#✘ — you’re beautiful‚ but i must explain; my mind’s not in a good place. ( ship / lunarspeared. ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kashimos-hajime · 3 years

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twenty questions (7/8) | r.b.

summary: No, he refuses to lose someone else. Not again, not you. Never fucking you. Or, after four years, Reiner meets you once more.

WARNINGS: angst, just conversation, a bit of violence, mentions of trauma, children ummmmm yeee, jean also appears <3 true king pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 8.3k

a/n: reiner returns!! welcome to the penultimate chapter and thank you for being on this journey with me :) again, song is not mine! it’s the wellerman sea shanty hehe

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Morning streams through the curtains.

You part the billowy white fabric, pushing open the window breathing in the late morning air. As always, it’s warm and ripe with the aroma of the fresh bread from the bakery you live above, and as you lean on the windowsill, you hear the door below you chiming with new patrons. You smile to yourself, resting your chin on your hand.

Even still, you can’t help but admire how beautiful it is, especially in the streets here, far away from a industrial zone. The Liberio interment zone is small, yes, but it’s no less beautiful. The architecture of brick and glass all hold an austere beauty, and when the sunset is upon you, the shadows they cast and the warmth that embraces the stone is something you’ve never quite seen before. There’s a church, and you’ve sat inside day a few days before, watching the light stream through the stained glass in amazement.

A knock at the door takes you from your thoughts and you let out a sharp noise of surprise, gaze ripping away from the busy streets. A tremor shoots through you and you swallow harshly, waiting in bated breath.

“The shop’s busy as bees, today!” your landlord admonishes on the other side. You let out a relieved sigh, relaxing a bit. “If you want, I can still save you a loaf!”

“No, thank you!” you shout over your shoulder, reaching to close the window and get ready for the day. Sliding a warm vest onto your shoulders, you adjust the hat on your head and grab your bag from the counter, your bare fingers a bit cold and numb.

You burn at the thought of Reiner. You don’t want to see him, even if you live in the same city now, but all the same, it’s hard to avoid him. After all, it’ll only be so long before you’re forced to confront your past, push yourself into his way because how long, really, can you stay away from him? As you slide the white armband onto your bicep, your heart tightens. You’ve seen the man he’s grown into—handsome, tired, lonely. That only reflects in you.

Pulling your arms through your jacket, you stare at the woodgrain beneath your feet emptily.

Why am I even here?

Coming to Marley, of all places. Some days, you can’t wrap your head around it, before you’re reminded of the reason. It all has a purpose. You just have to keep going—keep moving forward.

Continuing through your loft, you shove your feet into boots and head out for the day. The festival’s tonight—you have lots to do before then.

Night slips in.

Reiner frowns when he realizes he’s walking back to the stage. He’s been trailing after the sound for a good half-hour, but considering they stay relatively nearby his final destination, he’s never felt the urge to detract.

He still can’t place the tune that’s been hummed, whistled, sang gently and leading him on, and as the sky darkens and the crowd noise grows louder, he realizes that his trail is slowly growing colder and colder.

“Hey, Reiner!” His head swivels to find Gabi waving at him and he meanders over, frowning a bit. “Where’d you go? The others said you wandered off.”

“I took a walk to clear my head,” he says dismissively, ignoring her frown deepening. “I see you’ve recovered from your food coma.” Immediately, Gabi’s frown turns into a pout and she rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine.” He snorts, turning to survey the area. The others are milling about. Zeke and Colt are talking by the bench, and Pieck and Porco are off together, as usual. They’re not half as inconspicuous as they think they are. Finding Udo and Zofia, his brow wrinkles when he can’t catch sight of a certain blond boy.

“Where’s Falco?”

“He ran off earlier, saying he saw someone he knew,” Gabi says, waving it away. “He’s always being so weird. Who else could he know besides us?”

“What, are you jealous?” he teases, ruffling Gabi’s hair and she lets out a squawk, smacking at his hand. Chuckling gently, he surveys the area again as they walk towards their seats. Zeke and Colt give him a nod in greeting, one he returns.

“Why would I be jealous?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” he replies distantly. His eyes keep searching, a ticklish feeling at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t know if he’s imagining it or if he can really hear that tune still at the edge of his hearing, nagging for his attention. Sighing, he crosses his arms over his chest. “What Falco does during his free time isn’t on your need-to-know basis, Gabi.”

“I know. I’m just saying—he doesn’t even have any friends besides us,” she says pointedly just as someone calls his name.

“Mister Braun!” Falco skids to a stop in front of him, his forehead gleaming with sweat, even in the cooler night air. Panting, he leans forward on his knees, meeting Reiner’s eyes, and Gabi tilts her head, confused and agitated and betraying her previous aloof words.

“Where the hell did you go?”

Ignoring her, Falco continues to try and catch his breath, barely punching out, “Can you come with me?” before looking down at the floor again, his shoulders rising and falling so quickly Reiner almost feels bad for him.

He frowns. “Right now?”

“You’ll be fine,” Zeke assures. The two look at the older man who glances at his watch. “It shouldn’t start for a few more minutes.”

Reiner debates it for a moment. Then again, it’s not like he’s the number one fan of this show. His presence is for appearance’s sake at this point, and if Falco insists, then it must be something important. Sighing, he nods and Falco takes off again. Telling Gabi to explain his absence to his mom should he not return in time, he walks after the sprinting boy, his mind a whirlwind on the possibilites of why he’s in such a hurry.

Falco stops past a blue curtain that’s near a residential building and points at the arch, smiling. His entire face is flushed and Reiner cocks an eyebrow, approaching closer before hearing a soft voice singing. It only grows as he passes by the blue partition, and his heart picks up as his eyes widen.

“…The Captain's mind was not on greed… But he belonged to the whaleman's creed… She took that ship in tow… Soon may the Wellerman come to bring us sugar and tea and rum. One day, when the tonguin' is done, we’ll take our leave and go…”

He knows that tune. The sailors sang it in the port city after Fort Slava. It’s one of their sea shanties—it’s rare to hear them anywhere except by the water, and when he reaches Falco, searching for that voice, his eyes fix on a figure leaning against the archway underneath the building.

The woman in purple.

Falco runs up to her. A hand is on her bicep when she shifts to look at the boy, and Reiner’s throat swells as his legs move on their own accord. Time seems to slow as Falco turns around, mouth open in words that go in through one ear, and out the other.

The woman says something, and Falco twists back, frowning a bit, but she only nods encouragingly, and off he goes, running on ahead, down to the end of the pathway out of Reiner’s sight.

A strangled noise leaves his mouth as the blond slips from his view.

The woman in purple’s head snaps up at the sound, and Reiner’s entire body locks when he finally recognizes the face that searches his impassively. The white armband is covered still by her fingers, but when she pushes off the wall, it’s almost as if she bewitches him to come even closer.

And he does, his hand lifting up to reach for her. Reach for what has to be a ghost. No…

No, it can’t be. No. No, I’m seeing things, I am, I—

You lift your hand off your armband, and when his fingers meet your palm, he feels your warmth, the way your skin slides against his as he interlaces their fingers, and he chokes, entire body burning from the inside out as you fold your fingers over his palm, yank him into the shadow with enough force to unbalance him. You side-step and fling his hand off, let him crash to his hands and knees. Pain shoots up his joints and his eyes widen when he realizes his skin has scraped off on the stone.

“Hello, Reiner,” you murmur. He draws himself up, and there’s a strange lifelessness as he looks up to a face barely illuminated by light. You unbutton your jacket and crouch before him, arms on your knees. His skin steams and stitches itself back together and he swallows through a dry throat as your eyes flutter to the white wisps. There’s a raw damage lingering on your face, haunting like ghosts that should be long dead, before you blink.

Your long coat brushing the floor covers black armour, harnesses criss-crossing your legs and body. Your expression is severe, lips pressed in an impassive line, dark shadows under your eyes. The armband around your bicep is slathered in dark red, staining the symbol.

So that’s what you were hiding from Falco.

Reiner half-wonders who’s blood it is. If it’s the owner of the clothes you wear, or someone else’s entirely.

You lift your head, staring at Reiner properly for the first time in years. Clenching your jaw, you only look. You do not speak, you do not move. It’s terrifying. It reminds Reiner eerily of Captain Levi, with the same chillingly placidity, and he remembers how you used to smile so wide you’d complain your cheeks ached, how you would lean against him, clutching your gut ‘cause he made you laugh, and he had never heard a sound so perfect—

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself. “What are you doing here? Are you insane?”

You barely move. Only tilt your head mockingly. “Probably.”

Four years has changed you into a taller, leaner, stronger soldier—and he can only soak that in. You’re…

His breath catches in his throat.

You’re beautiful.

But you’re crouching right in front of him, and you’re in danger. If Marleyans were to approach now, he’s not sure if he could lie his way out and that blood. How can he explain the blood on your sleeve?

You’d be left for dead, hanged for the crows.

The image flashes through his mind like cold dread, a trickling drip of an icicle hanging in his mind and freezing his spine.

No, he refuses to lose someone else. Not again, not you. Never fucking you.

It is why he demands again through a hissed breath,“What are you doing here?” Why he stands up quick enough that their heads nearly collide, and you straighten up as well, smoothly running your hands over your coat.

You only look at him deftly as if he is as inconsequential to you as a roach. You don’t even twitch as his hand reaches forward, fighting through the searing ache in his chest. “You need to leave. You shouldn’t be here. I can smuggle you back to the port and take you home, I—.”

Your stare paralyzes him and his hand falters. “I don’t take orders from you. You are not my commanding officer, and I do not need you to tell me what I need.” Your fingers dig into the bloody armband at your bicep and Reiner’s eyes widen as you tear it off, planting it on his chest hard enough his lungs spasm and he lets out a sharp breath. Your fingers spread out over his chest, you step closer. “I don’t need you to save me. Not from Marley. Not from myself. And not from you.”

His hand comes to cover yours, but you slip out before he can touch you, and he’s left with an armband in his palm. Clutching it in a tight fist, he stares down at it for a moment before shoving it in his pocket and turning around.

Your name comes out of him without even thinking as you walk past him, and it must still hold something because you pause, head turning slightly to look at him. “I want to explain myself,” he chokes out, and the corner of your mouth curls into a hollow smile. “Please.”

“Follow me, Reiner,” you order softly, and without question, he falls half a step behind you, eyes trained on the ground. His head is swimming at your presence, and his knees are gummy, stomach convulsing as he tries to come up with what to say. Or maybe, what to say first. He’s had four years to come up with a proper way to say it, and he reaches for his breast pocket, where the letters he’s folded away rest, with shaking hands.

“Please…”

“I don’t know what you think begging will get you.” Something stony falls upon your face. “I’ve had four years to get over the fact that you used me. Now, I think I just don’t care anymore. I’m sure you have your reasons, but I don’t know if it’ll be the truth. You’ve had no problem lying to me before in the past.”

“That’s not true.” He doesn’t know to which part of what you said he means. The last part, every part. “I never lied about how I felt about you.”

“Right. Like I wasn’t just some pawn on your chessboard. Some lonely girl you could use to entertain yourself.” Your pace doesn’t slow, but your tone is laced with anguish you try so hard to cover. “At least Bertholdt had the courage to look me in the face and tell me he was going to kill me.” You stop by a crate, labelled as supplies for the play. Maybe they contain masks, or costumes, and Reiner stops, his shoes skidding against the stone as you reach into your coat.

Pulling out a knife, you wedge it into the crate and pry the lid off and Reiner’s entire body numbs when ODM gear gleams in the straw. It looks refashioned, sleeker, and in two parts, and he catches your hand reaching for the harness.

Weapons, here.

You aren’t stupid enough to take on Marley on your own, which can only mean—

Shit, shit, shit.

Dread trickles through his body.

“What are you two doing—Oh, Vice Chief Braun!” You slam the lid shut and press your left arm flush against Reiner’s body, covering it up as someone on their right approaches. Your hand tightens around the knife still wedged between the lid, and Reiner sets a hand on your shoulder, dragging you so he can cover you up better and as a warning.

Don’t do it. You’re stiff against him despite the easy expression on your face, and he sets a harsh glare on the intruder. Let go of that blade. Your entire body is rigid with a hot energy he doesn’t recognize as your fingers only tighten around the hilt. Don’t do it—

“Sorry to interrupt, but those are one of the crates we need for the play. It contains some costumes—“

The performer looks stricken as you flash him an easy smile and Reiner’s blood freezes when the stranger seems to blush, voice fading.

“I actually work with Lord Tybur,” you explain easily with a tiny laugh, betraying the strength in your fist. “He wants to inspect it briefly before I return it. I think it contains the Helos costume? Gotta make sure every detail’s to his liking!” Your tone, innocent and cheery, floats through the distant sound of the crowd, and Reiner only stares at the performer who seems to shrink in his skin. Your fingers twitch when he hesitates.

“Oh, of course.” He scratches the back of his head, and you give him a gracious nod before he’s walking away.

You watch him go, and Reiner feels the way the air shifts when your smile fades away as soon as it came. You step away from him, loosening the knife from the crate. His hands burn as he reaches for your shoulder again, but you jerk back.

“You know,” you begin quietly, staring at the lid, “all this time, I thought I had actually found people again, you know. I thought you actually cared about me, but really, I realized all you’ve ever done is lie. Even after everything. Even after Marco died, and I told you how I felt about you, you just kept lying. Lying and painting yourself to be a knight in shining armour.”

“I tried—I tried to stop myself from caring about you,” he whispers raggedly, hands rolling into fists tight enough that his nails dig into his flesh, “but it happened anyway. That part of who I was was never a lie.”

“So you never saw me as someone you needed to protect? As this poor, lonely girl who loved you? Who fed your ego and—”

“Of course I wanted to protect you! I loved you, too!” he snaps and distantly, he recognizes this is the first time they’ve ever confessed that what they had… that it was somehow real and too good for him. It nearly makes him shatter. “How could I—“ He closes his eyes, teeth gritting as the flames inside him roar, consuming his heart. “How could I just stand back and watch you get hurt by the consequences of my actions? It’s because of me you were forced to leave the farm, leave that girl. Because of me you knew Marco and Mina and Thomas. You could have been so much happier if you never met any of us—I knew that—I just thought I could somehow—”

“Happier if I never met you,” you echo blankly before nodding to yourself. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds about right.” He flinches but you continue on, “In the end, it doesn’t matter, though. I’ve learned to not let the what ifs haunt me, because my time with you… it still means everything to me.” You shake your head. “That’s the truth. You dropped a building on me and broke my bones. Truth. You left me alone in those walls with Bertholdt dead and Annie comatose, and you did so knowing you are the last damn person I’ve got that I’d kill for. Truth.”

Reiner’s eyes widen as your words sink into his skin like a vicious poison.

So that’s it then. Bertholdt is dead and Annie… Annie’s still alive?

You don’t give him a moment’s breath to ask as you take a step forward. On reflex, he steps back, hands raising, and your eyes flash to his palms. One wrong move, and a Titan will overtake the square. He’s sure he can read the thought in your eyes, but when you look at him again, he only sees cold indifference.

“You nearly killed me, Reiner. So tell me…”

Metal flashes and a breath stalls in his throat as a cold knifepoint digs into the bump along his throat. It bobs when he swallows, lips parted, and you meet his eyes, every inch of agony he’s forced upon you glaring back at him reforged.

“Why shouldn’t I repay the favour?”

His breath stalls, and he looks down at your fingers, wrapped tight around the hilt, nearly shaking. He doesn’t know if it’s because you hold the weapon that tightly, or if you’re just as afraid as he is.

Either way, it doesn’t matter.

“Do it, then,” he whispers. “I’m the reason this all happened.”

Your eyes, wide, search his beseechingly and his heart crumbles to dust. Even after all this time, you still hesitate. Why? Because you think he’ll come back? That he’s… redeemable somehow?

Reiner envies that—he wants to believe that there is still good. But there isn’t. He knows it.

“I have a thousand questions,” you murmur achingly, as if the words are wrenched from your throat. “Over the years, I’ve tried to come up with some incomprehensible list. I couldn’t decide which was the one I wanted answered the most, but I thought why did it matter? After all, it wasn’t like I’d ever see you again. But here I am, now.”

As you lower the knife, the tip of the blade scratches his skin, light enough only to leave a white trail until it falls away, just like when he held you at blade-point four years ago, the tip of a sword digging into your sternum.

How poetic that he finds himself here, his life in your hands. This is your retribution, he supposes, and your mercy, fighting for control of your arm, but you sheathe your knife again with a sharp, smooth thrust at your hip. There’s a soft scrape before you set your hands atop the lid, sighing softly.

A terrifying glint lives in your eyes as you smile at him faintly, and hoist the crate into your arms.

“So, Reiner.” You tilt your head, gesturing for him to follow you down the pathway to a set of stairs that must lead to a deeper cellar. Somewhere he can’t transform in. Smart. You always were, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell you he’d never hurt you again, especially when he’s already done so much to prove that his words are empty. Yet, nothing is more important than protecting you, and Gabi, and Falco, but— “What do you say to a game of twenty questions?”

You flip a page. The day’s labour has you sweating into your harness, but all you want to do is just finish this damn chapter. Pulling carts out of mud like a damn mule wasn’t fun, but at least it had you busy. But, God, did you just want to relax for an eternity now.

Even after four years, you’d think your body would grow accustom, but every day, something new tests you.

“Hello?” a voice by your door calls and you look up from your book, smiling automatically at the kid peering into your room. He’s one of the younger orphans who didn’t come from the immediate wreckage of the fall of Trost but rather just a few months ago, you had found him in the woods, walking away from one of the smaller settlements.

You don’t ask, let him come and tell you more, and although you know his name, you know it’s hard for him to talk about anything else.

What you do know is that he is one that still climbs into your bed when there’s a thunderstorm, and that he’s a sweet, yet studious child with a knack for trouble when the girls invite him to hang out with them.

That doesn’t mean he’s any less attached. He’s probably the one who clings to you the most, and you get up, closing your book. Setting it down on the nightstand, you crouch in front of him and pat his head.

“Hi,” he says again.

“What’s going on, Xavier?” His red hair is still damp. He must’ve just taken his bath and he shrinks under your hand, probably to protect the clean smell clinging to his skin and locks. Lifting your hand amusedly, you tap his nose. He breaks out into a gap smile.

He lost his tooth just three days ago, and you remember how proud he was, bursting into the fields during study period to show you as you untied the horses from the plow.

“There’s a man who wants to see you.”

“A man?” You frown, looking over his shoulder. Placing a heavy hand on his shoulder, you pull him into your room, out of the way of the door. “Did he say what his name was? Or if he was military?” The kids know the military insignias. Praying silently to yourself, you glance uneasily at your nightstand where a gun is hidden in the drawer. You could probably arm yourself in time. Xavier tugs at your ear. You look back at him, eyebrows creasing as you glance over his shoulder.

“He said his name was Jean and that you would know who he was. He’s waiting outside.”

“Jean?” you repeat sharply, standing. Xavier flinches, looking up at you, and you scoop him up before heading to the nightstand, yanking open the drawer and grabbing the gun. Arms worm around your neck, and you squeeze the child closer to yourself as you quietly slip out into the hallway, towards where the other kids’ room is.

“Girls, close the door and lock it,” you order quietly, as you walk into the . The two sisters—Alina and Anya who share the room—look up from whatever they’re doing, and Anya gets up from her bed, but you merely send her a warning look as you “Everything’s okay. Anya’s in charge until I get back.”

She nods, and you set Xavier down but he doesn’t let go of your neck, hugging you tight to him. Letting out a strangled sigh, you slowly pull him away, cupping his face. Your heart is slow, steady, and you take a measured breath as Alina glances out the window that is right over their desk.

“I’ll be okay. I want to make sure we’re safe.” His eyes flicker over your face and you nod reassuringly. “You know what to do. Listen to Anya, alright? Try to get some sleep.” The redheaded boy nods and you stroke his cheek with a thumb before he scampers towards Anya’s bed. You stand.

You leave the room, shut it behind you as Alina draws the curtains shut, and your mind is thrumming with ideas of who it could be.

Entering the kitchen, you head to the porch with a quick glance at the window. There’s a figure leaning against the fence, back to you, and your fingers around your gun tighten. Draped in dark fabric and ash-brown hair shining in the oil lamps hanging on the porch, you can’t make out a face as you step into the bracing night.

“What do you want?”

The figure jolts to his feet, turning around. Edges dulled by the night, you can barely make out his features until he steps into the light, and your finger pad taps the trigger when brown eyes meet yours. Heart lurching, everything rushes back to you and you manage to control the sharp inhale, tempering it into a slow and steady breath that swells up in your lungs.

“It’s been a while,” he comments idly, and you swallow through the hard knot in your throat. Eyes flicking to the gun in your hand, the small smile that had been curving his lips drops away. “You’re a hard person to track.”

“How’d you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy, but Captain Levi saw that some of us were getting desperate.”

Four years.

Four years since you’ve seen any of them except Captain Levi, who only visits to make sure you haven’t been raided by bandits and killed in the months between his check-ins.

In that time, seasons have changed, you’ve sprained your shoulder, it healed; you’ve been thrown off a horse, and gotten back up. You had a period where you would write letters every waking second you were left alone in your room, debating whether or not you should destroy them or send them just for the sake of feeling like you had someone again.

All those letters are still wedged in a box under your bed, so there’s that answer.

Jean stands at the bottom of your porch and you nod, gesturing for him to come in. Your heart plummets as you do so. You don’t know why Jean even bothered.

He closes the door behind you, and you set the gun on the dining table before moving towards the stove, and you ask him if he wants any tea, gracious host that you are. He shrugs and you begin to boil some water. It’ll give you time to look him over as he sits down.

He’s grown the beginnings of a beard since you last saw him. And he’s taller. Way taller than you remember. He’s gotten more muscle, holds himself differently, he’s… still Jean, in all respects, but he’s…

Tired.

You’re sure that’s one word you’re looking for.

Migrating to the hearth, you wonder if he’s doing the same to you. Studying you like you’re a stranger.

You start a fire, feeding it freshly chopped firewood from the day before and stoking it before letting it feast.

You never liked doing that before. Swinging an axe down on wood, watching it split. Now, it’s the only time you get alone to your thoughts. You don’t have to focus on chopping wood. All you have to do is swing an axe until it’s nothing more than muscle memory. You can just… be.

Maybe it isn’t so bad. Maybe it’s why Reiner liked doing it.

You sigh, and grab the iron poker, keeping an eye on the stove. You don’t know if Jean wants to skip the small talk. You do, but mostly because you don’t like it when your old life comes into your new one. You can make yourself believe you can’t go back when no one’s here to remind you, and that the guilt won’t gnaw you until you’re only bones.

Absently, you remember Bertholdt used to like small talk—Jean seems less so.

“I have news. I don’t know if you want to hear it, but you’re still military.”

“Not labelled a deserter, yet?” you inquire dryly. Everything is moving so slowly around you, yet so quickly. It’s a terrible sensation. “I feel honoured.”

“Let’s cut the shit, alright. What the hell are you doing here?”

“No idea.”

“You disappeared! No one had seen you in weeks—we thought you were dead until the captain came back with strict orders not to look for you, but do you know how ominous that sounds?” Something bites at your gut as you stare into the flames, and Jean shoots to his feet, chair scraping against the wooden floor. “You were our friend!”

His words sink into your shoulders, but you only blink, staring into the growing hearth.

“Don’t you care? You left!”

“I don’t regret it. It’s not like I’m begging to become a Scout again,” you murmur, looking over your shoulder at him. A sort of tiredness pulls at your eyes, and you stand up again, walking around the table. “I don’t know what you want from me, Jean. You came to me first.”

“I want you to care. I want you to come back and fight. Aren’t you remotely interested in what’s going on?”

“I know we have a train, now.” The pot begins to boil and you move towards it, taking out a tin and small metal spoon. “Historia is doing well as queen. At least, that’s what people are saying. She’s expecting. If you ever see her, tell her I’m happy for her.” Scooping leaves into the teapot, you pour the boiling water into the porcelain and let it steep.

Turning back around, your eyebrows rise when you see Jean has walked around the table. There’s not even a metre between them as he tosses something at you. Catching it, you realize it’s a rolled up newspaper and your heart drops. At his nod, you pry it open and read the contents, fingertips brushing over two rectangular slips of paper within stating a time and terminal.

“What is this?”

“Eren’s gone to Marley by himself. Probably to do something stupid. I have two tickets to go and rescue his scrawny ass.”

“And?” Dread knots at your stomach as Jean closes his eyes, exhaling softly. Pleading, then: “Jean, don’t.”

“You’re the least compromised out of all of us. None of the volunteers would recognize you or would have been able to relay information about you if they have allies back in Marley, and despite everything, I still trust you. Which is more than I can say for Yelena and the others.” You snap the paper shut and toss it onto the table. Shaking your head to yourself, you walk away from him, but Jean only grabs your arm. “You still have a duty to our nation.”

“Don’t try to plead to my sense of national pride,” you shoot back coolly. “I have other responsibilities.”

“What, like tending to wheat?”

“Everyone wants to kill us, so yes, tending to wheat.”

“If we don’t find Eren, they will kill us. He’s our one chance of getting out of this mess alive. As crazy as he is, he’s our one ticket to freedom and we need to find him.”

Turning around to face him, you pull your arm free of his grasp. The lantern hanging is glaringly bright, and something knots in your throat at Jean’s somber expression.

“I fought for our freedom and you know what I realized? There will always be more people out there who want to take that away from us.” You wish you could sound passionate, but you just sound rough and tired. The bite tastes different. “First, it was Titans, then, it was the people we called our friends. Do you think that we’ll ever be free? That we’ll be able to live without a sword above our necks. Levi told me we’re devils in everyone else’s eyes. What’s it matter?”

“Because we aren’t what they say we are. If you lay down and show your belly, why did you become a soldier in the first place?” You jerk back and Jean leans against the table, crossing his arms. “I thought you fought for a dream. Something. Anything.”

“I thought I did, too. I’m just…” A hissing breath, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, turning away. Images of the lake back from their cadet years flash in your head. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

“Tired?” he repeats icily. “You think the rest of us aren’t tired? We all haven’t had the luxury to sit down on a farm and escape all our responsibilities.”

Head snapping up, your eyes find cold brown chips staring back. Bitterly, you grit out, “Excuse me?”

“Do you think there’s a day that goes by where I think about Marco and how I wasn’t there for him? We all lost someone. You’re not the only person who’s had to go through it. We’re all guilty of something, but at least, I didn’t give up! At least, some of us decided to do something about it!”

“Shut up!” A hand flies through the air but he catches your wrist and twists, pinning you down to the table. Another hand slams your other hand into the wood and you grunt as Jean wedges himself between your legs to stop you from kicking him. Eyes burning, you stare up into the face of your friend and in that moment, the sorrow overflowing spills into your chest as if you are a well and he is the flood.

He sinks, elbows clacking against the table as he bows his head. His breath is rushed, cool against your face, and you search his features before uttering out a quiet, “Why did you really come here, Jean?”

His eyes widening, his hands loosen. You try to suck your tears back in, but your eyes are burning so intensely you have to let them fall anyway just as there’s a sharp gasp. Jean looks up before he jerks back as if you’ve really slapped him. Sitting up, you twist to look at the doorframe, and your heart drops into your gut when you see a redheaded boy, eyes shining with tears.

