grabbing the remote to the car and rolling it out to the living room, "Thanks Future-Uncle Bucky," he grins and chases after it.

"Anyone ever tell you guys he's kind of a strange kid?" Bucky whispers conspiratorially while offering his arm to you.

You throw your head back with a quick laugh. "Oh, you have no idea."

Your date is going better than you expected.

You have managed to not make a complete fool out of yourself so far and both of you seemed to be enjoying your time together.

You have apologized multiple times for Benji's antics.

Bucky laughed, "He reminds me a bit of a young Steve and my sister Rebecca combined. Didn't realize that combo was possible, it's a little terrifying. I hope they have great medical insurance," he jokes.

"His father's a nurse, so we have in-house medical on demand. My sister tried to convince me to go to law school so someone can represent him when he undoubtedly tries to take over the world. Guess I can save some money and time on law school now that we have a super soldier plus a Captain America connection that can potentially stop him before lawyers need to be involved."

"Your sister already welcomed me to the family when she opened the door to let me in," he smirks.

You put your face in your hands, elbows leaning against the table in support.

"Well now you know where her small menace gets it from."

Bucky helps pull your chair out for you as you're both about to leave. As you stand up your purse falls off the back of your chair, spilling some of its contents on the floor when it lands.

Bucky ducked down to help collect your things when something shiny appeared next to your chapstick. His eyebrows furrow as he picks both up and holds them up to you.

You let out a slightly strangled cough as you realized what he was holding up to you.

Bucky Barnes was kneeling holding up your peppermint chapstick and your Grandmother's opal ring that was supposed to be safely in your jewelry box at home.

...Benjamin!

@pono-pura-vida @bitchy-bi-trash @random-writer-23 @jvanilly @clintsupremacy @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction

Next: Part 3 Lord of the Pins

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fic #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #uncle buck #uncle buck fic

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m1ssunderstanding · 2 months

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You know if even Francie is saying it I'm starting to think old Jim Mac may have been slightly abusive, I don't think that's the right word since what happened it was a different time and place etc. But with the way he treated Paul and Mike, especially after Mary's passing and how he expected so much more when his son was one of the most famous musicians in the world, it's just - his whole family to he fair it's like they never really saw him as human and more akin to a musical monkey

Yeah I would actually call it abuse. I think Jim probably had mostly good intentions and genuinely loved his sons, but that doesn't mean his treatment of them was just or didn't have any affect on them. By my definitions, there's emotional as well as physical abuse going on (Paul was expected and pressured from the time they started to realize how intelligent he was to grow up and save his entire family from poverty; Appearances were everything and emotional needs suppressed; There was no financial security; After Mary's death, Paul was extremely patentified, depended on emotionally and materially by the person who was simultaneously physically abusing him)

About the normalization of the physical abuse specifically for a minute, if it was so normal for the time, why is Paul the only one of the four Beatles to have experienced it? My family has always been working class, and my grandparents who are Paul's age were not subjected to the violence that Paul was. Not saying it wasn't more common then and more accepted, but it's also not something you can just pass off as "that's what everyone did in those days".

Also, I wouldn't be surprised at all if even in that one interview where Paul specifically talked about how he got Jim to stop hitting him, he was downplaying. That's what Paul does. We have no way of knowing. But it does fit with Paul's usual story-telling and framing of events that maybe it was more than what he said.

And yeah, the financial abuse started early and clearly continued far into adulthood, maybe up until Jim's death when Paul cut Angie and Ruth off for selling his birth certificate. Paul was trained as a door-to-door salesman for Jim's club as a nine year old in the literal projects. He figured out how to snatch other people's lunch tickets out of the fire at the inny and pass them off as unused. What are we going to do without her money? He first saw John when he was a paper boy and John was buying chips. As soon as the band started making money, he became the head provider of his family (Jim made 10 pounds a week at the cotton brokers while Paul made 15 a week in Hamburg) and when the band wasn't making money, he found whatever work he could to make up for it. Meanwhile, we have no reason to believe Jim wasn't gambling insatiably. As the child of an addict, I know addictions don't just go away and then resurface when they're affordable again, and Jim was certainly an addict. He gambled so much Paul had to buy his house back for him (that he'd bought for him in the first place while Paul himself was living in an attic room like some kind of starving artist at the same time as the rest of the band was buying their mansions).

Paul clearly loved his dad so much and craved Jim's approval, trying to find a girl Jim would approve of after Jane, trying to be a good family man, trying to stay close to his working class roots. You can even see it in his music, from When I'm 64 to A Walk in the Park with Eloise. (I think the 1920s & 30s influence in much of his music came from him genuinely loving it and also from a desire for his dad to appreciate his talent). But he also had no patience for Jim's frailty toward the end, didn't go to the funeral, and didn't write about Jim's death in MYFN.

I really don't know too much about the extended family, anon, but it does seem the case that part of Paul's role in it, from the beginning, was to be a savior and a cash cow, and no one considered his humanity.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #jim mccartney #thanks for the ask!

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vox-ex · 8 months

Text

heist

supercorptober 2023

I′ve waited 'til the moment's right To look into those starry eyes And say the words That I′m thinking all the time - The Hunts, I Do

or Kara's plans to propose almost go awry, because of course they don't.

----

"Aunt Kara"

Esme whispered, tugging gently on her sleeve, her eyes round with worry.

"Yeah Bug"'

"Why are we breaking into Aunt Lena's office?" Momma says that's something robbers do."

Kara pinched the bridge of her nose, the two of them stopped just outside of Lena's office.

"Of course she does." She kneeled down in front of Esme. "Listen..."

Kara bit her lip, contemplating how to answer. They were just getting something back that wasn't even supposed to be in there. Something that belonged to her anyway. Something that no one but her currently knew even existed. But how could she explain all that to a six-year-old?

"Well, we're, uh, we're just entering, no breaking? So it's fine."

But Esme was clearly not entirely convinced.

"So why do we have to be all sneaky then? She rocked back and forth on her feet. "Is it because that lady at the desk doesn't like you?"

"Wh-what, who, Jess, no Jess, Jess likes me. I bought her a cactus." Kara insisted

"Gerald?" Esme eyes widened with curiosity. "She said you almost killed Gerald once."

Kara chuckled nervously.

"That was like more than a year ago, and, if anything, Gerald almost killed me!."

She looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was close enough to hear them.

She lowered her voice again just in case.

"Jess is just suspicious and very very protective."

But Esme had moved already on.

"Is it because we're on a secret mission then?"

"That"— she grinned, ruffling Esme's hair — "is exactly why."

Kara stood up and reached for Esme's hand, leading her into Lena's office.

"I left something super secret in Aunt Lena's coat, and we need to get it back."

Kara's eyes darted nervously around the office.

Her gaze falling on a coat draped over the back of a nearby chair just as Esme's hand slipped from hers, going straight for it without hesitation.

"I see it!"

So much for being sneaky.

"Great job, Bug

But Kara couldn't help but smile at her niece's enthusiasm.

Kara joined her on the other side of the room where Lena's coat, well technically her coat, was lying. She reached out tentatively, her fingers brushing against the soft material before slipping into the pocket, her breath catching when she found the ring box seemingly untouched.

She glanced at Esme, who grinned back at her, and slipped the box into her own pocket just as the door behind them opened.

She turned, heart pounding in her chest.

"Jess thinks you're in here planning a heist of some sort," Lena's voice filled the room, her smirking figure appearing in the doorway.

Esme immediately ran to her, arms wrapping around Lena's legs and head resting against her stomach.

"Hi, my love," Lena greeted warmly, her eyes flicking over to Kara with a raised eyebrow.

Esme smiled up at her.

"Don't worry, we're just entering, but not breaking."

"Well, that's reassuring; never can be quite sure about that second part with your Aunt."

"Hey!" Kara protested, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. "I don't think I'm the only one to blame for at least several of the things broken in this office."

She watched as Lena's cheeks flushed pink too.

"Uh-huh. Well, to what do I owe your entering?"

Kara nudged Esme gently, and she proudly grinned at Lena.

"We came to take you to lunch!"

"You did, did you?" Lena asked, amusement dancing in her eyes as she looked between them. "Hmm, well, I suppose I could do with some lunch."

As they prepared to leave, Kara noticed Lena picking up her coat, her heart fluttering when she paused with it in her hands.

"Well, that's silly."

"What is?"

Lena turned the coat back and forth.

"I must have grabbed your coat instead of mine this morning. Sorry about that. I was in such a hurry that I didn't even realize or apparently even bother to hang it up when I came in."

"It's okay." Kara shrugged her shoulder, gripping the box in her pocket again as if to make sure it was still her.

With the other, she reached out for Lena's hand, thumb subtly ghosting over her ring finger as she threaded their finger together.

"I didn't even realize either."

----

read and follow along on Ao3 too

#supergirl #supercorp #supercorptober #supercorptober2023 #sg prompts #the lore of Gerald the cactus continues #Kara makes plans and they just don't go as planned #Kara using Esme as a distraction #Jess being suspicious and protective #even after all these years #Kara would also get her a bracelet #but listen ring boxes just fit better in pockets

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miasbby · 1 year

Text

indefinitely ours.

(teacher!reader x teacher!Ellie x Abby)

summary : You're not willing to date nor looking for anyone, but Ellie Williams, the art teacher working in the school that hired you a year ago, is making you seriously doubt that decision. With her flirting, praises and constant touches, you're all but ready to give up and ask her out. That is, until you meet her girlfriend, Abby, who to your greatest shock seems very… curious about you.

word count : 7.2k (sorry)

note : this is my first fic in the tlou fandom ever, so it'll hopefully be good and i hope the characterization is okay! i wrote this to practice writing shorter fics and failed.... it probably won't get a part 2 but who knows!

warnings : smut with a bit of plot, female anatomy reader, occasionally mean!ellie and mean!abby but they love you<3, light objectification, degradation and exhibitionism, mention of anal, alcohol use and light intoxication, sub!reader, consent is respected but there’s a few bold moments, bit of a housewife kink, crying from overstimulation, threesome.

●○●○●○●○●○●

An ordinary life is not what most aim for, but you have to be honest in that regard: there’s nothing you’ve craved to achieve more than the simple peace of life, a peace often found in modesty yet sought in extravagance.

The primary school you joined last year has fulfilled that goal in more ways than one, allowing you the safety of a job you spent years dreaming of, a kind group of colleagues that have befriended you ever since you first arrived, and a class made up of the most adorable group of pupils, all eager to learn and earn the good graces of their favorite teacher judging by how the blue of your classroom’s walls are now entirely hidden by drawings. It’s on the outskirts of the city, in a cute area where prices had not soared just yet when you first bought a house, and the neighborhood couldn’t be more welcoming.

Your time is well-spent: between preparing lessons, finding original ideas to keep a hyperactive group of six years old entertained, taking care of the renovations your new house still requires, and caring for a vegetable garden you did not expect to grow so well, it’s safe to say that you don’t have much time left for anything else, and that includes a relationship. You haven’t been looking, really, happy to settle down on your own until life picks up a slower rhythm and to make friends rather than losing yourself in back and forths. Your previous relationships were never particularly fulfilling and often ended up being on and off until you got tired of the uncertainty. You’re done with all of that.

The only person that could make you doubt the choice of celibacy, however, currently has her back turned to you, rummaging through a tiny box of chalk sticks on her desk. The kids are out at lunch and you know she tends to eat on her own in here instead of the break room where all of the teachers often meet up. Of course, you only chose to come get her because she’s been a good friend, not because of any ulterior motive…

“Planning to stay hidden in there for long or are you going to come out and eat?”

Ellie doesn’t even appear startled and you wonder if she could somehow sense your presence by the door. She throws the tiny, useless pieces in the trash, reminding you to filter through your own box of it, and turns to face you with that eternally smug smile, leaning back against the side of her desk. It’s a mess, but that’s not surprising coming from Ellie. Whether it’s because she’s the art teacher in charge in the school or because that’s simply in her nature, you’re not sure, but you know to no longer be shocked by the sight of paper and paintbrushes thrown randomly on her desk.

“Planning on distracting me for much longer or is that gonna stop at some point?” she answers back. “You can’t come in here looking like this and seriously expect me to think of lunch.”

And that is exactly why Ellie is making you reconsider your opinion on dating.

If it weren’t for the constant light flirting you still don’t know how to read into, you think that handsomely sweet face would have convinced you anyway. It’s not that Ellie is your style, it’s that you’re convinced no one on this planet could be more attractive to you. Today’s look isn’t helping either: that opened cargo shirt barely hides the simple white tank top she must own in four identical copies and doesn’t do much to conceal the tight, sculpted lines of her arms, blues veins running down to paint-stained fingers.

Oh, if only you could stop thinking about how they’d feel dipping into the heat spreading from your clit down to your entrance, filling an emptiness that rings between your legs as much as it does in your heart. Unfortunately, such luck cannot be granted to you. Not yet, and perhaps not ever.

“You’re not flattering yourself out of coming with me.” You slide your hand down to the doorknob and motion for Ellie to follow you out, but she shakes her head, grabbing her phone in the back pocket of her jeans.

“Sorry,” she says, smile dropping with hesitation before she continues. “The girlfriend forgot her lunch at home and I’ve gotta go get it for her. But I’ll see you tonight, we’re still grabbing drinks with the team, right?”

You blink, cheeks straining from the efforts required to keep your smile up even as it turns dishonest, and try to make sense of the word she just uttered, any heat in your belly extinguished by an ice storm. Did she say girl friend or… girlfriend? Why would anyway refer to their friend that way, though… Stop lying to yourself, you got the meaning right on the first try.

Your heart does not break per se, but it skips a few beats you’re incapable of missing. In the few months you got to know each other, Ellie never mentioned a girlfriend nor did she introduce anyone to you.

Well, there goes your only temptation for a relationship. Celibacy it will have to be.

“Of course. See you tonight.”

If Ellie notices the light dim in your eyes, she doesn’t show.

—

That evening, you hesitate until the very last second about going home and finding a new show worth obsessing about or going out as promised. Ellie doesn’t give you much of a choice, however, when she shows up in your classroom right after the last student filters out with his father and pulls you out of your seat, refusing to take no for an answer.

(If it’s the request that convinces you or the strong hold she has on your wrist, you’re not sure. But you still let her tug you to your car anyway.)

The ‘team’ as referred to earlier consists of five other teachers whose classrooms are all sharing a hallway with yours and with whom you spend your Friday evenings in a local beer bar next door, a place Ellie first dragged you all into when you were still relative strangers, to celebrate your arrival. Your usual table is free when you arrive, Mel and Ellie right behind you, and you suppose a beer might be the best way to forget about your stupid little crush and the shame eating at your insides for having taken friendly banter as flirting for months now.

Overall, the night is fun, and after a few well-placed jokes at your expense, you finally manage to leave what happened earlier behind and enjoy yourself. Unfortunately, whatever superior being out there who’s decided you should, after a year of knowing each other, finally get to know all about Ellie’s girlfriend, is not on your side today.

“Oh, hey Abs!” Mel waves behind where you and Ellie sit, still somehow pressed up against each other, and your friend immediately brightens up, turning around to face someone. “Have you finally decided to join us? I thought you’d never leave that work of yours for even one night a week.”

“Maybe next week if she forces me to come.” The woman comes into view and immediately rests a hand on Ellie’s shoulder, smirking down at her before her eyes travel to you and stay locked onto your own for one second too long for it not to feel somehow… knowing. “But nah, I only got here to take Ellie home. I bet she drank too much to drive and that none of you would have been able to convince her not to take her car.”

Mel laughs, joined by the others, and even you have to agree on that. Ellie is particularly stubborn on the average day, but she gets even worse after three beers and a few shots.

“I’m fine, come on… I could drive on my own, a few beers have never killed me.”

The problem is, she says that while stretching an arm over the booth seat, enveloping your shoulders and tugging you closer to her side, and the only explanation for doing that in front of that literal goddess-looking muscle-paradise girlfriend of hers has to be the alcohol. ‘Abs’ raises a curious eyebrow but her smile never dies, and you look away to focus on the bottle clutched in your hand, guts turning into a mix of nervousness and shame that does not blend well with alcohol.

