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euaphoric · 10 months

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“i can give you all the exact same things he can, but a million times better.”

## pairing — haechan x f!reader / strangers to lovers ? ft. other nct members!

## warnings — smut, light angst, fluff, drinking/scenes involving alcohol, a whole lotta nasty stuff, approximately 3.3k words. did i base some of the conflict on real life events? possiblyyy.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

per usual, it was another weekend filled with back to back partying and going out. jaemin (your new boytoy for now) invited you out tonight so you pull up to the function wearing your sexiest little black dress, making all the heads turn soon as you walk in the club. even jaemin’s friends were eyeing you, they were all pretty hot too which didn’t make the situation any easier. it was your first time meeting all of them properly, you only really spoke to them through quick interactions between you coming and going out of jaemin’s room. they all knew you had a thing going on so they did their best to try and respect that.

“hey, you must be y/n right? i’m taeyong, i don’t think we’ve formally introduced ourselves. it’s nice finally talking to you!” a blonde man comes up to you, reaching his hand out for you to take. you happily accept and shook his hand, “yes, it’s so nice meeting you too!” all of the guys seemed really friendly, especially mark, he can get pretty handsy when there’s a bit of alcohol in his system. “oh so this is the girl i’ve been hearing all about?” mark stumbles his way over to you, already feeling drunk off a couple shots. “nice to meet ya, i’m mark!” you try and go for a handshake like you did previously with taeyong but that wasn’t his style. “pfftt, don’t try that with me, we hug around here!” he pulls you into a giant bear hug, almost embracing you like a longtime friend he’s known for years. you gave him a questionable look, wondering what kinds of things jaemin says about you to his friends. hopefully it was nothing too detailed or invasive, in which that case you’d be heated if he spilled all the tea about your sex lives.

“care to elaborate on what you heard about me…?” you ask skeptically, wondering if it’s something actually worth your time. “i mean.. nah, i probably shouldn’t— it’s like against bro code to disclose top secret info like that!” he recants, not wanting to be the main source of why you might get angry with jaemin. sigh, as much as you wanted to keep prying mark with more questions your vision gets blocked by jaemin who quite literally comes out of nowhere with another shot. “mark hyung i think that’s enough chitchatting for now, just keep drinking and dancing!” he proceeds to hand mark the glass filled with mystery liquid, mark gulped it down instantly and even asked for another. this was definitely gonna be a night full of catastrophic fun. well hopefully. you didn’t drink much so it felt nice being one of the only semi-sober people of the bunch, the club was pretty packed but you were on the upstairs level and near the outdoor patio which had a gorgeous view of the skyline. the DJ tonight was pretty decent too, he played most songs you knew and liked which was rare nowadays. you didn’t need lots of alcohol to let loose and have fun so you make your way to the dance floor with jaemin but not even 5 mins later he runs into a familiar face. “jaemin is that really you?!” a brunette woman comes up to him with the cheesiest smile on her face. “no way, giselle? long time no see!” he hugs her but that hug seems to be lasting way longer than it should.

it’s almost as if you completely didn’t exist anymore to jaemin. he told you he’d be “right back” but it’s been a good 15-20 minutes and he’s still over at the bar with giselle. he could’ve at least tried to hide the fact that he was flirtatious but he wasn’t even subtle when his eyes were glued to her massive rack the whole time she spoke. you know you aren’t dating this man but the disrespect of him to do that so blatantly in front of your face was crazy to you. he’s crossed the big no-no line for you and it’s only fair you give him a taste of his own medicine. you scan the room to look for a hot guy that would make the perfect candidate, settling your eyes on a very, ridiculously handsome man standing a few meters away from you. he seemed to be alone, his facial expression looking almost bored. you never thought white pants looked good on anyone, but on him? he was exquisite. he gave off 90’s skater vibes and looks like type that listens to cigarettes after sex. it intrigued you why such a good looking guy was here out by himself, just didn’t seem right.

you confidently walk up to him, tapping his shoulder to strike up a conversation. the blaring music would drown out your soft voice easily so you get closer to his ear, “hey, i’m just gonna put it out there right now, i think you’re hot and wanna dance with you!” you were bold for sure tonight. the man looks caught by surprise but doesn’t seem opposed by your advance. he whispers back in your ear “the feelings mutual, i’d love to!” within seconds, an array of ring clad fingers wrap around your waist to bring you to the center of the dance floor. you knew you had the full package but weren’t expecting to get this far so quickly, your backside was facing his front, swaying your hips to the beat of the music. a slow r&b song comes on so he rests his chin on your shoulder, “you look amazing in this dress might i add.” the unnamed man says in a raspy tone. “this definitely feels like fate ‘cause i’ve been eyeing you since i came in here.” you met this guy not even half an hour ago and you’re already ready to drop to your knees for him. “i didn’t try anything since i saw you with a guy earlier, that wasn’t your boyfriend right?” you laugh, scoffing at the idea of you ever dating jaemin. you’ll probably never want to see him again after this stunt he pulled. “no, not at all! he’s just some guy i was seeing, but he’s old news now!” “ah, i see. so then i’m allowed to claim you for the rest of the night?” “i’m all yours for the taking.”