“What are you doing?” he cries, and you immediately launch yourself off the table, crossing the distance towards him as Anya appears over his shoulder, helpless. The brunette girl’s guilt punches through you and you lift Xavier up into your arms, hugging him tight before wrapping another arm around the girl and poking your head into the hall.

Alina’s figure is a mere shadow at the end of the hall, and you sigh, gesturing for her to come. Taking off at a sprint, she charges down the hall and you bury your nose in Anya’s hair just as another body slams into you, latching onto your waist. You close your eyes as Xavier tries to snuggle even deeper into your neck.

“I’m okay,” you keep repeating. “Just a heat of the moment thing. I promise, he’s not here to hurt us. I promise.”

“Are you okay?” Anya murmurs, and you look down. The eldest girl’s pulled her head back to look at you. Her eyes are narrowed, perceptive as always, and her lips are upturned into a faint scowl. You smile faintly, running a hand over her head.

“I will be. Why don’t you take them back to your room?” you advise, and her eyes wander from you to Jean again. Catching it, you brush your thumb along her temple soothingly. “Go.” Reluctantly, she lets go of you and turns to Alina who still latches onto you like a parasite, but you rest a palm atop her head. “Alina.”

A sniff, and then she steps back, rubbing at her face. Her older sister takes her shoulders, easing her away and you crouch down as Xavier silently grabs onto your shirt tighter in his tiny fists.

“Xavier,” you soothe. “I’ll be back in just a moment, okay?” You tilt your head. “I promise.” Wiping at his tears, you wait for him to let go of your shirt on his own accord, and when he does, you brush his hair back from his brow and plant a kiss on his forehead. Anya calls his name softly down the hall, and he lingers for a moment more before walking away, head still over his shoulder so he can watch.

You stay crouched until he’s gone and then you let out a soft exhale, head dropping, eyes closing.

“We need you more than you probably need us,” Jean acknowledges quietly, and your eyes open again to look at him. He’s straightened himself up, watching you with softer eyes. He visibly swallows, and you wonder if it’s pity or jealousy in his eyes. “But, we’re outnumbered in trusted senior officers in the Survey Corps. You’re one of them.”

Quietly: “I shouldn’t be.”

He falters for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose not.” He grabs the newspaper again. “But somehow, you are. If Captain Levi trusts you, then so do I. Bertholdt is dead. Annie’s a frozen log in a basement somewhere, and Reiner’s still alive. So are you.” He extends the paper to you. “This is what guilt got us. So what are you going to do about it?”

“Then, how about we go back to my hometown? There’s water nearby. We can go in the afternoons, eat all this food you’ve never had before.”

You haven’t seen a lake in who knows how long. Not since your cadet years, it feels like. Your heart yearns for the blue expanses, to plunge into the cold depths and gasp at how cold it is. You thought you’d given that up, but just there mere thought of it sends your mind spiralling into the images you’ve dreamed of since you were a child.

“Regret begets regret—don’t have any when you go, and maybe you’ll live a life happier than most.”

You know you’ll never forgive yourself if you never take the chance to see him again. Heart peeling in your chest, you grab the newspaper from him.

“They call it the sea, don’t they?” you finally ask. Jean nods. “A lot of water and there’s… there’s animals in there.”

“Yeah. They live in this salty water and… they eat seafood a lot in Marley. I don’t know if you know.”

“Reiner might’ve mentioned it before,” you say. You look down at the newspaper in your tight fist and swallow. All at once, one door closes and another opens, and you look at Jean, the date and time of the ship already burned into your memory. “He said he thought I’d like it. I guess I’ll keep that in mind when we go.”

Jean’s eyes widen as you hand the paper back to him, your palm scalding as you shove the ticket into your pocket. He says your name softly, but you only hold your hand up, eyes fixed on the floor.

“I’ll meet you there, I promise.” You turn towards the shadows of the hall. In the silence of the night, you hear the hushed whispers of the children you’ve dedicated your life to and your heart disintegrates in your chest. “I just… I need some time to figure everything out.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.” Jean’s feet shift along the floor. You look over your shoulder for a moment to find his eyes on you. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you reply. “Feel free to stay the night. It’s already late.” He nods, and you flash him the weakest smile.

Then, you walk down the hall to your children. You have a lot of explaining to do.

You stubbornly try to ignore the tears tracing down your face as you reach into the compartment on your pants containing the letters. Reaching for it, you pull it out and crack it open, wondering if it’s even possible to bring yourself to read it.

“It’s not your last question,” Reiner had noted warily as they stood at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah. I guess we have to put a rain check this time.” You had set the box down, looking at him. You couldn’t recall feeling so warm, so empty. So convinced that there was something wrong with how much you still felt for him. “One more question, then?”

A nod, almost hungry for it. “Please.”

“Did you really, really love me?”

The gentlest of sighs, his warm yellow eyes. He had reached out for you, then second guessed, and reached for his breast pocket instead, extending the tin to you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you.”

The entire cabin is quiet as you stare at the ring nestled at the bottom, atop the stack of letters that are wrinkled and must’ve been refolded so many times it’s begun to permanently crease in multiple lines.

No one’s dared to speak since Sasha died and you look up at the others before back down at the ring again before pinching it between your fingers and lifting it to eye level. You’re not sure what it means to hold it, but you gently close the tin with your other hand, feeling it click shut, and slide it back into your pocket.

The band is silver, rather simple, but it’s pretty, too, in a refined sort of way. There aren’t any gems, but there are simple engravings, lines that curve the metal, causing ripples along the surface and, without thinking, you stretch out your left hand in front of you, trying to gauge which one it’ll fit the best.

Sombrely, you slide it down your ring finger, and let it sit there, lowering your hands and curling them into fists and raising your shoulder, hearing a bone crack.

You’re exhausted.

The ODM gear feels strange on your body. It’d been a crash course to get you familiarized with the updates, and you hook a thumb on the strap on your rib cage before glancing at the others. Connie sits with Mikasa and Armin, and Jean is at the back by himself, rubbing at his face hard enough that his skin is beginning to turn red.

You don’t know what to say.

What is there to say? Four years have left you strangely numb.

Jean’s lips pull back into a vicious snarl and his head snaps up to find you looking. Then, everything seems to soften, and he looks away sharply, almost as if to hide his tears.

So you don’t say a thing. Instead, you walk on to the back of the ship, past him, where the prisoners are being held, and you open the door without a noise, first noticing the blond boy. Falco. He looks up at your entrance, eyes wide, and you give him a slight smile as you close the door.

You wish you could hate children for the part they played in killing your friend, but in this moment, you just feel nothing. Not even sadness. You had seen what Marley’s done in the friends you’ve lost.

“Hello, Falco.”

“You lied to me,” he whispers. “You and Mister Kruger—Eren,” he corrects himself. “You used me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” you tell him, looking at the walls. It seems like a supply area, and you grab the bucket and rag that’s been left by whoever checked in on them last. There’s a few clean rags and you walk up to them, crouching before the blond first. He seems to flinch back and the brown-haired girl lunges at you.

You have no problem pushing her aside and pinning her down.

“Don’t touch him!” she yells. “You don’t get to touch him!”

“Calm down,” you tell her calmly. “I’m not going to hurt him, and you are in no position to be making demands at me after you killed my friend.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re a devil. So was she!” she spits as you slowly wet the rag and dab at the blood cracking underneath Falco’s nose. It’s clear whoever was here before only used the bucket and rag as a taunt. Probably telling them they could piss in here if they wanted. A coy coil of disgust wraps around your gut. “Don’t touch him. You’re tainted! You give all of us a bad name!”

Your nose wrinkles as the girl squirms under your hand and you let go of her. Cupping Falco’s face, you continue to wipe at his cheek. The water is cold. You hope it soothes what must be a flaring face.

“I don’t understand,” he murmurs dully. Exhausted eyes find yours. “Why?”

“I’m sorry. I have no idea why kids are suddenly soldiers in an adult’s war.” You reach to rinse the rag. Dipping it in water, you begin to wring it out when suddenly, there’s a sharp gasp, and you turn to look at the other child—Gabi. She stares at your hands, eyes wide enough a ring of white is around her irises and you frown. “What?”

“Where did you get that ring?” she asks, voice shaking, and you look down at your hands. “That’s… that’s Reiner’s ring. Where did you get it?” You don’t answer, simply stare at her for a moment, and her breath comes out quivering. “He doesn’t let anyone know he has it. It’s for someone special. That’s—he wouldn’t even tell me. He doesn’t know I saw him with it. He… he —it’s supposed to be for someone!”

“Gabi—“ Falco grabs her arms as you regard her softly, and you have just an idea of what’s going in her head as she points at you. “Gabi, calm down—“

“Why do you have it?” she demands ferociously. “It’s not yours! Give it back!” You drop the rag back into the water, and sit back, drawing your knees up to your chest and resting your arms atop of them lazily as tears begin to trace down the child’s face. “It didn’t even cost that much! You won’t be able to sell it to, you know! Give it!”

“Gabi!”

“You have no idea what that means to him!“

“Stop—“

“You spawn! You devil woman!”

“Are you done?” you ask her quietly, fingers twisting the ring and Gabi inhales raggedly as you look at her flatly. Her eyes widen even more if possible, and she allows Falco to pull her back. Her wet gasps fill the silence and you swallow, tilting your head at your hands. “If you really want to know, I don’t really have an idea why I’m wearing it.” You sigh, dropping your hands and letting your head fall forward. “As for how I got it, if you ever see Reiner again, why don’t you ask him?”

Falco’s eyes widen as you look up and finding him staring at you with a strange scrutiny, and your eyebrows furrow as he lets go of Gabi and straightens up from where he’s sitting.

“Mister Braun didn’t even hear what I said when he saw you,” he murmurs, brow furrowing. “Like he’d just seen a ghost. You and…” He struggles for words, voice unsteady. “Eren said you guys were all old friends. But… but, if he gave you the ring—“

“Shut up, Falco!” Gabi beseeches, grabbing his arm, but Falco only stares at you. “Are you even hearing what you’re saying? You’re accusing my cousin of treason! He wouldn’t!”

“He stayed with you for so long,” he continues, as if in a trance. “Even Eren wondered what was taking so long. He… called it a lover’s quarrel. You…”

“I think you two should get some rest,” you interrupt, pushing yourself to your feet and ignoring the smokey feeling clogging up your chest as tears slip down Gabi’s face and Falco’s face pales at your blatant dismissal. “It’s going to be a few hours until we land, roughly. You’ll want to get used to being somewhere warm before they transfer you to some sort of prison. It’ll be a lot colder there.”

Taking the bucket and the rag, you return it back to its spot before walking out the room and closing the door shut behind you.

You find the spot you once were standing at now occupied with Floch and his comrades, and then you turn your head to see Jean still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, expression burning the metal floor.

You amble over to him without a word and lean in beside him, sinking to the floor.

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gr0vndz3ro · 4 years

Text

Sweet Somethings

(Sweet Nothings Pt.2)NSFW

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, cursing, sugar daddy, daddy kink, size kink (if you squint), slight oral, finger fucking, loss of virginity, praise kink

Word count:6,906

Tag List (permanent): @keigod @dragonhrte @mrs-takami-keigo @fanfic-me-up @gallickingun @royal-after-dark @hawks-senseis @bnhabookclub

Crossed off: Virgin x Veteran

A/N: I’m so surprised with the amount of love I’ve been getting with Sweet Nothings, it’s almost at 1k when I’m posting this and I can’t put into words how shocked I am. I honestly didn’t think anyone would care for it. I love y’all so much so I hope I did you guys proud with this.

Pt.1 Here

One would expect nice things out of a sugar daddy, but that did not mean you were prepared for them. And you were certainly not ready for the luxurious sports car that stood in front of you. Pitch black with orange accents, a monstrous growl emanating from underneath the hood. The nicest car you had ever seen, yet the only thing your brain could focus on was the warmth pressed against you back. The way you could feel Katsuki’s hard pecs through the fabric of both his shirt and your dress was enough to make your thighs press together. What surprised you the most was the way that this man, who was almost a complete stranger to you, was able to control your body with such little effort.

You felt yourself almost let out a whine when he removed himself from behind you, making his way to the passenger side door and opening it for you to make your way inside. Stepping forward, you try to regain what little composure you had, and make your way to the seat, promptly reaching for the buckle when your wrist is stopped by his calloused grip. In confusion, you move your head up to meet eyes with the man attached to the hand now holding onto you.

“Please, what kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn’t buckle the lady’s seat for her. You do take me for a gentleman, don’t you?” The kind smile upon his lips telling a different story from the devious look he was giving you. You nod your head in agreement, not truly trusting your words as you move your hand away to allow him to do what he was wanting. His fingers wrap around the metal clasp and drag it across your body, bringing it closer to the fastener. Yet as he did so, he allowed his hand to graze against your semi exposed thigh. A tingle rushing throughout you at the simple touch. How are such small things affecting you so drastically?

While the drive was fairly quiet, it oddly wasn’t uncomfortable, yet the hand gently placed just above your knee was quickly going to become your undoing. You had given up on trying to figure out where it was the two of you were going soon after you 4th time asking him, only getting excuses in response along the lines of, ‘What’s the fun in you knowing’, ‘That will ruin the surprise’, and many others. So instead, you have resorted to taking in the passing scenery. The tall buildings that passed you by slowly started to thin out until eventually the only buildings you could see were little convenience stores and well kept historical homes. But it got to the point that they too soon left your view and the only thing that laid outside of the glass were the colossal trees that blocked out the sky.

After some time, the vehicle slowed down as it approached a gated fence. Saying it was a gated fence felt like an understatement as it was equal to what you would see guarding the homes of Hollywood celebrities. While nearing the entrance, Katsuki rolls down his window while tilting his head to the camera that was positioned on top of a speaker. Words were exchanged between him and whoever was on the other side of the speaker, and while you couldn’t make out everything the man was saying one phrase caught your attention, “Welcome home sir.” Your brow dips in turmoil as you try to convince yourself that the thoughts that were racing through your mind, were not the reason he was bringing you here. Surely he didn’t think that all the money he had donated meant that he had ownership over you and your body. Because if that was what he was thinking he had another thing coming. Almost sensing your inner dilemma, he let out a chuckle before lightly brushing his thumbs against your knee.

“You have nothing to worry about. I told you I was a gentleman, didn’t I?” The smile that pulled at his lips was enough to calm your anxieties. Your head travels to the window to watch as you pass by more trees. How big was this property? When you realize that the tires beneath you had come to a halt, you turn back to him only to watch as he steps out of the car. After unbuckling your seatbelt, you didn’t even have enough time to reach out for the handle before he was opening your door for you, extending his hand out for you to hold onto as you step out of the vehicle. Your mouth opens to ask him what you're doing here but feel yourself quickly get silenced by the warm presence of his hand on your back and his mouth close to your ear. “It’s a surprise, remember? Trust me, you won't be treated like anything less of the princess you are tonight.” A blush dancing across your face as he interlocks his hand with your own, gently guiding you away from where you were parked.

He led you down a stone path that trailed right along the edge of the small forest, lanterns lighting the way. Smaller trees draped over the path way, shielding you from the slowly setting sun. It wasn’t dark out yet, but the shade that the leaves provided created a cozy aura to the whimsical path. The whole walkway was almost something out of a fairytale. But it almost was fitting with the knight in shining armor on your side. Looking up you watch as his hair just slightly moves with every step he takes. You could tell it had been styled out of his face, but it was almost as if the unruly hair was attempting to fight back the products holding it down. But while you were entranced by the man on your side, you had almost missed the new breeze that swept past you. As the trees start to clear, you turn your head to find yourself shocked. Not because of the chill that was now running down your spine due to the cold wind, or even the gorgeous colors of the setting sun reflecting off of the water. No, instead it was because of the massive yacht that was docked at the pier of this beautiful lake.

Your jaw drops as he takes you toward the pier and closer to this magnificent boat. As you walk along the side you read the S.S. Lady Explosion Murder. It was kept in pristine condition, almost making you wonder if it had ever even been sailed. When he brings the two of you to a halt, you finally manage to bring your eyes away from the boat and look to see that he stopped in front of the stairs that lead onto it. You look up at him to see if you were supposed to go on, to which he responds by extending his free arm and doing a slight bow as if to say ‘after you’. He releases his hold on your hand to allow you to stabilize yourself on the handrail. As you make your way onto the ship, you see a table romantically decorated for two in the middle of the deck. Roses lay in a vase on the center of the table and candles placed strategically around the area to allow for just the right amount of light. Your jaw slightly drops at the lovely table that he had set up, turning back to him, catching his eye in the process.

“Did you do all of this for me?” In genuine shock, since no person had ever gone this all out for you before. He takes a step toward you closing off the distance before lightly grazing your cheek with his hand, tucking the loose stand behind your ear.

“Of course, you deserve nothing less than the best. I would have done more but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I just thought a nice dinner on the lake would be good for our first date.”

“You sound so confident that there is going to be more, quite the confident one aren’t you?” A slight smirk making its way to your face as you question him. But he quickly steals the smirk away from you as it travels over to him as he speaks again, his voice now a low purr.

“I have plenty of reasons to be confident. If you’re lucky you may find out why.” Your face turning a dark hue at what his words could imply. A chuckle emits from him as he watches you turn red. “You’re so easy to mess with princess, here let’s go and enjoy our nice night.” he once again places his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your chair before promptly pulling out your seat for you. You say a quick thank you to him as he pushes you forward, before making his way to the other side of the table to sit across from you. As you both got seated, you felt the boat start to move as it departed from the dock and started making its way further out on the lake. You couldn’t help but watch the water as it hits the side of the boat, mesmerized in the way the colors of the sky reflected off of it. You turn back away from the view to look at the stunning man in front of you.

“So I’m guessing that this must be your yacht?” You assumed that it was but you were curious to see if you were in fact on his property or not.

“It is, this is just the boat I keep here up here at the lake. It’s not often I’m actually able to come up here and enjoy it as I tend to be a workaholic you could say.”

“I do have to ask then, is there any meaning behind the ‘Lady Explosion Murder’?” A smile on your face as you ask him about the bizarre name. You understood men naming them after women they love for good luck, but you couldn’t imagine anyone being named that. He started to laugh at the memories of how he came across the name.

“Do you know what it is I do for a living?” He asked and it caused you to pause, seeing as you hadn’t actually even thought of it. You shook your head no and waited for him to continue explaining. “So, I’m the CEO for a large weapons and ammunition company. We mostly work with the military and deal with trading in foreign affairs. But when I was in school for my business degree we had to come up with a name for a mock company we worked on for a school project. I wanted to name the company King Explosion Murder then Lord Explosion Murder but the teacher said that both of those were too violent so I eventually ended up picked Ground Zero. When I open my own company I choose the same name I had used back then. But as a little homage to the ‘good ole days’ I decided to name the ship in favor of the rejected names.”

The two of you ended up laughing as he started talking more about his times in high school and you found yourself intrigued at all his stories about him and his childhood friends. He casually was able to switch the conversation over so that it was now on you and as the dinner for the night made its way to the table, you were telling all about your embarrassing memories and the horrible dates you had gone on.

“So you're telling me he tried to kiss you after that?” Bakugou had never laughed so hard in his life, yet it came so easy when he was with you.

“Yes he did! He spilled his entire glass of soda on me, attempted to ‘wipe it off’ and then proceeded to go in tongue first for a kiss at the end of the night. Needless to say I went home alone once again. I was convinced I was doomed and never going to be able to get past a first date with a decent guy let alone get a boyfriend.” A slight chuckle leaving your lips as you reminisce on all the horrible first dates you had been on. He paused in his laughter as your words processed in his brain.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me you’ve never had a boyfriend? You’ve got to be shitting me. There’s no way.” A light blush covering your cheeks as he stares at you in disbelief. You shrug your shoulders to say that it was true and he shakes his head. “Please tell me that this hasn’t been at least half as bad as any of your last dates with those wanna be’s” You smile as you watch him stand up from his seat and make his way over to where you were, extending his hand so that you could take it once again.

“It has already been a thousand times better, might even let you kiss me at the end,” Bakugou pulled you up from your chair, but since you weren’t expecting the force, you ended up tripping on your feet and landing dead center of his chest. You glance up making eye contact with him, your cheeks heating up once again as a familiar, devilish smirk spreads across his face. He tilts his head down and lowers it just above your ear, allowing his hot breath to fan across your neck as he speaks again.

“It looks like I already have you falling for me love, are you sure I’ll have to wait for the end of the date for that kiss?” As he goes to pull away from your ear, you move your hand to the back of his neck, keeping him there as you speak.

“Good things come to those who wait Mr. Bakugou.” You release his neck and are relieved to see that for once you weren’t the one with a tint of red across your face. Looking over his shoulder you could see that the sun was starting to set and you got excited at the opportunity to watch the sun set on this beautiful boat. “Oooo, let’s go watch the sun set,” A innocent smile on your face, ignoring what you had previously said to him, instead taking his hand and leading him to the railing on the side of the ship, wanting the best possible view of the setting sun. As you stood with your arms resting against the rail, Bakugou’s arms wrap around your frame, securely holding you against it and his warm torso. Resting his chin on the top of your head, you both stay silent as you enjoy the view together.

As you look off into the distance, just enjoying the peaceful quiet out on the lake, it is disturbed by a man walking up to you. He had cleared his throat, startling, only further pushing you against Bakugou’s chest. You could feel his hard pecs through the thin material separating you. As you go to move away from his chest, the grasp of his hand on your waist holds you tightly against him. For the hundredth time that night, your face goes red but with a new reason. Not because of any lewd words, or any innuendoes. Instead it was because of the pressure that was now on your butt. You were almost positive he wasn’t hard and the size of it in this state was enough to make your thighs clench. Just how fucking big is he? Your hips unintentionally rock backwards at the thought. The grip that was on your hip tightens as a light groan emits from his throat at the contact. If you weren’t turned on before, that sinful noise definitely had you soaked. As your thoughts continue going south, the man that had startled you in the first place spoke up.

“Sorry to disturb you sir, but there seems to be a malfunction with the engine. It’s nothing major but we aren’t going to be able to get anyone out here until the morning. I can call for another boat to bring you to shore, but I don’t know how long that will take to get here.” He stood by, awaiting an answer from Katsuki. He slightly steps away from you giving you just enough room to turn around to face him. Once facing him, he asks you,

“Would you like me to call for a boat so you can get back to your hotel? It should only take a few hours hopefully. But if you are tired, you can always stay in one of the bedrooms on board the yacht. It isn’t a problem, there’s multiple bedrooms if that would be an issue.” Looking into his eyes it didn’t seem like he had an ulterior agenda, but instead genuinely seemed to want to make sure you were comfortable, and was willing to make whatever you wanted happen. That thought made a smile cross your lips, as he made you feel safe and comfortable, even only knowing him for a small amount of time.

“I’m alright with just staying on the ship. Don’t stress yourself with ordering a charter boat.” Katsuki returned your smile as he slowly turned away from you to inform the crew member that the two of you would be spending the night on the ship but he was free to call for a charter boat if he wanted to go back home. After the man gave a polite bow to the two of you, he turned around and left to go back to the wheel. Now that the two of you were alone, he turned back to you taking your hand in his once again.

“Did you want to head to bed now? Or would you like for me to show you where your room for the night will be?” You nod your head saying yes, after which he guides you to the undercarriage of the boat. There was what seemed to be a living room and jetting off from the room was a hallway which had 3 doors. His other hand that wasn’t connected with you reached out toward the handle of one of the doors. He twists it open and a large bedroom presents itself. Stepping to the side, he makes enough room to allow you to pass by him to enter the room and explore for yourself. You make your way toward the dresser that was next to the wall before turning around when you hear him speak up again. “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to grab you some clothes for you to sleep in.”

As he exits the room you take the time to examine the room. Your hand runs up the bed, the soft sheets almost calling your name to plop down onto them. But you hold yourself back and instead just sit on the edge of it, almost sinking in as the bed welcomes you in cozy arms. Just as you were about to get lost in the relaxation this mattress was tempting you with, Katsuki walked back into the room, a few clothes in his hand. He placed them on the side table before sitting next to you on the bed.

“I only had some of my clothes in the other room, so I hope you don’t mind but I just grabbed you some of my stuff.” He moved his head to look over at you and paused at how close your faces were. His eye brow slightly raises as his eyes travel down your face before landing on your lips, lingering before returning to meet you stare. His hand ghosted over the side of your body before traveling behind your neck, entangling in your hair at the base of your head. “Did you need help with anything else before I go?” You felt frozen under his lustful stare, unable to get the words out of your mouth as there was a lump in the back of your throat and an intense burn in your core. Swallowing the lump you speak up.

“I think I can think of a thing or two you could help me with.” Slightly leaning your head forward, feeling yourself getting drawn closer to him. But he must have felt the same because you could feel his word fan across your lips as he replied.

“And what would that be, princess?” His voice so smooth it came out almost as a purr. Yet instead of responding you push yourself forward, closing the small distance between the two of you. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, perfectly molding together as if they had been created to only meet one another's lips. Your hand runs up his arm to tangle in his hair, gripping it as you try to drown yourself as the kiss makes you almost lightheaded. His spare hand moves down to your hip, squeezing it before relaxing it. The hand that was buried in your hair grips down, tugging at the strands, making a soft gasp leave your mouth at the pulling sensation. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Bakugou dives his tongue into your mouth, exploring the new area. Your tongues battle before his hold on your hair and hip tightens causing you to submit. Your hands travel down from his hair to his chest before you break away from the kiss by pushing his torso flush against the mattress. As you both attempt to catch your breath your hands make quick work to unbutton his pants, his hand grabbing your wrist before you could continue.

“Hey, I don’t want you to think we have to do anything alright? You pause to look up at him taking in deep breath taking in his appearance. His hair messier now from your hands messing it up. His face coating in a thin tint of red from the heat of the situation. Your eyes start to travel down, looking at how the top few buttons of his shirt had come undone, allowing his collarbone to poke out and letting you catch a glimpse of the chiseled pecs that had yet to leave your mind from the first time you had video called each other. Continuing your exploration, your eyes stop when you reach his pants. the tent in his pants prominent under your devouring stare. Reaching your hand out, you let your hand lightly grasp his member, earning a throaty groan from the man under you. Pulling your bottom lip into your mouth as you slowly palm him through his dress pants. Even semi hard you could feel just how thick he was. Moving your hand, your eyes shoot back up to meet with his, his hooded eyes watching your every move.

“Oh I know. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to do something,” a smile on your face as you separate yourself from him, reaching for the zipper to your dress allowing it to slip past your shoulders and fall to the floor with a soft thud. Strutting your way back to where he was, you connect your hands with his waistband, tugging both his pants and his underwear along with it as you pull them down his muscular thighs. His dick slapping against his abdomen as it is released from its tight confines. Your eyes widen as you feel your jaw slightly drop at the view. Sure you had felt how large it was, but it was nothing in comparison to seeing it in person, right in front of your very eyes. Lowing yourself in front of him, the temptation to lick it was overwhelming as you felt your mouth watering at the sight of it. Taking his length in your hand, you give it a gentle squeeze as you open your mouth, running a long stripe up his length, tracing the pronounced vein that ran underneath of him. You hear him suck in a breath as your tongue flickers over his swollen tip, his hair immediately flying to your hair, needing something to hold onto at the sudden feeling.