Abby stays around for a bit. The whole time, her eyes remain on you, taking in the features of your face, sweeping over your figure and translating what you would interpret as unabashed attraction if it came from anyone else. It’s like she’s trying to memorize your face, your body, your soul. Like she means to lay an invisible mark on your heart you’ll feel with every beat, right next to the one Ellie has unconsciously placed there long ago.

The arm only leaves its place on your shoulders when who you now know as Abby urges Ellie to go, and you leave soon after, sitting in the dark of your car for five minutes before your head clears enough for you to drive.

That was… definitely something. But you could unfortunately not explain what in any way.

The next time you see Abby does not offer any sort of clearer explanation as to why the mood always seems odd around you and Ellie, and particularly so when she’s there with you.

She comes around for drinks for the first time in months the following week and turns your offer to change seats down, seemingly fine with sitting next to you, her girlfriend on your other side. Her presence warms the hearts of everyone around the table but yours, stressing you out beyond sanity. You know you didn’t do anything wrong and that it’s probably a good thing that you learned of Ellie’s seemingly very joyful and fulfilling relationship now rather than after an attempted kiss or a date proposal. Yet, you cannot help but feel unsure around her - like she knows, like she can read through your heart and flick through its pages until its secrets have been bared.

Abby never talks to you nor mentions you in her conversations, yet, she’s always got an eye trailed on your figure, always silently insists on you being aware that you’re taking all of her attention.

And Ellie, well… Ellie has not changed, and that’s probably where the actual problem lies.

She still smiles at you with that signature smugness you know is only reserved for her girlfriend. She still flirts and teases and touches, still makes comments about how prettily you blush and how well that shirt fits you and you never know what to answer to any of those things. This time again, one of her arms is spread over your shoulders, her fingers fiddling with the fabric of Abby’s shirt on your other side, and if anyone were to look, they’d probably think you’re dating either of them - if not both.

Your thoughts are interrupted by her voice, and you almost let go of the glass of water you requested earlier when its now familiar murmur tickles your ear. “I like this skirt. Is it me you got it for? I’m sure Abby would like it just as much.”

Poorly disguised shock shines in your eyes but Ellie appears unphased, not even bothering with a glance at where her girlfriend listens to Mel vent about a fight between two of her students. You clear your throat, avoiding the heaviness of her stare, and shake your head timidly, scared to voice out your thoughts or to be heard. The fabric isn’t anything short per se, but it rode up your thighs through the night, and you’re suddenly far too aware of where Abby’s glances might have led to earlier. Ellie’s only response is a chuckle.

You think that’s the end of it but that’s without counting on the end of the night - when everyone leaves but Ellie insists you stay around some more, and Abby doesn’t show any interest in moving away, her thighs spread and pressing you further into Ellie. The arm behind your back moves and this time, you can’t control the way your body jumps when she places a hand just above your knee, stroking the tight fabric of your skirt.

“So,” you begin, trying to break the silence. “How long have you two been together?”

Abby takes a swing of her beer and your eyes follow the bulging muscle of her biceps until Ellie reminds you of her presence by patting your thigh affectionately. “Three years now. We met when Abby came around the school to renovate the gym with her crew and ended up moving in two months later. She’s a carpenter.”

“Oh,” you exclaim, interested but also still very much nervous. “That’s definitely helpful to have around at home. How long have you been doing this for?”

It’s the first time you address her directly and the kindness you’re met with feels almost surprising. You don’t think you would be kind to someone your girlfriend is two inches away from touching inappropriately right under your nose, but you suppose you should be glad that’s the case here.

“Ever since I was a kid, really. Being a carpenter didn’t exactly fit my father’s plans but he always encouraged me anyway when I saw how much fun I had fixing things and building my own. What about you? What got you to into teaching?”

Tension leaves your back altogether when her answer reflects the smile perched on her lips and the mirth shining in her eyes. “Children, really. It started with babysitting and then all I could think about was teaching.”

Abby’s eyes dip down to your lips. “That’s cute.”

“I told you she’s adorable,” Ellie interrupts. “And beautiful too, isn’t she? I knew she’d be your type.”

Your lips part to speak but before a protest can slip past them, Abby nods, smile turning almost predatory. “I’d say she’s your own just as much. You’ve always liked your girls a bit innocent.”

“I’m not-”

“Can you blame me, though?”

Abby pretends to think for a second and gets that knowing look again, reading through the blush spreading up to your ears and the fast ups and downs of your chest in ways you fail to understand yourself. Everything’s going too fast, like a ball bouncing from one side of the court to the other, and it suddenly feels like they’re discussing you, praising you, without even including you in the conversation anymore.

“No. I think I understand.”

Ellie chuckles, inching her hand higher up on your lap, and she allows the silence to persist for a moment longer before standing up to order another round for you. Abby never looks away. You’re still trying to comprehend what just happened, still failing to make sense of why your friend’s partner is staring at you like she’s considering the interest of throwing you over the table dirty with food crumbs and alcohol spills and flexing those fingers inside of your cunt instead of playing with the tip of her bottle.

“Oh, you’ve got some crumbs here,” Abby says, eyes flicking down to wear your shirt wraps tightly around your chest. You follow her line of sight, wondering how that could be when you didn’t eat any of the fries they ordered earlier, and find nothing. “Here, I’ll get them off for you.”

Before a word of gratefulness can echo between the two of you, your lips part in shock, a hand positioning itself right above your breast and arching a curious eyebrow, staring into the depths of your eyes. There’s no hesitation in the action, but rather a sort of anticipation you find yourself trapped into. “Is this alright?” she asks, the “Yes,” out by your lips before you can even make sense of what she means.

Deep down, you know what it means. Deep down, you’ve got a feeling Abby might have been familiar with you far before your recent introduction.

Once your agreement has been voiced, Abby startles you, immediately aiming for your right breast and gripping it with the whole length of her palm. A thumb rubs at soft skin only hidden by the light fabric of your shirt, almost transparent, not thick enough to act as a proper barrier, and you can feel it all - the heat of her hand, its roughness, how it’s thick enough, big enough to effortlessly envelop all of one breast.

It’s the first time her eyes have moved away from the trance they had yours stuck into, her stare dipping down to where she pretends to rub at your shirt, only reminding you of the absence of a bra to truly cover you. Your nipple hardens under her palm and that seems to be the goal because her hand changes sides, repeating the process, teasing and rubbing, the cotton fabric too rough for the sensitive little bud. Your thighs rub against each other, failing to get any sort of release from the pressure burning your cunt, hips almost bucking in a silent plea to be filled up by those very same fingers.

Abby smiles, still kind, still honest, and shifts her hand only to roll it between two fingers, pulling a wet moan from your lips you fear the people behind you might catch. “See, that’s better now, isn’t it?” And just like that, she pulls away, hand settling back around her beer, leaving you to deal with the wetness soaking your underwear and the blush heating your face, shining like a broken christmas light.

“Y-yeah.” It’s odd that you even manage to speak when flames circle hardened nipples, driving you into unknown depths of desire, but you’re proud to say you at least manage a coherent sound. “Thank you.”

When Ellie comes back, conversation follows a course far more normal, and if it weren’t for the hooded eyes, the pulsing heat, and the hand claiming its spot back on your lap, you’d think you hallucinated all of the tension.

The state of your underwear when you strip down before a shower later that night, however, is all the proof you need. Yet, you fail to truly comprehend what happened. The innocence that almost shone in Abby’s eyes as she touched you is impossible to make sense of, and the next morning, you’re no longer sure of what her intentions truly were.

Did she mean to tease you like Ellie has been doing - as a friend, a friend who has a pretty interesting definition of the word platonic but a friend nonetheless? Or was this more?

You’re not sure, but if anything, you won’t be the one to bring up the question just yet.

Ellie and Abby are coming over to your house to help with the endless renovations you’ve been making. And no, it wasn’t your idea.

You’ve been avoiding thinking about Abby and how she’s just as illegally fine as who you already considered to be the hottest woman alive, and although ignoring Ellie is impossible, you at least made some progress this past week with accepting the flirting as some meaningless fun. When you complained about the difficulties you’ve been having with painting the ceilings of two rooms and fixing the guest room bed, however, Ellie suggested that they come over to help and, well, how could you turn down such a nice proposal?

That’s how you end up watching them by the kitchen’s window as they relax around a glass of iced tea in the garden, cheeks stained with light grey paint and arms bared, water running in the sink and acting as the background noise to your current fantasies.

The mind owns a power the heart only dreams of having, capable of eternal wanderings uncontrolled by even the strongest wills.

Yours has not resisted purposeless dreams. Dreams that once involved Ellie, a sweet craving for what could perhaps come to exist in the realm of reality - a craving for late-night guitar sessions and paintings in bold colors, for rough palms to sculpt your heart into submission and teasing smirks wiped away by kisses. Dreams that now involve someone else, a person you have yet to truly understand but who seems to perfectly fit a puzzle from which you did not believe a piece lost. Her body rings with a rigidity that’s a lot more pronounced, yet her heart appears softer, willing to lead you further into the depths of a euphoric swamp.

A blurry motion startles you out of your thoughts and you blink to find the water is still running, the time still passing. Ellie is waving at you and Abby is staring with a raised eyebrow of curiosity.

You smile, waving back, and turn off the tap.

Fantasies are just that, unfortunately. You’ll have to make do with your imagination because it seems Abby isn’t intending on repeating what you’re getting more and more convinced was meaningless teasing anytime soon.

They spend the next weekend at your house too, fixing broken cupboards and a tall wardrobe you couldn’t figure out how to close fully, helping with the garden and any heavy objects you need to move around.

It comes to a point where you decide that if you can’t have either of them, then dreaming is fine. The only problem is that you end up doing that a lot, and getting caught is inevitable.

“Could I borrow your shower?” asks Ellie once the day reaches its end, the sun freefalling on the horizon. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.” Abby has fetched a chair for the same reason but you know how much Ellie like to sit beside you. Her girlfriend’s presence has not stopped the oncoming stream of cuddles she requires from you, and you’re more than happy to be held, touch-starved since the end of your last relationship.

“Sure. I’ll get the food ready.”

You stand from the couch to head for the kitchen but before you can disappear, Ellie grips the hem of her shirt and pulls it up, revealing a glistening, tight stomach in what feels like a slow motion to you but is surely a very normal pace for anyone else. The fabric slides off her shoulders and gets thrown straight to Abby’s face but your brain is in no way capable to register anything but newly revealed skin and soft curves hidden under a white sports bra.

“Feel free to join me,” she adds, teasingly, and you know it has to be directed at Abby who, it seems, is just as affected as you are judging by the darkened gaze she keeps directed at Ellie, but if that’s the case, then you cannot explain why Ellie is staring right at you as she says it before turning around and leaving for the bathroom.

It’s that gaze you see once they’re gone that night, writhing on top of your bed, covers thrown to the floor and pillow wet with your spit. It’s that gaze encouraging a second, then a third finger to fit into your cunt, the pressure too much yet so far from what you wish for, from how well you know they would both fill you, breaching past undesired tightness and taking all that you’re willing to give.

And it’s their voices, blended in as one, whispering praise into your ear and urging you to let go when you finally fall over the edge, tears pooling in your eyes and teeth aching from the marks they’ve left in that poor pillow.

“You know,” you begin, words not slurring but speech clearly affected by physical exhaustion and beer. “I thought you were flirting with me before you suddenly mentioned your girlfriend.”

A chuckle greets you, but you can’t tell if it comes from Abby or Ellie, both of them cuddling on the couch in front of you as you lay on the fluffy chair you bought for decoration purposes but that’s actually pretty amazing to use when sleepy. The night has fallen and you spent a lot of time in the garden today while Abby watched over you and Ellie finished with painting touch-ups, explaining the tiredness numbing your arms and the effects of the alcohol.

Your eyes remain closed and you shift around when air tickles the bottom of your stomach, your shirt having ridden up to reveal skin.

“What if I was?” and this time, you know it’s Ellie - sure, because it sounds like her, but also because she’s the one who likes teasing you the most.

You huff, internally rolling your eyes. “With a girlfriend like Abby, trust me, you were not. You’d be dumb to flirt with anyone else or want to kiss anyone else,” you say, voice barely above a murmur. That second beer should not have been handed in your hand, but Ellie has always been a bad influence and Abby drinks them with little effort. Slowly, you half-whisper, “Bet her lips are so soft.”

Abby laughs this time, reminding you of her presence, but you’re too far gone to care. “I think yours would put up a great fight in a contest,” she says, the smile evident in her voice. “Maybe even win, who knows. I know I wouldn’t mind trying you out.”

“Hey!” Ellie interrupts, “I get to try her out first. I found her. You would want me first, wouldn’t you?”

It takes a while for you to register the question and understand you’re being spoken to. “I think I want the both of you… together.”

Someone’s breath hitches, but you fall asleep before you can find out whose.

All you remember the next morning is strong arms holding onto the back of your thighs and your back carrying you up the stairs, a pair of sweet lips leaving a kiss on your forehead, and the throbbing traces of a hand on the naked skin of your stomach.

That must have been a fairly nice dream.

You’re in the kitchen when things truly take a turn you did not expect to happen in reality, breaching the realm of fantasies and fully stepping into your life - your peaceful and joyful life that, as you will soon come to realize, was actually missing two precious souls to reach the desperate form of completion you sought.

Abby is drying the dishes you’re washing and Ellie is… well, she’s simply being herself, avoiding any sort of chore and whistling in the living room as she chooses what movie you’ll all be watching tonight. The mood has been particularly tense today and this time, you’re glad to say it’s not your fault. Abby has been especially attentive to you, asking about your day, your past, and the shape you imagine your future to take, casually exchanging indecipherable looks with Ellie. They’re more than familiar with your house now yet they’ve never acted more like strangers scared of trespassing.

If you didn’t know better, you would think of them as almost… afraid.

Fortunately, the tension left as soon as night fell and you all settled back into soothing habits. At least, that’s what you think, until a shadow looms over your back, blocking the naked lightbulb from shining light on the last plate in your hand, and you realize that Ellie isn’t as busy as she made it out to be.

“Dinner was great, thanks for preparing all of it again,” she says, supporting her weight with one hand on the countertop and the left one innocently resting on your hip. Her touch is welcomed and familiar, her palm cupping the curve to perfection. “Anyone ever told you you’d make the perfect little wife?”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes although you know she won’t be able to see it. “If that’s truly the case, there’d be a lot more people pilling up at my door, or at least one person. I think you two are just terrible cooks in desperate need of a chef.”

Abby shakes her head, nudging you with her elbow as she wipes water from a pack of forks. “You’re not wrong in thinking we’d wife you up in an instant if you wanted, but not because you’d be a great chef.”

“Yeah,” Ellie agrees, flexing her fingers where they rest on your hip. “I can think of a few other reasons. You’d be an amazing mother, for one, and you’re far more patient than either of us deserve.”

“And you’re ready to put up with her stubbornness, so a perfect match, really.” Abby’s comment makes you laugh but Ellie speaks again before you can tease her about her own issues with never doing as told.

“All of that, and I even bet you’d be such a pretty little thing to fuck.” Your hands freeze on where you’ve just put the plate away, tension seizing unready muscles. You blink, staring by the window, the night turning it into a mirror and reflecting the shock wild in your eyes. For a second, you’re convinced to have misheard. But the silence that follows tells the opposite story. Ellie’s close, suddenly, closer than she was before, and Abby’s hands have stilled as well, her body tight with stress. “I feel like we didn’t thank you properly for all the meals you’ve prepared for us. What do you think, Abby?”

At the edge of your vision, you can sense that Abby has given in and glances at you from the corner of an eye, the sound of her breathing audible, loud. “I think she very much likes politeness, and… it would be rude not to give back after taking so much, wouldn’t it?”

“Right. And what about you, um?” The hand on your hip slowly slides closer to your front before drawing back, again and again, in what feels like a maddening caress. “Do you think we should thank you? Together, I mean.”

Later, you’ll have more than enough time to consider just how stupid it was for you, at that precise moment, to doubt the true meaning behind Ellie’s suggestion. There’s a part of you that yearns for this to be real, for it to feel real, but that part cannot be allowed to exist because it is directly connected to a risk of disappointment you’re not sure you would survive. So, when you reply a breathy little, “Yes,” you don’t actually expect what follows.

“Good girl.”