the dance floor became a fuzzy obscure entity around you as your bodies collided. the way he danced so gracefully yet so sensual, his hands traveled down your body, admiring your curvy figure. it felt like a steamy movie scene where two hot strangers try and solve the thick tension between them. but your moment would soon be ruined by the constant vibrating of your phone. you tried ignoring it but it wouldn’t stop so you take it out your crossbody purse and look to see who’s been blowing it up. of course, the person who’s been trying to contact you was none other than jaemin. “sorry, s’cuse me i gotta look at this for a sec!” you break away momentarily to check the texts.

5 new notifications from- jaemin (sneaky link 💦)

[1:00 am]: wow..

[1:03 am]: i leave and come back for only a couple mins just to see you with other guys?? you should feel shameful

[1:04 am]: can’t believe you’d do me like that fr

[1:10 am]: funny cause i was starting to have genuine feelings for you too but i guess you girls are all just the same so idc it’s your loss 🤷🏻‍♂️

[1:18 am]: wtv

the audacity of this man was astonishing. you cannot believe him of all people is actually getting mad at you for doing this. you know you’ll probably regret this tomorrow but you tell him off, it’s only right since he wants to pull the victim card now.

[1:25 am]: don’t make me laugh jae, you’re so self entitled that you can’t even see what YOU did wrong. i’m not going to explain myself and idgaf what you think of me after this, i’m thru with your sorry ass anyways. go have fun with your new bae giselle since you wanna mooch it up with her all night which was way more than “a couple mins” btw… you practically threw yourself at her like the manwhore you are and left me to fend for myself! you are the only one who should feel shameful here not me. so kindly go fuck yourself and have a nice day :)

it felt good to let it all out after sending that, you gave zero fucks at this point. you put your phone on do not disturb, put it back in your purse and bring your attention back to the man with groovy dance moves. “why don’t we get out of here?” your ask sounds more like a demand as you pull his arm away to leave the floor, making your way through the sea of people. you reach outside and you were finally able to talk normally, not having to scream over the music in order to understand each other. “my cars parked in that lot over there, we can go back to my place if you want.” he proposes, waiting for you to give him the approval.

usually you aren’t this lenient with just hooking with someone from the club but this guy was on another level, you had to see what he’s all about. “sure, but before i get into the car with a complete stranger, can we at least know our names? i’m y/n.” you finally introduce yourself properly. “yeah that would make sense, my name’s haechan. it’s an honor to have you accompany me tonight!” he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a wet kiss to it. even the most minimal touch leaves you starstruck by him.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

once you got to haechan’s place, it started off with some wholesome fun. just talking and getting to know more about each other, haechan asked about jaemin again to make sure you were okay but you shrug it off saying you were fine. “trust me haechan, i’m not shedding a single tear over him so no need to keep asking. i’ll be fine, he was just someone i used as a booty call to be honest.” he nods to your response, “good, now i won’t feel like an asshole for saying what i was thinking.” “what were you thinking?” you wonder, raising your brow. “that i can give you all the exact same things he can, but a million times better.” his voice was laced with seduction as he spoke, “i don’t even mean to sound cocky but i’ll make it my personal goal to be the most memorable fuck you’ve ever had.” he presses his chest up against yours, “i’ll make sure you’ll never think about another man but me after i’m through with you princess.”

you nervously gulp, feeling yourself grow wetter by the minute. you’ve never had a man talk to you in such a way that could make you this easily aroused. “that’s a pretty bold claim you said there, you think you’ll be able to live up to it?” you tease, hoping he won’t take it too seriously. “oh i don’t think, i know. it’s 100% satisfaction guaranteed or your money back love— which will never happen.” he chuckles, snaking his hand to cup your chin and bringing it close to his lips. he stayed like that for what seemed like forever, staring at your petal lips, lightly squishing your cheeks together to turn them into a pout.

“so pretty…” he coos, inching closer to your lips now. he presents you with a deep kiss, sensing the raw passion through him as his hands tease the inners of your thighs. you get a fistful of his messy hair while sinking further down into the memory foam mattress, bringing him with you. he nibbles at your lower lip for entry and you immediately let him slide his tongue in, deliciously exploring each other, making you purr as he tastes the sweetness of you. you softly moan into the kiss, grinding your hips below him, bucking up pathetically to feel some action down there.