“Shit baby girl, don’t mess with me like that.” You would have smirked at the comment but you were preoccupied at the moment. Opening your mouth further you take his head into your mouth, flicking your tongue against him again as you suck on his tip before releasing it while an audible pop. Bringing your head back down you take him into your mouth, relaxing your jaw as you attempt to take him fully into your mouth, almost being successful, but with how big he was it was nearly impossible for you to get him all in. You hold yourself near the base of his dick, tears swelling in your eyes as you try to relax so as to not choke around him. You feel yourself start to gag around him but the low groan that left his mouth made it completely worth it, the sinful sound sending a surge straight to your dripping core. Pulling yourself off of him, you gasp for air as he brushes your hair out of your face.

“Fuck princess, get over here.” He pulls you up to him and connects his lips to you, the kiss much messier than it was before, heated, but amazing to say the least. You break away from him still trying to catch your breath from before.

“Why’d you stop me, I could do a lot more you know.” You walk your fingers across his torso as you give him a playful wink.

“Oh I bet you could, but I’ll be damned if I don’t make you into a sobbing mess before I cum.” You couldn’t hold back the whimper that manages to escape at the thought of him ruining you. “But I bet you’d love that huh princess, want me to make you feel so fucking good.” his lips travel down to your jaw, kissing his way down your neck making it to the dip in your collarbone before licking a strip all the way back to the sweet spot just under your ear. He started moving back down kissing and nibbling as he explored your neck, searching for which spots made you the loudest. That was until he felt himself physically have to pause at your next response, just barely louder than a whisper.

“Yes please daddy...” He groans deeply into, the low pitch sending an electric feeling down your spine and resonating in your core. His hand makes its way to your throat as his finger lightly wraps around it, gently squeezing the sides.

“Say it again. Louder this time.” His fingers pressing into you as you feel a rush going to your head.

“Please daddy, I need you.” He released his grip on your neck and you feel the blood rush to your head. You go to take a deep breath but as you inhale Bakugou grabs you by the waist, flipping you so that he was now inches above you as you're practically pinned to the bed. The very breath you took caught in your throat as he lowered himself to your ear as his deep voice makes chills travel throughout your body.

“What exactly do you need, princess? Come on, I want to hear you use your big girl words.” A whimper involuntarily escaping you.

“I want you to make me feel good. To-- to stuff me with your fingers an- and prep me for your big dick.” Your face a bright shade of red as every drop of confidence you had earlier left with the lewd words he demanded to hear from you. But when you made eye contact with him you could see in the way his eyes darkened and by the smirk on his face that he was satisfied with what you had said. His hands roamed across your body, his rough fingertips slightly scratching you as he looped his fingers in the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down your legs before discarding them across the room. As his hand moves back up to your legs, you press them together at the cold feeling against the newly exposed area. He raised an eyebrow at the action and placed both of his hands on each of your knees.

“Spread them.” Was all he needed to say for you to slowly open your legs, putting yourself completely on display for him. Embarrassed at how exposed you were, you went to cover your face, but that didn’t last for long when you heard him groan as he took the sight of you in. Peeking out from under your arm you watch as he licks his lips as he stares at you, looking as if he was ready to devour you then and there.

“Fuck baby girl, you’re so good, doing exactly what I tell you to do -shit.” He started to talk more to himself as he ran his finger over your entrance, sucking in a breath at just how wet you were. A string of profanities leave his mouth as he dips a finger in after completely coating it in your slick. A whimper leaves your lips at the slight stretch. Slowly pushing himself further in, he curls his finger upwards and brushes it against your spongy wall. Your hips jolt up to try to meet his hand but he is quick to place his hand on your stomach, pressing you to the table making you stop your movements. “I’m going to need you to behave princess or you aren’t going to be getting anything from me, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes daddy..” you take in your lip, hoping that the response you gave him was what he had wanted to hear so that he would continue doing whatever it was that sent that electric surge throughout your body. But when you heard the deep groan come from his throat you knew that was exactly what he had wanted to hear. Slowly he pulls his finger out of you only to push it back into you, enjoying the way you clenched around his digit. After sliding out of you a few more times, you are forced to bite down on your lip as he slips another finger inside of you in a swift movement. Each thrust of his fingers slightly curling up to make sure to press lightly against your g-spot, making a tingle shoot to the tips of your toes. A moan rips from your mouth as he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing against your wall with more force. His pace picks up as the noises coming from you do as well. Just as you start to feel a warm feeling build up, your head shoots up at the sensation of another finger being added into you. You shake your head at him trying to tell him that it was too much but you're silenced as his head dips into the crook of your neck. He leaves a trail of hot kisses all the way from your collar bone to just below your ear before he speaks again.

“You’re doing so good princess, taking my fingers like this- fuck- I know you can take it. I can feel just how close you are. Cum for me baby girl, cum all over Daddy’s fingers.” That was enough to make your body take over in a flood of white bliss as your orgasm soars through you. Your hand gripping his back, nails leaving a trail as you hold onto him. You moan out his name as he speaks in your ear. “Yess fuck baby just like that.” As you come down from your high he pulls away just far enough from you to watch as he pulls his fingers out of you. His fingers dripping as you watch him pull them to his face, his mouth wrapping around them, cleaning them and you feel yourself clench around nothing at the sight alone. His hand travels down from his mouth to your thighs, gently squeezing them before spreading them so that he could be between them. His length pressing against you as he puts each of your legs around his hips. You can feel yourself already getting wet again as his tip rubs against your swollen clit. A smirk on his lips as he watches you squirm against the sheets at the feeling of his length pressed against you. “Do you think you're ready for me? Think you’ll be able to handle it, baby?” He teases you, moving forward so that his head rubs against you again. He continues doing this, loving the way you keep moving your hips in any attempt to earn something more from him. He grabs the sides of your hips, halting your movements, causing you to whine. You try to move again just to get any kind of friction and you hear him suck in through his teeth. “Nuh uh princess, I want to hear you beg for it.”

“Please Katsuki-- god please I need you so bad. I just want you to fill me up. Please daddy, fuck me until I can’t walk.” A chuckle is all you can hear before you feel his hand ghost over your thigh, goosebumps covering you as he travels over your inner thigh to where his length was resting against you.

“Your wish is my command, your highness.” was all you heard before the room was filled with the sounds of your moans as he pushed into you. As he slowly bottoms out inside of you, your hands shoot up his back and bury themselves in his hair, pulling him close to you. The slight pain of him stretching you out causes you to furrow your brow and bite down on your lip. Noticing your pain, Bakugou dips down, connecting his lips with your own, distracting you from the pain you were feeling. His hands lightly massaging your thighs and hips as he finally is able to press against you fully. He stills himself giving you the much needed time to adjust to his size. Even with the preparation he was so much bigger than you had expected. After some time you pull away from the kiss, your eyes meeting his as you take in a shaky breath.

“Please- move.” He gives you a smile before pulling out of you, immediately leaving you feel empty before he pushes himself back into you. He leans forward while keeping a slow pace and kisses away the tear that, unknown to you, managed to escape your eye. Pressing his forehead to yours you watch him close his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing as he sucks in a breath.

“Shit baby, you’re so fucking tight.” You didn’t know if the statement had even been for you as he was so focused on not railing himself into you. You could see on his face the struggle he was going through at the antagonizing slow pace he was holding. Taking a hold of his face you bring his attention back to you.

“You can go faster. I can handle it, just give me all you’ve got.” You watch as a sinister look takes over him as one of his hands removes itself from your hips and is planted down beside your head, his other hand’s grip on your hip tightening.

“You might want to hold on then princess.” You were just barely able to comprehend his words before you feel him pull out of you and quickly slam back into you. Not being able to hold back the moans he was pulling out of you as he repeats this action, burying his dick deep inside of you, each thrust causing his head to crash into your soft, spongy wall. While you had told him to give it his all this isn’t what you had been expecting. The pure pleasure coursing through you as his unforgiving speed and power only seems to increase. You drag your fingers down his back, sure that your nails were breaking through his skin, but at the moment, that was the least of your concerns. You threw your head back against the pillow as you feel him attach himself to your neck, his mouth leaving hot open kisses against you. As one of your hands pulls against his hair, a deep groan rumbles through his throat sending the vibration straight into you as he connects himself to you again, his kisses turning into harsh sucking and nibbles. As he moves down your neck he stops at where it connects with your collar bone when he hears the broken moan that leaves from you. As he licks a stripe up the length of your throat back to his new favorite spot, a chill runs through you and you clench around him.

“Fuuuck baby girl, You keep that up and I’ll have no choice but to fuck you all night long.” You whimper at the thought alone. He continues his brutal pace as your grip in his hair tightens, holding on for dear life as you try to keep up. The way he was slamming into you was unforgiving but you loved it. Each thrust making you stretch around him, barely able to handle his size. You could feel your high coming again, and coming fast. But Bakugou must have noticed as well as the hand that was grasping your hip was now rubbing circles into your clit. The pressure was overwhelming as he also somehow picked up the force as he rams harder into you.

“You’re close, aren’t you, baby? Go ahead, cum for me. I want to hear you scream out who is making you feel this good. Let them all know who’s princess you are.” His hip tilted upwards and mixed with what he said was enough to force you to come undone. You scream out his name as your body is taken over in euphoria. “That’s it, baby girl- fuck,” was the only thing you were able to make out as you feel his paint your walls white. His thrust starts to slow as he helps the two of you ride out your highs.

His head presses against your own as you both attempt to catch your breath, the sounds of your breathless pants were now the only thing filling the room as you feel him soften in you. You feel your body go limp as he pulls himself out of you, feeling incredibly empty. You feel the bed dip as he gets off, heading into the bathroom before returning with a wet cloth. Gently, he cleans away any mess, making sure to be careful when he gets to any sensitive areas. Afterwards he places the towel on the nightstand before sitting back on the bed. Your hands gently run over the raised skin of his back, trying to calm the now irritated skin.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scratch you so bad,” You felt bad for the marks you left on him. But when he encases your face in between his hands and makes you look into his eyes, you feel a wave of relief take over as he speaks.

“Don’t feel bad princess, you are perfectly fine. If anyone should be apologizing it should be me, I may have been a little rougher than I had originally meant. I didn’t hurt you did I?” A look of worry on his face as he realizes he had sort of lost control. But when you smiled at him he felt a little bit of his stress go away.

“It was perfect. It was better than I ever could have imagined. So thank you.” He slightly smiled while his eyebrow cocked at your statement.

“You say that as if you’ve never been fucked properly before.” He chuckled as he pulled you to lay against his torso. Suddenly a wave of nervousness washed over you as you fiddled with your fingers. He looked down at you. “What is it?”

“Well that would require me to have been fucked before...” You felt him freeze under you.

“You’re kidding right?” You avoided his gaze, but his hand gently grabs your chin pulling you to look up at him. “I wish I would have known.”

“Why, would you have been gentler?” You ask him, worried that he regretted it.

“Of course I would have. It’s your first time. I wouldn’t have gone that all out, I would have held back a bit.”

“Well then I’m glad I didn’t say anything because that...” you pause taking a moment to plant a kiss against his lips. “...was amazing.” He smiled against your lips before pulling you into another kiss, this one much slower and filled with emotion than the ones you had shared before.

“I’m glad that you enjoyed it, next time I’m just going to have to make it up to you.” He brushes your hair out of your face.

“Next time?” You question him and a soft smile spreads across his face as he looks into your eyes.

“Of course, I meant it when I said you never have to worry again. You're my princess, and I’m going to make sure to take good care of you, okay?”

Bold could not be tagged: @terrifying-testicles @loxbbg @mycrennycalromance @skylan666 @wifunozomi @urmomsshousee @kellyyween @niko-su993 @cookednoodlez @guzmagirl @bleakerspath @explicitbun @qunibunisartblog @succulent-momma @anjadolly @bakugou-is-my-daddy @wessoninc @lovinthesiz3 @katsuki-bakubae @hot-pocket01 @sir-knight-slytherdor @katsukiswhore @death-to-the-patriarcy @plusultrabitches @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @angxlicwanda @ninjafirewitch @hellyeahbakubby @green-beanie-chan @ktsuukki @morenabambinii @kagomefan27 @anxietys-a-bitch @azgucci @theofficialhufflepuff @seungcheolieeesblog @artgirlwithglasses @sleepysuneater @justanormallyabnormalbitch @hsixen @sincerelyyrosemary @liviitehe @arsenic0tine @maddoxrabbit

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Telegrams & Teacups

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader (Enola Holmes)

Warnings: None.

Summary: Your morning was normal until you received a telegram from your friend Sherlock Holmes with a simple request: help him find Enola.

A/n: This tiny idea had me so obsessed that it’s all I’ve been writing for the last few hours! I have no regrets <3

You had just poured yourself a cup of tea and set it down on the small table by the armchair when there was a knock at the door.

How peculiar. You thought to yourself.

Crossing the room, you turned the handle and propped open the panel of wood to see who your guest was and was met with a man from the post office holding in his hands a beige envelope.

“Telegram for (Y/n).” He explained. You confirmed your identity and were handed the papered item bidding the gentlemen a good day.

With a swift closing of the door, you leaned against it and opened the letter, recognising initials of S.H on the bottom right corner. Sherlock had told you that he was leaving to attend to a personal matter in the country yesterday morning so if he sent a priority telegram to you, then there must have been a development in the case.

Unfolding the paper, you read the message and learnt that he requested your assistance in locating his sister Enola Holmes who he suspected to be in London and that he would be back in the city later that afternoon. At the bottom of the letter there were the words ‘URGENT’ and a short series of words describing the girl scrawled rather messily, no doubt belonging to his brother Mycroft who was constantly teetering on the edge of patience.

You glanced over at the teacup still sending swirls of steam into the air and sighed - your drink would have to wait. Grabbing your coat from its stand, you hastily put it on and dashed out the door.

When you stepped out onto the street, you remembered Sherlock once mentioned having a sister that he had not contacted in years. It was a simple remark that he let slip when he had his guard down around you - it didn’t happen often and he had caught himself before opening up to emotion. A trait that you had come to accept.

Focusing back on finding the youngest Holmes sister, Sherlock had told you of the station that she would have gotten off at. A station name was all you needed because as it turned out, you were rather gifted at getting into people’s minds and predicting the footsteps that they had taken and ones that they were likely to take next.

From the way Sherlock had explained the situation in the letter to Mycroft’s hasty emotion-driven description, you could tell that Enola was on the run to escape her brothers and a young girl out of place, who wanted to stay hidden, would have to blend into the crowd.

Your feet brought you to the first dress shop on the street from the station. Peering through the window, you noticed that the shop owner was counting a large wad of cash that seemed to be suspiciously ‘earned’ by an otherwise empty and ragged looking store. Your eye also caught the clothing rack of beautiful dresses and the empty hangers by the window.

‘Unrefined’ was one of Mycroft’s choice words and it seemed that Enola was clever enough to use his descriptions to her advantage.

Stepping back from the shop, you looked around the busy and bustling streets. Dressed like a lady, the young girl would be in need of accommodation, therefore she would have asked the shopkeeper for suitable lodgings to avoid wandering the streets aimlessly.

As if on cue, the dressmaker walked out of her shop and made her way across the street. Letting your instincts lead, you followed at a safe distance with a casual stride so as to not arouse suspicion. In a matter of minutes after turning a few streets and across empty passages, you had tracked the shopkeeper to what looked like a lodging of some kind on the edge of a suburb.

It was not terrible but would definitely keep one out of sight. Walking in, you introduced yourself as an acquaintance of Sherlock Holmes and inquired about Enola. The bookkeep nodded and immediately led you up a narrow set of stairs before approaching a room and knocking on the door.

“Young Miss. You have a visitor.” They announced. You heard a small shuffle of feet from inside and the door creaked open to reveal and young girl with big brown eyes. She seemed to have recognised you, stepping to the side to let you in. She closed the door and turned around.

“I know who you are.” She said boldly with a fresh air of confidence that was not to be expected from someone so young. “You work for my brother, Sherlock.”

Looking around at the little space, newspapers scattered over the bed, you smiled at Enola’s phrasing.

“Actually I work with him - on the occasion.” You corrected wheeling back around to the girl who folded her arms.

“Why are you here?”

“A telegram from your brother.”

Enola frowned and shook her head. “Well, I won’t return home so they can ship me off to some home for girls to be oppressed into this world.” She looked at you and realised that you dressed in the typical London style like everyone else that she had come across and added a small, “No offence.”

“Believe me, I am not a person of societal rules. I wear no hat and no gloves, and my neighbour - your brother - usually has me wound up in one of his most outrageous cases.” You explained with a small laugh. “Mycroft only tolerates my so-called ‘embarrassing presence’ because Sherlock insists.”

Your words seemed to have reached the young girl from the way her posture fell more relaxed.

“So, you won’t take me to my brothers?” She asked and you couldn’t help but chuckle while shaking your head.

“No. Mycroft called you wild and unladylike in my telegram but as I stand here before you, I don’t see any of it. You’re remarkable and we’ve only met.”

Enola sighed with some relief that she was not going to be dragged away and smoothed out her dress before looking up at you. “Thank you.” She said politely.

You had completed the task of finding Enola Holmes as requested and bid your farewell to the young girl but not before reminding her to reach out to you if she needed assistance. While she appeared to be very bright and capable, the city had its dangers concealed as innocence.

Leaving the lodging, you trekked back home, picking up a loaf of bread from the wheat merchant for dinner. It had been a long day and you were ready to sit back and enjoy a fresh cup of tea given that the one you had made earlier would have likely gone cold.

At the door, you balanced the paper bag against your hip and turned the key to unlock your place of residence. This time when you walked in, you discovered that you weren’t alone - Mycroft was pacing by the fireplace while Sherlock had taken a seat in your armchair with a newspaper in his face.

“Has nobody told you that it’s incredibly rude to show up in a person’s home unannounced?” You wondered letting the door fall to a close behind you. Sherlock smirked behind the paper at your comment as he turned the page. Mycroft stepped in your direction and your eyes darted up to see the scowl beneath his moustache.

“What I find to be rude is that you took it upon yourself to be entertained with such trivial actions instead of carrying out the simple task of finding our sister.” He snapped, gesturing to the bread in your hands. His sharp tone of cold authority once intimidated you, but each encounter had you grow bold, refusing to be tread on by the man.

“A task so simple that she managed to elude your brilliant mind?” You questioned with a small purse of your lips and tilting your head ever so slightly to accentuate your sarcasm. “If that isn’t an embarrassment to the name of Holmes, I don’t know what is?”

It was like you had struck the man physically as his walking cane was suddenly pointed at you with warning.

“Watch your tone, (Y/n). I can make your life exceedingly difficult.”

You held your ground against the man and smiled back. “Just being in my presence is difficult enough.”

His jaw clenched; the eldest Holmes brother pulled his cane back to his side refusing to entangle in a pointless argument. Head high, he scoffed and grumbled about how disappointing you were and why Sherlock kept you around as he exited the apartment.

Thankful that he was gone, you walked over to the small table by the window and set the bread down before picking up scattered pieces of paper.

“I take it that you found her.” Sherlock inquired from where he sat.

“Of course. She’s quite well hidden.”

“You didn’t tell Mycroft.”

Turning around, you crossed the room to the fireplace to place a few stray envelopes on the mantelpiece. “I don’t believe I owe him an answer after he broke into my home like some common thief.”

Sherlock set the newspaper down and watched you, “And yet, you’ve let me stay.” He said curiously.

You dusted your hands and glanced over your shoulder, shooting him a playful, almost-teasing smile.

Taking that for your answer, the famed detective stood up and placed the newspaper back from where he first retrieved it. You had finished up and noticed that he was on the border of leaving too.

“I take it that you won’t tell me of her location either?” He surmised, tugging a little on his coat to straighten it out.

With a small laugh, you walked past him and patted his chest. “You might be more agreeable than your brother, but I have no desire to make your job easy, Sherlock.” You told him kindly. “I’ll keep Enola in my sights and hidden until you catch up.”

That’s when you saw it, sitting on the armchair table was your teacup from that morning except, instead of being filled with a cold liquid, it was hot and steaming. Frowning, you turned to Sherlock who was by the door, smiling at your bewildered expression.

“You’ve had a long day. I’ll give you some time to catch up.” He winked and stepped out, disappearing behind your front door.

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #sherlock x reader #sherlock imagine #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes x reader #enola holmes imagine #enola homes x reader #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft x reader

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therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

Hello! Why do you think Carlisle likes Aro? (Love your meta btw!)

This blog lasted 25 days before becoming an Aro/Carlisle blog. The sanity was nice while it lasted, I suppose.

Oh well, I embrace my trash ship.

(Anon is referring to this post)

(This one is also relevant)

So, while on Aro’s end it was a case of “did the gods just give me my very own Enkidu?”, for Carlisle we must look at the circumstances. The Carlisle Cullen who walked into Volterra is not the Carlisle Cullen who works at Forks General.

Carlisle was a demon-hunting priest who brought his religion into his new life. Having no idea what he’d just become, apart from the obvious things like “I desperately want to kill people for their blood” and “I sparkle?!”, many of the things that are obvious to us would not be at all obvious to him. His only experience with other demons was the slum-dweller that killed him. It was brutal, and three other people from his parish were murdered as well. He’d been able to track the vampire down, something I can only take that to mean that the vampire used his parish for hunting grounds. He’s so horrified by what he’s become that he tries to destroy himself. This fails, and instead he finds a way out that lets him live without having to kill, and with that comes to the realization that vampires retain their souls (which is for another post).

My point being, Carlisle wakes up as a demon, and has no way of knowing how any of this works, nor of how to explain the fact that he is able to retain his soul. It’s telling that even after centuries of being a vampire he still thought something might be fundamentally different about him, as he chose to turn Edward by simulating his own transformation, even though it meant more pain for Edward. In other words, Carlisle was not guaranteed that his experience was universal. By the time we meet him in canon he’s wonderfully friendly to everybody regardless of what they eat, but I strongly doubt he got from point “Demons are monsters and I’ll rally a mob to lynch them!” to “Vampires are people who sadly eat other people.” right away.

So, you have freshly immortal Carlisle Cullen wandering around Europe with no way of knowing that other vampires are as (for lack of a better word) human as he is. How can they be, when they choose to eat people? (My personal headcanon is that he went by a Persephone theory, and figured that by resisting human blood he’d remained a man.)

It was this Carlisle who met Aro and the other Volturi. According to Edward (I unfortunately don’t have Twilight with me so I can’t quote his exact words), they were the ones who showed him that vampires can in fact be sophisticated.

Sophisticated. Not just as in Aro, Marcus, and Caius eat their virgins with some fava beans and a nice chianti, but as in they’re civilized and intelligent beings. Carlisle was no longer a one lone freak who somehow retained his soul while everyone else went full Buffy vampire, or any other such theory. I can’t even imagine the impact that must have had on a young Carlisle who would have been even lonelier than the Carlisle who found Edward in Chicago. That Carlisle at least had friends, this younger version had absolutely nobody.

Aro changed that.

More than being sophisticated, Aro turned out to be a kindred spirit, an absolutely brilliant mind and a generous host. Carlisle chose to live with him for decades, leaving only because of their dietary differences. And even if people disagree with me with all of the above, I don’t think anyone can argue that this one isn’t huge.

Of all the people Carlisle knows in canon, Aro is the only one he stayed with just for Aro’s own sake. Carlisle loves the Cullens dearly, but the cornerstone holding them together is their shared diet, and the fact that Carlisle turned four of them, the other two joined. He did not happen upon them and then like them so much that he decided to move in. As for his other friends, he cares for them all, but he didn’t share decades of his life with them.

Regardless of how we’re interpreting their relationship (as in, platonic, UST, or raging homosexual affair), I don’t think anyone can dispute that Carlisle and Aro are each other’s best friends.

But beyond proving that vampires aren’t all sewer-dwelling, priest-eating rascals, what exactly made Aro so special?

I’ll just list his qualities in no particular order.

Sophistication This guy is a lover of the arts and of knowledge. His gallery and library must have been the most extensive and diverse in the world, and it probably still is. I can’t even begin to imagine the wealth of knowledge and treasures that Aro must have collected over the years. If the Holy Grail exists within the world of Twilight, Aro has it. Where I’m headed with this, is that not only would Aro’s collection be the coolest thing ever to Carlisle, but also that this was a time when the number of books and an art collection was a sign of high class, of intellectualism, of all things fine and noble that was considered virtuous. Aro acts very much like wealthy European nobility, he even lives in Italy, the cultural epicenter of the Western world of old. He physically could not have been more impressive to Carlisle.

Kind of a continuation of the previous point: Aro is from Ancient Greece (well, he’s Myceanaean, but same difference to a “You predate Homer?!” starstruck Carlisle). Ancient Greece was the ultimate, perfect, civilization to Europe, and Carlisle got to Volterra just ahead of the Enlightenment. This alone would have made him so unbelievably cool to Carlisle.

Nerd I think this one speaks for itself. Carlisle is an unbelievable nerd, an inquisitive mind who’ll study anything and everything, and in Aro he found someone who also has an inquisitive mind and will study anything and everything. They’re both very intelligent. Carlisle went from being that sad whale that sings on a frequency no other whales can hear, to having someone who just got it.

His gift So you’re all gonna have to stay with me on this one. Aro’s gift is one most people would find very invasive, which as I touched upon in one of the posts linked above must be very isolating. And yet we know from canon that Carlisle has no problem at all with Edward reading his mind all the time, and more, if Aro reading his mind was a problem then Aro and Marcus would both have known, and I doubt their friendship would have worked out. So, I think that Carlisle not only didn’t mind having his every thought read, but that this was an actively good thing. Because what is less lonely than the company of one who knows you as intimately as you know yourself? To be friends with Aro is to be truly understood, known more deeply than anyone else can ever know you. And to someone who seeks companionship as much as Carlisle does, I imagine this is an extremely attractive feature.

Offer of friendship Carlisle would have been hopelessly lonely when he met Aro. And as no one else is mentioned as being close to him, Jane hadn’t even met him which I find pretty telling of how he interacted (or didn’t interact) with the Guard, and he wouldn’t yet have any of his other friends that he later made, he only had Aro.

He enforcers a law that keeps the known world from descending into chaos Human civilization wouldn’t last a day without the Volturi. There would be nothing stopping vampires from taking out entire villages in one go, immortal children would be everywhere, and the newborn armies would spread like wildfire. In the world of Twilight, the Volturi are a necessary evil. And Aro is their leader. The fact that he not only keeps the world together, an ungrateful task with no end in sight, but had the idea to create a law in the first place would make him all the more amazing to Carlisle.

And I’m sure there’s more that is currently slipping my mind.

Just, Aro is on every level the most impressive, awe-inspiring, and dare I say dazzling, that anyone can be to Carlisle. And he came into Carlisle’s life at the best possible moment. If he’d agreed to do the animal diet, Carlisle would have stayed. If he wanted to seduce Carlisle, I think he’d succeed. I also think that their time together was far more formative for the person Carlisle became than anyone gives Aro credit for.

(And if Carlisle had never found anyone who’d share the diet, he would eventually have returned. I imagine Aro thought the same, but that’s for another post.)