A whine spills past your lips but the reason behind its existence is blurry - is it the praise, vibrating through your lungs and soaking your cunt, or is it the hand that fully slides against your front, rubbing at the seam of your jeans frustratingly right above your heat, the other suddenly palming the curve of your ass and roughly kneading skin? You think you’ll never know for the first moan, but the next one is inevitably due to the second pair of hands finding a place to have some fun of their own.

“I can feel how soaked you are already,” Ellie says, tone teasing, taunting and forcing past your defenses. “Are you sure you didn’t expect this to happen? How often did you fuck yourself wishing it was us, hmm, pretty girl?”

You think that question should not require an answer, mostly because you’re incapable of giving any, incapable of getting that brain of yours to think and function properly. But Abby doesn’t seem happy with your silence, and she finally decides to remind you of her presence.

“We asked you a question, sweetheart.” Her voice startles you and your head turns to face her, your heart soothed by the admiration and the awe and the desire reflected in usually tight features. She’s smiling, not that usually kind expression but one that’s almost amused, and you realize you’re in serious, serious trouble with these two. Two fingers seize you by the chin, pushing it upward, and a thumb rubs at your bottom lip. “How empty did you feel thinking about how good we could take care of you?”

“I- I didn’t-” Ellie’s nails sink into the flesh of your ass, reprimanding, and Abby tuts, shaking her head disappointedly.

“It’s alright,” she adds. “You can be honest with us. There’s not a single time we fucked since you started working here that we didn’t think about you, about how complete you’d make us.” And you’re going to process that at some point, but now will not be that time. Not when she continues to speak, stealing any hope for coherency from under your feet. “We’ll take care of you now, though. Come on, Ellie, don’t be a tease.”

Ellie hesitates, hands still, fingers flexing. They stare at each other with blazing heat in what you think could be a fight for dominance you’re not sure to make sense of when they could just take out all of that on you.

“You better beg for it.”

When the gearwheels begin to roll again, you lose all sense of reality.

It’s like they both observed you for months, like they figured out what button to push and with how much strength, what you love and what you’re too ashamed to admit you need. Chills of shame erupt on your arms at the idea, worsened by how smoothly Ellie works your body.

“Let’s get these off you,” she mutters, lips hovering right next to your nape, inches away from a kiss. “You won’t be needing them around us anymore.”

There’s possessiveness in her words and there’s possessiveness in how fast she slips the button of your jeans off and tugs on the material, slowly, as if to admire what is finally hers to worship and use as she deems fit. Abby growls, watching with a well-trained eye as the tight fabric slides over your ass, and her hand moves down to press against your throat, keeping your back shamefully arched, ass raised for their eyes to feast onto. Your pants end halfway down your thighs, and you have to say there’s nothing surprising about Ellie’s eagerness to get to the source of her desires, hot between your thighs.

“Abby told me I’d love your ass. Guess she wasn’t wrong.” You expect your underwear to follow next but she decides not to bother with that. “Ever gotten fucked there before, or are you keeping that tight little hole for when we decide to use it?”

“N-never, I- I don’t-”

Abby sighs, shaking her head warningly. “Ellie… focus.”

“Right, sorry. We’ll keep that in mind for another time, you’re ours now anyway, aren’t you? Our pretty little toy.”

You’re all but ready to cry when fingers slides into the front of your underwear, familiar roughness perceptible in the actions, immediately drenched in your desires. Your cunt aches, your core throbs, and your nipples harden. A cocktail of needs that can only be sated by much more than what you’re given. Efficient fingers part your folds before expertly reaching that little bud of sensitiveness at the top of your mound, circling it, pinching it, driving you crazy with it.

But that’s not what truly seals the first release of the night. That only comes when Abby decides to fully join in on the fun.

Fingers unbutton your shirt until it parts to reveal the pale pink bra that matches the current dark pink of your panties, only abandoning your neck until the offending lace has been pushed right under your breasts and returning to its hold. You think Abby’s going to kiss you, for a moment, but she’s only reveling in the hot puffs of air slipping past your lips and trying to swallow down the guttural moan that vibrates in your throat when Ellie decides she wants to take the next step.

The hand that had for now been palming your ass travels closer to your center and tugs flimsy fabric out of the way carelessly. You’re not given a warning when the first finger breaches past your entrance, only the sound of Ellie spitting on her fingers for unnecessary lube and that feeling of needing frustratingly more. A whine lodges itself at the back of your throat, and they both laugh, only turning your frustration worse.

You want to move and fight back, tell them you’re more than capable of taking charge yourself. But there’s something about being treated as a toy meant to receive pleasure, about being admired and taken and praised, about that second finger joining the first and filling the tightness of your cunt, that forces you into a soothing form of submission, allowing every touch and taking them willingly.

Abby palms at one breast, rolling a nipple under the strong surface in a touch that translates all of her strength. “Is that blush for us, pretty thing? You’re gonna come all over her hand like a good slut already, aren’t you?”

And, it’s cruel, but of course you do.

Ellie flexes her fingers, increasing the speed of her arm. You can’t see it, but you know veins must shy prettily all over her forearm and biceps must be bulging from the tightness required to fuck you like she does now - like she wants to pull orgasm after orgasm from your core until you no longer understand what it means not to feel the maddening pulse of a release coursing through your body like liquid fire. Abby turns meaner, rougher, pinching a nipple between two fingers and pressing the hand further into your neck, forcing you to follow its direction and standing further on your toes.

Four hands - teasing, fucking, taking.

Two souls tauntingly attracting your own into their orbit, sealing an invisible lock around your heart, your body, your being itself.

And sweet, sweet praise, whispered right under your ear, sending you into a release you’re helpless to control.

“Ellie, Abby… I-” The moan that travels from your chest and spills past your lips is rough, guttural, connected to the inhuman waves of pleasures rocking through your body. Your cunt clenches around the fingers still thrusting in and out of your center, clinging onto the digits until they’re forced to stop, Ellie breathing heavily in your ear. Abby kisses down the curve of your throat, teeth nibbling at sensitive skin and laying a mark you refuse to ever cover.

Your moan ends, broken off in tense breathing, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, and that’s when you catch the groan vibrating Ellie’s throat. It, too, falls into silence.

Abby swears against your skin, a deep, rough “Fuck,” that sends shivers down your spine.

“Told you she’d be the cutest little thing to corrupt,” Ellie teases, slowly sliding out of you, fighting against the tightness of your walls and your eagerness to be fucked into a stupid mess. “She’s all proper and shit but I could tell she’d love it.”

“I never doubted you.” Abby says, kissing the lone tear sliding down your cheek with all of the tenderness she can conjure. “Come on, let’s get her on a proper surface.”

Heat blooms on your cheeks when Ellie steps away to allow Abby to take you into her arms, the ground suddenly disappearing from under your feet. The way they talk about you like you’re not even there, like you’re too fucked out to understand a single word, would be shameful under any other circumstance. You know it’s only a game when Ellie takes advantage of finally facing you by planting a soft kiss on your forehead, pushing away a lazy strand of hair.

They begin to walk toward your bedroom like they perfectly know the way, and your vision turns dark right as they push the door open.

“Can you hold her open for me or have you been slacking at the gym?”

Your eyes remain closed, but your brain kickstarts itself into working properly again. You can feel the familiar linen of your sheets under your ass and soft naked breasts pressed against your back, another weight shifting in front of you on the bed.

The body behind yours shakes in rhythm with a chuckle and you recognize Ellie. “Can you still eat pussy or should we trade so I can show you? Sorry we didn’t plan for your strap, I thought she might have a cock lying around but… we’ll have to take care of that next time.”

“Fuck you,” says Abby half-heartedly, the sound followed by more shifting.

You’re fully aware again when Ellie grabs the back of your thighs and tugs them, spreading your legs and allowing air to tickle the slick still running from your center, drenched folds bared for anyone to use as they please.

“Come on, get to it. I know you’re hungry.”

Another pair of hands holds you by the ass and your eyes flutter open, hoping to catch sight of what you once dreamed about. Abby barely spares you a glance before she all but leaps to feast on your cunt, igniting a fire not yet extinguished.

“Abby… Abby…” You repeat her name like a plea, like a prayer. Your hips buck and trash around, your heart pauses and starts again, your releases come and come again right after each other until you exist no more, a broken toy a kid cannot help but continue to play with.

Lips circle your clit and suck, pull and deliver rough kisses. An expert tongue gathers slicks at your entrance and spreads it all over already drenched folds, eating rather than licking, a starved woman relishing in her first and last mean. It’s all too much, too soon, too sensitive, and you’re in no way capable of pulling away, four hands keeping you all tight and secure in their hold, a prisoner to your own pleasure.

“Keep them coming, pretty thing. I want your cunt red by the time we’re done with you tonight,” Ellie murmurs in your ear before resuming the path of tenderness her mouth trailing on down your neck.

You only find the strength left in yourself to follow that order.

An unwelcomed warmth burns your closed eyelids and you shift, attempting to escape its path. To your great despair, it doesn’t budge. A tired groan echoes in the room and you blink sleep back into your body, limbs stretching and encountering a soreness that did not exist before.

Oh. Right. Last night happened and… it was not a dream this time.

Fear seizes your heart for a moment and you quickly look around, scared to find the bed empty save for your body. A happy sigh of relief marks the moment you see them - Abby clinging to Ellie’s back, still sound asleep and temptingly naked, and Ellie holding onto your waist, staring up at you with a smug look and a kind smile.

“Morning,” she says, voice broken from sleep. “You didn’t think we’d abandon you, did ya?”

“N-no I… I’m just happy to see you.” You cannot control the dumb smile that widens on your lips, and Ellie’s smirk only widens, her hold pulling you back into the eternal depths of the sheets.

“We’re not going anywhere, try to get some more sleep.”

It’s a simple sentence, meaningless on the surface.

Yet, you know it’s more than that.

It’s a promise.

A promise for more, meant to suppress the doubts blossoming in your chest. A promise that they’ll be there when you awake again, and again, and again.

#ellie williams #abby anderson #ellie williams x abby anderson x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #abby anderson smut #ellie williams x abby anderson #ellabs

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atinylittlepain · 8 months

Text

Chapter Three

no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

warnings: dark themes surrounding history of domestic violence, references to physical injury, heavy emotions (hope can also be heavy)

a/n: all i have to say is thank you for reading, and i'd love to hear what you think

...............................

If I could go

Baby where you go

If i could know

Baby what you know

Then I could see

Baby what you see

Baby Where You Are - Ted Lucas

.................................

Dolores isn’t Dolores anymore. It hadn’t been on purpose. Something Joel had found himself calling her, something that she didn’t rebuke or reject. Something that fit, all her flight and fret, the fragile flinch of her feathers. Get too close, and watch her flee, winged reaction. Give her space, and watch grace move, gentle as she can be, kind as she can be. A new name that still somehow fit. It had slipped out around town a few times, enough for it to catch.

“Thanks, Dove. Why don’t you come by the shop this afternoon? Got a coat in that should be about your size, and you’re gonna need one pretty soon.” Patty is right. Fall is coming in with a sharp tooth this year. The wind picking up, blowing in bite. Mountains turning over in a blaze of death, everything starting to crisp and singe orange and yellow around the edges. But not time for coats yet. Sweaters, sure. But a coat would mean staying, long enough at least to see another season settle. Joel tries not to watch her reaction to Patty’s words too closely, a feigned yawn, a glance over his shoulder out the windows of the diner.

“Okay, that’d be great, thank you.” Patty takes her lunch to go, a murmured greeting and goodbye to Joel as she lets her hip lead her out the door, a tip of his brow in reply.

“Would that be alright?” A beat for him to realize that she’s asking him. Less of this lately, all the extra, unneeded thank yous, the careful permission asked after. But still, sometimes, her feathers pluming between the bars of a cage he wishes she’d step out of entirely.

“Of course, don’t have to ask that. Reckon I oughta pick up a few things myself.” The truth is, all his jeans are fitting tighter. A little fuller lately, a little warmer. Because she can cook, and she likes to, full, warm things that turn the windows sweet with syrupy fog in the evenings. When he first came out here, he lost weight, new notches in his belt to keep his pants up until Patty forced a few new pairs into his hands. No other body to watch after, out for, no concern for three square anything all on his own. But now, breakfast every morning and dinner every night, still trying to keep his knees from brushing against hers under the table, even in the evening’s satisfied slump. And lunch at the diner, whenever he can, always a few fries on the side that he didn’t order. So yeah, lately the zipper is a battle, and the button is a negotiation, and it feels pretty good, like presence.

She hands him his check, quick lightning in the pass of fingertips, a brush that doesn’t make her flinch. Thoughts he shouldn’t be having, a feel for something he shouldn’t be wanting, he clears his throat, once, twice, napkin held to his mouth should any words try to slip out.

“What time is the vet coming?” Soon, he thinks, already taking time he doesn’t have, a sigh as he stands from his seat.

“One, he’s always a little late though.” He’s not, but saying it smooths the crease of worry between her brows. Worry, she’s worried about the damn sheep. He thinks she might like the sheep more than she likes him. More comfort with them, at least. It’s not a him thing, though. It’s a people thing. He can understand that, for reasons of his own. After all, he was the one that bought the sheep in the first place.

“You’ll tell me what he says?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I just, you know, have a feeling.” She says it with a shrug, her words twisting up into a smile at the end. She’s had a feeling for the last week about two of the girls. Avril and Lucy, she had told him over breakfast one morning, just a feeling. He had asked how, half a smile, how. And she had given him a shrug not unlike the one she just rolled her shoulders in. Just a feeling.

“We’ll see what he says. Still don’t know where you’re getting that feeling from. They all look the same to me.” She scoffs, nose scrunching up as she hands him back change that he’s already planning to tuck into the tip jar when her back is turned.

“It’s not a look, Joel. It’s just a feeling.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever you say. Tell you what, if you’re right, I owe you that coat Patty’s holding for you.” He was half-expecting her reaction, complete exasperation in her sigh, where once there was worry, a well-worn routine that has softened around the edges.

“You’re not buying that coat for me.”

“Well, not if that feeling of yours is wrong I’m not.”

“And what do you get if I’m wrong?” Nothing, he doesn’t want anything. He can’t want anything, not from her.

“I’ll think of something. But you seem pretty sure that you’re right.” Flustered, he thinks, all flap and flutter as her smile slants, turning away with a wave of her hand, forget it, to get back to work. Sure in herself, and in him too. That he’ll be back a little after four, that they’ll stop by Patty’s place on the way home, that they’ll go home, that there is home. No catch, she has finally learned. Settling into no catch.

The vet hasn’t shown up yet by the time Joel returns to the house, nothing to do but wait. There’s a stack of books on the coffee table in the living room. She’s going to have run right through the library’s stock at the clipped rate she’s currently going. There’s been many a morning that he’s found her in the same position he said goodnight to her in, perched in the corner of the couch, all tucked in on herself, a book in her hands near finished where she had only just started it the night before.

How quickly people’s ghosts take up residence in a space. All the evidence of absence, and the promise of it being filled up again, soon. Her sweater hanging on the hook by the door, her boots settled and slumped next to his, two coffee mugs drying next to the sink.

How quickly he must remind himself that all of this will end, eventually. That she will leave, and he will let her, and he will be happy for her. Help, and nothing more. Care, however temporary it may be. But for now, the promise of a new coat, and with it, another season. For now, she’s staying.

…

“Well?”

“Nice to see you too.”

“Joel.” He can’t help himself, leaning back in the driver’s seat, letting her huff at him, just a little puff of impatience.

“You were right.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes, ma’am. He couldn’t tell how many, but twins are pretty–”

“Oh wow.” A whispered thing, a wondered thing, one of her palms pressed over the center of her sternum like she can feel it there. And suddenly, he feels it too.

“So when are they– when will they be here?” It’s a particular way to ask it, a bit strange, steeped in that same awe.

“Vet said sometime around January, so we’ll certainly have our work cut out for us.” It’s a leap, one that makes his stomach lurch as he says it, knowing exactly what he’s doing. Feeling around in the dark, trying to find where the ending is.

“Oh wow.” Just that again, curling at the edges with her smile, an answer in and of itself. Or at least he hopes.

“Suppose I owe you that coat now.” She snorts, a sound that would be ugly coming from anyone else, though it only feels like a relief coming from her, shaking her head at him.