“god you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he groans, after breaking away from the kiss. “i’m gonna fuck you ‘til it’s morning baby.” that sounded more like a threat than a promise. “you gonna rail me so hard that i scream and call you daddy all night?” you playfully remark, something ignited in him once you called him that, the desire for you only becoming more irrational. “oh my beloved, you have no idea.” his breaths were heavy against your skin, pressing kisses to your jawline then trailing down to your neck to gently suck. he found a hypersensitive area to make you gasp, sending goosebumps all over your body. you feel a hand on your breast, cupping it tenderly whilst littering your neck with pretty purple and red hickeys. your legs squirm underneath from him rubbing your nipple through your dress, feeling it stiffen as he pinched and flicked at them. you were so horny for him at this point, your panties were a soaked up mess. you continued bucking into him for any bit of stimulation, whining to feel something. it’s been a while since you’ve been needy like this for a man… “if you want something darling just ask.” he props his head up to give you a shit eating smirk, wanting to hear you talk just as dirty as he was. “gimme cock, please! i’m so painfully wet right now i can’t take it anymore.. just need you to fill me up” you weakly surrender. drool peaked out from the corner of your mouth and haechan noticed so he licks it up, “that’s what i’ve been planning to do for hours sweetheart.”

haechan gives you a couple more small, fleeting kisses while lifting your dress up, caressing your plump thighs, running his index finger from your inner thigh to your damp clothed clit. “goddamn you weren’t lying, you’re crazy wet.” you blush at how embarrassingly wet he’s made you for someone you haven’t even known a full 24 hours yet. “i’m just gonna prep you bit with my fingers m’kay babe?” he pushes your panties to the side, sliding his digits along your folds to gather your slick. he entered two fingers in you while circling and stimulating your clit with his thumb, your moans echoed throughout the room just for him. he curls them inside you and your walls cinch around needily, arching your back and moaning with pleasure.

you were seemingly going to come undone just from haechan fingering you, all the wetness dripping onto his wrist only making him want you to cream on his fingers more. your legs feel unstable and you twitch as you feel yourself cumming for the first time of the night, your liquids pour out into his digits, coating them with the creamiest mess. your mouth is locked open as you reach your high, another harsh swipe to your clit was the last string that pulled you. feeling breathless at this point, he gave a twisted smile before taking his fingers out and placing them in your mouth to suck one by one, tasting your lovely essence. he rushed to take off his clothes; quickly removing his pants and boxers to reveal his freshly trimmed, hardened cock. your eyes widen at his length, he’s much bigger than you thought, you were figuring out how he’d be able to fit it all inside. he’ll make it fit one way or another.

there will be many more orgasms to come as the night progresses, you’ve lost count at this point as the duvet is now soaked with your juices. he was pounding you into the ground with his cock, producing hefty back shots to your ass while his hands rest on both sides of your waist. he hasn’t gotten tired of fucking your tight pussy since he’s started. “who’s pussy does this belong to?” he pants, hitting your walls precisely, “it’s all mine right? my cock’s better than jaemin’s right??” he growls, already showing his possessive side within just a few hours. a loud slap to your ass comes with full force, barely giving you any time to react. “r-right!! all yours, this pussy belongs to only you haechan!” you internally struggled to speak, feeling faint off of how many times he’s made you cum. you scream and yelp from pleasure that his dick is the best and how good he’s making you feel. he’s fucked your overstimulated cunt so many times but you still subconsciously tighten around him as he draws out and pumps back in. as soon as he’s close to cumming he finishes on your back, spreading his white seed onto you like the filthy cockwhore you were for him.

he had you like putty in his hands, arching into his touch as he digs his nails into your plush hips. you squirt like it was nothing with him, but with jaemin you could never do that. you couldn’t let this just be a one night stand, you have to get this guy’s number before you leave to do the walk of shame in the morning. speaking of morning; you can see a faint sliver of light through the curtains and you realize now that haechan kept his word from earlier. you never kept track of time though, only thing on your mind is hyuck’s cock filling you up repeatedly. his pace would get sloppier as he’s close to his ten thousandth orgasm, hearing a loud guttural groan escape his mouth. he pulls out again but this time he turns you over while manhandling you, pinning your arms to each side while he cums all on your folds, watching it slowly leak down your swollen pussy. he drags his fingers to your cunt to spread your lips open, biting his lip at the sight — he made such a beautiful mess.