Oh, and last bit - in Breaking Dawn we get this beautiful moment where Carlisle learns that Aro robbed the British royal family, and he just goes, “yup, that’s my guy”. Even after Eclipse, he remains fond of Aro. I mean, there’s also the fact that he’s been lugging around this giant painting for centuries, even at a time when he didn’t have a house and I can only speculate as to where he was keeping it.

Of course, over the course of Eclipse and Breaking Dawn everything goes to hell, but that’s for another post.

TL;DR, Carlisle went from a priest’s son to living with an evil vampire overlord for decades because he’s just that great, in the present he keeps a giant painting of him in his office. I feel it’s safe to assume he likes the man.

(Edited on the 13th of April to fix some phrasing and add a link)

#this is... not my most eloquent production #OH WELL #the last time i thought as much was the bella is doomed post and that one took off so maybe that's a good thing #carlisle cullen #aro #aro/carlisle #twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight meta #my glorious ship #i just don't know what to make of people who want to insist it's one-sided and carlisle ran away screaming from that evil aro #you guys have to bend canon far more than i do to arrive at that conclusion #is it because he's a threat to carlisle/esme?#Anonymous #ask #long post

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eirikaanemo · 3 years

Note

Venti falls in love with an Inazuman rebel. The rebel has no vision, but what they do have is a belief that everyone has an inherent right to live freely. How does Venti know about this rebel in the first place? I honestly have no idea...

Visionless Visionary

Venti x GN!Reader

1.8k Words

Warning: Minor character death mentioned, prayer (if that bothers you)

Disclaimer: I knew next to nothing about Baal when I wrote this, so it may not be an accurate representation of her character.

Inazuma is a mess. That is just a fact now. Baal has suddenly become violent and a danger to her people. So many had done nothing but hold a vision she had bestowed upon them in the first place. And because of that, she struck your cousin down. You can still remember the thump of his lifeless body hitting the ground and the steady tap, tap, tap of Baal’s shoes as she walked away.

She seemed completely unaffected by her actions. You were anything but. The scene played over and over in your nightmares for weeks, and continues to haunt you. So when the rebellion reached out to you for support you were happy to assist. You found out he had just joined their ranks and that’s why he had been targeted.

However, you don’t have a vision so there’s only so much you can do. Of course they always welcome financial support and you gave it to the best of your ability. But you knew there had to be more you could do. So you spoke to some people and it was agreed that you would go to Mondstadt and position Barbatos for his support for your cause.

He hadn’t been seen in centuries, but he was the god of freedom, right? If anyone could help them, it would be him. So with the rebellion’s blessing you took your savings and made the long journey to Mondstadt.

Finding lodging was fairly easy. The people of Mondstadt were more than willing to help you. Especially once they found out what you were there to do. ‘Such a great and admirable cause,’ they said. ‘May Barbatos bless you!’ And all you could do was hope he did.

You prayed every morning and every night for help for your people. The heavens seemed quiet, but you didn’t let that dissuade you. Surely your sheer persistence would make a difference, you reasoned. And so you kept on.

One night, rather early on, you ran into a bard not long after your evening prayer. He had been not too far from the statue and you were captivated by the beauty of the song he played. It was ancient Inazuman and for just a moment you were able to forget and be caught up in the memories of better days.

When the song ended you were disappointed and tried not to pout. Judging from the laugh the bard let out when he saw you, it must have still shown on your face. “Did you like the song?” He asks. “I know I didn’t play for long. Would you like to hear another?”

“I would love to,” you admit. He smiles and simply starts on another song, this one also of Inazuma origin. From there he transitions into a more Mondstadtian style, singing The Ballad of Freedom. You know it well, as it’s a favorite of many of the rebels. As the last note fades he turns back to you.

“What brings you here, I wonder. Has it to do with your country being torn asunder?” He inquires.

“Yes,” you reply. “I’ve come to ask Lord Barbatos for his assistance in our cause. We fight for freedom from Baal, who has become nothing but a tyrant. As for me personally, well, she killed my cousin right in front of me. Her only reasons being the vision she bestowed upon him herself not many years ago and his belief that what she was doing was wrong. No one should have to suffer that.”

“Indeed, it seems you have a need. Your cause is just and swords you thrust. But the archons don’t just help everyone, so prove to him you’re worthy of some.”

“But how do I do that?” You question the cryptic bard.

“You’ll see in time, dear friend of mine!” He winks and you find your face warming. “Though I have a question if you don’t mind. Is the assistance you’re seeking a vision like mine?” He taps the glowing turquoise vision sitting on his belt by his hip.

“No,” you shake your head. “After what happened to my cousin, I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with a vision. For me they’ve been nothing but trouble.” He nods in understanding.

“I see how that would be. I must take my leave for now, we’ll see each other later anyhow.” And he’s off into the night.

He’s right that this is far from the last time you see him. And he’s right that you start noticing the tests that Barbatos has set before you. More and more people seek your help in one thing or another, especially since the one they call “honorary knight” left to Liyue. There’s much to do, but you’re happy to help them.

Eventually you stop helping them because it’s a test and start helping them because you want to; because it’s the right thing to do. You help Lisa organize the library. You help Barbara clean the cathedral. You help Amber keep watch. You help Venti with his performances from time to time. You stand in for Diluc’s barkeep while he recovers from an illness.

Days and days have passed and your relationship with Venti grows and grows. You notice more and more things about him that you rather like. His laugh. His eyes. His hands. His music. His sense of humor. His optimism.

Really, everything about him is amazing. You try to deny it at first. But you know deep down that you’re falling in love. And you’re seeing some hints that he might be too. Lots of them, because he’s started flirting with you almost constantly.

However, as your relationship grows, your hope dwindles. It’s been weeks! You’ve helped so many people and have prayed so many times. And yet you have not received an answer. Not even an acknowledgement that he has heard.

When you express your concern and discouragement to Venti, he is very concerned. “I’m just not sure how much longer I can stay,” you explain. “While I would hate to return empty handed, I can’t stay here forever.”

“Try just one more time, for me?” he asked you, looking a little guilty despite not having reason to be. It’s not like he was keeping Barbatos from speaking with you. As if he could sense your hesitance he sweetened the deal. “If you do, I’ll give you a kiss!” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and flashed you a mischievous smile and you felt a warm blush bloom on your face.

“Alright,” you grumble good-naturedly. “I’ll try one more time.” His resulting cheer and more cheery smile were nearly enough to have made you do it by themselves.

That night you approached his statue, feeling unreasonably nervous compared to the nights before. “Lord Barbatos,” you prayed. “I seek thy assistance for my people’s cause. We seek the freedom thou dost represent. Someday may we all be free to live our lives reasonably, but as we please. This is my vision, my hope. Please, if it be thy will, let thy winds be not still. Guide us to better days, for this is what I pray.”

You stay there for a long moment, waiting. Then, the wind picks up and you hear a voice from it. It seems vaguely familiar but you can’t quite figure out why.

“Your diligence and passion for your cause has secured my blessing,” the winds whispered. “My winds will be at your back and support your cause. However, if you accept a vision despite your fears, you will be able to do far more. The wind will whisper secrets to your ears. All plans spoken will be carried to your ears.

“You need not fight with it. Trust in me, that I will not strike you down for accepting this gift. In your time here in my home I have found you to be a friend to us so I will be a friend to you.”

You feel tears come to your eyes. “I accept,” you whisper. This will be incredibly valuable.There’s no way you could turn it down. And this is the kind of god you can trust and accept a vision from. He is as kind, generous, and benevolent as his people.

After a moment of silence, the winds calm and a gleaming turquoise vision lies before you, dangling from a necklace like a pendant. It’s smaller than some others you’ve seen and is hidden easily when you slide it over your head and under your shirt. That will be invaluable when you return to Inazuma. It would be most suspicious for you to return with one after everything that’s happened.

You take another moment to catch your breath and wipe the tears from your eyes. Then you take a particularly deep breath to steady yourself and make your way back to Venti. “How did it go?” He asks, and you smile in response.

“It went very well,” you said, pulling the pendant out to show him your new vision. “Now we match! Now… I believe I was promised a kiss?”

The smile on his face at your teasing words could have lit up a room, if you were in one. He took your hands in his and tugged you closer gently before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. It was a pleasant kiss, chaste but lingering and sweet.

He giggled at the face you made when he pulled away. You joined it, adding your laughter to his. Between the blessing and his kiss you felt like you were on top of the world. Then you remembered something that brought you down from your high.

“Venti, you know this means I have to leave now, right?” You inquire.

His face fell to a serious and thoughtful expression before it softened and he sent you a small smile. “Yeah, I know. You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” you respond softly. “I love you too.”

He nods. “Then I’ll wait for you. So don’t take too long, okay?”

“Of course, I’ll do what I can,” you reply.

Your parting is sad, but hopeful as he waves you goodbye until you’re so far away that he can’t see you. He sings nearly nothing but sappy love songs for the next week. He misses you, but knows you’ll be back. His winds won’t let anything happen to you after all.

When you return to Inazuma you find that all the rebels with anemo visions had their power boosted, the ships sailed swifter with the wind behind them, and the information the wind brought you gave you many victories. The struggle was still difficult, but the help you had obtained made a serious difference and soon enough you were headed back to Mondstadt.

You are headed home. After all, home is where the heart is.

tag list: @clouds-rambles

#eirika writes #venti #genshin venti #venti x reader #genshin impact x reader

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mckennamayfairgoode · 3 years

Text

The Songbirds Keep Singing Like They Know the Score

Wilhemina Venable x Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: Wilhemina vs. the voices that haunt her.

Warnings: Angsty angst as requested and fluffy fluff because I am a marshmallow.

A/N: @lucyintheskywithxanax Hi, this is for you x.

Song: Songbird by Fleetwood Mac

When Wilhemina was a child, when she was small and broken and scared, when she could no longer see the world in front of her past the tears in her eyes, when the voices would overwhelm her and threaten to swallow her whole, she’d picture a place in her mind: a field of wildflowers, of daffodils and daisies and sunflowers, and a large weeping willow tree. She’d sit against the trunk, feel the bark against her back and the wind brushing her face, and she would close her eyes and breathe in the smell of sunshine and just be. In her mind, she was safe. In a place of beauty and freedom that was hers and hers alone, no one could touch her.

She thinks about that place now - or tries to - as she watches you smile at someone that isn’t her. You laugh at something the other woman says, real, sincere, the way you laugh with Wilhemina in the evenings when you trade anecdotes in bed and she draws that beautiful sound out of you like coaxing butterflies from your belly.

You giggle and squirm, brushing her teasing fingers away from your bare stomach. “Mina,” you admonish playfully, capturing her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

Her expression is amused, dark eyes transfixed on her own fingertip as it traces the curve of your lips. “Yes, my darling?”

You melt under her ministrations, pressing another kiss to the tip of her finger. “Nothing, baby,” you murmur, eyelashes fluttering as the pad of her thumb brushes your cheekbone. She loves it when you're like this: soft and sleepy and so full of love that it shines from your eyes. You reach around her waist and pull her flush against you, bare skin and flesh melding until it feels like you are one person and have never been anything else.

She knew they were coming before she could feel them, your fingertips on her shoulder. They always start there, a warning, a sign, a whispered hello in the moonlight. Don’t be frightened, it’s just me, you seem to say. Can you feel my love? your heart will whisper. You’ll trace patterns on her skin, follow the curve until you reach the back of her neck. You’ll play with the strands of red hair you find there before slowly brushing your fingers down her spine. You’ll be slow and gentle - like you are enchanting a lioness who has shown you her belly and not a woman who is afraid of tenderness.

She doesn’t want to be scared of you. She wants to crawl into your heart and whisper poetry so that you might feel her love for you. She closes her eyes, imagines she can hear songbirds outside your window and melts against you, nuzzling the crook of your neck with her nose. She breathes you in just as your fingertips tease the back of her neck. You smell of sunshine.

Her body aches.

She watches, transfixed, as the woman reaches out and brushes your shoulder with the tips of her fingers. She can feel the cold creeping over her, passing over her skin and down her spine like morning dew clinging to blades of grass in the front lawn that you share.

She tries to conjure the wind, the flowers, the weeping willow tree but all she can see is you. She can’t look away - from you, from her, from the way you gaze almost adoringly at a woman that is beautiful and tall and normal. She does not have a crooked spine or a sharp tongue or hands that hurt more than they heal. She is not broken.

She raps her cane against the ground, one loud motion that claps around the room. It might as well be thunder. You and the woman both jump, heads swiveling in her direction. Wilhemina thinks she knows her but her mind lashes angrily, ocean waves slamming against the bow of a ship, and she can’t bother to remember her name. Her eyes brush past her - to you.

She wants to find the guilt in your eyes, to watch your pupils bloom wide like flower petals when you meet her gaze but all she can see is love and warmth. It sickens her, churns her gut, twists her insides until all she can feel is pain. She sneers. “Don’t you two have work to do?”

The woman offers a charming smile like she doesn’t know Venable at all. “Yes, of course, Ms. Venable. See you later, Y/N.” She winks at you and struts off down the hallway. Venable feels her blood boil but doesn’t give her the satisfaction of watching her leave. She is not worth her time, but you... you are worth all of it. But she is too angry to listen to the heart that loves you, too blinded by rage to realize that the look in your eyes is adoration and not contempt. The blood in her veins turns to ice. She looks at you and doesn’t recognize you at all.

Without a word, she turns and walks away.

The ride home is silent. She can feel you looking though, turning your head every so often to gaze at her when you think she’s not paying attention. She doesn’t know how to decipher your expression. She can’t tell the difference between the seasons, between the feelings pressed beneath her chest, between your heart and hers, much less the shadows painted on your beautiful face.

Your favorite song comes on the radio. You don’t even sing. You are probably thinking about her, she decides. That woman who must have snuck in when Wilhemina was happy and content and unaware, and stole you from her arms, from your bed, from the home that you built together brick by brick until it was a towering fortress in which she felt safe. She should have noticed, should have seen that the stars in your eyes were not for her at all. Not anymore. She should have realized that at some point, you had reached up and plucked them from the sky and replaced them with something entirely new.

Maybe you had finally seen them, all the things she had warned you about. Maybe one day you had woken up and seen the Wilhemina peeking out from within and been disgusted by her weakness, her vulnerability. Any moment now, you will turn to her with that pitying look in your eyes and explain, gently and with that tone of voice you reserve for those with less patience than you, that you are in love with someone else. You must be and that’s what the shadows must mean. They are your guilt put on display, an exhibit of black curtains and a moonless night sky and she is waiting for the day she arrives at your museum only to find it gone like you had never been there at all.

The thought makes her heart drop into her stomach. It annoys her, taunts her, reminds her that the ache in her chest is something she could have prevented if she had not let you in, if she had not allowed you to crawl inside her and make a home in her heart. Her gloves creak when she tightens her grip on the steering wheel. It echoes in the car, in the silence that you have made.

You will not break her. She is already broken.

You try to speak to her when you get home. She hasn’t looked at you since that moment in the atrium and she thinks maybe you have finally caught on. Or maybe you finally know what to say. She wonders if you have rehearsed this moment in your head, if the tides have finally turned and they are just now rushing in her direction to smash against her shore.

She stands at the counter, takes her gloves off one by one, and watches from the corner of her eye as you look at her and struggle to speak. A part of her takes joy in watching you flounder. A part of her wants you to squirm, to feel, to hurt. Just like her. The other part of her, the Wilhemina inside that bangs at the door and screams to be let out, only wants you to hold her. She hates it. Seethingly. With a ferocity she didn’t know she was capable of anymore after falling in love with you. She is broken, but she is not weak. She tells it to shut up and slams the door in its face.

“Mina?” Your voice comes from behind her. Not hesitant, but cautious. So at least you are aware of her ire. Good. You should be cautious. The Wilhemina inside reminds her that she could never hurt you, that it is useless to pretend otherwise. She locks the door and puts her hands over her ears so that the voice is muffled.

She raises an eyebrow, feigning indifference. “Is there something you need? Or have you finally worked up the courage to say what you so desperately need to say?”

You frown, eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

She tilts her head, annoyance clear in the downturned pull of her lips. “You’ve been sitting there like a daft moron for an hour. I was wondering if you’d finally grasped enough vocabulary in order to get on with it.” The Wilhemina inside flinches. You’re going to regret this, it says. She doesn’t hear it. She doesn’t want to.

“Get on with what?” You take a step closer, looking up into her face and studying her expression like you can figure out what's going on in her mind if she will only meet your eyes. She hates it. She hates that you can make her feel seen. She hates that she used to love it. That it used to make her feel safe. That once upon a time, she thought she could be someone. That she could be yours.

Her nostrils flare in annoyance. You are playing with her. She is just a pawn in your chess game, one you mean for her to lose. You want to make her say the words so you don’t have to. Coward, she thinks.

No, she’s not, the Wilhemina inside her says. The only coward here is you.

The thought chills her to the bone. The ice intensifies, freezing her heart solid like a stone in her chest. She can’t breathe, she can’t think. All she can feel is the weight of it sinking like an anchor. She turns her head to face you and looks into your eyes. God, how she loves you. A part of her melts. The tips of her fingers drip on the floor at your feet.

She can see it all now up close: the confusion, the despair, the worry gathering like storm clouds in your gaze. They can’t be real. You must have created them to fool her, to pull the wool over her eyes and lead her to believe that you are innocent. You have called upon the storm to wash away your sins, but Venable can see them still, washed up on the shore like seashells. The Wilhemina inside her can’t see them; she only sees your footprints in the sand as you walk away and she wants to chase after you, to melt in your arms and beg for forgiveness, but Venable rises up like the dragon buried underneath the mountain rubble, looks down her nose at you, and snarls. “I saw you today,” she says. She will not be fooled by the lie in your eyes.

You blink. “Saw me when?”

“Don’t play stupid,” she snaps. The Wilhemina inside her shrinks back. Don’t, please, it pleads. Venable turns her back on herself, on the weakness inside her. She pretends not to see when it cries.

You take a step towards her, hand reaching out like it alone can bridge the gap between you. She ignores how her stone cold heart clenches at the sight of it, at the memories those hands have created for her, the comfort that they have brought. She turns her nose up at it and moves away. “I hope she had something important to say. It looked like her head was full of hot air, but clearly looks can be deceiving.”

“What? Who are you talking about?” You stop trying to reach her finally and stand still and small in the middle of the room. You look so sad. Wilhemina swallows the lump in her throat and turns away.

“That woman you were speaking with,” she hisses, venom and poison laced within the words. “You two are certainly very familiar with each other.” Her mind conjures images in her head, things she would rather not see but that play on repeat until there is nothing else but them, them, them. Fingertips brushing your shoulder, a wink directed your way, a hand on the small of your back, your thigh, fingers sweeping hair away from your neck, lips against your skin, down, down-

“Valarie?”

She jerks like she’s been hit by a bolt of lightning. It is your storm. It has to be. “Is that her name?” she asks, her voice deathly quiet in the frozen tundra of your house. When did the cold spread so far? Was it touching you? Could you feel it?

“Baby-”

“Don’t,” she snaps.

You ignore her and look at her from beneath your eyelashes. “We’re just friends, Mina.”

She sniffs disdainfully. “I’m sure.” Her lips purse. A picture hangs on the wall she stands in front of. She looks at it and remembers the overcast Sunday morning she told you about the place she felt safest. You had pulled the comforter over your heads and she had whispered the details in your ear - the meadow, the flowers, the weeping willow tree - and you had listened and stroked your fingers down her bare back and it felt like she was telling you a secret and trusted you to keep it. One day not long after, you had given her the painting and she had looked at it and seen her happiness and sunshine depicted in brush strokes and splashes of color. You told her that she’d never have to go inside her mind to feel safe ever again, that she was never going to be safer than she was right here, in the home that you built together, with you. She had cried.

Tears well in her eyes, and she curses under her breath, wrangles the Wilhemina inside her back under control and turns her head to face you. She tries to conjure up the weeping willow tree, to picture it in her mind instead of the gentle way you had kissed her goodbye that morning, but the image only comes to her for a second before fizzling into dust and in its place is you.

That sweet smile you greet her with each day, sleepy and soft and just for her. How you rest your hands on her hips when you pass behind her to reach for your toothbrush, your gazes locking in the mirror and your eyes twinkling with mischief. Fingers brushing when you exchange cups of tea, fingers brushing when you reach out to turn the page of a book, fingers brushing as you walk down the driveway to your car, brushing, brushing, brushing.

She blinks, finds the love still staring back at her, patient and calm and she does not know anything anymore. She saw you with that woman. She heard your laugh, recognized the adoration on your face. She can’t be wrong. The ice builds and builds until it is a wall surrounding her heart. “Did you fuck her?”

You reel back as if she had slapped you, pain flashing across your face and Wilhemina trembles at the realization that she put it there. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She draws up to her full height and curls her lip and she pretends that you are just an employee at Kineros and that you are not the woman she loves and she does not hurt at all. “I saw you throwing yourself at her today - like a whore.” You’re wrong, the Wilhemina in her heart whispers, shrinking back, shaking and curled up in the dark corner of her mind she hasn’t seen since she was a child. You’re wrong, wrong, wrong.

“You can’t be serious,” you say, blinking up at her in disbelief. She ignores the tears welling in your eyes, the crack that shatters the ice around her heart at the sight of them, and arches an eyebrow, giving you the look she reserves for lowly employees too stupid to recognize her ire. You recognize it. Realization flashes across your face. You shake your head. “I’m not doing this, Mina,” you finally say. You blink and look away from her, trying to prevent the pain from showing on your face, but she can see it. She put it there.

“I can see that you’re hurting and that you’re in your head, but whatever you think I did, I didn’t. And you know that.” Your beautiful face pleads with her, your eyes large and wet and loving, but she refuses to give in, knowing that if she does, the ice around her heart will melt and she’ll feel everything all at once. She does not want to ache. Not like she did before you, not like she will after.

“You are a fool,” she hisses. You are the fool, it says.

You shake your head, wipe tears from your eyelids. You look like you might walk away, body turned toward the stairs, but you step towards her instead, so close that she can feel your warmth. It makes her body shudder. You search her gaze, looking so deep into her eyes that she thinks you are looking directly into the Wilhemina she tries to keep buried inside. “I love you,” you tell her. She hates that she believes you. “You own my heart and my soul and I know you know that I would never do that to you. Whatever’s going on up here -” you touch your fingers to her temple, warm and cold all at once, a direct link to the voices freezing her soul, “- whatever that voice is saying, it’s wrong,” you whisper. You reach down to place your hand over her chest. “Your heart knows me,” you pause, desperation in your eyes as they flicker back and forth between hers. “Don’t you?” Yes, the Whilemina inside whispers. I know you.

The warmth that had threaded through her being disappears the moment you drop your hands. She watches you walk away, wants to call out for you, to beg for mercy, to tell you that she is the fool and that she is sorry and that she loves you, loves you, loves you, but she doesn’t.

She tears her gaze away and looks down at her hands. They’re shaking.

That night, she climbs the stairs to your shared room and finds you already in bed, your back to the door. You don’t say a word and neither does she. She moves around the room with purpose, changing her clothes and brushing her hair free from its ponytail. She can’t help but watch you out of the corner of her eye. You are motionless, a still life in her bed. Your bed. Yours, together.

She crawls under the sheets next to you, turns off the bedroom light, rolls on her side and looks at you facing away from her. The distance between you is miniscule; she could reach out and touch you if she wanted, bridge the gap and pull your back against her chest. She raises her hand, reaches for you but does not touch. It lingers in the air between you, shaking and desperate. After a moment, it drops to the mattress. She closes her eyes and feels herself weep. She doesn't know how to fix herself.

When she opens her eyes again, she finds herself standing alone on a beach. The sky is overcast and grey, angry clouds forming on the horizon and wind coursing through her hair. Where are you? Her heart thunders in her chest. She tries to quell the panic but it rises and rises until it becomes a chokehold around her neck. It threatens to consume her.

“Y/N?” She looks down and notices a trail of footprints in the sand. They dance away from her, following the shoreline and circling back and around again. She knows they are yours, that they could belong to no one else. She has to find you.

She has to tell you that she loves you.

She puts her foot in a rivet in the sand, stands where you stood and imagines that you are with her, that you are laughing and your pinkies are interlocked in that way she knows makes you smile. And then she remembers that expression on your face when she asked about that woman, the tears in your eyes when she hurled a slur at you to make up for the pain that she alone inflicted on herself. She has to find you.

She has to tell you that she’s sorry.

“Y/N?” She calls your name again and again, listens to it bounce off the water as the waves lap at her bare feet. The footprints end where the sand bleeds into grass. She looks down at her feet, studies the area like she knows it well even though she doesn’t know it at all. Her heart whispers, pings, right there, and she looks up like she had known where you would be all along to find your silhouette standing at the top of a bluff overlooking the ocean. She knows that it's you, that it could be no one else.

You stand at the edge, looking out over the jagged rocks and thrashing waves below. “Y/N!” Your head swivels in her direction and you wave cheerfully down at her, shuffling too close to the brink for her liking. Her heart jumps into her throat. “You stay right there! Don’t you move, I mean it!” She doesn’t think you can hear her. She wonders if the words are leaving her mouth or if it’s just her soul sighing your name. She has to get to you.

She has to, she has to, she has to.

The trail up to the cliff looks different when she gets closer. Darker, full of tall, imposing trees and a treacherous climb she knows will hurt her back. She doesn’t care, doesn’t hesitate, just pushes past the first branch and marches on. Nothing will keep her from you. She thinks she can feel eyes watching her from the darkness between the trees, black beady eyes that disappear when she turns to look. They make her skin crawl, but she silences the warnings in her head and ignores them. They don’t matter. She clutches her cane and moves forward and prays that you are staying put.

Then the whispers start.

“You’re no good for her,” a voice murmurs into her ear and she startles and jerks back, glancing behind her to see a shadowy figure that closely resembles your father.

Wilhemina swallows the lump in her throat and looks away. “I know,” she says and continues on.

“We’ve talked about this, darling, stand up straight,” a familiar voice purrs from over her shoulder. She doesn’t look, doesn’t need to see to know who will be waiting there. “No one will love an invalid.”

“She loves me,” Wilhemina snaps, head straight forward, dark eyes fixed on the patch of light she can see up ahead. The sky. Safety. You.

A figure steps out of the tree line into Wilhemina’s path causing her to jerk to a halt. “Look what you did, twisting your fears and projecting them onto the one who loves you most,” the woman sing-songs, her tone playful and barbed like a rosebush. Valarie. Tall and beautiful Valarie. “She’d be happier with me, you know.”

Wilhemina looks into Valarie’s soulless black eyes and glares defiantly. “She is happy with me.”

Valarie chuckles, dancing and spinning around Wilhemina’s form as the other figures get closer. Surrounding her, crowding her, boxing her in like predators to weak prey. “She didn’t look happy last night, did she?” Valarie leans her chin on Wilhemina’s shoulder and whispers in her ear. “You made her cry.”

“You called her a whore,” your father says from behind her.

Her mother clicks her tongue disapprovingly, appearing in front of her and adjusting the collar of her shirt. “You accused her of infidelity, my dear.”

“I made a mistake,” she snaps.

“You seem to be making a lot of mistakes, Mina,” Valarie taunts.

Wilhemina’s blood runs cold. No one calls her that. No one but you. She shoves her mother out of the way and darts up the trail, her back screaming in protest. She can feel them following her, the wolves nipping at her heels, but she doesn’t stop.