“Oh please, I can pay for that coat just fine. Someone left an annoyingly large tip for me today.” He threatens a smile, keeping tight-lipped to stop its spread as she looks at him, brow raised, knowing and known. A selfish thought he has had, that those tips he is leaving inch her closer to leaving much faster than he’d like her to, though he hasn’t let that idea fester into any action.

“That right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I wonder who it was.”

“Me too. Anyways, shouldn’t I get to decide what I get for being right?” New, a little bold maybe, her elbow propped up on the passenger side door, knuckles steepled at her temple, ease, space.

“I guess I can’t argue with that. What do you want?” It’s gone just as fast, and he knows he made a mistake with that question, the quick configuration of her body recollecting itself, hands in her lap, wilting like a flower, all too much. Want isn’t allowed, want isn’t something she lets herself admit to. Always a production when she asks if they can stop by the library, like she’s getting away with something she shouldn’t be, shy and secret. Always waiting for him to start eating first, and always him resisting the urge to say something about that, a cool prickle threading through his skull, because he knows where that comes from. And what could he say that wouldn’t make shame well up? Unmerited shame, undeserved, but he knows her now, and knows that it’d be shame all the same.

He has to stop himself from sorry, because he knows sorry will spill into something more like the truth. That he would like nothing more than to hear all her big and little wants, to make them real for her, reach out and take them for her, give them to her. But he has wants of his own, and if he speaks any of it, all his want will surely make her bolt.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want a thing, really. I’m just excited about the girls, that’s all.” Her words fade and fizzle quiet on the end, all he can do to nod, mercy to make the car move, to not ask for any more from her right now, to not try to take what she is not willing to give.

She’s quiet through their errands, still kind to Patty, a nice, new coat that he holds onto the image of as a small smolder of hope for staying. And he knows it’s possibly the worst thing he could have to do right now, sick with how she prickles and pinches up when they pull into the station parking lot. But work is work, duty is duty, and he must. A quiet be right back and an even smaller okay from her as he gets out of the car.

“Miller.” John seems to always be in a variable lean these days, elbows on the counter in the front office, thumbing through some report. Joel offers him a nod as he moves past the man, dropping off more paperwork for a speeding ticket he wrote two nights ago.

“That husband out of Nebraska called again.” Joel’s spine straightens, steeled and silent. The husband has called every month since she left, since his car got sent back across state lines. Always asking if they’ve heard anything, seen anything. Joel has never been the one to answer those calls, and he’s not sure whether that’s a blessing or a curse. Part of him, poison, wants to hear the man’s voice, give himself something more to hate, something more to imagine in the middle of the night when a closed fist feels like a good idea.

“He have anything new to say?” John shrugs, only a spared glance over the top of the papers he’s reading, no big deal, no fuss, and Joel has to remind himself that no, no big deal, none at all. A couple hundred miles worth of no big deal.

“Same thing every time. You’d think he’d try searching elsewhere considering it’s been, what? Three months since that happened?” Four and a half, Joel thinks to himself, though he just nods at John’s estimate, trying on disinterest.

“You think he’d ever come out here looking?” Wrong, so very, very wrong, he has to bite back a wince when the words leave his mouth, impulsive and idiotic to ask something like that. John’s brow draws down in perfect confusion, papers fanning out in front of him, paused.

“I don’t know, why do you ask?” He can’t bend or bluster now, feigning a yawn and a shrug as he scratches the back of his neck, time to think of what words will make this unnoticeable.

“Like you said, the wife probably ran away for a reason. I just wanna know if we’re gonna have trouble blowing in around here.” It seems to be enough, John sighing like, good point, hadn’t thought of that.

“Well, he’d be a damn fool to do that after all this time. Yep, either Lori Wright got the hell out, or she’s gone to the coyotes by now, God forbid.” He didn’t know her last name. Didn’t know Lori either. A shortening, a smalling of Dolores, clearly. Three names for her now. One he will never use.

“Here’s hoping.” He thinks he hears his own voice crack, tilt up somewhere in the middle of hoping, though John doesn’t seem to notice it, already back to his papers, before thinking twice.

“You and Dovey-girl coming to the bar tonight?” She has warmed up to John, just like everyone else in town. She’ll even play a few rounds of darts with him at the bar when they do show up, surprisingly good at it, quick hands and sharp eyes.

“Probably not tonight, no, lots to take care of for the winter and all.”

“So she’s staying on for the winter?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Trying to not let that feel too good, palm swiped down his scruff to temper a smile. Willing it and wanting it, even though he shouldn’t. And is he bad for this? For hoping she stays, gone to the coyotes, except not really, except right where husband could find her. A slurry of sick when his mind suddenly flashes with the thought. Her working at the diner and a stranger blowing in as they’re wont to do. Except not a stranger. Except not a stranger’s hand closed in a fist in her hair and dragging her a few hundred miles back across state lines. Except worse, maybe, possibly. Except husband has a gun. So much worse, not maybe, not possibly. Probably.

“I know I won’t be the only one happy to hear that. She’s been a real addition to the community, you know? A keeper.” John’s words shake him out of his own murmuring thoughts, quick to correct the toxic tinge in his mind. No one is being kept, no one is keeping anyone. Not like that. It can’t be.

“She’s just staying for a little while. Getting her feet under her and– I just, you know, owed her a favor–” He’s making things up, giving more than he should. Something about an old friend, something about Texas even. Lies that will only make things more difficult, not just for him, but for her too. His blunder will require a debriefing at this point, pinning her in this web with him. Though he tells himself it’s protection, a thin, filmy layer of it that might keep husband out, maybe just enough. He hopes it is.

“Everything okay?” The first thing she asks when he gets back in the car, and he knows that this is her way of trying, of saying sorry for the silence, the sudden shrinking.

“Yeah, got stopped talking to John. He told me to tell you he’s been practicing his aim, so you better be ready for some competition the next time y’all play a round together.” Another lie, a small one though, and it makes the pinch of worry smooth in her expression, even a clipped laugh. He’ll take it.

The sun has already closed one eye, half-asleep and hanging on by a thread over the snarled lip of the mountains. It’s been getting cold enough at night that the sheep have started congregating around the barn in the evenings, huddling close and tight to keep in warmth. Pretty soon, he’ll have to set up the heater inside, the promise of another long winter not far away.

Of course, she heads straight toward the barn when they get home, shrugging into her new coat as she greets the flock, all warmth, all dripping adoration. He’s pretty sure the bleats of the animals are an equally affectionate reciprocation. There’s no fear in how she approaches them, easy pats to their broad bellies, her palms running and scratching along their cheeks and behind their flickering ears how they seem to like it. All the while talking, the most he ever hears her say, always for the animals. He hangs back, leaning against the side of the car, listening, though trying not to look like he is. She pays particular attention to Avril and Lucy, palm splayed over their sides as she murmurs to them. He has to bite back a laugh when she shoots a pointed look toward the two rams, only just discernible in the quick-fading light. Seeming satisfied with her convening, she starts to pluck and pad back through the brush toward him.

“Dinner?”

“Yes, ma’am. Just tell me how I can help.”

He’s never known how to cook well. Lots of scrambled eggs and pb and js for Sarah growing up, an errant casserole from a well-meaning neighbor every now and again. But Dolores moves like she knows what she’s doing in the kitchen, something confident in the flick of the stove and the stir of something warm and snaring heat. She always gives him the simplest tasks, sure in what she tells him to do, a cutting board and a knife and the new, fresh things of the fall chopped up small to melt down in their own savor in the pan.

He always thanks her when they sit down, and she’s just as bad at receiving that as he is, her chin tucked down in a shake of her head. And that thing, that sickening submission thing she does. Doesn’t even lift fork or knife, hands held in her lap until he starts to chew. He’s tried a few times to wait it out, to see if eventually. But no, he supposes they’d be waiting there all night. Conditioning that has been cemented beneath her skull, that only makes that hate get bigger in his chest. And then he starts to wonder after the cooking, if that isn’t just the same, something that fear taught her how to do. His stomach twists with the thought.

“Can I ask you something?” He shouldn’t. But she nods, dabbing at the corner of her mouth. So he does.

“You don’t– do you like to do that?” A vague wave of his hand over to the stove, that. Her shoulders raise, a slight hackle.

“I– I don’t mind it. Yes, I like to.” Two different answers, really, like she decided part-way through the first one that it needed to be paved over with something else.

“Because you don’t have to, you know.” She winces. He did that. He caused that. By poking and prodding around where he shouldn’t have been.

“I know, I figure it’s the least I can do though.” He’d like to say no, don’t need to do a thing. Already doing so much. Not keeping score. Not keeping anything. Not being kept. But that’s still too dangerous of a truth, silence settling as they continue to eat, nothing right that could be said. Though he refuses to assume this awful role, to move through the ghost rhythms of her old life. Resolving himself for tomorrow, that he will wait at the table all night if he has to, that the food will go cold if it has to, hollow guts until it becomes something different. Because this must be different, and she must know that it is different. And in small ways, he knows that she does. But he cannot let any of this poison seep through, cannot let any piece of him be associated with husband, with horror.

After dinner, he doesn’t let her anywhere near the dishes, and it’s about the dishes and it isn’t about the dishes, crowding her out of the kitchen, telling her to go, go read, got this, he’s got this. But when he joins her in the living room, she isn’t reading, sitting on the edge of the couch with her elbows on her knees and the raw skin around her thumb worrying between her teeth.

“Did I do something wrong?” Shit, stomach sinking at her question. And a swift, silent realization that he is going to have to be more explicit about these things. That hers is a mind on high alert for anything out of place, any word out of tune, and that he will have to be careful, so careful to reassure and remember that.

“No, that’s not– you haven’t done anything wrong. I– you don’t owe me a thing, do you understand that? I’m serious. I’m not waiting for you to repay anything or earn anything. It’s not like that.” Not like him, what he’d really like to say. Not like a few hundred miles across state lines, what he’d really like to say. And he wishes more than anything that she would understand that by now. But then, how many years worth of unlearning does she have to do?

She mentioned something about their tenth wedding anniversary, always more liable to talk after half a beer at the bar, close and quiet with him. Husband came home later than he was supposed to and she made a comment about them missing their dinner reservation and he made her sorry for the rest of the night for making a comment about them missing their dinner reservation. So ten years, at least. A whole decade that must be unraveled.

“I want something.” It’s so unexpected that his next inhale gets stuck somewhere in his throat, though he’s quick to catch it, clearing it out as he nods at her.

“Okay, what do you want?” She gets up from the couch, turning to stand in front of him, a few shuffled steps to where he’s standing in the doorway.

“I don’t know if I should want it.” He does not flinch or freeze when careful fingers curl around his wrist, not even when his pulse jumps as she takes his hand between both of hers, pressed like planes of glass, flat and fragile.

“Tell me what it is, Dove.” If he moves even the smallest muscle, she might startle, spook, and split away at the edges, so he stays so still, letting her turn his hand this way and that between both of hers, her lashes splayed over the tops of her cheeks in the droop of her eyes.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I think you should.”

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“You will if I tell you.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You won’t?”

“I promise I won’t.” She sighs, a long, aching sound that starts one of his own in his chest. Finally, fingers threading with his.

“This is hard for me.”

“I know it is.” Finally, eyes given to him, flickering up and holding there.

“I can’t, Joel. I’m sorry.” But she doesn’t let go, doesn’t look away. And this has to be enough, he has to make it enough. Not the time to push, to try to take any more from her than she has already given him. Not now, not when her thumb is smoothing a line into the side of his hand. Not when anything more could take all of this away.

“It’s okay, Dovey. Take your time.” Because he’d give all of it to her, every second he could possibly promise away to her, and there’s no use lying about that now.

Catch and release, her hand already untangling from his, arms crossing over her stomach, closing up all over again. But not nothing. Something different. Something changing, carefully reconfiguring around each other.

She sits back down on the couch, and it’s wordless, the way that he settles next to her. Nothing asked after, a silent understanding. Both learning, moving with the other. His arm settles over the back of the couch, presence more than anything, and she reciprocates in kind, leaning a little closer, fitting her shoulder under his, hip to hip. It’s slow, glacial really, the way they fit the fact of their bodies around each other. But eventually, his hand settles as a suggestion over her shoulder, and her thigh presses up against his. And the last fall, the last allowance, comes in the way her head tilts to lay against his chest. Fitting together all these strange and broken pieces, until it’s as easy as respiration.

She can take her time, and his too. This can be as slow as it needs to be. But he thinks that he knows what she wants, and he thinks it’s the same thing he’s been trying so hard to tamp down, to temper and toe some imaginary line against and away from. For now, even the thought that this could be shared is enough, weak with wanting, and he doesn’t care anymore.

He can want, and so can she.

..................................

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littlxpxtal · 2 months

Text

Therefore I Am

TYRANTS || STORY MASTERLIST PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader WARNINGS: MDNI 18+ Content, swearing, sexual content, drug and alcohol use, violence WORD COUNT: 3.7K

Don't talk 'bout me like how you might know how I feel

Top of the world, but your world isn't real

Your world's an ideal

So, go have fun

I really couldn't care less

And you can give 'em my best, but just know

I'm not your friend or anything, damn

You think that you're the man

November

“Okay so I made this cute ass invite on this website and you can send it out as a text blast.” Sabrina explains to me as we walk to first period together.

“Sab who are you planning on inviting?” I ask. She was keen on throwing me a huge blowout for my 18th. I had gotten better at making friends on Figure 8 but there was a pit of doubt inside me that anyone would actually show up.

“We have to invite everyone whos anyone. Adn they’ll forsure come cus we haven’t had a big rager since Halloween. Everyone is fiending for a party. And everyone is talking about how cool you are.” I roll my eyes at this last declaration.

“No they are not Sab what are you even talking about.” I ask before we walk into the classroom.

“You’ve really impressed everyone at all of my pregames, and even Rafe’s friend group thinks you’re cool. Everyones obsessed with your style, and are dying to know why you’ve spent the last three years wasting time on the cut.” she whispers as we take our seats.

“How do you even know Rafe’s friends like me?” I pull out my history book and homework, feeling my face flush at the thought of them talking about me.

“Just trust me I know.”

“You know, I’m inviting my friends from the cut.” I say with a straight face, dreading her response.

“Y/N … Why would you do that?” she asks, pulling out her supplies.

“Cus they’re my friends. If it’s my party I should be able to invite whoever I want.” I state matterof factly.

“That may cause some problems.” she mumbles before the bell rings. “Im sending the text blast out at lunch. If there’s anyone you dont want there let me know, or else its going to my entire contacts list.” she hisses to me before the teacher starts taking attendance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I adjust the strapless black mini dress on my chest, fidgeting with the zipper on the side before Sabrina walks into my room.

“People are going to start coming in 10 are you ready yet?” she asks, holding a red solo cup out to me.

“Yea, just gotta put on my lipstick. Whats this?”

She smirks and walks over to my full length mirror.

“A concoction just for the birthday girl.” she teases, pulling out her phone to take a picture.

“Get in this with me.” she says. I pose in the mirror with her and take a small sip of the drink, practically choking.

“What the fuck is in this Sab?” I ask, stuggling to keep myself from yakking.

“My version of a tequila sunrise. Mostly tequila.” she says sweetly, taking a sip form her own cup.

“Yea I can tell.” The doorbell rings and my eyes widen.

“I’ll get it. Hurry up!” she exclaims, running out of my room. I take a deep breath and take the berry shade of lipstick I bought for tonight out and start applying in the mirror. I decide to take a selfie of myself, admiring the way the dress fit around my curves.

Somehow Sabrina convinced my parents to let me have this party at my place and got them out of town for the weekend. They were easily convinced by her sweet talk, and were encouraged by the fact that I had been making friends at Kildare Academy. They were more than happy to give Sabrina and me their credit card to buy decorations and even allowed us to use some of the liquor from their cabinet.

I made my way up the stairs to see the living room was starting to fill with familiar faces I had seen in the hallways. I admired my house filled with helium balloons and silver streamer curtains. The room was illuminated with a large disco ball and LED lights. The DJ started playing music in the backyard.

“I think we’re gonna have a big turn out.” Sabrina says when she finally reaches me.

“Do these people actually know what they’re even here for?”

“Of course they do. I even made a card box for people to give you gifts.”

“Sabrina, I don’t want any of these peoples money.” I say confused.