“-could do better-”

“If only you were normal-”

“Maybe she’ll finally leave you and come to m-”

Their voices sound like they’re coming from the very trees themselves, winding through the branches and leaves and floating down like lightning bugs to settle in her ears.

“- a failure -”

“- never should have let you lea-”

“-fall in love with a cripple.”

“When you wake in the morning, she’ll be gone.”

“SHUT UP!” Her voice echoes into the forest and birds burst from the tree line in a cacophony of sound. When she opens her eyes, the figures are gone and the voices are silent.

She finds herself standing at the edge of the forest and feels her eyes well with tears as she looks upon her meadow. Sunlit and beautiful, full of flowers in bloom and honeybees and songbirds. The wind nuzzles her cheek as if greeting an old friend. The horrors of the forest melt from her weary bones and she feels at peace. A part of her wants to stay here where it is safe, where she is safe, but her heart urges her onwards. What is a life of safety if you aren’t in it?

Her willow tree stands tall and proud in the center of the clearing and behind it, overlooking the ocean, is you.

“Y/N!” She breathes a sigh of relief to see you standing where she left you.

You turn to face her and smile, soft and sweet and just for her. “Hi, baby,” you say. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to take you home, sweetheart,” she murmurs, looking imploringly into your eyes.

You frown. “I don’t have a home, Mina. You don’t want me anymore, remember?” You take a step back from her, toward the cliff’s edge and she follows you, hands reaching out as if she could grab you from where she stands.

“Wait,” she pleads. “You do have a home. It’s with me.”

You cock your head. “It used to be,” you state. Like it is a fact. Like you have always known it to be so. Her heart aches.

“Please, Y/N. Step away from the edge.” Her voice is hard, lined with barbs but not directed at you. Only to herself. She wants them to hurt, to sting, to make her hiss in pain. She wants to feel anything other than this ache.

You giggle softly, familiar and lovely, the sound that never fails to make her head spin, but she doesn’t hear the joy in it now. It sounds haunted. "I know your heart,” you say, taking another step back as she steps forward. You meet her eyes. “Do you know mine?”

She can only watch in horror as your foot lands on empty air. You tip backwards - and then you fall.

Wilhemina screams.

She gasps and shoots up in bed causing her back to protest but she can barely feel it over the throbbing in her chest. She moans like a wounded animal, leaning over and curling into herself like it will muffle the pain, like she can smother it so she won’t have to feel anything. She clutches her hair and pulls at the strands as if physically capable of plucking the image of you falling out of her head.

My fault, my fault, I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry, I know your heart, I promise, I know it.

She doesn’t realize she’s murmuring out loud until she hears your voice in her ear, breaking through the mantra like a siren song. “Shh, baby. I’m right here, Mina. It’s okay.”

Her eyes snap open and she turns to seek out your eyes. She finds them instantly, warm and loving and tender. They’re shining, real and alive, and her own flood with fresh tears at the sight of them. Her voice comes out in a broken whisper that scratches her throat, “Y/N?”

“I’m right here, baby. Everything’s okay.” You reach out a hand as if to touch her but hover right before it makes contact with her skin. “Can I touch you?”

Wilhemina manages to nod, her eyes not leaving you for a second as you reach forward and brush her tears away with your thumb. They fall faster than you can wipe them away, but you try. You always try for her. She feels your other hand cup the back of her head before you lean forward and press your foreheads together in the way you always do when you comfort her. Your noses brush. “It was just a nightmare, baby,” you murmur, gazing into her eyes, deep pools with shadows that reflect the terrors she had seen. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She can only stare at you in disbelief, tear tracks trailing paths down her cheeks. Once she had felt nothing at all, now she feels too much. The ice around her heart has shattered into a million tiny pieces and the only evidence that it still lies within is the persistent ache beneath her ribcage. She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know where to start. She called you names. She doubted your love for her. She hurt you. A tinge runs down her spine. A muffled sob presses against her closed mouth and she nudges into you, brushing her trembling tear-stained lips against your own.

She feels your hand on her spine, the warmth of it soothing the trembling ache of her body. Your lips press against her forehead, long and hard like you want to seep all of your love into her skin. “I know, baby. Whatever you can’t say, I already know.” Your hand brushes a strand of hair back from her eyes. You cup her cheek in your palm, press a kiss to it followed by the other. Then one to each of her eyelids. You peck the tip of her nose before capturing her lips with your own. She gasps into your mouth, passes her tongue between your lips and tastes the saltiness of her own tears. When you pull away, your eyes are shining. You are brighter than the sun. “I love you and I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever,” you say and she believes you. God, she believes you.

You settle back into the pillows and gently pull her with you, tucking her into your arms where she is safe, safe, safe. The shadows in her mind disappear. She doesn’t even remember what they said. Only that they were wrong.

She places her ear over your heart and listens to it beat. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. It soothes her own into submission and she melts into you, boneless and spent. Your fingers appear at her shoulder just as they always do and the familiarity of it coaxes a new wave of tears from her closed eyelids. Can you feel my love? your heart asks. “Yes, I can,” she whispers. Your fingertips trace the curve of her shoulder to the back of her neck. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” she manages to say around the lump in her throat.

“I know you didn’t mean it,” you soothe, brushing your fingers into her hair, down her neck and back again. “I know you love me.”

Wilhemina bites the inside of her cheek. She doesn’t want to cry anymore, but she doesn’t know what else to do. She doesn’t deserve your love, your patience, your kindness, your beautiful heart. She is broken and you deserve better than her. You deserve more from life than just picking up her shattered pieces.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you say, interrupting her thoughts. She blinks. Had she been speaking out loud or did you just live inside her head? “Picking up your pieces is not a chore. It is a privilege.” Your finger traces a line from her neck to the top of her spine. She tilts her head to look up at you. She can barely see your face in the darkness of your bedroom, but your eyes are on fire. “You are not broken, baby. You are a songbird and I’m going to prove to you that you can fly.” She presses her face into the crook of your neck and cries.

As your hand trails down her back, gentle and revering like you are enchanting a lioness that has shown you her belly and not a woman who is afraid of tenderness, you start to sing. Your voice soothes her soul, wraps around her like a comforting blanket, and warms her shivering body until it no longer feels like ice. She recognizes the song. It’s your favorite, the one she’s heard you sing a thousand times. The words piece together from her memories, from morning showers before work, from those nights you spend swaying to the sound of it in the kitchen, from bits of it sung under your breath as you walk side by side, your hands brushing, your pinkies intertwining. Wilhemina buries her face in your chest and realizes that you had been singing about her all along. God, how she loves you.

She does not conjure up her meadow or the wild flowers or the weeping willow tree. She does not think of the wind on her face or the bark against her back. She breathes in the smell of sunshine, feels your fingers stroke her spine, and does not think of anything at all. She is exactly where she wants to be.

“And the songbirds are singing,

Like they know the score

And I love you, I love you, I love you

Like never before.”

Tag List: @supremeinlilac @lovelypeasantjellyfish @angelxsarahp

#wilhemina venable x reader #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable #sarah paulson #american horror story #american horror story apocalypse #ahs fic #wilhemina venable imagine #sarah paulson imagine #ahs imagine #venable x reader #wilhemina x reader #angst fic #wlw imagine #wlw fic #romance fic

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thatfantasynerd10 · 3 years

Text

Firstprince as Taylor Swift songs-

•London Boy

do I even need to explain this one?

"But something happened, I heard him laughing. I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent."

"You know I love a London boy, I fancy you."

"He likes my American smile, Like a child, when our eyes meet, darling I fancy you."

"So I guess all the rumours are true?"

"Show me a gray sky, a rainy cab ride, babe, don't threaten me with a good time."

•Delicate

"This ain't for the best, my reputation's never been worse. So you must like me for me."

"We can't make any promises, now can we babe?"

"Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate."

"Stay here, honey I don't want to share."

"I wonder, when you sleep, are you ever dreaming of me? Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you're mine, all the damn time."

•Gold rush

"Eyes like sinking ships, on waters so inviting, I almost jump in."

"What must it be like, to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominos?"

"I don't like a gold rush. I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush. I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch."

"Everybody wants you, but I don't like a gold rush."

"My mind turns your life into folklore, I don't dare to dream about you."

•Enchanted

"The playful conversation starts, Counter all your quick remarks, like passing notes in secrecy."

"This night is flawless, don't you let it go. I'm wonder struck, dancing around all alone. I'll spend forever wondering if you knew, I was enchanted to meet you."

"My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again. These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon."

"Please don't be in love with someone else, please don't have somebody waiting on you."

•I know places

"Something happens when everybody find out. See the vultures circling dark clouds. Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out."

"Let them say what they want, we won't hear it. Loose lips sink ships all the damn time."

"And you know for me, it's always you."

"Just grab my hand and don't ever drop it, my love."

"I know places we won't be found."

•Dancing with our hands tied

"I loved you in secret."

"I could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets, picture of your face in an invisible locket."

"I loved you in spite of, deep fears that the world would divide us."

"I'd kiss you as the lights went out, Swaying as the room burned down. I'd hold you as the water rushes in, if I could dance with you again."

•Cruel summer

"Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes. What doesn't kill me makes me want you more."

"It's cool, that's what I tell 'em. No rules, in breakable heaven. But it's a cruel summer, with you."

"I don't want to keep secrets just to keep you."

"And I screamed for whatever it's worth, 'I love you' ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?"

•The Lakes

"I'm not cut out for all these cynical clones, These hunters with cell phones."

"Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die. I don't belong, and my beloved neither do you."

"I've come too far to watch some namedropping sleaze, tell me what are my words worth?"

"A red rose grew out of the ice frozen ground, with no one around to tweet it."

"While I bathe in cliffside pools, with my calamitous love and insurmountable grief."

#red white and royal blue #taylornation #taylor swift #alex and henry #firstprince #henry prince of wales #alex claremont diaz #rwrb shitpost #rwrb #casey mcquiston #one last stop #lgbtq #pride month #june claremont diaz #june x nora

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jj-babebank · 3 years

Text

Camp Willowdale / JJ Maybank AU / PART 8

Synopsis: Camp Willowdale is buzzing with new campers. It’s Caroline Windsor’s first year as a camp counsellor after attending the camp as a camper for ten years. Little does she know that this year Willowdale Lake is going to be a little different from what she is used to it being…

Warnings: future chapters may include curse words, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of death.

Pairings: JJ Maybank x fem OC Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4; Part 5 ; Part 6 ; Part 7

Masterlist

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

Part 8 –

49 days of summer camp left

Caroline sat in her bed, hugging her knees against her chest. Her and JJ had the afternoon off and despite his attempts to lure her into hanging out, and her infatuation with the boy, she’d turned him down, wanting to spend a few hours alone with herself to compose her thoughts. It had been exactly two weeks since the night Madison disappeared. No one had bothered to mess with the campers since then, the bonfire area hadn’t been touched and no dead animals were found in anyone’s suitcase. To the rest of the camp, this seemed like victory; to Caroline – it seemed like the calm before the storm.

During their first day at Camp Willowdale, all of the counselors had been given a Willowdale-branded set of items they’d have to use during their stay. It came with the obvious STAFF t-shirts, sweaters and hats, but it also consisted of other things – such as the thermoses Caroline and JJ were still using to sneak whiskey into their daily routines, and notebooks in which they were advised to plan out their group’s daily schedules. Caroline however had been using her notebook for other purposes. She’d become so obsessed with Madison’s case, that every little thing that happened on camp grounds and seemed even a little out of the ordinary, immediately became a clue to her, which she’d hastily scribble down in her notebook. It had only been two weeks since the disappearance of Madison Hague and Caroline had already filled about a quarter of the pages of her hefty notebook with potential clues and leads. She kept rereading her notes, trying to think of something – anything – that they could do to help them solve the mystery, however nothing was coming to her. Ever since the dress incident, Caroline and her friends hadn’t found anything else that could relate to Madison, though Caroline was glad that none of them had given up on their mission.

Caroline was so deep in her own thoughts, she nearly jumped at the sound of a sudden knock on the door. She quickly closed her notebook and tucked it under her mattress and went to open the door, revealing a panting JJ leaning on the doorframe.

“Hey, C,” he breathed.

“JJ, what’re you doing here? I told you I -”

JJ cut her off by pushing past her and walking into her cabin, “Yeah, yeah, you wanna be alone, I know,” he sat on her bed, taking his snapback off, “but I was thinking… you’ve been so busy with the kids and with the whole Madison thing, and believe me – I really appreciate you for being like that, but -”

Caroline crossed her arms, “Where are you going with this?”

JJ sighed, “You’ve just totally forgotten how to have fun, C,” he said, “The primary reason that we all came here was to have fun and look at you – you barely eat, or sleep, or do anything other than your counselor duties and this whole Madison investigation thing…” JJ sighed again, looking at the hat in his lap and playing with its adjustable strap, “All I’m saying, C, is what if Madison really did go home and you’ve just wasted all this energy on nothing…Thing is,” JJ looked up into her eyes, “I miss you, the old you, and I know that that you’s still somewhere in there, it’s just this whole Madison thing blocking it.” he placed the hat back on his head and stood up, walking towards Caroline, “Hang out with me now,” he said, stopping directly in front of her and lifting her chin up so that she was facing him, “And I promise we’ll think about Madison later,”

Caroline couldn’t really process what was going on. JJ was touching her and standing in such an intimate distance from her, that she could basically feel his breath on her face. For a second she forgot all about Madison, and the dead owl, and the bonfire area. All she could think about was JJ Maybank, who had just told her that he misses her and wants to “hang out with her”. Caroline stood there, lost in thought. What if he was right? What if Madison really did go home and that dress never even belonged to her? What if it was Jenna Kinley’s all along and Sarah had just gotten the perfume wrong? What if JJ really did miss her because he liked her as more than a friend? No, no, that couldn’t be it. But what if –

“Um, Carrie?” JJ’s voice suddenly broke her out of her trans, “So d’you wanna do something together or -”

“Yes!” she said, a little too excitedly for her own taste, of course I’d like to hang out with you, JJ, she thought, “What do you want to do?”

JJ’s face immediately lit up at her words, “Well I was thinking perhaps a picnic?”

Caroline raised an eyebrow, “Don’t picnics require food? We don’t have access to anything unless it’s mealtime,”

“Yeah, but we do have whiskey,” JJ winked with a mischievous look on his face, walking towards the storage room of the girls’ cabin where they still had a few bottles of alcohol left.

Caroline rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless – this was going to finally be her first date with JJ Maybank. Well, sort of.

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

The afternoon sun was low in the sky, casting a beautiful orange reflection onto the peaceful water of lake Willowdale. Caroline and JJ had taken a seat on the lakefront, drinking their whiskeys and admiring the sunset, reminiscing the days when they were kids again.

“D’you remember that one summer when Rafe Cameron got food poisoning and ended up barfing on stage at the Will-all-hail banquet?” JJ laughed at the memory.

Caroline frowned, thinking about it, “Beats having Rafe Cameron as your counselor by a mile,”

JJ turned to look at her, eyebrows raised, “Rafe was a counselor here?” his tone almost sounding amused.

Caroline nodded, “Oh yeah,” she smirked, “For the same reason as Sarah – too stuck up for his own good so their dad shipped him over here as a punishment,”

JJ snorted, “I mean that family is pretty far up their own ass,”

“They have a sister too,” said Caroline, “I haven’t seen her around here though, so we at least know that one of them must be doing something right,”

The pair laughed at the thought of their spoiled friend and her older brother.

“Man, I missed this place,” said JJ suddenly, leaning back on his elbows.

His tone sounded different as he looked at the horizon and Caroline could sense that something wasn’t right, “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask -”

“Parents got divorced,” JJ quickly explained, “And unfortunately for me, my dad got custody,” he sighed, “Somehow my mom was deemed ‘incapable’ of taking care of me because she couldn’t financially afford to. Load of bullshit, if you ask me,”

“But my mom -”

“Yeah, they still talk,” said JJ, knowing what Caroline was about to say, “I still see my mom every other weekend, you know, it’s not the end of the world,” he smiled at Caroline reassuringly, “It’s just living with my old man meant working for my cut at home, which also meant summer jobs back in Kildare,”

“So that’s where you’ve been all this time…” whispered Caroline, mostly to herself, however JJ heard her.

“Yeah,” he responded, “Now that I’m old enough to be a counselor here and actually get paid for coming to summer camp I thought why not? Besides, your mom did tip mine off that you’d be here too,” he winked at Caroline, making her blush.

“Yeah, about that,” she said apologetically, “My mom likes to yap a lot, I wouldn’t take most of what she says seriously,”

“Well you are here, aren’t you?” said JJ, his face slightly leaning in towards Caroline’s.

Holy shit, this was it. Caroline was about to kiss JJ Maybank after a decade of fawning over him. Shit, shit, shit, she hadn’t really kissed anyone since that idiot from her class planted one on her at prom. What if she was a bad kisser? What if she’d forgotten how to kiss? As JJ closed his eyes and leaned even closer, Caroline decided to push the doubtful thoughts to the side as she closed her eyes too, leaning in towards him too. Their faces were inches apart, hearts pounding in their chests and, just as their lips were finally about to meet –

“There you are!” Sarah’s loud voice came from the hill behind them, startling them and making them both jump and immediately pull apart and straighten up. John B stumbled after her.

Caroline coughed awkwardly, trying to cover up the shame and embarrassment she was currently feeling, “Sarah… what are you doing here?”

With a knowing smirk on her face, Sarah put both hands on her hips, “Nothing,” she sing-sang, obviously finding the whole situation hilarious, “I’m sure it can wait,” she winked down at Caroline, while John B was waving around frantically behind Sarah at JJ, mouthing the words “DID YOU BONE?!” quite obviously.

JJ groaned as he stood up, helping Caroline up as well, “We’re all yours now, Sarah, what’s up?”

“Well me and John B had the afternoon free as well, so we went out front to his van and you’ll never believe what was taped to the door,”

“Wait, why’d you go to his van in the first place?”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “That’s beside the point now, Carrie, look” she shoved a piece of paper in the girl’s hands.

As Caroline unfolded the paper, the group gathered around her to look at what was written on it - 41° 56’ 54.3732” N, 87° 39’ 19.2024” W.

“I have no idea what that means though,” confessed Sarah.

“Looks like coordinates to me,” said JJ.

“Hey, that’s what I said!” gasped John B, “But Sarah didn’t want to believe me,”

“Does anyone know how to read geographical coordinates?” JJ looked at his friends.

“Do I look like Google Maps to you?” asked Sarah.

“You’re right,” Caroline said as an idea sparked in her mind, “We can’t read coordinates, but I know someone who can,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“I’m just saying, Miss P,” JJ spoke confidently once the group was inside Pricilla’s office, “Now’s about the best time to host the traditional yearly treasure hunt,”

Pricilla squinted up at JJ through her pink glasses from where she was sat at her desk, “Keep talking, Maybank,”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit odd that it’s already been two weeks and none of these kids can read a compass yet?” continued JJ, earning a slow nod from the camp director, “Think about it, Miss P – Willowdale ain’t Willowdale without its treasure hunt,”

As JJ spoke, the rest of the group were silently praying behind him that his charismatic way with manipulating will work on Pricilla, giving them an excuse to ask her to decipher the mysterious coordinates they had gotten their hands onto. The old lady leaned back in her old leather chair and looked at JJ skeptically for a while, adding to the already built up tension.

“Give me a few days to map out the course and set up the coordinates,” she finally spoke, causing everyone in the group to silently cheer behind JJ. As they thanked her and turned to leave, she spoke up again, “Oh, and Maybank,” she called, everyone turning to look at her, “No funny business,”

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

A/N: Finally some normal camp activities. Thank you for reading so far, I would greatly appreciate you letting me know what you think about the story and the characters xxx

tags: @k-k0129 ; @hayleyy-l ; @marvellover04 ; @dumbasscorn ; @thrown-off-her-rhythm

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exosmutfactory · 3 years

Text

Six Phases FINALE Pt 1

Originally posted by sefuns

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1) P(2) | Part 6 P(1) P(2) —– P(3) P(4) —– P(5) P(6) ||| ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1)✓ P(2) (also on AFF)

networks — @supermwritersnet @/bbh-net

pairing — Baekhyun x Riley (OC)

word count — 28k+ (Finale part 1 - [19k] & 2 - [9k])

genre — ceo! baekhyun, playboy! baekhyun, strangers to lovers, hurt & comfort (heaven knows they need that comfort), slow burn! kinda

[ contains: angst, fluff, smut ]

A/N: Buckle up, loves. Here comes a long one. ♡ Let’s go! (^-^)

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⏰🌹Six Phases Tag List: 🌹⏰

@to-all-the-stories-i-love @insta1010 @sorrowinblood @bellamendoza @bbhflrt @weirdoome

I was unable to tag one of you so I’ll DM you from @candyfizzbyun 💗💗💗

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July is upon us before we know it, bringing forth more of the summer's blazing sunlight and smothering heat. Jenny's birthday is right around the corner, merely 3 days into the hottest month of the year. There's no wonder why she's throwing a party in a venue that has both a beautiful indoors and outdoors setting. The breezy summer-style dress code for the event is a given—and I plan to crash it with my wintry flare.

It's July 3rd, 90 degrees, and I'm strutting down the stone path leading up to the venue in a two piece velvet outfit. The wine color compliments my skin, hugging my body in all the right places. Between the bra-shaped, crop top that ties in the back and my waist-high pants with high slits to reveal my nude colored heels underneath, I feel like the baddest and sexiest woman up in this bitch.

"Riley!" Jenny beams the moment I step through the door, looking stunning in her light blue dress. It's a plain form-fitting dress, but nothing is simple about her wearing it. The light blue material goes well with the ocean hue of her eyes. The sleeveless, spaghetti-strapped fabric that wraps around her beautifully is the shortest dress I've ever seen on her—and Jongdae should feel like the luckiest man alive to see her like this all the time.

Her makeup is done perfectly, highlighting the softness of her round face and sharpening the gaze in her oval eyes. She nearly runs someone over when she comes barreling my way in her black heels with a drink in her hand.

I laugh at her excitement, accepting her hug without hesitation. "Hey, Jen."

"Hey," She smiles, pulling back a little to look at me. "You're early."

A little grin forms on my face; if only she knew. "I didn't want to risk any traffic jams," I explain, smiling more. She's practically buzzing with happiness.

"Ah," She nods, pursing her lips. "Maybe I should have chose a different time-"

"Hey," I place my hand on her shoulder, giving her a look. "Relax. Everything will be fine."

She sighs but nods, her owl-shaped, dangling-earrings sparkling prettily under the warm lights. "I hope no one else gets stuck."

"They won't," I shake my head, adding cheekily, "Especially Chanyeol, he drives like a madman."

"That big oaf," She mutters, a smile back on her face. Her blue eyes meet mine before she takes my hands between hers. "Come, I want to introduce you to someone."

"Oh?" I inquire, raising a brow as she leads me further into the venue. "This isn't one of those matchmaking situations is it?"

"No. Fuck men." She immediately rebukes, fire burning in her eyes. "I'm not dealing with anyone's bullshit. Not on my day."

"Damn straight," I mumble, amused at the disgruntled expression on her face. Jenny and Jongdae are back together—if you can call their last fight a breakup. Witnessing him show up on their doorstep with her favorite chocolate and a new plant to add to their home was a sight to see. He must have done something else for her to react this way though. I can't help but chuckle. Half a year later and he is still tiptoeing around her. That Haneul must be someone significant. My lips downturn at the thought.

"Eunjung! Eunjung!" Jenny's loud voice brings me back to the present. "Ugh, where is that woman?" She grumbles, searching the extravagant room. More partygoers are starting to stream in, filling up the building with every shade of the rainbow and then some. My eyes drift over to the fruit buffet on the long tables in the back when Jenny's eyes widen. "There she is!" She smiles, leading me over to the mini bar on the other side of the room.

I follow her line of sight, my heart dropping in the blink of an eye. It's the same woman I've been seeing around Baekhyun since May. Her once long black hair is now a short brown mohawk, the curly ends perfectly framing her oval shaped face.

"Eunjung, this is Riley." Jenny smiles, gesturing to me. "The wild child I've told you about," She jokes.

"Hello," Eunjung greets in a low voice, smiling warmly. She holds out her hand to me. "I've heard so much about you."

I can only shake her hand and smile back, glaring at Jenny out of the corner of my eye when Eunjung is distracted by the bartender bringing her a drink. "Nice to meet you."

Jenny takes a seat while I survey the room, making sure there aren't any heads of silver hair around. Jongin won't be coming tonight, he's busy preparing dance classes for the elementary students that he'll teach for the upcoming school year, so I keep my head on a swivel. As much as I consider Jenny one of my best friends, her ties with a certain someone cannot be ignored after what happened the last time we went to a party.

"How's Miss Eunae?" Jenny's question catches my attention, pulling me back into their conversation.

"She won second place in a dance competition last month."

"Really?!" Jenny gasps and I stiffen.

"Yeah, I couldn't make it." Eunjung smiles sadly, swirling the melting ice in her drink. "Thankfully her girlfriend could. And Baekhyun too."

"Wait," I interrupt, feeling wary when both their eyes focus on me. "You have a twin?"

"Yes. About my height, long black hair." Eunjung sets down her empty glass on the counter. "You might have seen her around before, that woman can't sit still to save her life."

"She has a girlfriend?"

Eunjung and Jenny share a brief, knowing glance before turning back to me. "Yes." Eunjung smiles.

I clear my throat, avoiding their dancing eyes. "Good for her."

"They've been together since high school." Jenny nudges me, a shit eating grin on her face.

"I'll be surprised if they marry before you and Jongdae though," Eunjung raises her hand to get the bartender's attention again. "Chaeyoung is always working overseas."

My chest vibrates. I pull my phone out of my secret breast pocket, tuning out the rest of their conversation.

Sat, 07/03 - 7:30pm

Heartbreaker 😑💔😄

Y'all ready?

Earth shaker 😝💞😊

Ready as I'll ever be!

Heartbreaker 😑💔😄

Kyungsoo?

Cake master 🤗🍰🙏🏼

You owe me for this shit

♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡

I promise to help you bake in his place

…

As long as Dae and Yeol pick up the groceries :')

Cake master 🤗🍰🙏🏼

Chanyeol delivers and Jongdae unpacks

I don't trust his clumsy ass anywhere near my produce

♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Heartbreaker 😑💔😄

😂

Earth shaker 😝💞😊

Hey!

♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡

Ready guys?

Cake master 🤗🍰🙏🏼

Yes

Heartbreaker 😑💔😄

Yeah

Earth shaker 😝💞😊

Mmhm >:(

♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡

Let's go 🤫🎂🚚💨✨🥰

I can't help but chuckle, pocketing my phone. When I look up, Jenny is the only one sitting at the counter. "Hey," I frown, noticing the sad look on her face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," She mumbles.

"Come on," I rest my hand on her arm, trying to catch her eye. "I can't let the birthday girl mope. You can tell me."

A smile quirks at her lips. "I just…" She sighs, turning to me. "I can't believe Jongdae is busy with work today."

"Awe," mimicking her poked out bottom lip, I nudge her softly. "Well, I guess you're just stuck with me—Deal with it."

"Riley!"

I burst out into laughter, back hugging her when she playfully pushes me away. "Hey, don't lose hope, yeah? He might surprise you."

"No he won't," She mumbles, full on pouting now. "He never surprises me."

"Well," Making eye contact with a certain mischievous brunette on the other side of the room, I tap her shoulder. "Maybe that will change today."

Jenny turns her head and gasps, leaping off of her bar stool. "Chanyeol? Kyungsoo? Jongdae?!?!?!?!"

Everyone in the room watches on with smiles on their faces, but Jongdae's is the brightest of all. "Hey, babe," He beams, opening his arms.

Jenny sprints over to him, colliding so hard with his body that she almost sends them both to the floor. But Jongdae takes it all in stride, holding her close while bellowing that signature laugh of his.

Smiling at them, I quickly walk over to help Kyungsoo and Chanyeol roll in the food cart. "Hey guys, everything okay?"

"We made it all in one piece," Kyungsoo mutters, glancing at the tall dome plate cover. "The cake too."

"Three different chocolates?"

"Mmhm."

"Perfectly symmetrical?"

"Yep," Yeol chimes in.

I grin, "She's going to love it."

"She's going to love you, you mean." Chanyeol sets his shining eyes on me. "How did you even know all this?"

I give him a small, secretive smile, "I have my resources." His grin only widens. "Did the gifts come in today?"

Kyungsoo nods, "Right on time."

"The delivery man showed up just as we were packing the cake into the back of the truck," Chanyeol chuckles, nearly tripping over the edge of a carpet. Kyungsoo and I look at him with our respective wide and narrowed eyes.

"Huh," I purse my lips, nodding in approval. "Now that is some high class two-day shipping." They both hum in agreement, Kyungsoo straightening out the table cloth before they begin to set the cake onto the round table.

"You guys good?" I look between them when they succeed in placing it down. Thank god for that; if that cake falls to the floor that's all our necks.

Kyungsoo nods, "Go on." He gives me a look that's hard to identify. "He's coming too."

"Oh," My heart leaps at the thought. Oh. Shit. He's coming. I should have expected as much, but to actually hear it makes it ten times more real... Shit. "I-Imma just…" I point behind me to the backdoor, slowly walking backward. "You know."

They nod, Chanyeol's eyes holding a hint of sadness. "It's okay. We got everything covered."

"Thank you," I breathe, smiling apologetically. Spinning on my heel, I hurry as fast as my high heels allow to the door. With one last glance back to make sure Jenny is okay, I slip out into the summer night.

Music from within the venue spreads out into the backyard, but it's much quieter out here. I survey the area, making sure no one else is around. Not that I am against anyone being outside, I've just had enough social interaction for one evening… and the night has barely begun.

Sighing to myself, I walk further out onto the patio, my lips quirking up at the light blue cushions on the chairs. Jenny planned this event to the Tee, huh? I chuckle, sighing softly.

The deck is a nice light gray shade, contrasting against the black base of the table and lounge chairs. Running my eyes over them, I hum, choosing to lean against the table instead.

Pain buds in my chest when my thoughts wander. I shouldn't care—I really shouldn't but… Even after everything. Even after all this time, it hurts to think of him with anyone else. The thought of him holding someone in his arms, in his home, in his heart… It crushes me to the core. It eats me up on the inside. It keeps me up at night.

I shouldn't care, yet every time I hear his name, every time I see his face... I go back to that January night, and I regret it every single time.

No matter how hard I try, my head is constantly full of 'what ifs.' What if I stayed? What if he was willing to change? What would we be right now if I hadn't walked away?

I love—I loved Baekhyun with all my heart…

Can I really move on from this? Will I ever wake up one day and not imagine his sleeping face next to mine?

He could still have someone already for all I know, but for tonight… I rather tell myself that he is alone.

Leaning my elbows on the patio table, I watch the sunset, admiring the pink and orange hues streaking across the blue sky.

"You're staring."

"I love admiring art."

"So I'm an object now?"

The unmistakable love in his sparkly brown eyes… "You are the source," He pauses, holding my heart in his warm smile, "Of my love and affection."

My heart squeezes in earnest. God… why does this hurt so much? Why do his words linger in my mind and actions take hold of my heart? When will it end? When will it fucking end—

"Miss?" A low, raspy voice startles me.

I spin around, staring at the culprit with narrowed eyes. They widen as I take in the man in front of me.

The first thing I notice is his sharp jawline, leading up to his thin lips that curl up at the ends, reminding me a little of Jongdae. My eyes trail up further, taking in his tall nose with a rounded tip, his prominent cheekbones and narrow eyebrows. His slicked back, brown hair shows his broad forehead, and then—

His eyes…

They are the darkest shade of brown that I've ever seen, their almond shape perfectly suiting the rest of his face. They appear black in the dim light of the setting sun. Looking into them has me feeling many things, wondering what story those dark pools of molten hot coffee hold.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his low voice in a husky tone that I'm slowly getting used to hearing… until I feel the drop that lands on my cheek.

"Oh—yeah!" I inwardly curse, hastily rubbing the tear from my cheek. "I-It's just, you know... allergies."

He nods and I cringe on the inside because I know he can tell that I'm completely bullshitting him right now. "What are you doing out here?" He inquires, tilting his head. His tone of voice isn't judging or hostile, it's more… caring. And sweet. I wish I could read his eyes though...

"Needed a breather," I shrug, repositioning myself in a more attractive manner. I am not about to let some stranger see me hanging out back here like a socially awkward potato on top of everything else—I refuse. "You?"

"Business call," He murmurs distractedly, repocketing his vibrating phone.

"Oh," I inwardly roll my eyes. Right. As if I don't have enough business men in my life.

"The Tech team found a corrupted file," He sighs, checking his expensive gold watch. "They don't know how bad it is yet… The film might have to be delayed."

Film? I perk up at that. "You help film movies?"

He smiles, glancing up at me, a lock of hair falling over his eye. "I'm the director."

A very casual one at that; I note, taking in his outfit. He's decked out in a light blue denim jacket and a white t-shirt, but I know those aren't cheap. Nope, I've seen enough of Baekhyun's cotton shirts to—

"What's the theme?" I blurt out, curling my hand into a fist as I lean further back on the table. "Classified information?" I raise a brow, smirking at his speechless face.

"Aish…" He closes his mouth, smiling a little. "Something like that."

"Eh," I shrug, smiling softly. "I can respect that."

The temperature suddenly starts to drop. A chilly wind blows, ruffling the ends of his hair. The scent of something I haven't encountered before reaches my nose. Bourbon and vanilla; citrus and peach... It's hard to describe, but it creates an aroma that catches my attention.

"What's your name?" I tilt my head, my eyes widening at the sparkle that reflects in his dark eyes from the last rays of the setting sun.

His eyes widen before he points to himself. "Me?"

"Who else, silly?" I laugh, holding back a snort, a smile tugging at my lips at the sheepish look on his face. He's pretty cute, I'll give him that.

He clears his throat, looking away. "Jackson."

I fight back my smile seeing how flustered he is. "I'm Riley." A thought occurs to me for a moment… What is a business man—director doing here? This is an invitation-only event, and I helped Jenny painstakingly arrange the guest list... "How do you know Jenny?"

"Hmm?" Jackson blinks, flickering his eyes back to mine. "Oh!" He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's an old friend."

"Oh," My eyes narrow in the last rays of sunlight.

"We kept in contact after her and Yugyeom split," He explains, and the apologetic expression on his face has my eyes widening again. Did he just see through me? Uh—Wait.

"Oh my god, Yugyeom?—Kim Yugyeom?"

"Yes…" He trails off, looking me over carefully. "Do you know him?"

Do I know him? My reddening cheeks are enough of an explanation. "Not really," I laugh awkwardly, standing up fully. Alright, I've had enough human interaction for today. Between him, the discovery of Eunjung's twin not seeing Baekhyun, meeting someone who is friends with that tall guy I was drooling over months ago, and having to keep Jenny's birthday surprise a secret all week, I'm drained. Time to go—

A crack of thunder echoes across the sky, and then the bottom drops, rain drenching us in seconds.

Well shit… Did none of us check the weather for today? I rack my brain for answers, trying to remember—oh... Oh. Jenny… likes… thunderstorms…

The rain continues to pour, soaking my velvet outfit and flattening my hair without remorse. It won't melt me, but the venue is a city away from Seoul and if I don't hurry home now...

"Well!" I turn away to hide the bitter smile on my face, pushing off of the slippery table. "Time for me to go. Nice meeting you, Jackson."

"Wait-"

I puff up my cheeks, blowing the air out as my hair sticks messily to my forehead. Fighting the urge to brush it back is difficult, but if there's one thing I know about my hair when it's wet, it's the agony that comes with ruffling it up. I rather not cry while detangling it when it's air dried later—

A yank on my arm makes me yelp, my head slamming into something hard when thunder cracks across the sky again, followed by the horrifying crackle of lightning. My head snaps up, eyes squinting against the onslaught of rain. I can barely make out Jackson's face, his features twisted in concern with his hair mattered to his forehead like a mop. The sheer amount of fear in his wide eyes has me more than confused. I take a look around, my heart stopping right in its tracks.

The doorknob of the back door sizzles, steam floating from it in a cloud of smoke. The crack from a lightning bolt visible as the rain washes the spark away.

My face pales when I look back up at the man in front of me.

Jackson steps back, steading me with his hands on my arms when my knees buckle. "Sorry," He clears his throat. "I tried to warn you but-"

"Thank you," I mumble, moving away when I find my balance again. "That could have been…" My head spins at the thought, "Bad."

He nods with a concerned frown, worry written all over his handsome features.

"...Well!" I clear my throat, giving him a small smile. "Thanks again for saving me, stranger." I joke, my eyes shooting down when I feel something rough shielding my shoulders from the rain. "Oh-" They snap back up to meet his, "You don't have to-"

"Keep it." He shakes his head, placing his denim jacket fully on my shoulders. "You're shivering."

"I…" My face is so hot the rain does nothing to cool me down. "Thank you."

Jackson smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets. "No problem." He starts walking backwards, glancing up at the sky before propping open the back door with his leather boot.

"Wait!" I blurt, blushing all the way up to my ears when he looks back at me, having to raise my voice over the unmerciful wind. "H-How will I return it without your number?"

A shy yet boyish grin forms on his face. "Not here."

"Huh?" I blink.

Jackson smiles even more, holding the door open before giving a little bow and outstretching his hand to me. "Ladies first."

A dozen thoughts race through my head while looking at his waiting hand, the action so familiar my heart tugs painfully in my chest. Smiling my prettiest smile, I place my palm in his.

•••

I forgot how refreshing it is to talk to someone new. Stepping out of my comfort zone to get to know a person outside of my friend group—an attractive person at that.

Texting Jackson is a treat. He's a man of high intellect, giving me great advice with years of director experience under his belt. The most shocking thing is that he is only 24—24! Two years older than me. He breaks my dating rule of pursuing anyone less than 4 years older than me, but his maturity makes up for it. Age doesn't define maturity as I have come to realize after a certain someone.

He's super sweet too. We haven't been able to see each other in person since Jenny's party last month, but a day hasn't gone by where we haven't texted. And boy does he text—the most flustering things that is. Jackson has a way with words that makes my heart squeeze in giddiness and me hide behind my hand while peeking at my screen.

He laughs at all of my jokes; he sends good morning and goodnight texts without fail. If nothing else, he is a great conversationalist who would make an even better companion, and I can't wait to see him again. I have a denim jacket hanging up in my closet to return, after all.

A knock on my office door brings me back to the present. I blink a few times, carefully reading over the email I've been working on for the past 20 minutes. "Come in," I permit, glancing at the time. The sight that greets me on the other side of the door when it opens stops my typing in its tracks.

Ms. Kim Eun, the newly appointed book editor, steps into the room, setting off my internal warning signals. Her outfit matches the company dress code, that isn't the problem here. No, it's the sheer amount of dread, sorrow, and fear coming off of her shuffling body in waves. "You asked to see me, Ma'am?" She inquires in the most broken of tones. A fragility I know very well.

"Yes." Saving my progress on the computer, I beckon her over with a reassuring smile. "Please, have a seat."

She slowly walks further into the room, sitting down in one of the leather chairs.

"Ms. Kim," I start as tentatively and professionally as possible, lacing my fingers together on top of my desk. "It has come to my attention that you have been behind on editing the book."

"Oh..." She mumbles, fidgeting with the purse in her lap. "I-I'm sorry, I-"

"I understand you might have other obligations and factors outside of work," I continue, reading her steadily panicking face like a book, "But we don't have a lot of time to get this novel done. We're on a tight schedule here."

"C-Can…" Her eyes lift from the purse in her hands, still holding onto it for dear life. "Can you do it for me?" She whispers.

I let out a short laugh. "No." Her eyes shake as my face hardens. "You were appointed as editor 3 weeks ago, correct?"

She nods, fear glimmering in her wide eyes.

"Your job is to edit the book," I remind her, my lips pressed into a thin line. "That's what you get paid for, that's your responsibility."

"But-"

"If I could do it myself, I wouldn't need to hire you." Her bottom lip starts to tremble; she's about to break. "If you can't do the job, I'm going to need you to put in your 2 weeks," I slide the slip of paper across the desk, "In early. Unless you can get half of the book done by Friday."

"T-That's only 3 days," She gasps, her voice wavering. "I can't-"

"You've had nearly a month in advance to work on it as an Intern." My voice lowers, "I'm sure you have plenty of time to catch up in-"

"I can't!" She wails loudly, hiding her face in her hands. "I-I'm not qualified for this position. I'm just a high school graduate with inside connections." She sobs, the dam of her built up emotions spilling over. "I didn't even finish English 12 with an A."

My clenched jaw ticks. I know she isn't faking it; she's been off for the past two weeks. It's her lack of sharing this important information that is getting to me. If she isn't qualified to take over the editing position, why the hell is she—my eyes widen and then narrow. Mrs. Park.

Looking at Eun, I finally understand. Her bowed head, slouched shoulders, and quiet hiccups dawning on me as clear as day.

"My boyfriend c-cheated on me with my best friend." She croaks sorrowfully. "He said that I deserved it, t-that I made him do it from working late all the time." She runs a hand through her hair, laughing brokenly, her tears leaving a trail of inky black mascara in their wake. "My editing isn't good anyway."

Reaching across the desk, I offer her my box of tissues. "I know how you feel," I mutter, keeping my voice even. "You feel lost, broken and tossed aside as if a part of you is gone." She nods, sniffling while smearing the makeup under her eye. "You ask yourself how you will ever move on from it." Leaving the box on the edge of the desk, I meet her eyes again. "But you will move on." The conversation I had with Jongin in the studio that day comes to mind, quirking a small smile on my lips. "You will wake up one day and not think of them. As long as you want to. You shouldn't stay stuck on someone who has hurt you."

Tucking the resignation document into a drawer, I turn my sleeping computer back on. "You are worth more than how they've treated you, but you have to decide that for yourself."

"O-Okay," Eun sniffles, wiping her face. A couple tissues fall out of her hand, but her tears have stopped.

"Good." I lean back into my rollable leather chair with a stretch, smiling softly. "Let's settle this. Make me a list of your strengths and weaknesses."

Her wide eyes snap back up to mine. "I-"

"Now."

"Damn, Kyungsoo, how many of these cakes do you need in a day?" I sigh, my hands cramping up. We've been at it for hours, baking desserts at his restaurant because today is a national holiday. Funny how he let all his workers take the day off and here I am handling enough flour to make me sneeze in Jongdae's place.

Kyungsoo doesn't even look up at me, continuing to knead the dough in his hands. "I'd give an estimate but I don't want to overwhelm you."

I'd dramatically flop down into a chair if I wasn't molding a ball of my own dough, so I just groan instead. "You're killing me over here."

"Who offered to help me bake in Jongdae's place?" He raises a brow, shaping the churro in his hands with precession.

"It was all for the good of Jenny's last minute birthday cake!" I whine, starting to place a hand over my heart until I remember the torment I went through last time I got cake batter on this floral shirt. "Have you no heart?" I pout, giving him puppy eyes.

Kyungsoo slowly raises his head and I quickly get back to shaping the fancy doughnut in my hands without a word.

"So," I clear my throat, smiling sheepishly. "Did Dae and Yeol deliver everything okay?"

"They were late." Kyungsoo neatly arranges his perfectly shaped churros onto a tray, sliding them into the preheated oven. "Any later and the milk would have gone bad."

"Yikes," I wince, reaching to rub the back of my head only to pause mid-way, stopped by the wet flour sticking to my hand. "I should have helped more."

"Chanyeol would have slowed down to not give you motion sickness and then the cheese would have gone bad too." He points out.

"You sound a bit grumpy today," I note softly, glancing over at him again. "Did Chanyeol do something?" Kyungsoo starts another row of churros, staring blankly at me as he almost crushes the long sticks in his hands. "Okay, okay! I'll drop it, no need for the third degree. Spare the churro's life, please..."

"I'm going to ban him from my restaurant, I swear." He grumbles under his breath.

"At least he offered to help," I mumble, setting the last doughnut onto the non-stick pan. "How many more you got for me?" I ask, dusting off my hands.

Kyungsoo comes over to take the tray off of the counter. "None."

I raise a brow. "That's it?"

"No," He slides it in with the baking churros. "I'm sending you home."

I frown, "Why?"

"You're loud, chatty and keep dripping flour all over my floor." He deadpans. "And you're falling asleep."

Gawking at him for a few moments all I can do is huff. "I am not-"

"You're gonna get cake batter in your hair."

I flinch, putting my hand down at once. "Are you really kicking me out right now?" I mumble, blowing annoying strands of hair out of my eyes.

"You're fired." He wipes his clean hands with a towel and walks back over to turn on the sink for me. "Now go home and sleep."

"I don't even work here!"

He gives me a look.

"Alright, alright," I mutter, scrubbing flour from under my nails. "Fine. I'll be out of your hair-"

The chime on the door of the restaurant rings, capturing my attention. I crane my neck around to see who the hell is coming in here when there's obviously a "CLOSED" sign out front and it's freaking 9pm. My face pales at the black baseball cap and leather jacket figure stumbling through the door. I tug on the sleeve of the busy man next to me. Um, Kyungsoo-

They pull their hat off before they reach the middle of the restaurant, revealing a familiar flushed face and unmistakable silver hair.

Oh fuck no.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Kyungsoo," He mumbles, his head down while approaching the counter. "I got held up at the office and the traffic was-" His head snaps up just as I contemplate ducking out of view. "R-Riley…?" He whispers, his face paling. He looks like he's seen a ghost and I can't imagine I'm doing any better.

"You're late." Kyungsoo deadpans, busying himself with washing the used baking trays and utensils in the sink.

"I…" Baekhyun steps closer and I feel like I'm going to throw up. My heart isn't in my throat at this point, it's somewhere lost between my nose and my gag reflex.

"Have you been drinking?" Kyungsoo finally looks up from the spatula in his hands, his eyes narrowing at the lack of response.

Baekhyun's red face glows brighter under the harsh kitchen lights. He purses his lips, "No-"

"Where's your car?" Kyungsoo demands. "I'm not letting you drive."

"Kyungsoo, I'm fine," He rolls back on the heels of his feet, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "You have an important client coming in tomorrow-"

"I don't care who the hell is coming tomorrow." Kyungsoo cuts him off, full-on glaring at him now. His normally calm voice growing deeper with anger by the second. "I'm not letting you drive-"

"I'll take him home," I mumble, shrinking in on myself when both their eyes snap over to me.

Kyungsoo frowns, "Riley-"

"I'm taking him home, Kyungsoo." I cross my arms, shaking my head at the disapproving expression on his stern face. "You have a huge event tomorrow, you sent your staff home, and your kitchen is covered in cake batter," I list off of my fingers, daring him to say another word. "His apartment is on the whole other side of town. I think we both know what's the best course of action here."

Kyungsoo stands there silently for a long moment, but I don't back down, merely arching a brow. "Are you sure you'll be alright?" He softens, not even acknowledging the other man in the room.

"Yeah." I smile, uncrossing my arms. "I know I'm a disaster with a knife but I know how to drive, Kyungsoo. You got to give me some credit here."

"Alright," He chuckles, smiling a little before shifting his eyes back to the man on the other side of the counter. "Don't cause her any trouble, you hear me?"

Baekhyun's dazed eyes widen, "I-"

"If you mess with a single hair on her head," Kyungsoo continues, lifting the butcher knife in his hands. "Say goodbye to your kids."

"I-I won't fucking!" Baekhyun tangles a hand in his messy hair, sucking in a deep breath. "I'm walking home."

"Oh no you aren't," I rebuke, rounding the counter.

He grits his teeth, spinning around on his heel, "I'm-"

"Yah, Baekhyun." Kyungsoo's deep voice cuts through the air.

Baekhyun freezes up, looking over his shoulder with wide eyes. "Y-Yes?-"

"Take this." Kyungsoo starts, slamming a couple bags full of food to his chest. "Shut the fuck up and let Riley take you home."

"I-" Baekhyun shakes his head, "I can still catch the bus. There's no need-" His face drains of color when he meets Kyungsoo's eyes again. If looks could kill, he'd be 6 feet under.

Kyungsoo turns back to me then, "If he gives you a hard time, call me, okay?"

"Yes, Kyungsoo," I immediately agree, fearful of his sour mood as well. Note to self: angry Kyungsoo is scarier than angry Jongin.

"Good," He grumbles but smiles, patting my arm before walking back to the kitchen. "I'll save some of the churros for you."

"Thank you!" I beam at him, waving until he walks into the backroom. My smile doesn't fade, my cheeks starting to hurt until I feel a certain someone's stare on the back of my head. Oh shit.

Slowly turning around, I drag my eyes up to look into the most beautiful puppy eyes in the world, my heart going into overdrive.

"Hey," Baekhyun whispers.

A sad smile quirks on my lips, "Hi." Sighing a little, I take a look around, hanging up my apron and retrieving my hidden purse from the back of a chair at one of the extravagant dining tables. "Let's go."

Baekhyun nods, following me out of the restaurant. I open the door and hold it for him until he reaches the doorstep. We may not be on good terms, but that doesn't mean I'll just let a door slam in his face.

…

I most definitely should have let that door slam in his face.

Shaking off my aggressive thoughts, I take a deep breath and power walk to my car, shivering in the cold wind. It's the middle of July and a tropical storm has blown in, bringing its cold rains and chilling nights with it. Trust Seoul to have these extreme temperature changes, I should have kept my ass back in the South.

Baekhyun doesn't say a word as we make it to my red Porsche. I unlock the car when we are a few feet away, rolling my keys around my fingers. "Hop in, Byun."

He climbs into the passenger seat and by now the silence is killing me, but I shove it down. I'm here to drive him home and that's it. No more, no less.

Sighing inwardly, I settle into the driver's seat. "Buckle up," I mutter, looking at him out of the corner of my eye. "You may be more likely to survive a car crash in your drunken stupor but I sure as hell am not getting a fine for your ass."

I swear I hear him mutter, "of course," under his breath.

"What was that?" I pointedly widen my eyes, looking directly at him.

"Nothing." He grumbles, keeping his eyes facing forward.

"I thought so," Making sure he's strapped securely and checking my rearview mirror, I stick the key into the ignition and pull out of the parking lot.

Driving to Baekhyun's apartment feels so surreal, for many reasons. Never in our relation—our previous relationship have I driven him anywhere. I never dared to get behind the wheel of his Audi, that car is too expensive. If I had wrecked it and looked at the cost to fix or replace it, combined with the look of pure rage that would be on his face from me crashing his baby, I would die. Bad blood or not, I rather not be on Baekhyun's bad side.

My heartbeat picks up the longer the car ride goes on. Fuck, it's getting harder to breathe. I literally have the biggest problem to ever walk into my life right next to me months after I swore to never speak to him again. Why did I agree to this? What was I thinking?

No. No time for that, I'm going to drop him off at his apartment and continue moving on with my life. That's why I left him in the first place.

"...Riley?" He speaks up a few streets away from his house, his voice the softest I've heard in a while.

Nope. Don't engage. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.

"Can… Can we talk?" He continues, sounding sadder by the minute. "Please?"

"We're ten minutes away, Baekhyun."

"I…" The bags rustle in his lap as he sighs. "I knew this would happen."

"What?" I glance sharply at him at the next red light.

Baekhyun looks down at his hands with the most pitiful expression on his face, tears building in the corners of his eyes under the bright city lights. "I knew you would hate me."

Oh my fucking—My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. I want to roll my eyes and launch myself out of the car window at the same time. "Stop bringing it up, Byun." I mutter, focusing back on the road. "It's a thing of the past. Let it die there."

"Yeah," He laughs, his voice raw with emotion. "Like my heart the night you left me."

I clench my jaw, taking a deep breath, inwardly cursing the hectic late night traffic. Come on, fuckers, I need this man out of my car asap.

"You don't even want to talk to me about it." He continues, growing more frustrated and louder by the minute. "You don't even want to see me-"

"Of course I don't, Baekhyun!" I snap, whipping my head around to face him. "After all the shit you've done I have every right to not speak to your smug fucking face again."

"Smug?" He laughs weakly. "You think I enjoyed what happened to us?"

"Yep," I chirp, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn pale. "There's no other explanation for why you are in my car right now."

"You insisted for me to be here." He fires right back. "You break up with me, hang out with all my friends, then act like a cold hearted bitch every time you see me."

"It takes one to know one, Baekhyun." I jab right back, curling my upper lip in a cruel smile.

"Yeah," He scoffs, crossing his arms and facing the window. "I'm sure you know that very well."

"If you're going to be a whiny little bitch," I start, smiling widely at him, "I will put you out on your ass, Baekhyun."

"Wouldn't you love that," He laughs, anger coming off of him in waves. "You were always obsessed with my ass."

That's it.

Baekhyun yelps when I slam on the breaks, bracing his hands on the dashboard. "Riley, what the hell?!"

"You wanted to talk?" I make sure the curb of the street I pulled onto is clear before facing him with a grin. "Huh? You want to talk now?" Baekhyun shrinks further into the passenger seat when I lean over him. "Fucking say it to my face then, you bastard." I snarl. "Go on. Give your little practiced speech."

Baekhyun parts his lips a few times, making my rage raise even more—"I miss you." He mumbles sadly.

I blink, staring at him. "...What?" I chuckle, growing wary as he keeps giving me those kicked puppy dog eyes. "What the fuck are you on about, Baekhyun-"

"I miss you." He repeats. "I miss your voice, I miss your eyes, I miss waking up to your sleeping face next to mine." He takes a shaky breath, tears filling his eyes. "I miss your strawberry scent on our pillows. I miss your loving words. I miss you complaining about my random ramblings and shutting me up with a kiss… I miss everything about you." He drags his eyes back up to mine then. "I miss you so much I wake up every day and fall apart when I remember that you aren't there."

Sucking in a breath, I look away from him, my anger long forgotten. I… I don't know what to say. "You…" A lump forms in my throat. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to restrain my wobbling chin.

Baekhyun keeps his eyes on me, pleading with me with their sad, brown depths. He doesn't expect the slap I land on his pretty face.

"You fucking bastard," I mutter lowly, shaking in anger, the last of my sanity flying out of the window. "You don't get to come in here and say all this fucking bullshit when you couldn't even tell your fucking mother that you were dating me!" I scream, my vocal chords pulling harder than my heart strings. "You were dating me, living with me, loving me, fucking me-" I laugh, throwing my hand out to show off the car. "For a whole year. Then you come here with your pretty, pitiful little empty words and expect me to forgive you? Really? You really think so little of me?"