“These people come from old money its practically tradition. Plus theyre drinking the booze we bought so its like an entry fee.” she says giggling and grabbing my hand, leading me to the backyard.

“You got the playlist I sent right?” she asks the DJ. I recognized him immediately, he was a barista at the cafe I always went to when I used to hang in the cut. He smiles softly at me and I thank him for being here tonight.

“There’s the birthday girl!” I hear someone shout from the backdoor. I turn around to see Topper, Kelce, Rafe a group of random girls surrounding them. He’s holding a handle of Titos up in the air.

“TOP!” Sabrina exclaims, dragging me over to greet them.

“Happy birthday Y/N” he says, greeting me in a hug. “This is for you, from all of us.” he says handing me the large bottle. I stare at in shock and laugh.

“Thanks guys.” I respond. Before I can greet Kelce or Rafe, Sabrina takes the bottle from my hands.

“Shots?” she asks the group. The guys cheer in response and she leads them back inside the the kitchen where the cups were.

“Happy birthday.” Rafe whispers in my ear, trailing right behind me. I feel goosebumps rise on my arms. “You look good.” he murmurs as we reach the counter.

“TO Y/N” Sabrina declares and we raise the shot glasses up to the cieling

“TO ME!” I Cheer before downing the shot. I hiss at the burning in my throat and squeeze my eyes closed.

More people fill into my living room and start piling into the backyard. I’m greeted with hugs and fist bumps from people I vaguely remember, they thank me for inviting them and I have to pretend like I’m the one who even made the invite in the first place.

I finally check my phone for the first time since people started arriving.

Sarah Cameron

We’re pulling up in a sec

I smile at my phone and scan the room to see if they’ve arrived.

“You waitin on someone?” I hear Rafe ask from behind me.

“Yea Sarah’s comin.” I say without looking back at him.

“I assume that means the clowns will be making an appearance as well.” he asks, finally standing next to me, his arm brushing against my shoulder.

“Play nice it’s my birthday.” I remind him, taking a sip from my birthday concoction.

“Long as they play nice too.” he responds before walking off. I roll my eyes and scan the room again. They still weren’t anywhere in sight, so I walk off to mingle with my guests.

I find a familiar face in the sea of people and make my way to him.

“Hi Noah.” I say, interrupting his conversation with a girl I had never seen befroe.

“Hey Y/N . Happy birthday!” he says before pulling me into a hug. It lingers for a little too long and I feel my cheeks blush when he finally releases me.

“This is a great party. Much better than my 18th.” he says, standing close and leaning down to be eye level with me.

“Whadid you do for yours?” I ask, trying to hide my disgust as I take another sip from the drink Sab made me.

“I had the flu. I had to go to the hospital and everything.” he says shurgging his shoulders.

“Damn that sounds awful. You can pretend tonights your birthday if you want.” I say, trying to cheer him up. I feel his eyes scan my body up and down and he inches closer.

“Well I know what I would want for my present.” he whispers. I bite my lip and giggle.

“Cute” I say in response. From the corner of my eye I spot JJ and I run towards him.

“JJ!” I shriek, throwing myself into his arms. He lifts me up and spins me around.

“Happy birthday doll. You have hella friends now huh?” he asks giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I dont know half of these people. Sabrina just invited them.” I say in response. He smirks and scans the room.

“Whos the dude who was practically eye fucking you?” he says, I glance over to see he’s giving a death glare to Noah.

“Kid I know from Kook academy.” I shrug.

“BIRTHDAY GIRL!” Kiara shouts, popping up from behind JJ.

“Kie!” I squeeze her with all my might. I feel a rush of excitement fill my body as people I actually knew and loved were finally here. John B and Pope pile into our hug.

“Where’s Sarah?”

“She went looking for you. Looks like she ran into her brother though.” John B says, nudging his head over towards the back of the kitchen. I direct the group to follow me, leading them through the crowd of people stuffed into my living room. I trip over a ballon on the floor, and feel an arm reach out to help me gain my balance. I look up to see its Rafe.

“Thanks” I mumble, pulling my arm away from his grip. I direct my attention away from him and smile at Sarah

“Happy birthday girl! I heard Rafe got you a present and I think it’s only appropriate that we indulge.” she says, wiggling her eyebrows and holding up the half empty handle of titos up at me.

She fills up shots enough for everyone including Rafe. His body is blocking me from being in the circle, so I shove past him, forcing my way into the center.

I look at Kiara and smirk, “arriba! abajo! al centro! pa dentro!” We cheer. The group finishes the shot and I find myself brave from the liquid courage I had just been given. I pull a chair out from behind the counter and stand on top of it.

“THANK YOU FOR COMING AND CELEBRATING MY 18TH WITH ME!” I Shout to the crowd of people in the kitchen and dining area. “LETS GET FUCKED UP!” I shout.

Pope hands me a Natty Lite from his book bag and I tip it to its side, cracking the bottom open with my teeth. For a second I realize my inner pogue is coming out. But I decide I didn’t give a fuck. It was my fucking birthday.

I crack open the can and inhale the beer in 3 chugs. I crush the can with my hand and toss it out into the crowd. The room erupts in cheers and I turn around to my friends seeing their shocked yet excited expressions on their faces.

“Lets fucking dance.” I say. JJ walks up to the chair and puts out his arms.

“Lets go dance princess.” he says, pulling me down into his arms, placing me softly on the ground. I grab his hand, leading them to the backyard where the DJ began blasting the Pursuit of Happiness remix.

The backyard area is filled with people already dancing. I squish us into the center of the crowd and notice that Rafe and his friends decided to join.

I feel my body moving along to the beat, not giving a care in the world, sticking my hands up in the air and letting the crowd's movements take me around the circle. Dancing face to face with Sarah, her back against John B’s.

Our bodies are squeezed together and I slowly grind against hers before I’m pushed to the side and end up in front of Kiara. She’s dancing against Pope and I remember I need to ask her how that situation is coming along. Before I can lean into ask, my body is moved again to be in the center of the circle. I take a few steps back to the beat and spin around.

Losing my balance, I end up with my back pressed against a tall figure. His arms softly grab my hips. If I didn’t know any better I would assume it was JJ. But I look over to see him standing in between John B and Pope. I crane my neck to look and see its Rafe, with a slight smirk on his face.

I decide to play along, turning my body to face his. His hands move furth up my back, running them up and down as I grind my body against his. I keep my eyes closed, refusing to make eye contact with him, trying to show that I would dance with literally anyone like this. I wrap my hands up around his neck and jump around to the beat before the song stops and there’s silence amongst the crowd. I drop my hands from his neck and whip my head towards the DJ, and see Sabrina standing up there with a lit up cake.

She grabs a microphone from the DJ and begins singing Happy Birthday to me. I feel my face get hot and body tense, realizing that everyone was staring at me, singing along in unison. My worst nightmare. She makes her way through the crowd, everyone making a path for her to reach me.

When she finally does the song is almost over and I feel tears brimming in my eyes. Mainly becomes I’m so drunk and overwhelmed with anxiety from what was happening.

“Make a wish!” I close my eyes and blow the candles out. The crowd erupts into a cheer and the DJ starts up a new song, everyone returning back to where they were before the serenading.

“I hate you.” I say, as we walk to the kitchen.

“Noooo you love me. And look at all these people here for YOU.” I give her side hug as she places the cake on the counter.

“Thanks for doing this for me.” I say. She turns to face me with a large grin spread across her face. “I’m glad we met.”

“Stop being sappy and go back out and dance.” she says, pushing me towards the back door.

“I have to pee first” I say, making my way towards the basement door. I make my way down the stairs to my room. After finishing my business I walk back into my room and see Rafe inspecting my bookshelf.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I ask, startled at his intrusion.

He doesn't respond, just glances over, eyeing my body up and down before picking a book off of the shelf.

“You read a lot of fiction.” he states.

I walk over and grab the book out of his hand.

“I asked you a question.” I place the book back in its place and turn to face him.

“I was curious.” he says, shrugging.

“Okay, well I’d like you to leave now.” I say pointing towards the door.

“No you don’t,” he says, stepping closer to me. So close I can smell his cologne. It was woody yet musky. Dior Sauvage I would guess, making a mental note to check it out at the mall next time I got the chance.

“You say that like you know what I want.”

“Cause I do.” he says, staring down into my eyes.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m Rafe fucking Cameron. And you’re just some girl who has a birthday party with kids she doesnt even know. I see right through you.”

“Im not just some girl, who do you think you are talking to me like that?” I feel rage flowing through my body and I take a step closer, our chests practically touching. His chest is rising with deep breaths and I glance at his hands that are balled into fists.

“You think you’re hot shit now that you hang with kids on figure 8. But they won’t forget where your loyalties lie. You proved it tonight by inviting your fucking pogues.” I roll my eyes.

“Is that what this is about? Cus I invited my best friends? They’re just people Rafe. You and your loser friends only care about labels. We’re not even fucking friends why are you here if you’re so hung up on who I invited?”

“You think anyone would be here if I wasn’t?” I scoff at his arrogance.

“God you’re so full of yourself. Get a grip.”

Everything happens in an instant. His body moves forcefully against mine, pushing me into my closet door. I wince at the abrupt force. His arms are planted on the door above my head and he dips his face to meet mine.

“You're not as cool as you think you are pretty girl. You can stand on a table and shotgun all the beers you want. You can dance like a fucking slut at any party but that’s all anyone gonna remember you by. A party girl with no personality.” I feel tears well in my eyes at his bitter words.

“You act like your entire personality isnt partying. You live in a fucking fantasy world where its cool to do coke and fuck random girls like its a well respected hobby. You don’t know shit about my personality because I would never let someone like you know anything about me.” I spit back.

He stands silent for a second, his breathing hard and heavy. My eyes meet his, tears no longer threatening to spill over. All I feel is hot rage and red staring into his blue eyes. His right-hand moves from above my head to grip the back of my neck. He pauses as if he's second-guessing his next move.

Before I can think of a response his mouth collides with mine. I melt into his touch, tasting the liquor shared between our breath and his cool tongue grazing over my bottom lip. Reluctantly I let out a groan, frustrated that he was a good kisser. He moves his mouth aggressively against mine, pushing me hard against the wall. My hands finally move from my sides up into his hair giving a slight tug.

He finally releases his grip from the back of my neck and I gasp out trying to catch my breath when I hear screaming from outside. I decided it would be quicker to get to the back through the sliding door in my room that leads to a small patio on the side of the house. I run out and around the house to see a commotion happening on the dance floor.

My breath hitches and goosebumps rise across my body as I realize what is happening. Rafe trails behind me as I get closer to the group of people fighting, seeing JJ and Pope getting kicked around on the ground

“WHAT THE FUCK” I screech, pushing through the crowd, trying to pull the guys off of my friends. I turn around to Rafe.

“HELP ME” I ask, He runs his hands through his hair, contemplating on what he should do

“Please” I beg before turning around to try and pick JJ off the ground. I turn around to see Rafe grab the idiot off of Pope and help Pope stand up.

“PARTYS OVER” He roars across the crowd. The DJ instantly turns off the music and I see Sabrina running over to the scene. I’m holding JJ up with my arms as he limps over with blood smeared across his face.

“JJ what happened? Where’s Sarah and John B?” I ask. I then realize JJ is drunk out of his mind and cant even look straight.

I turn around to see Pope is sitting on a chair with Rafe standing next to him.

“Pope what happened, where is everyone?”

The crowd starts to clear and I tug JJ along to sit next to Pope.

“They went looking for you and some kooks started talking shit about us being here and…” he trails off. “Sorry to ruin your birthday Y/N”

“I know its your birthday n all but I really dont think these people wanted us here.” JJ finally says.

“No shit.” I hear John B saying behind me.

“There you guys are. What the fuck happened I left for 5 minutes and these fools are getting curb stomped?”

“These are your new fucking friends lets remember that” JJ Says, finally standing. “Look, we love you Y/N. But its not a good idea for us to be comin to any of these events again.” he says harshly.

“But I wanted you guys here.”

“And we wanted to be here to support you but, JJs right Y/N. Its never a good outcome for us to be in Figure 8.” John B says, pulling Pope off of the chair. “Lets go guys.”

I stand there feeling hopeless. I wasnt allowed back on the cut, and if my friends wouldnt come to my side of the island, I would never see them.

“But- but” I stammer.

Sabrina interrupts the moment tugging my arm to face her.

“Hey, I’m gonna go but I’ll be back in the morning to help you clean okay?” Sabrina says, nudging her head over to the top of the patio where the DJ was standing there, with all his stuff packed up. “He’s gonna walk me home.” she says with a smirk.

“Okay I’ll see you.” I turned to realize my friends were making their way towards the front door.

“Guys please dont leave.” I plead catching up with them.

“We gotta get them home Y/N,” Kie says, holding Popes hand.

“I’ll text you when were back okay? I hope you had a good birthday.” she says, giving me a kiss on my cheek and opening the front door.

“I’ll see you soon okay?” Sarah says, giving me a tight squeeze before walking out with the rest of them. I watch them walk down my driveway, feeling defeated and angry.

I turn around and slam the front door shut, looking around the room to see a mess of red solo cups, streamers and popped balloons all over the floor. I rip my heels off my feet and walk towards my basement door before I hear the back door slide open.

“I don’t think we were finished.”

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im-yn-suckers · 7 months

Text

virgin mary?

delinquent niki x student reader

warnings-high school bullies, mention of inappropriate things (sex, lingerie, gangs,) underage drinking, and crying

you were a good student, good grades, good looks, and you were a virgin, surprise. you were known for not having any bodies, while the people bullied you, well, weren't virgins. you dressed much more modestly than the others, who wore tube tops and shorts that exposed their behind.

but why?

oh, the reason in simple. you were bullied for your body, nothing was wrong with it, it was beautiful, but Yuna and her gang gaslighted you into thinking you were ugly when you were freshmen. it went from wearing crop tops and short ish skirts to jeans and long sleeved tops that covered your entire body. up until senior year.

now niki was a trouble maker but only sometimes. in school, he was a straight A student and got in trouble often but not enough that he got suspended or expelled. one day, he got called to the principals office

'so, the janitors found this in your locker last night. Yunho said you and some others were drinking after school hours' he placed 4 beer bottles on his desk and sighed. 'you wont be suspended or expelled, but you have to clean between classes and tutor on saturday mornings at 8 am here at school.' he scoffed at the principal and left.

saturday morning comes and the bus picks him up, ten minutes later, you get on the bus. he watched in admiration as you picked up a book. he talks to you and you become friends.

over time, you trust him more and you know he wont pressure you to anything. one day at lunch, Yuna's friend, Yujin, talks to you/

'you know, youd be so much prettier if you bought makeup, but in he nicest way possible. youre just so cute and.... innocent. eat lunch with me!'

she grabbed your wrist, forcing you to follow. you get there and everyone stares at you, gasping and whispering. Haechan and Minji are making out, like always and they come up to you, staring.

you look at the paper in Yujins hand and tear fill your eyes. they edited a picture of you. they cut out the face of a lingerie model, wearing a hot pink set of lingerie, posing in a way that shows her cleavage and behind, replacing it with yours.

the picture said 'virgin mary? maybe not!' you backed up and ran, bumping into nikis chest as he pulls you into a hug.

'hey, hey, shh its okay im here' he reassures you its alright without even knowing whats happening. he walks to Yujin and snatches the paper.

'no wonder you guys have been so close these days, youve got little virgin mary give it up to you and send you nude photos.' Haechan scoffs and goes back to making out with his girlfriend.

niki punches him in the face and runs away with you, taking you to his car.

'hey, hey, look, its okay. theyre just a bunch of shitheads who are insecure'

you sobbed into his shoulder and he placed a kiss on your forehead.

'i love you, riki' you let out a sob almost immediately.

'i love you too'

a few moments of silence go by and he speaks up

'hey, theres stil three hours until we go home, wanna drive around?'

you nod slowly and get in the car. you drive around the neighborhood and get some lunch, due to not being able to eat because of the whole fiasco.

he confesses his true feelings, not daring to make eye contact. you reciprocate and kiss him, cleaning up your food. he drove you home and you flopped on you bed thinking, 'the worst and best day of my life'

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avatar-anna · 7 months

Note

Hey , no pressure of course but I was sooo soo hyped by reading your assistant y/n story teaser any idea when it gonna be out?😭

Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

so...i keep thinking i'm done, and then i keep adding more 😬😬 so here's another little snippy!