"Ri-"

"Did you not get it the first time?" I ask in the sweetest of tones, my Southern accent out on full display. "Huh? You told your dear mother about us then suddenly come running back after me? Did having her approval feel that good little puppy?"

Baekhyun's face burns a dozen different shades of red, but I'm not fucking done yet.

"Here comes the man who was so overcome with jealousy over my best friend that he pretended to fuck another whore at his party," I list off on my fingers, my voice growing louder with every word I fire at him."Here goes the man who accused me of fucking Jongin because I wanted to be left alone at a mother fucking party. Here sits the man—who had the audacity to cheat on me not once, but twice!" My lips curl up into the ugliest sneer, glaring at Baekhyun hard enough to kill. "And here lies the cowardly man who will lie like a pig in mud for the rest of eternity as far as I am concerned."

I'm huffing and puffing by the time I'm done, not even waiting for him to say anything before starting back up again. "You know I never and would never have cheated on you, right?" I ask, lowering the volume of my voice. "If I didn't want to be faithful to you, Baekhyun, I would have been with someone else. I don't pull stunts to be petty and shit. If you didn't know that about me now, you're a fucking idiot, and if you don't believe me, then I don't know what to tell you." I shrug, leaning back tiredly into my seat and keeping my eyes forward on the empty road ahead.

"I get that," He says quietly.

A chuckle bubbles in my aching chest. "Do you?" I raise a brow, trying to calm down. "Do you understand how stupid it is to cheat on someone just because you're feeling petty or uncomfortable in a situation-"

"I never cheated on you."

"Ha!" I bark out a laugh. "And I don't have 4C hair." Rolling my eyes, I throw my hands up. "What? So that model at the photoshoot and the lipstick stain on the collar of your shirt wasn't you cheating? Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Really? You really are going to deny-"

"Melody tripped over a sewage drain and that model forced herself onto me." He states firmly. "Neither was consensual or intentional."

Both my brows raise. "Huh. You know, it's real funny how you have an explanation for that now." I roll down my window to cool off, leaning my elbow onto the window seal and my chin in my palm before turning to him again. "Where was this energy months ago?"

Baekhyun nods. "You're right. I am a coward," He admits, stopping me dead in my tracks. "Dumb enough to not say anything and dumb enough to think that you'd figure it out because I…" He trails off, biting his lips before those teary brown eyes lock onto mine again. Taking my breath away with the endless storm of emotions swirling within them. "With you, I'm like an open book. You always saw right through me, so I thought… I thought I didn't have to say anything," His head drops, looking down at the neat bags sitting at his feet. "And when I did, it was too late."

My eyes narrow. "How do I know you aren't bullshtting me?"

"I have nothing left to lose," He shrugs, smiling sadly.

Anger flares up in me again. "What is that supposed to mean-"

"I already lost you."

My mouth snaps shut, a feeling I haven't felt in months squeezing my heart in earnest.

"Everything you said was true," He mumbles. "All of it. The secrets, the lies-"

"And what makes you say that?"

His ears burn brighter than the red handprint on his cheek. "I'm seeing a therapist."

"Oh—Shit..." A wave of white hot shame falls over me. "Baekhyun, I-I'm sorry-"

"No." He shakes his head before bending down, the paper bags rustling in his grasp. "Don't. You said nothing but the truth."

"That still doesn't make it okay…" I rub the back of my neck, cursing myself inwardly for my anger. I hadn't meant to go off on him, that wasn't my intention—

"It's only fair," He mutters, shrugging weakly. "I've said worse to you."

"I…" I can't help but sigh, at a loss for words. "...I'm proud of you, seeing a therapist takes a lot of courage and self awareness."

"Thank you."

"I'm glad you're doing okay," I mumble.

Baekhyun stiffens up. Suddenly the atmosphere in the car shifts into something more melancholic.

"B-Baek?"

He lifts up his head, revealing his tear-stained face to me. "You think so?"

My heart clenches in anguish. "Baekhyun-"

"After everything you…" His voice breaks. "You think I'm fine? You think I'm okay?" Tears dampen the long strands of silver hair dangling in his eyes. "I haven't slept. I haven't eaten. I haven't breathed—I haven't lived since the day you left." He croaks, sucking in a breath. "So if you think that I am okay, I am not."

I have nothing else to say after that. What can I even say...?

Feeling tears form in my own eyes, I turn the car back on. My mom always taught me that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say nothing at all. And after I slapped him and said all of those things…

I pull off of the curb, hiding my tears away from him. There's nothing I can do but take him home and hope that in the distant future… In a brand new life… He can forgive me for everything I've done to him and move on too.

The rest of the ride is spent in silence. No radio. No cars zooming past. The only thing I hear is his quiet sniffles and the cry of my wheezing heart.

"Thanks for taking me home," He mumbles in the softest of tones, mumbling more to his scuffed up sneakers than to me.

"No problem," I say softly, reaching out to place my hand on his shoulder only to pause, gripping the steering wheel again. "Make sure to take some Advil from the third cabinet on the right, okay?"

Baekhyun nods, hiding under the strands of his messy hair. He scares the hell out of me when his head suddenly shoots up again.

"Baek…?" I whisper, not sure what to do as he starts leaning in. He reveals his face to me up close for the first time in months. Heart-wrenching features that I know so well. The droopy shape of his brown eyes, the soft slope of his button nose, the cute little mole on top of his soft pink, thin lips that are pursed in concentration. For what? I have no idea. "Baekhyun-"

He slams his hand down on the dashboard, making me flinch. "Spider," He mutters, opening his hand to reveal its creepy squished body. I shiver at the sight. "I don't want you getting into a wreck. I know how you hate-" He sighs loudly, shaking his head. "Never mind…"

Yeah… I gulp, forcing a smile. Never mind.

"Travel safely, okay?" He takes his bags of food and steps out of the car, moving to close the door only to pause, meeting my eyes from under the bright city lights. "Goodnight, Riley."

It takes everything in me not to break down right there and then. "Good-" My lips wobble. I clear my throat, brushing my hair back before daring to look into his dull brown eyes again. "Goodnight, Baekhyun."

He smiles so small and sadly, making my heart weep when he closes the door and walks off to enter his apartment building.

I sit there for a few moments, staring out at the busy street ahead. It's so funny… This empty feeling in my chest. It's… It's like I never left…

•••

It's unfair… how much your heart hurts when you're stuck on someone. Realizing that no matter how many times they've hurt you, your broken heart still beats for them… and only them.

No matter how hard I try to deny it, the heart doesn't lie…

Baekhyun… is still a part of me. His scent may have faded, his t-shirts and hoodies are cleared out from my room… but the memory of him lives on in my heart. And I can't get rid of him without breaking myself completely and reforming a "perfect mold" to fit myself in.

Ha… funny how that works. 7 months of moving on has led up to this. Nothing. 7 months, 12 months, or 30 years, Baekhyun's scent can wash off of my skin, but the rest of the world won't let me break the two of us apart. If I am my brain, he is my heart. And you can't live without that muscle pumping steadily in your aching chest.

It's so unfair… because I'm trying my hardest to move on with someone else.

It takes me forever to get ready for my date tonight, and when I do… Something tells me to cancel it. But I can't. Jackson will be busy for the next month and a half. This is the only time in his schedule where he can take me out on the "proper date" as he likes to call it. Which he doesn't have to, I'm not that hard to please. I mean for fuck sake, I haven't had an official date until I was 20.

I'm not picky about these things, but I ended up agreeing in the end anyway. The sad puppy look on Jackson's face when I tried to decline going to a restaurant to just stay in and watch movies instead still haunts me. Those almond shaped, dark brown puppy eyes… Damn him.

Sighing softly, I carefully apply my eyeliner in my vanity mirror, checking over my appearance one last time and smiling at the result. My lips are the richest shade of red, dark brown, waist-length hair curled to perfection, and the crystal earrings I haven't worn in ages sparkle every time they catch the light. Perfect for my chosen dress for the night.

It's a little something that I've bought recently. A spaghetti strapped, black velvet piece with a cowl shaped neck that shows off a bit of my cleavage, form-fitting all the way down to the V shaped end of the dress. It ends high on my thigh, but I have no plans to go dancing tonight, (for Jackson's sake). It's just enough to make him a little hot under his expensive collar. Especially with the lace strings crisscrossed in the back that are the only thing holding the dress up.

A low buzz makes me jump, startling me out of my thoughts. I fish for my phone in the vibrating purse in my lap. I haven't taken it out since last night… The weight of Baekhyun's unblocked number in my phone is a heavy load... and I only have myself to blame.

My eyes widen at the caller ID on the screen: Him. And I know exactly who he is.

Biting my nails, I weigh my options: answer now and end up canceling my plans or call him back tomorrow...

…

Would it really be that bad to cancel? No—I can't. Jackson thinks I'm a punctual woman and…

"Always so sweet for me," He murmurs lowly, painting my skin with the shape of his lips.

My breath hitches, mouth going dry as more memories dance in my mind. Skin on skin, hushed whispers, champagne painted breaths...

"Mmm you're so wet," He groans, grazing my clit with his teeth. "Making a mess all over me."

A knock on my door makes me pause, staring down at the buzzing phone in my hand.

7 months without Baekhyun… and it has resorted to this.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—Fuck!

I power down the phone, toss it back into my bag, pull it onto my shoulder and launch myself out of my chair to open the door before I lose my nerve. The sight that greets me on the other side of the door makes my heart flutter, but…

"Hey," Jackson smiles softly, his dark brown eyes sparkling under the bright lights.

It doesn't take my breath away.

"Hi," I manage a smile, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"You look beautiful," He compliments, his eyes sparkling even more as he looks over my dress before meeting my eyes again.

My smile grows, warmth spreading over my cheeks. "Thank you," I mutter softly, laughing a little. "You're not too bad yourself."

He smiles again, gesturing to me, the shine of his thin gold bracelet reflecting the hallway lights. "May I?"

"Hmm?—Oh!" I gasp, noticing the red and black corsage in his hands. "Y-Yes," I smile shyly, my heart pounding when he holds out his hand to me.

Jackson gently takes my hand, carefully slipping the corsage around my wrist. The caress of his rough fingertips makes a shiver go down my spine, goosebumps left on my skin when he pulls away.

His outfit catches my attention. Normally I'd feel a little shameless for looking at him from head to toe, but after what happened earlier… I can use a distraction.

He's wearing a black blazer with a matching lace turtleneck shirt underneath that gives me a glimpse of his toned skin, making my breath hitch. A golden necklace with a pendant rests in the middle of his chest, making him look so attractive when it twinkles under the lights. And with the way his shirt is tucked into his stylish black jeans… Fuck me ten times over.

My eyes trail further down his body. He has on that expensive gold watch I saw the first time we met and elegant rings on his veiny hands. I forget to breathe remembering how it felt to be held in his strong arms...

Snapping out of my daze, my wide eyes dart back up to his, finding the sweetest of shy smiles on his lips and a pink hue to his cheeks. He just caught me checking him out and he's blushing. Adorable. Clearing my throat, I smile, feeling my own face heat up under his admiring gaze. "Not bad at all."

His soft chuckle makes me feel less embarrassed. Maybe he can tell that I'm nervous… but not what has me so nervous.

Baekhyun's tear-stained face has been haunting me all day and I barely managed to get any sleep last night. His small voice replays in my head and soft spoken words cover my skin. My face heats up and pales at the same time at the reminder of what I was thinking about not even 10 minutes ago. I had a memory of him going down on me for Christ sake! Looking up at Jackson's handsome face, I feel another wave of hot shame. Can the ground please open up and swallow me whole?

"Shall we?" Jackson asks, bring my attention back to him. He offers his elbow to me, waiting for me to lock my arm with his. Another smile forms on my face; I have to suppress a giggle bubbling in my chest. He's so sweet and gentle compared to all the other men in my life. Ugh, my poor heart is racing like crazy.

I lock the door behind me and wrap my arm around his, appreciating the firmness of his bicep as he leads us down the hallway. The taps of our respective shoes echo around the quiet hall while we wait a few minutes for the elevator to arrive. "I'm not taking too much of your time, am I?" I mumble, watching the floor numbers rise to avoid his gaze.

"Hmm?" Jackson hums, his alluring cologne hitting me when he turns his head to look at me.

"Your schedule," I elaborate, glancing at him from under my eyelashes. "I'm not infringing on your work time, am I?"

"No," He shakes his head, holding the metal doors open for me while I walk into the elevator.

"But you said you are in the middle of the most important part of filming and-" I stop, my eyes widening at the warmth on my cheeks.

"Riley." Jackson looks right into my eyes, his rough palms cradling my face. "You are not 'taking too much' of my time, alright?" He mumbles, brown eyes drifting over my features while his thumb swipes over the top of my cheek, leaving a blaze of gentle heat in its wake. "This night is for us."

My heart practically leaps out of my chest the longer I stare into his warm eyes. I break eye contact. "O-Okay," I whisper, smiling shyly.

Jackson smiles, taking my hand when the elevator doors open onto the ground floor. As we walk past the security guard in the lobby, I wonder how I look next to him… He's the same height as Baekhyun, more toned where the latter has softer edges. They both have sharp jawlines, but Jackson's cheeks are more chiseled than squishy like Baekhyun's sweet face—

"Ladies first," His low voice muses.

Lifting my head from my white high heels, I look into Jackson's eyes, realizing that his dark brown eyes don't hold the same tension Baekhyun's does when I am taller than him like this. My shyness aside, with my almost average height and tall heels, I'm a few centimeters taller than Jackson. But instead of finding that spark of insecurity I'm used to seeing in Baekhyun's eyes, Jackson looks at me as if I am the goddess who put the moon in the sky.

Stepping out into the quiet night, I look up at the stars, having to blink a few times when I see a pair of droopy brown eyes staring down at me. No. I shake my head, sighing in frustration. God, why do I see him everywhere I go?

We make our way to the parking lot on the side of the apartment complex. The silence between us isn't striffling like the one I've come to grow wary of over the past year. That piercing void full of held back frustration and heated glares...

A car unlocks in the distance, drawing my attention to a sleek black vehicle when it lights up. A Jaguar, stunning with it's cat-eye headlights and the way the engine purrs to life. The car is honestly mesmerizing, and it suits Jackson well, but my heart tugs painfully in my chest when he opens the passenger door for me and I don't see any red accessory detailing on the inside...

"You look stunning in that dress." He says when he climbs into the driver's seat, his low voice making me feel something deep in my stomach.

"T-Thank you," I blush scarlet, shifting towards the passenger window to hide my red face. It's been a long time since someone has complimented me so genuinely. I haven't felt like this since—

"Are you really that insecure?"

The memory hits me like a punch to the gut.

"You okay?" Jackson asks, his eyes shining with concern.

"Y-Yeah," I whisper, clutching onto my purse. My face hasn't cooled down since I left my apartment and I doubt it will at this rate. Between Jackson's sweet eyes and Baekhyun's teary ones that haven't left my mind, I'm royally screwed. "How's work?"

Jackson hums. "It's good." He keeps his eyes on the road, pulling out of the parking lot. "The movie is coming along nicely."

Taking a few discrete and deep breaths, I rest my head on my arm, focusing on the low timbre of his raspy voice. "Did the tech team find any more of those files?"

"No." He shakes his head, making a left turn. "Thankfully those were the only ones," He smiles, glancing over at me; the twinkles of excitement and affection in his eyes is hard to ignore. "Now the editing team can take over."

I fight the urge to rest a hand over my heart. "The movie won't be delayed?"

"The movie won't be delayed," He confirms warmly, focusing fully on me at the next red light. His brown hair falls attractively over his forehead, casting a shadow over his dark and expressive eyes. "We'll be ahead of schedule. Everyone worked in advance while waiting for the tech team to sort through the files."

"That's good," I smile, turning my attention to our surroundings streaming past the window.

Jackson navigates us down the long Seoul streets, the city lights reflecting in his dark eyes while he steers the wheel with both hands. He looks handsome under the favor of the moonlight, the headlights of passing cars sparkling across his thin necklace. For a moment I imagine a future—an us. How it would feel to hold his calloused hands and gaze into his adoring eyes. What it would be like to wake up to his face in the mornings. That deep, raspy voice… I shiver at the thought, praying the traffic lights don't show the red hue I feel on my cheeks.

Soft and slow R&B floats from the quiet car radio, caressing my ears with its gentle melodies while Jackson turns his blinkers on. I hum, tapping along to the beat, a smile curling at my lips. It's a perfect song for a summer night like this, adding a calming atmosphere to the intimate space of Jackson's car—

"I love this song."

Baekhyun raises a brow, his eyes focused on the road as he turns up the radio with a smile. "Really?"

"Yeah." He has such a stunning side profile, I could gaze at him for hours. "I listened to a lot of their songs growing up."

"Your parents have great taste."

"Mm." The sunlight reflecting in his brown eyes has nothing on the sparkles of happiness in his shining orbs. "I guess you do too."

I sigh through my nose, shoving down the emotions budding in my chest. No matter how hard I try, memories of him continue to play in my mind. All our romantic mid-day drives and late night talks of a future we thought we had in store… Our shared hopes and dreams that went up in flames before our very eyes.

Next thing I know, Jackson is putting the car into park, the purr of the engine cutting off in exchange for the summer heat seeping in through the pause of the air conditioner.

"You ready?" He looks over at me, the urge to brush his hair out of his eyes hitting me full force.

"Yeah," I smile, curling my hand around the strap of my purse. The giddy smile he gives me in return is so damn sweet I want to cry.

Jackson steps out of the Jaguar and it doesn't take him long to round the car. He opens the passenger door for me before I realize that we've reached the restaurant.

"Thank you," I giggle in embarrassment, placing my hand in the one he offers me with another one of those adorable smiles of his. My heart skips a beat when he presses a kiss to the back of my hand while I step out onto the asphalt. If he keeps this up I'm going to have a heart attack over this softness. What the hell, why aren't there more guys like Jackson in the world? And how the hell has he been single this whole time with him out here sweeping me off my feet like this?

His widened smile and the way his eyes drift over my features has a comforting warmth settling over my beating heart. He leads the way to the restaurant, opening the door for me like the heart-fluttering gentleman he is. He's going all out on winning me over tonight and I'm loving every minute of it.

The smell of freshly baked lasagna and garlic bread has my mouth watering as we make our way up to the counter. I catch a peek at the beautifully arranged, round wooden tables under a romantic lighting in the next room.

"Reservations for Wang." Jackson's voice sounds more firm when he addresses the lady at the counter, a flicker of his director persona flashing across his face. If nothing else, one look at him and you can tell that he's about business—even for a little date like this. A first date too. It's hard fighting my adoring smile.

The receptionist checks on the computer in front of her and looks down at her clipboard, nodding with a polite smile. "Right this way," She gestures to the next room. Her black suit, matching bow tie, and crisp clean, white dress shirt add onto the expensive air of the restaurant. The food is fresh, the atmosphere is dreamy, and every surface shines brightly under the dim candle-lit lights.

The further we walk into the restaurant, the more I have to be sure not to let my jaw drop in awe. Everything about this place is magical, from the happily conversing customers to the beautiful chandeliers in the hallway. The receptionist leads us to a table in a more secluded area, the muffled chatter of the rest of the patrons coming through the velvet walls. "Your water will be out shortly," She sets the menus on the table before taking her leave with a bow.

"Allow me," Jackson murmurs, his words caressing my ear. His cologne washes over me when he walks over to the table, pulling out a chair and waiting for me with the most charming smile on his face. I can't hold my own back even if I tried.

"Thank you," I say warmly, humored and flattered beyond belief. The proximity of his hand to my bare shoulders has a pleasant shiver going down my spine. A flush forms on my face. The man has done nothing but be a gentleman and I'm over here yearning for his touch like a giddy teenager.

Jackson's scent hits me once again when he moves to take his seat. The minty smell of aftershave and a hint of his own unique manly scent has me damn near drooling and we haven't even had appetizers yet. My stomach is building tension and I doubt it has anything to do with the menu.

"How was your day?" He inquires.

I startle out of my horny musings like a cat doused in cold water. Oh shit. "It was alright," I laugh nervously, trying to keep my voice from wavering into that annoying raspy tone it gets when I'm not careful enough. "I turned in my final assignments and am awaiting my test results for the semester."

A waiter comes to take our order, sparing me a few minutes from having to explain myself. I'm struggling to find words here. What am I supposed to say? "Oh yeah, I spent all day daydreaming about my heartbroken ex and the steamy sex we used to have." I'd die of embarrassment so damn fast. I'm appalled at myself.

"What are you studying?" His dark brown eyes are back on me when the waiter walks away. A flutter stutters in my chest under his attentive gaze.

"Business," I resist the urge to rest my chin on my palm, choosing to swirl my fork around my salad instead. "I'm working on my bachelor's degree. I want to improve my performance at work."

His eyes widen, curiosity painting on his handsome features. "What do you do?"

I smile softly. He's adorable. "I'm the Director at Park's Publishing."

"You work in a publishing house?"

"I manage the 5th floor," I share, a smirk quirking at my lips. The last thing I did this morning before going home around lunch was inform everyone about our busy schedule at the end of the month. "I miss my editing days, not gonna lie." I laugh, poking an olive. "Sorry, work kind of stresses me out."

"No," Jackson shakes his head, smiling softly, "I get it. Taking a group of people under your wing is a big responsibility."

"It's sooo difficult." Sighing, I cross my legs, the back of my heel clicking against the leg of my chair. "Since I'm not directly in charge of editing, I have to guide others and keep reminding myself that I can't do the work for them. They have to learn on their own."

"Same," He nods, swallowing a bite of Italian seasoning drenched tomato and lettuce. "I have to fight the urge to take things over that the marketing and editing teams are supposed to handle." A flicker of annoyance crosses his face, making me smile in understanding. "Good thing I'm not Ceo," He jokes.

I laugh, thinking to myself: Yeah, thank fuck you aren't one.

When the waiter brings our food, the reminder that I haven't eaten all day stirs in my hungry stomach. I take a bite of my chicken alfredo before it can growl, closing my eyes to hide how they roll back when the gooey goodness of cheese and perfectly boiled noodle hits my tongue. Holy fuck. This food right here is the shit. If I had a meal like this more often, I'd never complain again in my life.

I find myself observing Jackson while he enjoys his own meal. He chews with his mouth closed, neatly cutting his chicken with a fork and knife. The room is quiet with only the soft music playing overhead and the sound of our silverware clicking against the pristine plates.

"I want to wake up every morning to your sleeping face curled up by my side," Baekhyun murmurs, smiling shyly.The red hue of his cheeks endearing under the dim lights. "Your hair products cluttering our dresser and your toothbrush next to mine."

"You really like cucumbers, huh?" Jackson muses.

I jolt out of my thoughts, realizing to my horror that I've been leaning over the table, picking the cucumbers from his salad. "Oh! Y-Yeah," I chuckle, my face burning scarlet. From humor or embarrassment, I have no idea. Probably both at this rate. "You could say that..."

Originally posted by sefuns

August fades seamlessly into September, urging the leaves on trees to change into red, orange, and pretty yellow hues. Gone are the dog days of summer smitting everyone from above. Now the best season of all is coming out to play, and I am all for it.

Skipping down the street in my newest yellow skater dress and nude sandals, I check the GPS on my phone to search for the street that I'm on. Today I decided that walking around aimlessly for hours was the best course of action to clear my mind, and now I've found myself in a part of Seoul that I've never been to before.

The architecture of the landscape around me is something to behold. The windows are cut out squares that only allow light to be seen from within the rooms as the sun goes down, and the buildings are curved this way and that in the most intricate of ways. It surely is a view I wouldn't mind venutring over here to see again sometime. The lively chatter of pedestrians on the sidewalk is refreshing too.

Smiling to myself, my eyes catch sight of a particular building in the distance. I quickly cross the street for a closer look. It's a giant library that looks to be 4 stories tall, showcasing a huge bookshelf on the back wall from the view of the front windows. Highly intrigued, and lowkey smitten, I step inside for a closer look.

The smell of books hits me in an instant, the young and old novels arranged neatly in little bookshelves compared to that mountain of literature on the farthest wall. There's a small cafe serving up delicious muffins to my right and a huge sitting area full of the perfect lounge chairs on my left. Crowds of people make their way to and fro between the aisles without hiccup. There's so much to do that I don't even know where to start.

Walking over to the Romance section, I skim my fingertips along the book covers, aimlessly striding down the aisle until a thin, blue book catches my eye. Curious, I move to pull it out only for another hand to beat me to it. A familiar, slender hand.

I yank my hand back at once. "Dude!" Lowering my voice, I glare at the man in front of me. "Why the hell are you always everywhere? Are you following me around or what?"

"W-What?" Baekhyun's wide brown eyes stare back at me.

"I never thought you'd resort to stalking, Baekhyun." I shake my head, brushing past him, the silver buttons of his waist-length jacket cold against my sun-kissed skin.

"I'm not fucking!" He slaps a hand over his face, exhaling deeply. "I'm not following you around."

"Then why are you here, huh?" I keep my eyes forward, marching into the next aisle.

"Because—will you stop walking away from me?!?!?!"

I freeze, the sheer desperation in his voice roots my feet to the floor. "Why are you here, Baekhyun?" I cross my arms, shivering under the air conditioner overhead.

"Hannam-dong library extraordinaire," He utters, his shadow moving closer as I tense up. "You put it on the bucket list. The one we made together." Hope pours out from his every word, his painfully slow footsteps seeming to stem from the faint memories crowding his mind. "You listed every place you wanted to go and w-we, we never…" He stops when his voice cracks, clearing his throat. "You made a copy by hand so we'd always have it," He mumbles sadly. "I guess it's meaningless now."

Emotions grip at my throat and tears threaten to fill my eyes. I slowly turn around, snatching the book out of his hands. "Give me that." Flickering my eyes up to his hurt-filled eyes, I gesture to the sitting area with my chin. "Follow me."

Baekhyun follows behind me without a word, shuffling his boots noisily on the carpeted floor. I have half the mind to tell him about it until I remember where we are—in a library and in life. Biting my tongue, I plop down into the longest couch available, staring at his nervous figure when he doesn't join me. "Come on!" I snap, throwing a pillow at him that he's quick to catch. "Sit your ass down, I don't got all day." I grumble, opening the blue book. "I came here to read and I plan to do so."

A few moments go by, nothing but the quiet chatter of visitors and the coffee pot whistling on the other side of the room fills the air. Just when my heart drops at the thought of him being gone, a weight sinks down into the couch next to me. I look to see Baekhyun in a grey sweater, his jacket left on the back of the chair. His eyes are closed and neck is bare while resting his head on the back of the couch. Silver locks of hair messily dangle on his forehead, long eyelashes caressing the tops of his cheeks. I frown at the lack of fluff I find there, his mother's words a distant whisper in my ear.

Baekhyun makes me jump when he peeks an eye open, opening the other before blinking slowly at me. "I'm listening," He murmurs softly, keeping those expressive brown eyes on me.

My heart skips a beat. Smiling to myself, I focus back on the book in my hands, flipping to the first page and beginning to read aloud.

•••

Weeks fly by once mid September hits, endless clusters of colored leaves blowing away in its wind. The sun rises later in the day and sets at a different angle at night, casting warm shadows over my bedroom window that never fail to bring a smile to my face. Everything about this time of year puts me in high spirits. The weather is perfect for my velvety outfits and the annoying ass bugs are finally starting to go away. It's a calm, homey fairytale land full of sweet breezes and mid autumn adventures.

I lean over my vanity while painstakingly applying my red lipstick in the mirror, smoothing it out with care. My makeup for tonight goes well with my newest party dress, a burgundy velvet, off the shoulder piece with a deep v neck. It has long puffed sleeves with fitted cuffs that wrap comfortably around my wrists and a matching belt to emphasize the hourglass shape of my waist. The thick material is perfect for early October, the nights beginning to get just the littlest bit colder.

Humming to myself, I carefully put on my gold dangling earrings, smiling at the reflection of my wavy hair. Just letting it air dry with curling irons in it for a few minutes ended up with the subtle result. I'm attending one of Jackson's infamous parties tonight as his date, not his seducer. Although, I don't need to get all dolled up to impress him anyway. Batting my eyelashes and looking intensely into his deep, dark brown eyes is enough.

This time around, I'm prepared for the knock on my door. Two months of various dates has sunk a certain time into my core. 10pm on the dot. Punctual as always. My red painted lips quirk up at the thought. With one last glance into my vanity mirror, I spin around on my one-inch, open-toed black heels, strutting over to open the door and whistling at the sight.

Jackson smiles, looking hot as hell in his black blazer and thin gold chain with no shirt underneath. His muscular thighs look amazing in his tight jeans, and with his brown hair brushed back with a few strands of hair attractively left on his forehead…

"You look gorgeous," He murmurs, planting a kiss on my forehead while I'm distracted by his two sets of gold earrings.

I smile coyly, tucking my finger in his necklace and tugging on it lightly. "You're not so bad yourself."

Conversations between us flow more easily over the past few months. I show him my sass and he throws it right back, making me laugh every time. His attractive mind comes up with the most astounding ideas and points of view. There are many different sides to him as well. His confident, professional way of handling business to how he likes to roll over on my couch to rest his head in my lap and look up at me with those dark brown puppy eyes.

Things are easy—that's just how it is with Jackson. It's a nice change from the complicated men in my life. He's adorable and sexy all in one.

The clicks of my heels echo across the sidewalk as we walk up to the frat house, my hand wrapped around his bicep. The party is just starting to pick up it seems; a fair amount of party goers are streaming in the front double doors.

"I want to introduce you to someone," Jackson perks up the moment we reach the entrance.

"Really?" I bat my eyes at him, stepping closer when someone brushes past us in a hurry. "Well, I'm down for that."

He smiles, holding the door open for me. I softly squeeze his bicep before letting him go, walking into his alumni house for the first time in almost a year. Last December I was crossing this same threshold with Jenny by my side, can you believe that? A lot can happen in 10 months, and I can't wait for what's in store for me.

"Jackson!" A deep voice reaches us over the loud music and growing crowd. I can barely make out a figure under all the neon lights, beckoning us over. Jackson's cologne washes over me before I feel his arm brush against my back.

"Let's go," He takes my hand in his, a smile audible in his raspy voice. I follow his lead, swiveling my head around to take in the view of the house. Just as I thought, everything is impeccably arranged. From the mini bar in the back corner to the DJ booth, it screams Jackson. Charming. Intelligent. And expensive. Even with the clumsy party attendees stumbling around.

He turns the corner on the right side of the hallway, following the medium-build figure walking down to a slightly ajar door at the end of the hall. The chatter from within the small room comes to a halt when the stranger pushes open the door.

"Took you long enough, Tuan!" A high-pitched, bubbly voice laughs, their plump lips smiling in amusement.

The man we've been following turns around, smiling while 5 other pairs of eyes land on us. "Hey, man."

"Mark," Jackson steps forward for a bro hug, clapping a hand over the raven's back. He goes around to do the same and fist bumps the other men in the room before standing next to me again. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

All of them smile, curiosity and friendliness coming off of them in waves—except for one.

Yugyeom sits with his legs crossed in the far corner of the room, smirking while leaning his head in his hand. I make a point to ignore him, shaking everyone's hand with my most polite smile. Their compliments of my dress has me blushing all the way up to my ears. Thankfully the dim lights hide it from view.

Jackson and I take a spot on the only available couch in the cozy room, sitting between Mark and another man with sharp cat-like eyes and a barbell piercing.

"Is this your first party?" The latter asks, swirling the brown alcohol in his glass.

"No," I smile, way too aware of Yugyeom's stare burning into the side of my head. I carefully open a can of beer that Jackson hands to me, taking a long sip.

"Huh," He takes a swing of his drink while I lean my head onto Jackson's shoulder. "Why haven't I seen you around before?"

"I have," Yugyeom joins in, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows at me from over the rim of his glass. My eye twitches. Yeah, I see why this little shit and Jenny broke up.

I quietly observe everyone while the night carries on, the faint bass from the music down the hallway vibrating through the floor. Jackson catches up with his "brothers," in the meantime, updating them on the progress of his film. My eyes lazily sweep over the well-furnished room, the edges of my vision turning blurry. I make sure that the next two cans of beer that I drink aren't open when they are handed to me.

Sometime around midnight, I loosen up, the buzz of alcohol rushing through my veins prompting me to lose my filter. Between BamBam with the plush lips playful banter and the juicy tales of Jaebum's romantic conquests, I'm positively beaming, chatting without a care with my legs draped over Jackson's lap.

Mark cracks a joke that sends me reeling, nearly falling off of the couch if it wasn't for the man next to me, wrapping a strong arm around my waist. I hide my face in the crook of his neck, taking in his vanilla scent. The hint of citrus on his honey-toned skin has warmth spreading over my chest, the image of his sweet, brown puppy eyes printed behind my eyelids.

I laugh until I realize how dead silent the room has gotten. Lifting my head, I look around before tugging lightly on Jackson's sleeve. "Hey..." I murmur with difficulty, growing unnerved under their piercing stares. "What's-"

"Let's call it a night," He mutters, not meeting my eye.

Snapping my mouth shut, I nod, wondering what I did wrong while he bids everyone goodnight. I stand up with the help of his hand on my arm, guiding me over to the doorway that seems to be tilting to the side.

"Hey…" I try again, focusing hard on putting one foot in front of the other. What happened…? Did I laugh too hard? React too dramatically? Is there a piece of fruit stuck between my teeth? I knew I shouldn't have had that parfait before—

Jackson pulls aside me to an empty corner shielded by large plants in the hallway. His lips part a few times before he presses them into a thin line. "You just called me Baekhyun," He mutters, clenching his jaw.

Oh. I sober up in a heartbeat. "S-Shit, I-" The color drains from my face the longer I gaze into his disappointed dark brown eyes. I can feel tears filling my own. "I'm so sorry-"

"It's fine." His stiff posture says otherwise and I've never seen such a hard expression on his features before. "I'll drive you home."

"Wait…" Resting my hand on his arm, I brace myself with a racing heart for the backlash I'll get for what I'm about to ask. "C-Can you drop me off somewhere instead?"

•••

The car ride into the heart of Seoul is stifling. I can't recall us ever being like this… let alone having Jackson angry with me. His grip on the steering wheel has his knuckles turning white, the clench of his jaw concerning me as well. I can only blame myself, swearing inwardly for coming out tonight.

This wasn't supposed to happen… None of this was. The Baekhyun; the shy smiles; the longing. The Yugyeom; the drinking; the nerves... If I could go back in time, I never would have gone to that frat party last year. I would have stayed at Jenny's apartment, bonding over skincare routines and shitty tv shows. But no... I had to go out that December night, and now I am facing the consequences.

It's taking everything in me just to hold back my tears.

"We're here." Jackson speaks up after an hour of silence, nothing but the zooming cars and lively nightlife filling up the empty space from beyond the tinted windows. It does little to ease the tension in the car—it only seems to build when he pulls up to the curb, leaving the engine running.

A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to breathe. I can't even face him right now. By the cold look in his eyes, I know there is no use trying to talk to him. I can't even defend myself. There's only one explanation for what happened earlier, and it's the most shitty one of all...

Baekhyun.

On my mind; in my thoughts; in my heart. The way his long eyelashes brush the top of his glowy cheeks and the world swirling in his sparkly brown eyes when he looks at me. Everywhere I go, I see him, feel him, and wish he was there… From the darkest crevices of my anxious mind to the deepest depths of my beating heart.

No matter where I turn. No matter how much I try. There is only one man in the world for me in this lifetime. There is only one name my soul cries out for… and it isn't the one next to me.

I swallow hard, my heart aching for Jackson. The telling shine of tears reflected in his brown eyes can't be hidden when a truck drives past, revealing the vulnerability in his dark eyes. I hate that things are ending this way. The pounding of my head and sour taste on the back of my tongue are only reminders of how much I've messed up tonight.

Working up my nerve, I step out of his Jaguar, ducking my head back inside with a tight grip on the door.

"Thank you," I whisper over the loud crickets and crying tree frogs, "For everything." Sighing shakily, I crack one last smile as a tear rolls down my cheek. "Thank you for showing me how wonderful life can be."

Jackson turns his head, regarding me with teary, fire-filled eyes. His throat bobs and he manages a small smile in return, nodding slowly. "The pleasure is all mine, Riley."

With a pounding heart, I close the car door with care, walking onto the curb. I look back over my shoulder one more time when I reach the doors of the apartment complex, watching him drive off with a sad smile. The quiet night wraps around me, bringing me little comfort against the bitter cold that I feel inside of my heart. What if I'm making a mistake? I just walked away from the only man who treated me the way I deserve… A stable, well off man for a broken, world shattering one.

A million thoughts race through my mind while climbing the stairs to his apartment, my hand clutching onto the railing for dear life. What if he's not home? What if I'm too late? What if he's finally moved on and I'm the only one still stuck in the past? Still stuck on us?

Tears spring to my eyes, making it hard to see the wobbly steps with my blurred vision, but I carry on, one step at a time. Something tugs deep in my chest—a gut feeling. One that has me pausing from the sheer force behind it.

Baekhyun is my home, and he is waiting for me.

I break out into a run, nearly slipping on the last step before I reach the landing of the fourth floor, swinging the stairway door open so hard it collides with the wall. My heels pound against the marble floor until I trip over something, slamming my head on his door. The resounding thud echoes across the silent walls and the door is yanked open within seconds.

His wide, shock-filled brown eyes stare at me from the doorway, with his messy silver hair and a white wrinkled t-shirt.

I all but throw myself at him.

Baekhyun gasps, catching me before I fall. "Riley, I-"

"No." I shake my head, hugging him tighter, my voice wavering. "You listen to me." Looking up into his brown eyes, I cup his warm cheeks in my cold hands. "I don't care how long it takes, I don't care how much my heart breaks." My chin wobbles, salty tears streaming like a waterfall down my face, but nothing else matters. Nothing can hurt me when I'm in his comforting embrace.

"If it's not with you, I don't want it," I breathe, staring deep into his glimmering eyes. "Do you hear me? You can break my heart a million times, and I can do the same." Swiping a tear from under his eye, I cradle his face in my palm, painting his vulnerable expression into memory. "As long as we mend it back together, we will be okay." I nod, looking between his wide eyes. "We will get through this." I state firmly, melting against him when he tightens his hold on my waist. "We are in this together. Okay?" His silence is worrying me… "B?"

"Are you…" He slowly reaches up, cupping my cold cheek in his warm hand, his frantic brown eyes searching mine for answers. "Are you really here?" He whispers.

"Yes." I watch the light begin to return to his tired eyes. "I'm here, Baekhyun." I pull him closer, squeezing him in my arms, his racing heart beating in sync with mine. "I'm here." My heart drops when he pulls away.

Baekhyun shakes his head, moving his hand from my cheek to take mine into his. "I'm stubborn, insecure, and possessive." He mutters, gazing right into my eyes, determination written all over his face. "I'm… I'm annoying, overbearing, and a workaholic."

I give him my softest, loving smile. "Well, me too." Slowly reaching for him again, I paint my name on his honey-toned skin with my fingertips. "Let's be fucked up together, hmm?"

"I…" He sighs, resting his forehead on mine, staring lovingly and worriedly into my eyes. "I don't want you to regret this."

"I won't," I murmur, tracing three little words across his collarbones. "If I do, we'll fight and then have makeup sex."

Baekhyun chokes. "You're terrible." He coughs, patting his chest, the red hue on his cheeks more endearing than ever before.

I shrug, smiling at him. "When it comes to you?" Sliding my hand up his chest, I tangle my fingers in his messy hair, hovering my lips over his, "I am many things."

•••

It's funny; how easy it is to fall back into him. His loving arms and secure embrace. Every day spent with him slowly mends the cracks in my fragile heart, filling them with the most everlasting remedy of all. Love.

Time is endless when I am with him. Moments become weeks. Seconds turn into hours. Being with Baekhyun makes any taxing and mundane task into a precious activity that I'd love to do again—just because it's him.

Our dynamic has changed, even the air around us is new. We talk about everything. We face problems head on. A few arguments break out sometimes because we are two stubborn individuals, but those aren't a problem now. No big fights. No tearing into each other. I may call him an asshole and he'll rebuke with that I'm being a bitch, (which I am more often than not,) but at the end of the day. When the tension is gone and our sad eyes lock from across the room. We work things out and fall more in love with each other, no matter the struggle we've been through.

—Like right now.

"Perfect," I laugh bitterly, taking out my earrings while storming into the living room. "Fucking perfect."

"Riley," Baekhyun sighs, closing the door.

"No. Fuck this." I spit heatedly, throwing my hands up. "You always do this bullshit. Every time I go out you have something to say. What is it, huh? Why you always got to be up in my shit-"

Turning to him, I'm met by tired brown eyes, his hands falling limply to his sides. "Can we talk this out?" He asks softly, eyes pleading. "I rather hold you than fight."

Still huffing and puffing, I stare into his puppy eyes and sad pout. Without a word, I march over to him, tucking myself under his chin and wrapping my arms around his waist.

"I get it, okay? I have no problems with you going out with your friends." He mumbles into my hair, kissing my head. "I just want to make sure you are safe. Call me, text me, send me a pic to let me know that you're alright." He pulls back a little to cup my face in his hands, staring deep into my eyes. "You're my baby," He whispers, brushing frustrated tears from my cheeks. "If something ever happened to you I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Please understand where I'm coming from."

"Okay." I mumble against his shoulder, hiding more in his vanilla scent. "...I'm sorry for going off on you."

"Shh," Baekhyun hugs me tighter, surrounding me in his warmth and tangling his fingers in my hair. "I trust you, okay?" He nuzzles in my hair, sighing softly. "It's the rest of the world that I don't."

I love him. I love him with every part of me. If I had the chance to go back in time, I'd choose to meet him every time. Even on days where I have to walk out of his apartment to catch a breather. Those cold nights where I stubbornly shiver on his balcony until he comes out to place his jacket on my shoulders. And the times I ask myself why the hell I'm fighting with him over which color we should switch his window curtains into again. Despite all the good and the bad. The happiness and earth shattering agony. I wouldn't change it for the world.

"Are you cold?" Baekhyun mumbles, bringing the back of my hand to his cheek.

"I'm fine, B," I reassure, ignoring the goosebumps that erupt on my skin. From his loving touch or the cold bite of the November air, I have no idea. Most likely both.

"You're shivering." He points out, already struggling off his jacket before I can respond. "I told you it would be cold today."

"I wanted to take the risk, okay?" I sigh, smiling into the cinnamon scented fabric he places on my shoulders.

"It's the middle of November," He murmurs with a shake of his head, tucking our joined hands into the pocket of his jeans.

"Maybe," I mumble in amusement, beaming at him and batting my eyelashes. "But you love this dress on me. Admit it." Today I'm wearing a royal blue summer dress. The weather may be shifting from windy fall to bitter winter, but that won't stop me from rocking this sleeveless, v neck, shirt dress with a tie around my waist.

Baekhyun's eyes shift away from the red crosswalk light ahead to look me over, taking his time with a little cheeky smile on his face. "Well," He murmurs, mischief shining in his sparkly brown eyes. "I can't deny that."

I giggle, ignoring the warmth on my cheeks when he softly squeezes my hand, leading the way as we cross the street. I've missed this feeling: walking hand and hand—our fingers interwtined and young hearts racing as one. Not even the chilly wind can ruin the mood I'm in—I just tuck myself closer to his side.

Baekhyun hums, wrapping his arm around me, pulling me closer when a group of children come running down the sidewalk. The shrill voice of their scolding mother has us sharing a knowing look, smiling shyly. Yeah, nothing quite gets better than this.

"Riley?"

I stiffen, that low, raspy voice shakes me to my very core.

Baekhyun's brown eyes shoot to mine in an instant. "Baby?" He murmurs, a worried frown on his face as he leans to my ear. "Do you know him?"

"Um-" I avoid his eyes, holding onto the hem of his shirt for dear life. "I- Uh-"

A shadow falls over us before a figure walks around to face us, and those dark brown puppy eyes have never looked so solemn. Fuck.

"Jackson Wang?" Baekhyun blinks, sending me into an internal panic. "Hey, man," He smiles, going in for a handshake. "Long time no see. How's the movie?"

Jackson's brown eyes stare into mine before he looks down at Baekhyun's hand. "Good."

Baekhyun frowns, retracting his hand, confusion written all over his face.

"Hey, fancy seeing you here," I manage a small, polite smile, my heart racing nervously when Jackson pulls the towel from around his neck, his dark brown eyes landing back on me. "What you up to?" I tilt my head, resting a hand on Baekhyun's back.

"Out for a jog," Jackson shrugs, the fabric of his black t-shirt sticking to his damp skin. His eyes track how Baekhyun reaches back to take my hand into his. "I was supposed to play basketball with the guys," He continues sourly, "But they blew me off."

"Ah…" I purse my lips, straining another smile. "I hope you all can meet up soon."

He nods, the clench of his jaw and unreadable look in his eyes telling me all that I need to know.

"Well!" Resting my hand on Baekhyun's bicep, I risk a glance at him, unnerved at the equally hard to read expression on his features. "Baekhyun and I will be heading out now. We have reservations to make."

Jackson merely nods, his eyes burning into the back of my head as I lead Baekhyun around him. "See you around, Riley."

Cursing under my breath, I shoot him one last smile over my shoulder, urging Baekyun to walk faster. I hold my breath until we turn the corner onto the next street. "Geez what a mess," I mutter, loosening my death grip on his hand.

Baekhyun continues to securely hold onto my hand and his calm, quiet reaction has me more anxious than all the fights we've had combined. "B-Baekhyun?" I ask tentatively, trying to read his side profile. "Are you okay?" The way his silence stretches out is killing me. "B?"

"Well," He mumbles, nudging a stray rock on the ground. "Jackson is nice. He seems cool."

Uh oh. "Baekhyun-"

"No no, it's fine." He shakes his head. "I see the appeal, you know?" He looks over at me, smiling sadly. "Sharp jawline, muscular, more manly than I'll ever-"

I pull him into the nearest alleyway for privacy before facing him head on, resting my hands on his chest. "You know I only want you, right B?"

"I-I do, I just-" If the kicked puppy expression on his face was for anything else, I'd find it endearing. "He's so well put together and-"

I promptly press my lips to his, pulling back after a few moments with a raised brow. "Better?"

Baekhyun's lips part a few times, the open expression on his face cute as hell. He makes a small noise and hugs me close, sealing my lips in another kiss.

After that day, the ice has broken between us—the last wall I had built up came crumbling down. Hiding from Baekhyun isn't needed anymore. The reassurance that we can actually talk about things instead of letting tension build is all I could ask for, alongside his love and time of course. If only I could be with him tonight.

Mrs. Park wanted me to attend a press conference or whatever with her out of the blue, saying something about it being "a big deal" and "very important" that I be there. So here I am, accessing my options for the night.

Three different outfits cover the entirety of my bed, each bringing forth a slightly different mood from the last. The first one is my trusty go-to, below the knee length dress. A simple black piece of material that's flattering for my figure without exposing my wild side. The second outfit is a basic black blazer, white dress shirt, and black dress pants—the bore of all boring clothing. Nothing wrong with it, but I'm not feeling really "plain and dull" tonight.

Now, the third option is one to behold.

A dress that is a combination between the two: a long sleeved, low cut, black dress with pretty lace for the left sleeve and solid material on the right that wraps over more lace underneath. The perfect mix of femininity and authority. I think I know which outfit is the one for me.

Slipping into the warm material with ease, I grab my car keys and head out to meet Mrs. Park at the venue. The thought of sending Baekhyun a text crosses my mind while taking the elevator. Now that I think about it, I haven't heard from him all day. Where he at?? Is he still working late or did my comment about him never cooking a meal in his life hurt his feelings last night? If I wasn't piled up to my ears with paperwork all day I would have stopped by his office to have lunch…

Frowning to myself, I keep both my hands on the steering wheel, leaving my phone untouched in my purse on the passenger floor. Worried or not, I'm not even going to pull out my phone at the next red light. In a big city like Seoul, it's best not to take any chances, if any for that matter.

I navigate down the bright streets with ease, thankful that my GPS is cooperating with me today. Within an hour of traffic jams and watching out for jaywalkers on the street, I'm pulling into the parking lot of the venue. And with Mrs. Park leaning against the hood of her car, she isn't hard to find.

Making a three point turn, I back up into the parking space next to hers, not up for the hassle of dealing with gold digger assholes who will want me to hit them with my car later. Seoul or the South, the bullshitty ways of the road aren't that different.

"Hey," Mrs. Park smiles when I step out of my Porshe, dressed to the nines in her black pantsuit. She tilts her head towards the venue, the twinkle of her diamond earrings catching in the bright streetlights. "You ready to go?"

I walk around to her side to retrieve my purse from my car, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Yes, ma'am."

She smirks, a knowing look in her eye before locking her car. "Let's go."

Eyeing her warily, I follow her to the grand building, the clicks of our heels echoing across the pavement. For a moment the silence around us has me worrying if we are late until I see a red carpet surrounded by paparazzi in the far distance. What the hell?

"What exactly are we attending?" I ask carefully.

"A press conference," She doesn't miss a beat, glancing over at me. "Don't look so scared."

"I-"

"Smile," She continues, smiling reassuringly, "Just be yourself."

Sighing softly, I nod, preparing myself for anything. I trust Mrs. Park a lot, but if her cheeky son is anything to go by, I might be walking into something right now. And I have no idea what is awaiting me.

The clicks of the flashing cameras become more audible as we approach, a dozen cameramen throwing questions at us at once. I just smile, making sure all my sides are my best side while walking down the red carpet. Mrs. Park dodges their questions with ease, falling into step with me. We enter the open double doors of the venue without a hitch and the sight on the inside takes my breath away.

Floor to ceiling windows occupy the spacious hall with rows upon rows of velvet covered seats and a chandelier sparkling overhead. The stage at the far back has the first set of burgundy curtains drawn, showing a microphone stand. What kind of press conference is this? The amount of seating astounds me, let alone when Mrs. Park walks us right up to the front row.

I have so many questions to ask, but I just sit down in the seat at the end of the row, on the left side closest to the stairs leading up to the stage.

"Are we early?" I crane my neck around, watching other sharply dressed businessmen and women slowly fill up the venue.

"No." Mrs Park shakes her head as the lights dim down, smiling knowingly. "We're right on time."

Before I can reply, something shiny catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head to face the stage, my eyes widening at the silver haired man walking out onto the stage.

"Good evening, everyone." Baekhyun's honey-smooth voice echoes around the hall. He struts over to the mic stand with a white microphone in hand, his Ceo aura and chosen outfit for the night taking my breath away.

He's wearing a sparkly black blazer with a black button-down shirt underneath, the first few buttons undone. The sleeves of his jacket have a glittery gold embroidery design shaped like a crown and there's a matching necklace resting around his shoulders, twinkling alluringly under the dim lights. His snug black jeans and heeled boots nearly have me on the floor. Pardon my French but—step on me please?

I gulp, sitting back in my seat while Baekhyun commands the stage. He has the whole crowd wrapped around his finger with every charming smile and deep chuckle he sends our way. I graciously accept a glass of wine from a waiter and cross my legs, too busy admiring him to listen to a word he says. It's been a while since I've had the pleasure to see this kind of view.

Baekhyun continues to speak to the crowd, coaxing adoring 'ah's' and the occasional applause. I lose my sense of time the longer he gives his speech, idly swirling my drink around my glass. I've barely drank half of it by the time the event starts coming to an end.

"Everyone." Baekhyun's voice rings over the murmuring crowd, clasping his hands together over the microphone, a soft smile playing at his lips. "If I can have a moment of your time, I'd like to say a few things before we wrap up."

My eyes widen to the size of saucers when he says my name, holding a hand out for me to take. I look around, narrowing my eyes at Mrs. Park's smiling figure. The wink she sends my way tells me everything that I need to know.

Everyone else in the crowd starts looking around, some of them settling their eyes onto me. I take a final sip of my wine and slowly set my glass down in the cup holder next to me. With one last breath and a weary glance, I approach the stage, the clicks of my heels echoing around the room.

The closer I get to Baekhyun's beaming face, the more my heart pounds, butterflies erupting in my stomach. But the moment my cold hand is securely in his, all of it fades away. With Baekhyun, I know I am safe.

He smiles, looking me over with affection shining in his eyes. "Everyone, meet my girlfriend." He announces into the microphone, softly squeezing my hand and facing the crowd again. "She didn't expect to be here tonight..." He trails off, smiling sheepishly. "I'll probably be getting an earful later." He chuckles, joining everyone in their brief laughter while I shoot him a look that screams 'you're damn right.' "But for now," He continues, settling his sparkly brown eyes back onto me, "I have something important to say."

Baekhyun takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be standing here today." He squeezes my hand again, flickering his eyes back open to stare into mine. The warmth and undeniable love swirling within them sends my heart into overdrive. "If it wasn't for her patience, care and timeless, endless bounds of love." He sighs softly, smiling so sweetly while wrapping an arm around my waist before turning us both to the second set of curtains. "I wouldn't be here to present the newest clothing line."

The curtains go up and my jaw drops at the sight.

A huge glass container stands in the middle of the stage, showcasing mannequins wearing various articles of clothing. Soft looking blue sweaters, comfy jogging pants, black leggings with white embroidery flowers on the ends, and short jean shorts. There are over a dozen different clothes on display with the letter 'R' scripted on the front in beautiful cursive, but what really captures my attention is the red dress. Front and center.

The backless, sleeveless burgundy mermaid dress covered in sparkly jewels from start to finish, twinkling prettily under the dim lights while spun around on its high-rise platform.

"This goes out to Riley." Baekhyun hugs me close, making me grateful that I'm facing away from the crowd when tears spring to my eyes. He smiles shyly while gazing at me with those warm brown eyes. "The woman of my dreams and love of my life."

I stare right back into those deep brown pools of love, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my chin from wobbling. Not able to take it anymore, I cup his glowy cheeks in my hands, pressing my lips to his.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

A/N: This was a mouthful, don’t mind me, I’m formatting the other 9k 😭💗

#baekhyun smut #bbh-net #supermwritersnet #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun romance #Six Phases #let's go heartbreak and smutty town #with a surprise within ;)

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