October 2014

“I just…I just can’t believe she would do something like that.”

Y/n hummed her assent as she carefully sectioned off Harry’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

“I feel like an idiot,” Harry said. “I thought she really liked me.”

Sighing, Y/n continued to quietly braided his hair as she came up with the right things to say.

In truth, this wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, or one similar to it. Harry had had a few girlfriends in the years she’d been his assistant, but none of them ever seemed to last very long. There was a shallowness, an ambition, that they all seemed to share, something Harry never saw until they eventually broke up with him. He was just so kind, so eager to be loved that Y/n wondered if he really didn’t see he was being used or if he chose not to.

“You’ll find the one, H, I’m sure of it,” Y/n finally said.

Harry laughed a little, and Y/n straightened his shoulders before he moved too much and ruined her work so far. “You always say that, I feel like.”

“And I’m right, I always am. Eventually.”

He laughed again, but they soon fell into comfortable silence. Y/n worked through the long strands of his hair, braiding it nice and tight so it would hold for the duration of the show tonight. She wasn’t entirely sure why Harry wanted his hair braided tonight, or why he asked her to do it. He’d been growing his hair out for ages now, but he’d always worn a bandana or just left it loose. Or in a teeny tiny bun at the top of his head, a hairstyle Y/n had to walk him through a couple times.

But she selfishly she liked that Harry sought her out and spent time with her, even when he didn’t really have to. The rest of the boys were out sightseeing and getting a late lunch, but Harry had appeared at her hotel room door with a couple hairties in his hands and a sheepish grin. That grin was usually reserved for when he had a silly request or was embarrassed to tell her something. Like the time he and Louis bought a teacup pig and snuck it into a hotel room and asked for her help to take care of it; or when he needed her help with his Miley Cyrus costume for Halloween; or the time when she caught him watching Dance Moms by himself in his bunk on his tour bus.

When Y/n first took this job, she thought it would be for a couple months. She would travel and perfect her time management and organizational skills and hopefully not be driven crazy by young popstars who had more money than they knew what to do with. But somehow those couple months went by, then six, then a year, then multiple years went by, and she was still Harry’s assistant. And close friend. They’d known each other long enough that she felt comfortable enough to believe that.

“And…done,” Y/n said, tying off the last little braid. Somewhere down the line, she decided to get a little crazy, doing a full braid on one side and tying the other in a little bun. Harry looked a little silly, but he always seemed to pull anything off.

Harry pushed himself to his feet to look in the bathroom’s mirror. “Cool,” she heard him say. “Thanks, Y/n.”

Y/n leaned back on her hotel bed, stretching her back after bending over for an extended period of time. Part of her expected Harry to leave and catch up with the other boys, but he took her by surprise and laid down next to her so that they were shoulder to shoulder. He didn’t say anything, which made Y/n all the more aware of their close proximity. They weren’t touching, but she could feel the warmth of his skin on hers.

“So…Dance Mums?”

Rolling her eyes, Y/n punched Harry’s arm playfully. “Dance Moms. If you love the show so much, at least get the name right.”

Harry took that as his cue to pull up the show on his phone. They both flipped over onto their stomachs, leaning in close as he fired up the next episode. Y/n smiled to herself as Harry’s attention immediately became absorbed in the show. She didn’t know what compelled him to watch, or why. It was a trashy reality show about moms who fought about dance competitions. But that’s precisely why, Harry insisted once. You can’t make up that kind of drama. Y/n didn’t want to crush him and tell him that the drama was incredibly produced, so she just sat and watched with him and indulged in some mindless entertainment.

“Your show is in a few hours, just thought I’d throw that out there,” Y/n reminded him.

“Oh, don’t start,” Harry said. “I’ll stop with plenty of time to spare.”

Yeah right, Y/n thought. “I’m setting a timer.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“You’ll never make it onstage.”

“Shh. It’s pyramid.”

Y/n quickly stopped talking and focused on Harry’s phone, slightly amused by the events of today. If this was how he wanted to deal with his recent breakup, then fine. She supposed there were worse ways to cope.

She still set the alarm, though.

#harry styles #harry styles x assistant!reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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kpopfanfictrash · 2 years

Text

Love to Hate (Ch. 11)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: none for this chapter, but please read warnings for previous chapters before reading this series!

Word Count: 8,641

“We should just have the party,” Olya says, rubbing her temple. “We could make it a thank-you for our donors, or something? Or an anniversary event? It’ll be eight years for Clean Ocean in a few months.”

Hoseok shakes his head. “An eight-year anniversary party months from the actual date is too sad, even for me.”

Olya sits back in her seat. “Sadder than cancelling a launch event the week of?”

“Ugh,” you groan, lowering your forehead to the table.

You came to the conference room to eat lunch but somehow, it turned into yet another brainstorming session with Hoseok and Olya. Infinity Motors pulled their donation back on Monday and right now, it’s Wednesday – your self-imposed deadline to decide Saturday’s launch party.

The event has been paid for, so Olya thinks you should just throw the party. Turn it into a fundraiser, or a thank-you to donors – anything so you don’t waste the funds. Hoseok and you are hesitant though, knowing the perception such a change would bring.

Yesterday you called all existing donors, trying to gather more funds. A few could contribute more, but not enough to save your project. If you can’t figure something out by the end of day, Clean Ocean is screwed.

“How about this?” Grabbing a carrot from her lunch, Olya uses it to gesticulate. “We have the party, but it’s Clean Ocean employees only. Thirty people drink the booze we bought for one hundred.”

“Sold,” you mumble against the table. “I’ll take half, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Olya agrees.

Leaning over, Hoseok flicks you on the arm. “We can’t give up yet,” he announces.

“No?” You lift your head. “Then, when can we give up? Asking for a friend.”

“I still think some of our donors will come through.”

You and Olya exchange a look.

Leaning in, she places her hand over his. “Hoseok,” she says slowly. “You know we love how optimistic you are, right?”

Hoseok looks at her hand, the tips of his ears turning red. “Why does it feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?” he mutters.

“But,” you say. “I think we’re at a dead end. You called the entire donor list Monday. I followed back up with them yesterday. We’ve sent emails, showed up at people’s offices… and we still don’t have enough. You know I’m the last person to admit defeat, but I think we need to start to consider other options.”

Hoseok purses his lips. “What about new donors?”

You nearly laugh out loud. “What about new donors? I called the entire prospective donor list, too and it was a no-go.”

Though he remains skeptical, Hoseok exhales.

Deep down, you know he understands. You both have the same stubborn streak which rejects the idea of failure. Not that you’d call this a failure – not really. Although you lost Infinity Motors’ money, it’s a better alternative to having them as a donor. Non-profits should be kept separate from for-profit organizations for a reason.

“It’s Wednesday,” you say. “If we do cancel, we need to tell attendees tomorrow.”

“I know.” Hoseok’s frown deepens. “Let’s just give it until end of day, alright? A few of our donors said they’d try to move funds around.”

“Alright,” you say and sit back.

You can do that much for your friend. Olya nods in agreement, switching topics to ask what you thought of the last book you read. Conversation turns to reading – Hoseok finally finished the Six of Crows series – although the impending deadline continues to hang overhead.

Crumpling your napkin, you toss it in the trash as you exit the break room. Hoseok follows close behind, discussing options with Olya beneath his breath.

Pretending you can’t hear them, you enter your office and shut the door. Leaning your head to its frame, you take several deep breaths until your nerves quiet. Everyone at Clean Ocean has done a respectable job at avoiding blame, but you know deep down the situation is your fault.

Out of everything, Liam’s words keep rising to the surface: It’s not my fault you stopped looking for donors as soon as you had me.

He was right.

As much as you hate to admit it, Liam was correct. That’s exactly what you did. The moment Hoseok said the donation amount, you started celebrating instead of working harder. Infinity Motors wasn’t a done deal and yet, you acted like it was. Maybe if you’d been less confident, if you’d continue to fundraise… you wouldn’t be in the situation you are now.

In the back of your mind, a rational voice (often ignored) whispers that even if you’d kept fundraising, something else could have happened. You can’t prepare for every eventuality, but the rest of you doesn’t want to hear it. It was naïve of you to take Liam at his word, to trust him for no reason other than wanting to.

Glumly, you turn around and scan your office. The sight of your phone makes your jaw clench. Everything you said to Hoseok was true – you did call every existing Clean Ocean donor to beg for donations. Most said the same thing: their funding was tied up this year, but to try again the next.

Exhaling softly, you cross to your desk. Seated behind your monitors, you wriggle your mouse until the screens brighten. Postponing the coastal ecosystem project by a year wouldn’t be the worst thing. You trust Olya to come up with believable messaging for the sudden change in plans.

Part of you was holding out hope for a miracle, though. Maybe it’s arrogant, but a part of you genuinely believes you can accomplish whatever you set your mind to. The mindset has helped you many times, but when you do end up falling, the drop-off seems steeper. Clasping your hands beneath your chin, you stare at the search bar.

The blare of a ringtone cuts through the room.

Startled, you nearly knock over your Dante flip calendar in your haste to answer. Normally you don’t have a ringtone, so the sound of a classical version of WAP is especially surprising.

Grabbing the screen, you read Kim Seokjin, roll your eyes, and press answer.

“Did you change my ringtone?”

“Uh.” He pauses, considering. “I think so? Care to remind me what song?”

“A classical version of WAP.”

Seokjin cracks up so loud, you’re forced to move your phone away from your ear. When he finally quiets, there’s a slight wheeze to his voice.

“Ah – sorry, sorry,” he snorts. “Forgot I did that. Was it life-changing?”

“Absolutely,” you say, sitting back in your chair. “Now, why are you calling me?”

“Y/N, I’m offended. Can’t one best friend call another in the middle of the day just to chat?”

“Hypothetically?” You squint at a point on the wall. “Yes. With you, though? Rarely. What’s up?”

Ignoring this, Seokjin continues as though you haven’t spoken. “I’m still recovering from jet lag, so actually, I’m calling you around midnight.”

“Seokjin, you flew back three days ago.”

“And my sleep schedule has been off ever since. Anyways,” he sighs. “I’m calling to ask if you forgot to tell me something.”

You frown as you fix Dante’s calendar on your desk. “Forgot to tell you something?” you echo. “Be vaguer, why don’t you.”

“Okay. Do you have anything you want to say in relation to myself?”

Unwittingly, your lips twitch. “Seokjin, how is that supposed to help me? If I did have something to say but forgot, how would you asking if I – oh my god,” you blurt out, suddenly remembering what it is you forgot.

“Ye-s?” Seokjin says patiently.

Rubbing your forehead, you nearly groan. After all the confusion on Monday, you forgot to tell Seokjin about Yoongi. To be fair, by the time you reached your office and began damage control, all thoughts of courtship paled in comparison.

Despite leaving early to take Dante out, you continued working from home until long after midnight. The same thing happened yesterday, with everyone at your office stretching themselves thin. Still – Yoongi helped you out, and it was crappy of you to forget.

“So,” you say brightly. “You remember Min Yoongi, right?”

“Why, yes – yes, I do! And what a coincidence you’d mention him since I just got a follow request from ChefMin_estrone on Instagram.”

“Ha.” You crack a smile. “Min-estrone. That’s cute. You know, like the soup?”

“Y/N.” Seokjin drops his tone. “Why is this delicious man suddenly following me?”

“I mean, are you complaining?”

“Definitely not, but it feels sudden… just because I’m jet-lagged doesn’t mean my powers of observation have failed me.”

“Um…” You stall. “I may have gone to see him on Monday.”

Seokjin is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“Seokjin?” you ask, unsure if he heard.

“I’m here.” He sounds strangled. “I’m just wondering how on earth TWO WHOLE DAYS HAVE PASSED before telling me this!”

“Seokjin! It wasn’t like that, I just–”

“Here I am, lazing around my apartment, recovering from the harrows of travel–”

“Three whole days of recovery?” you interject, alarmed. “Seokjin, what did you do on this trip?”

“Meanwhile, you’re gatekeeping valuable information. As your best friend in the entire world, I need to throw a red card.”

“That’s… not how any kind of football works. And I thought Hoseok was your best friend?”

“Who mentioned football?”

Your lips twitch. “I’m sorry – really, I am. Things have been so crazy, I forgot… do you forgive me?”

Seokjin sighs. “Of course, I forgive you, Y/N. I’m not a monster. My dating life comes second while Clean Ocean is falling apart.”

“Ouch,” you complain.

“I’m sorry – I didn’t mean it like that. You know how cranky jet lag makes me.”

“Again, three days ago!”

“Why did you go see Yoongi?”

Seokjin’s tone is full of curiosity, and the question gives you pause.

Momentarily, you debate whether to tell Seokjin the full story. You still haven’t relayed everything which happened with Liam – only that the contract fell through. If Hoseok explained things further, you don’t know.

“I… needed to ask Yoongi some questions,” you say at last.

“O-kay.” Seokjin sounds puzzled. “But what could you possibly have to ask him?”

“Uh…”

“Hang on.” His tone sharpens. “Was this about Jungkook? What did he do to you now – besides lead you on and fling you aside as soon as someone new walked by?”

“He didn’t fling me aside, Seokjin.”

“Close enough. You hooked up at your parents’ party, and then he just ended things without giving you a chance to explain – what did he do while I was gone?” Seokjin demands. “The Jeons aren’t the only ones with connections and money, you know.”

You’re sorely regretting calling Seokjin after your parents’ anniversary party. Understandably, you were upset and hurt, and may have come down on Jungkook a little too hard.

“Whoa, whoa – hang on,” you protest, rubbing your temple. “Look, I’ll explain the full story later, but not now. Okay? Telling you over the phone won’t do it justice. Short version – I may have overreacted about Jungkook. There are some things I didn’t know about him and Liam. Things Yoongi filled me in on.”

Seokjin pauses. “What kind of things?”

“This weekend,” you promise. “I’ll tell you everything then.”

Reluctant, he exhales. “Alright, fine.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You can practically hear the wheels turning in Seokjin’s brain. “And all this ends with Min Yoongi asking for my number?”

You nearly laugh, having forgotten how this conversation started. “It does,” you agree. “I believe his exact words were, ‘Who was that super annoying guy you came with the other night? I’d love to prank call him.’”

“You forget I can always tell when you’re lying, Y/N.”

“Oh, right.”

You’re about to respond when a knock sounds at your door. Blinking, you look up. “Seokjin, I have to go,” you say as you stand. “Someone’s at my office door.”

“Probably Hoseok. Tell him to organize his trash bins later, or whatever.”

“That makes no sense. I’ll tell him you said hi,” you respond. “Bye.”

“Bye!”

Shaking your head, you set down your phone and head for the door. When you open it, you find Olya standing on the other side. Her head swings to you.

“I – hi,” she says, speaking barely above a whisper. “Hey.”

You look at her strangely. “Hey?”

Olya glances away, down the hall. “There’s, uh, someone here to see you.”

“Who?” Frowning, you rack your brains. “I don’t think I have any meetings scheduled for this afternoon.”

“Right, yes.” She hesitates. “This visit is… unplanned.”

“Unplanned? What do you –”

The doors at the end of the hall open, and a stranger strides through. Startled, you watch him head in your direction. Hoseok hurries alongside, speaking in hushed tones and looking as though he’s contemplating kicking the stranger’s ass. Ears red, he shakes his head fervently as he walks.

The new man is taller than Hoseok, standing several inches over him. His hair is dark, falling loose and straight to his chin. Broad is a good way to describe him. When Hoseok comes to a stop, pointedly positioning himself between you, the man is still visible by the breadth of his shoulders.

Hoseok clears his throat loudly. “Y/N, are you free for a drop-in?”

You glance to him, then the man behind Hoseok, and back.

“Uh,” you say, thoroughly ineloquent. “Wouldn’t it have been better to call me and ask that?”

“Yes, it would’ve been.” Hoseok nods. “However, Mr. Kim insisted on coming back here with me to ask.”

It’s clear Mr. Kim has rattled Hoseok, which is unusual. Curious, you survey the man again and feel a slight familiarity, although you can’t quite place it.

“Why is that?” you ask the stranger over Hoseok’s shoulder.

“I apologize for the unorthodox entrance,” he says, placing a hand over his chest. “It’s just my boss is on his way, and I wanted to be sure his arrival was cleared.”

“Your boss?” you ask, puzzled. “Who do you represent?”

Hoseok’s lips thin further when Mr. Kim sidesteps him and holds out a hand.

“My name is Kim Namjoon,” he says, a dimple appearing in his left cheek. “I represent Jeon Energy as their new Chief Operating Officer.”

Frozen, you stare at his outstretched palm. A beat passes while your mind catches up to what you heard. Kim Namjoon. Chief Operating Officer. Jeon Energy. His boss.

Your gaze snaps upward. “Your… boss is Jungkook?”

To his credit, Namjoon doesn’t falter.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, hand still held out.

Hoseok rolls his eyes at his manners, but Olya seems on the verge of sighing. You’re caught somewhere between them, per usual, but it’s not enough to distract you enough from what he just said.

“Jeon Jungkook,” you repeat, in disbelief.

Namjoon’s smile fades. “That’s correct.”

Your lips part to confirm this again when the doors open behind him.

Framed in the doorway is Jungkook, although it isn’t the version of him you’re familiar with. When you were together, Jungkook was well-groomed but casual, seated cross-legged on his sofa while eating bad pizza. He might have worn a suit, but he poked fun at donors and said cheesy lines.

This Jungkook looks like he only eats at Michelin star restaurants. He’s dressed in a custom Bijan suit, holding an Hermes briefcase and glances around your office as though he owns it. Beyond him, you catch sight of your entire office peering over their cubicles to catch a glimpse.

You can’t say you blame them; his presence is distracting, and not just because of what he is to you.

It feels like a dream when Jungkook comes to a stop before you. Casual, he slips a hand into his pocket and meets your gaze. You might as well be his grocer, for how much your appearance seems to unsettle him. This is more than you can say for yourself, whose jaw hasn’t shut since Namjoon’s entrance.

“I apologize for my lateness,” he says, glancing at Namjoon. “Has Namjoon explained the reason for our visit?”

“Not yet,” Namjoon says, and Olya snaps into action.

“It’s not a problem,” she says, jumping in. “Y/N was just confirming whether she has time to meet this afternoon.”

Heads swing in your direction, awaiting confirmation and although your mouth opens, nothing comes out. Jungkook’s presence seems to have negated your ability to speak. Several responses come to mind, all of them too intimate, too targeted for such a large audience.

Clearing his throat, Hoseok grants you reprieve.

“As Y/N’s assistant,” he says, and you shoot him a grateful look. “I know it’s a busy day. Maybe if we knew what the visit was regarding…?”

Namjoon and Jungkook glance at one another, holding a hasty and silent conversation. Eventually, Jungkook nods and looks at you. The intensity to his gaze sends shivers down your spine.

“I think it’d be best if we spoke in your office,” he says. “The topic is sensitive.”

Alarm bells go off in your mind, but you nod. By now, your curiosity is piqued enough that you can’t tell them no. Not without driving yourself crazy, wondering what-if for the rest of the week.

“Of course,” you say, turning around. “Follow me.”

With Jungkook out of sight, your pulse starts to slow. Facing away from him allows you to compartmentalize. You realize no matter how abrupt his appearance, you need to be a professional. The fact that Jungkook brought his Chief Operating Officer with him means this isn’t a personal call. You can last through one meeting with Jungkook.

At least, you think you can.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. You were supposed to make it to the end of the week, get through the launch party and then, figure this out. Jungkook wasn’t supposed to show up at your office in that gorgeous suit, insisting you speak about ‘sensitive matters.’

Sensitive matters which have nothing to do with you, you remind yourself as you enter. Jungkook wouldn’t have brought his COO along if he came here to talk about feelings.

Seated yourself at your desk, you watch as Jungkook enters. He helps Namjoon pull in two chairs, shutting the door to seat himself on one end. You can’t help but notice he sits closest to you, dismissing the idea that he would do so on purpose.

Folding your hands on top of the table, you wait for someone to speak.

Namjoon breaks the silence. “I supposed we should dive in,” he says, undoing the clasps of his briefcase. “That would be best, yes?”

You lift a brow, assuming the question is rhetorical. It would appear so, since Namjoon doesn’t wait for an answer before he withdraws a thick stack of papers and sets these down on your desk. You stare at them a moment, then look up.

“What is this?” you ask, speaking to Namjoon. You find it easier than addressing the man seated beside him, whose gaze you can feel on the side of your face.

Namjoon glances at the papers, as though the intent should be obvious. “It’s Jeon Energy’s donation paperwork. We utilized a standard contract we keep on file, but feel free to tell us if you prefer something different.”

From the corner of one eye, you see Hoseok’s jaw hit the floor. Olya mutters something beneath her breath which sounds vaguely like a swear and you – you go still as a statue. No breath, no movement; just shock.

Slowly, you regain enough control to say, “Donation to… what?”

“To Clean Ocean.”

Jungkook’s voice cuts through your fog. Glancing at him, you immediately wish you had not. His gaze pierces yours, further muddling your thoughts.

“Jeon Energy would like to become a corporate sponsor of Clean Ocean.”

You continue to stare, a metallic tang coating the inside of your mouth. Another large corporation bailing you out. Not just any corporation but Jeon Energy, who’s historically topped your list of corporate obstacles. Flashbacks of Liam fill your mind as you imagine yourself entrenched in a similar situation.

Numbly, you shake your head no. “I – we can’t accept this.”

Hoseok looks at you sharply. “Shouldn’t we discuss before we respond?” he asks, emphasizing each word.

Although your face heats, you don’t back down. Hoseok will come to understand why this would be a bad idea. In fact, you’re surprised he’s even considering after everything that happened with Infinity Motors.

“I agree,” Olya says from his other side.

Startled, you glance at her and she shrugs.

“We should at least hear them out,” she continues. “It can’t hurt to listen.”

You pause, wanting to retort that it could hurt, but you know you’re outnumbered. Shifting your gaze to your desk, you slowly inhale.

“If I may.”

Jungkook’s interjection makes you look up.

“What is it that’s holding you back?” he asks.

Meeting his gaze, your eyes narrow. It’s clear Jungkook is now speaking as Jeon Jungkook, CEO and not Jeon Jungkook, the guy you hooked up with. You envy his ability to separate things so easily. For you, each word he says is a punch to your gut.

Longing, uncertainty, and frustration all vie for top bidding inside. Maybe Jungkook feels the same or maybe, he’s handling this meeting so well because Jungkook feels nothing for you.

Schooling your face to one of neutrality, you force yourself to respond.

“I won’t pretend we’re not in a difficult position right now.” Spreading your hands on your desk, you glance between them. “We’re launching a new project this Saturday, and a critical donor pulled out for us Monday.”

Jungkook glances at Namjoon, and something in his face tightens.

“Infinity Motors. We know,” Namjoon says, turning back.

You flinch. “You… know? How?”

“Your assistant,” he says, sparing a glance at Hoseok. “You sent an email to anyone who’s attended a past Clean Ocean fundraiser. When we received it… well, we assumed something like this might have happened.”

“Ah,” you say, your voice sounding small.

You proofread the email yourself, although you hadn’t considered the individual recipients. Nothing beyond the fact that you needed more money – and badly. How horribly humiliating to have your most recent failure broadcast to the man who walked away.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook returns your gaze to his.

“I did say I planned on donating,” he adds, his words soft. “At your fundraiser. It’s just taken a while to convince the Board of our plan. I didn’t want to approach you until I secured their approval.

Mind reeling, you sit back with a thud. The wheels of your chair creak, reminding you of all the reasons you badly need his money. You just wish it weren’t Jungkook who stepped in to help.

“When was the approval secured?” Hoseok asks, leaning forward.

“This morning,” says Namjoon. “The Board voted in our favor – five for and four against.”

Jungkook’s gaze darkens, and although you don’t ask, you know one of the ‘no’ votes must have been from his father. The barely concealed rage on his face is obvious, more so now after you spoke with Yoongi.

“But speaking of numbers.” Namjoon reaches for the papers. “Our donation amount is indicated on the second page. You mentioned a new project starting, so I’m sure you’re concerned about the amount we can contribute. Feel free to –”

Namjoon continues to speak, but his words fade as soon as you read the amount on the page. Fingers stilling, you read and re-read but the number stays the same. The symbols blur, zooming in and out as you stare at the contract.

The donation is more than what Infinity Motors promised. Rarely have you seen so many zeroes behind another integer. In a single gesture, Jeon Energy has doubled your charitable income.

“Is that” – Hoseok sounds strained – “amount granted on some sort of payment schedule, or…?”

Namjoon looks taken aback. “Oh, no. This is the annual amount Jeon Energy plans to donate. Of course, we’d need Board approval if you need more, but they’ve agreed to this amount for an initial period of ten years, and –”

Again, his words fade into the background.

You stare at the funds, imagining the possibilities. You could tackle the Great Pacific garbage patch. Do away with your lobbyists and contribute to politicians yourself. Each idea shines before you, grander than the last until – logic interjects. You can’t possibly accept this.

The knowledge is heavy, a blow as you contemplate what it’d be like to have Jungkook as a donor. To feel like you owe him. The ethical implications of admitting your feelings. Not only that – you’d always feel indebted to him, thankful to Jungkook for saving the day. A hollowness enters your chest, chipping away at the certainty of your feelings.

“Could I speak to Miss Y/L/N alone?”

Jungkook’s voice interrupts your spiral, forcing you to look up. Namjoon has stopped talking and, unsure how long you’ve been sitting in silence, you glance at Hoseok.

Lifting a brow, he gives away nothing.

“Of course,” Namjoon says, pushing back his chair. Reaching for the papers, he pauses and then, shoves them closer.

Olya glances at you, silently asking if it’s okay to leave. You nod; part of you expected this to happen – speaking to Jungkook alone. It might be easier this way; without an audience, you won’t need to guard your words so carefully.

“This way,” Hoseok says as he stands. “We can discuss financial details in the conference room. Olya?”

“Coming,” she adds, casting a final glance at you before leaving.

The door falls shut when they exit, leaving you in total silence. You focus on your breath, the rise and fall of your chest each time you inhale – anything to avoid looking at Jungkook.

“Y/N,” he says softly.

Beneath all his softness there’s an uncompromising edge, and you feel your hands curl into fists in response.

“What happened to Miss Y/L/N?” you ask, reaching out for the papers. “Or was that just for our audience?”

“Y/N,” he repeats.

Your grip on the contract tightens. “You know I can’t accept this,” you say, a note of desperation entering your voice. You despise the sound.

“Why not?”

“Why not?” you breathe and, unthinkingly, you look up.

Jungkook meets your gaze, unflinching.

A wave of indignation sweeps through you. You were naïve to imagine Jungkook might feel the same way about you. If he did, he wouldn’t be here with a binding legal contract that makes everything harder.

When Liam asked you out, you thought dating a donor wouldn’t be hard. Clearly, you didn’t think that one all the way through. If you do accept Jungkook’s money, you’d be constantly wondering what his motives were. Not to mention the hell it’d be to see him, knowing you can’t have him in the way that you want him.

“Because,” you blurt. “Because… of what you and I...”

His gaze sharpens. “I wish to assure you, Y/N, Jeon Energy’s donation has nothing to do with our prior relationship.”

Each word he says puts another nail in your coffin. His words mirror Liam’s so perfectly, it’s hard not to compare them.

“Oh?” you manage to say.

Jungkook nods, determined. “I heard when you told me to go. I understand things are over between us. I know I can’t change what happened, but I don’t want to let that come in the way of Clean Ocean benefitting.”

“It’s that… benefit, though,” you say, choosing your words, “which gives me pause.”

“I know.” He exhales. “You should know, though I’ve been trying to change Jeon Energy for a while now. It’s been an… arduous process to say the least.”

“How so?”

“Well. My father made it clear he wouldn’t pass on the title of CEO until he deemed me ready.” Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “My father’s idea of readiness vastly differs from mine. It was a difficult line to walk, gaining his approval while retaining a sense of decency with which I could live.”

A crack in your heart widens further, compounding what you already know from Yoongi.

“That must have been hard,” you say softly.

Jungkook merely nods. “When my father retired and joined the Board, I was voted in as CEO. I began implementing changes immediately – too late, my father realized his mistake.” A ghost of a smile crosses his lips. “Of course, I still have restrictions. Board approval is required for large-scale projects, and such.”

“Of course,” you say, somewhat dazed.

“My donation to Clean Ocean isn’t isolated,” Jungkook adds, tilting his head. “Your organization fits with my deeper intentions to change Jeon Energy’s direction. I intend to remove us from crude oil over the next twenty years. We will become a clean energy leader.”

His determination is clear and, faced with such passion, your words fail you.

“That’s – that’s an admirable goal,” you say at last.

“In addition to our revenue goals, I’ve implemented new targets in community growth and social involvement. Essentially – if Jeon Energy has a net negative impact, we fail.”

You stare at him a moment, amazed. “That’s aggressive.”

“And necessary.” Jungkook hesitates. “I just… I don’t want it to seem like we’re investing in Clean Ocean solely for personal reasons. I have no ulterior motive here, I promise.”

Each word he says sends mixed regret through you.

Part of you hoped this was a grand gesture, as silly as that sounds. The almost-dead, believes-in-fairy-tales part of you hoped Jungkook was here because of you, not just Clean Ocean. Another – larger – part of you though, would have been uncomfortable if this were the case.

Hearing Jungkook explicitly state he’s here for business is a relief. And yet, a fragile place deep inside of you crumbles.

“I understand,” you say softly.

Something murkier crosses his features. “I understand why you might not accept my offer,” Jungkook continues. “Believe me. As someone who’s used to good things having strings attached, I understand if you’re hesitant. I hope you believe me when I say our donation won’t be like that.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” you point out. “Most of the power in this conversation is yours, isn’t it?”

Jungkook’s eyes brim with unsaid emotion.

“No,” he murmurs. “I rather think it’s the opposite.”

His words floor you momentarily, but you shake it off quickly. Likely, Jungkook doesn’t mean what you think he means. Lowering your gaze, you reach for the papers.

“What’s this, then?” you ask, lifting them from the desk. “A contract means there are strings attached. Gratitude, if nothing else.”

Jungkook makes a dismissive noise. “I can’t just give you the money if that’s what you’re asking. I’m the CEO of Jeon Energy, which means I answer to people other than myself. I can’t … I can’t use company funds to help a friend.”

Horror dawns when you realize what he’s implying.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” you blurt. You were trying to decline his offer, not procure better terms. The fact that Jungkook thought you might ask this makes your face heat.

“Jeon Energy is donating to other organizations, if it makes you feel better,” he adds. “Clean Ocean has been on our radar since before we even met. I wasn’t in charge of charitable donation recommendations – Namjoon was.”

His proclamation silences your retort. It was arrogant of you to assume Jungkook had a hand in choosing Clean Ocean. Lowering the contract, you smooth out the first page.

“I… want to believe you,” you say at last.

Something in your expression makes him soften.

“Then, believe me,” Jungkook urges. “I know this is short notice, so I don’t expect you to sign today. We planned to reach out next month, but then Namjoon saw your email requesting funds and we pushed the Board to approve sooner.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit.

A lump has lodged in your throat, and you frantically scramble for further objections. It’d be foolish of you to decline, though – nearly as foolish as you would have been to accept Liam. All week you hoped for funds and now, here they are and from someone you trust.

Because you do trust him, you realize. Every word you said to Liam about Jungkook was true.

“What’s holding you back?” Jungkook asks, quiet.

His voice startles you into speaking honestly.

“Do you even have to ask me that?” you say, looking up. “It just… it feels wrong, accepting money from you after what we… after what happened between us.”

Jungkook’s expression shifts. Hurt bleeds into his gaze, and you don’t know what you said to put it there, nor how to make it stop.

“That’s not why I’m here,” he exhales. Looking away, he drags a hand through his hair. “What can I do to make this more palatable to you, Y/N?” He turns back. “Would it help if I removed myself from negotiations? If I don’t interact with your account personally going forward?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Jungkook blinks at you, baffled. “Then, what, Y/N?”

“I…”

Desperate, you cast about for an explanation.

You feel too much, too strongly for Jungkook to accept his money. Signing the contract feels akin to a death warrant, ending a future between you before it begins. Maybe that’s not what he intends, but why else would Jungkook be here? Why else would he tell you – over and over – his donation is nothing personal; he sees you as a friend.

Friend. Despair chokes the rest of your thoughts. You never wanted Jungkook as your savior; you only wanted him as an equal.

“Pretend it’s not me,” Jungkook suggests. “I know Jeon Energy has done terrible things; things which could rightly dissuade you from considering our donorship. Pretend I’m someone else – would you be pushing back as hard?”

“Well, no,” you admit. “But that’s kind of the point.”

“I can’t force you to take my money.” He pauses, then swallows. “I don’t want you to feel indebted to me, so let me say – this isn’t wholly altruistic. Jeon Energy needs to improve our image, and charitable donations help with that. Clean Ocean is a respected organization.”

“I… understand.”

“I know how much Clean Ocean means to you. And I… I would hate it if your project were stalled because I fucked up and now, you can’t trust me.”

A retort rises to your lips, but you can’t contradict Jungkook without revealing the truth. Now isn’t the time to tell him how you feel – not when Jungkook came here with an agenda. One which doesn’t involve romance between you.

Instead, you shut your mouth. “I’ll need to review the contract,” you say.

Hope sparks in his gaze.

“I understand,” Jungkook says quickly.

Tearing your gaze away, you push back your chair to stand. Suddenly, you feel tired – emotionally exhausted in a way you don’t know how to fix.

“Someone from my office will be in contact today or tomorrow,” you say as you walk towards the door. “Legal will need to review.”

His chair scrapes the floor as he stands. At the door, you turn and are startled to find how close Jungkook is.

His chest is eye-level, sturdy even as his breath quickens. The scent of him surrounds you and it’s true, what they say about the entwinement of scent and memory. Standing this close, you can’t escape your shared past. Not that you want to.

Uncertain, you slowly lift your gaze and find Jungkook staring.

You should go. You should step around him and push open the door, ever the consummate professional. Instead, you stare back. It was foolish of you to meet Jungkook alone. Foolish to think you could separate your feelings as easily as you have for others.

Jungkook is different. Jungkook means more.

Exhaling a breath, he quickly scans your body. Jungkook forces his gaze upward, finding your face with a distracted swallow.

“I’m sorry I didn’t… tell you before,” he murmurs, the words barely audible. “About the funding. I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case I failed. I don’t like to disappoint people. Especially people I c- well, people in general.”

Jungkook ceases talking, lips pressed together as though to keep the words from pouring out. You wonder at this before landing on his use of the word fail.

“But Jungkook…” You pause, wondering if this is wise before deciding, fuck it. “How I feel about you isn’t tied to what you can do for me. It never has been.”

He stills. Something infinitesimal seems to shift in his gaze and god, you missed him looking at you like that. As though what you have to say is important; as though you somehow say the right thing, when everything else comes out wrong.

In so many ways, you sympathize with Jungkook. It took a long time to unlearn all the lessons taught by your parents and believe your self-worth. It would have taken longer, were it not for your friends and for Jason. Jungkook seems to be on the right path, but you don’t want to push.

“Thank you.” His gaze searches yours. “All the same, Y/N, I –”

Someone knocks on your door.

Cursing the universe for its bad timing, you turn. The back of Jungkook’s hand brushes yours and you stiffen, startled by the jolt of electricity. Jungkook sharply inhales and you know he feels it, too. There’s no time to dissect this before you throw the door open.

“Y/N?” Hoseok blinks, hand half-poised in a knock.

Namjoon stands at his side, both seeming startled by your swift appearance. Glancing past, Hoseok watches Jungkook take a step away. His gaze narrows.

“Namjoon clarified the contract language.” Hoseok’s eyes flick to yours. “Are you two done?”

“Yes,” you blurt before Jungkook can answer. “Come in.”

Leaving the door open behind you, you turn without making eye contact. The past minute has proven you can’t be alone with Jungkook. Settling at your desk, you wait for the rest to enter.

“Where’s Olya?” you ask, noting her absence.

“Contacting the venue,” Hoseok says as he sits. “Letting them know we won’t be cancelling.”

Although your brows lift, you say nothing. It appears Hoseok has already formed his opinion; after Infinity Motors, you find yourself surprised.

Grasping the contract, you skim its first pages. Namjoon and Jungkook wait patiently while you read. As suspected, the contract is pristine. Clear, standard language and manageable terms. Nothing to give any red flags, although you’d like legal to review all the same.

Setting the papers back down, you glance between them.

“I told Jungkook our legal team needs to review,” you inform Namjoon. “And our internal team will need to confer.”

“Of course.” Namjoon smiles. “There’s no pressure to respond now.”

“There’s a little pressure,” Hoseok mutters.

Ignoring this, you fold your hands on top of the table. “My assistant is correct. We do have a deadline looming, so we’ll be in touch tomorrow about whether we accept. Does that work?”

Namjoon glances at Jungkook, who nods.

“Yes,” Namjoon says, turning back. “That works.”

“Good.”

Namjoon stands first, clearly not the type to linger once a resolution has settled. You appreciate his brevity and are glad Jungkook has found someone to trust at work. Reaching out, Namjoon waits for you to shake his hand.

“We appreciate the audience,” he says, retracting briefly to open his briefcase. “Here’s my business card. Feel free to call.”

“We will,” Hoseok says, already standing.

He does you the favor of guiding Namjoon out, leaving you alone with Jungkook. You wonder if Hoseok did this on purpose. He’s not the scheming type – that would be Seokjin – but he’s known, on occasion, to break his rules for the greater good.

Before you can make an excuse to leave, Jungkook steps forward to block the exit. Surprised, you look up and meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts.

You stare at him in shock. “What for?” you ask, pulling yourself together.

His gaze darkens. “What you’ve gone through this past week. I… heard what happened with Infinity Motors and it’s just… well, I feel responsible.”

Incredulous, your lips part.

“You feel responsible?” you say. “How?”

“Well, I know Liam.” A muscle in his jaw clenches. “I tried not to let my personal feelings get in the way of you doing business, but I know how Liam can be and I… I could have done more to warn you.”

“You did try and warn me,” you point out.

“I know.” Jungkook pauses. “I could have tried harder.”

His words soften at the end and for some reason, you think he’s referring to more than just Liam. Heart skipping a beat, you fervently wish you weren’t standing in your office.

“Maybe,” you admit. “But I don’t think you need to be sorry about what happened.”

Jungkook’s brows draw together. “No?”

“What happened with Infinity Motors wasn’t great,” you admit. “But it wasn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“But…” He shakes his head. “Weren’t you dating?”

A knot in your stomach loosens. Despite the confusion, you hoped Jungkook didn’t still believe that lie. It would seem Yoongi hasn’t told Jungkook that you reached out. You try not to linger on why that might be.

“No,” you say flatly. “I told Liam I didn’t feel anything for him after my parents’ anniversary party.”

Jungkook stares at you, floored. “You…”

“We went out on a few dates, but he was never my boyfriend.”

Somewhat dazed, Jungkook looks at the door. Behind his eyelids you can see the wheels turning, events reshuffling themselves with this latest information – much as they did for you after your talk with Yoongi. Eventually, Jungkook turns back.

“Well, I’m still sorry,” he says, determined. “I don’t like Liam because he hurt me – in a personal way. We were friends, and he used it against me. I… I was ashamed of the way I responded to him.” Jungkook exhales. “And embarrassed I didn’t see through him. I just… I didn’t want you to know that side of me.”

“Now you do?” you ask him softly.

His gaze burns on yours. “Now, I do.”

The two of you stand there a moment, staring at one another. A lightness has spread through your chest which didn’t exist before.

“Thank you,” you whisper, unsure what you’re saying.

A small smile creases his lips. “You’re welcome.”

You’re dimly aware several minutes have passed since Namjoon left. Tearing your gaze away from him, you’re about to ask whether Jungkook should leave when he starts.

“Fuck,” he mutters, digging around in his pocket. “I need to go. My phone has been buzzing – probably Namjoon, telling me I’m late.”

Your lips twitch. “Ah, you have a Hoseok.”

Jungkook fumbles with his phone. “Does Hoseok constantly belittle your time-keeping abilities?”

“Without fail.”

He laughs, glancing up. “Then, yes. I have a Hoseok. I do have to go, though,” he adds, glancing at his phone. Still, he hesitates. “You know… you can call me if you have any questions. Right?”

“I know,” you say, wondering if he really means it.

Jungkook stares at you a moment longer than necessary before nodding and leaving. He’s nearly to the door when you have the sudden urge to call out – you suppress it, but for entirely different reasons than the last time he left.

The last time, it was because things were ending. Now though, you can’t help but feel something is starting. Whatever that is, you aren’t sure, but you feel undeniable hope as he walks out your door.

You aren’t sure how long you stand there before Hoseok reappears in your doorway. Casual, he leans against the frame.

“Well.” He crosses his arms. “That was something.”

Shaking yourself, you groan. Turning around, you head for your desk and reseat yourself with a plunk.

Hoseok takes the other seat for the third time today. “So?” he prompts.

You stare at the contract on your desk.

“I don’t know what to do, Hobi.”

“Do?” He sounds miffed. “What’s there to talk about? We take their money, Y/N.”

“But it’s Jungkook.”

“And?”

You look up, disgruntled. “And, what if he’s just doing this because he feels bad about the way things ended?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “Nope. Try again.”

“He’s doing this because he does have feelings for me, and this is all just a misguided attempt to win me over.”

Hoseok’s brows furrow. “Is that what he said to you just now?”

“Well, no. But maybe he’s playing the long game.”

“Or” – Hoseok gives you a look – “Jungkook could genuinely be trying to turn Jeon Energy around, and Clean Ocean is a well-known and respected organization.”

“That, too,” you admit.

His words are so similar to Jungkook, it’s uncanny. The way Hoseok watches you though, it makes you think he knows more than he lets on. Glancing down, you shuffle through the papers piled up on your desk.

“Y/N.” Hoseok’s voice gentles. “Why are you so determined to believe the worst in him?”

Your fingers still. “I’m not,” you say, and Hoseok lifts a brow. After a moment, you sigh. “You want the short answer, or the therapist one?”

“Short. I’m not being paid by the hour.”

“You kind of are, though,” you point out, and your smile fades. “I guess… every time I put my faith in someone else, they tend to let me down. Most of the time, I just find it easier to just do things myself.”

“Easier how, though?” he prods. “That type of thinking always takes a toll – just in other ways. The amount of energy you expend. The constant worrying. The long hours and stress.”

Chewing on your lower lip, you know Hoseok is right. Maybe it’s easier for you mentally, since if you fail, you’re the only one to blame – a controllable factor. It’s easier to put in more time, to throw in more effort than to ask someone else to do something for you. That would imply you’re worthy of doing things for.

That’s how your therapist put it, anyways.

“You let me do things,” Hoseok points out. “And Olya. And even Seokjin, occasionally.”

“Well, yeah,” you admit. “But that’s because those people are you.”

“And now it’s Jungkook.”

Again, you pause because Hoseok is right. Despite your reservations, you do trust Jungkook. Somehow, somewhere, Jungkook gained that distinction. Exhaling deeply, you sit back.

“What if this changes things, though?” you ask, a bit softer. “What if having Jungkook as a donor means… nothing more can happen between us?”

Hoseok stills. “Do you want something more to happen?”

“Maybe. I – yeah,” you say, the words coming out in a rush. “Yes. I do. I went to talk to Yoongi on Monday.”

“Did you, now?” Hoseok asks drily.

You give him a look. “Yes – I did, and he explained what happened between Liam and Jungkook. I guess… I’m just worried if I confess now, Jungkook will think I’m doing it out of gratitude. Or because things ended with Liam.”

“And is that the case?”

“No,” you blurt. “No, of course not!”

Hoseok seems amused by your outburst. “Then, you should tell him that. Let Jungkook decide.”

When you nod and look away, Hoseok sighs.

“Think of it this way,” he offers. “Jungkook just walked in with a bunch of power and money to save our asses. Maybe he didn’t tell you his feelings because he doesn’t want you to think he had a motive.”

It lines up with everything Jungkook just said – and all your uncertainties. Rubbing your forehead, you wish things could be simple for once.

“Anyways.” Hoseok pushes his chair back to stand. “This week has been a lot. Maybe it’s a good idea to take some time to think – make sure you know what you want before making any decisions.”

You nod, but deep down, you already know what you want. You’ve known for a while and, emboldened by this, you glance again at the contract.

“We should accept,” you say quietly.

Hoseok pauses. “What?”

“The donation,” you say, looking up. “Obviously, legal should review and all that – but if everything checks out, we should accept the donation. I trust them.”

“I do, too.” Hoseok nods. “Alright. I’ll go tell Olya everything is back on.”

“Thank you.”

Before leaving, he pauses to survey you. “Breathe, Y/N.” Hoseok smiles. “At least our funding worries are over, right?”

“Right,” you echo, managing to smile until Hoseok disappears.

Once he’s gone, you slump in your chair and stare at your laptop until the screen turns black. Reaching out for your phone, you turn it over in your palm.

A notification blinks, citing a new message from Jungkook.

You sit up so fast you bang your knee on the table. Wincing, you rub the bruise as you type out your password and read the large block of text.

Jungkook: Hey. I just wanted to say – again – you don’t have to accept the donation. I hope you do, because Clean Ocean is a great organization and I’d hate to see things pushed back, but I understand if you don’t. I know I messed things up between us. I’m not saying this to push you in any direction, but just to explain in case our past relationship stops you from signing. [3:24 PM]

Your stomach sinks, even as his words bring some relief. There’s no expectation attached to Jungkook’s donation, which is a good thing. The bubble inside your chest has popped though, by the clear lines he’s drawn.

You’re debating how to respond when your phone dings again and you glance down, surprised.

Jungkook: I’m sorry I’m telling you this over text [3:28 PM]

Jungkook: I meant to say it in person, but then I saw you…. yeah [3:28 PM]

Stomach flipping, your grip on your phone tightens. Jungkook’s ellipses slow, then disappear and you wait several moments until the next message comes through.

Jungkook: you can ignore these messages if they make you uncomfortable. You have Namjoon’s card, and can email him if the answer is no. Hope you’re doing well [3:29 PM]

Jungkook: not that you didn’t look well. You looked – well, that’s beside the point. Have a good day [3:29 PM]

Lips twitching, you respond before you can second-guess.

Y/N: you didn’t mess anything up [3:30 PM]

Y/N: and I don’t feel uncomfortable [3:30 PM]

Y/N: I think I owe you an apology [3:30 PM]

Jungkook answers immediately.

Jungkook: what for? [3:31 PM]

Y/N: I know I’ve said things to you about Jeon Energy. About the privilege you have, and assuming you didn’t care. I’m sorry I said that. Clearly, you care [3:32 PM]

His ellipses appear, then disappear before your phone chimes with a text.

Jungkook: It’s okay. I didn’t take the time to explain [3:33 PM]

Y/N: still. [3:33 PM]

Jungkook: Anyways. I don’t want to intrude – I know you’re busy. I just wanted to tell you [3:33 PM]

Y/N: I’m glad that you texted [3:34 PM]

Jungkook: are you? [3:34 PM]

Heart racing, you stare at his words on the screen. For a moment, it feels like before – when he’d flirt with you, you’d roll your eyes and then you’d dish it back. Except things aren’t the same.

They’re different, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Y/N: Let’s say we did decide to accept [3:35 PM]

Jungkook: oh? [3:35 PM]

It’s a single word, but you can hear his voice in your mind. Teasing, with a knowing glint in his eyes as Jungkook leans forward. The mere thought of it makes your breath hitch.

Y/N: If we did, our launch party is on Saturday. Would you – or Namjoon – be able to attend on short notice? [3:36 PM]

Jungkook takes his time to respond, leaving you on edge until his words fill the screen. Reading his words, you can’t help but smile.

Jungkook: wouldn’t miss it x [3:38 PM]

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :) I do not have a tag list, so please do not ask to be added or ask about updates. My writing progress can be found in my updates schedule, linked in both my header and FAQ!

[Series Master List]

#bangtanarmynet #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook series #bts series #jungkook fic #bts fic

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