with your clit already being overstimulated and sensitive, he flicks his tongue back to it while tightly holding onto your thigh. your whole body trembles as you cry out to him, pulling his hair as he brings you to tears. you don’t know how you’re still breathing right now, waves of ecstasy washing your brain from constant stimulus, you were in utopia and heaven combined. you weren’t sure how much more you’ll be able to endure, “haechan! haechan!” you’d scream at the top of your lungs, body growing weaker and weaker. he was tearing down every part of you like his life depends on it. he forms saliva with his mouth and spits on your already dripping, throbbing cunt; he’ll never get tired of doing this. “i make you feel the best don’t i?” he grunts, slapping your pussy “no one makes you feel as good as i do right baby girl?” “yes…” you whimper from the twinge of pain. eyes roll to the back of your head, that devilish gaze he had could snatch your soul in an instant.

he was completely right when he said no one’s ever made you feel this good, he was most definitely going to be the most memorable lay you’ve had in your life. jaemin didn’t even come close to haechan. you feel crazy for wanting to stay with him and ask him how he likes his eggs in the morning, his cock rewired your whole brain to think only of him, to be of service to his every want and need. he drove you truly, madly, deeply insane. “looks like the suns fully rising now,” he says looking over at the acute sunlight emitting from the window “my work here is done.” “can i just stay like this for a while? i can’t feel my legs..” you croak, unable to even build minimum strength to prop your head up. “of course you can” he murmurs, “i would never kick you out like that. i was gonna ask if you wanted to sleep here and cuddle, hm?” pressing slow, lazy kisses to your shaky thighs, tracing patterns into them. he was a force to be reckoned with earlier but has now turned into a ray of sunshine right after. “yes please, i’d love that. hold me in your arms forever and ever.”

#nct #nct smut #haechan smut #haechan x reader #haechan fanfic #nct x reader #haechan x f reader #nct x female reader #nct hard hours #lee donghyuck smut #lee donghyuk x reader

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tornoleander · 7 months

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Jay’s been through it

CW: Sexual assault Implications brief discussion of sexual predators + lotta swearing

(Please let me know if I missed any content warnings and Check if you are ok to hear this theory before reading. This type content has potential to help or hurt you depending on who you are as is the nature of problematic themes. Safety over curiosity.)

This is cannon compliment. Uhh kids show?! Yeah I know shouldn’t really have these themes but they’re there hear me out. Spoilers for season 6/8 I guess.

I’m bothered by this scene and how It connect to certain events so I’ll cautiously share

Sons of Garmadon Episode 7:

Here is the clip

Kelo asks “Where’s the green Ninja”

WHAT THE FUCK! Dude the double take I had when first watching this.

So he looked at Kelo’s… lower half and basically said ‘Cole shut up that man’s crotch is too close’. And not in Jay joking tone, he’s like dead serious and stressed. (The scene just cuts away after)

Jay you ok? Why is it implied some guy might have tried something?! Why else would he say that?! Who the FUCK touched my boi? What even is this scene?!

The fact it’s Jay that said it out of everyone is bad because it’s been implied to him before.

So let’s talk about the darkest Ninjago theory that’s been quietly circulating for a while in fan content. For simplicity I’ll call it captains quarters theory, If you’re unfamiliar I’ll explain.

Basically some speculation happened because of a certain villain that displayed subtle ongoing predatory behavior. And a part when Jay was his prisoner that caused people to worry what happened before the scene started.

As some of you have caught on It’s the scene where Cole rescues Jay from Misfortunes Keep.

He didn’t find Jay in his cell where he should have.

Cole found him beaten as ninjago has ever depicted except when literally dying.

Alone

no explanation given.

In the corner of Captains Quarters.

Nadakhan’s room.

Dude :(

And his concern afterwards.

And thinking he didn’t deserve saving.

“Thank you for trying to save me,-

It’s Just a lot.

Doing awful things to make Jay wish it all away is terrifyingly in Nadakhan’s character. Not just the sadistic torture part.

Nadakhan has many behaviors similar to a sexual predator. I’ll go over it briefly but see my last post for a detailed analysis.

He Seeks out vulnerable people for victims. The Ninja are teens and he waits till or makes them emotionally vulnerable. The way he talks about gifting his wishes and giving his victims anything they desire can be read as grooming behavior. His secrecy in getting all the ninja alone and doesn’t even talk to his crew about his plans. Manipulative and Controlling obviously.

And the most glaring issues he’s WAY tooo fucking touchy all the time. Like watch his body language during Skybound and see how uncomfortable it is

“Too slow junkyard boy”

Not to mention how explicitly he doesn’t care about consent….

And “If you don’t come willingly Nya, I will take you regardless” followed by a forced marriage.

Side note he doesn’t refers to Jay with his name and the things he calls him…uggh “What lies is our little canary whistling now, hmm?”

So… It’s cannon compliant that something was attempted or happened to Jay. Bruh wtf.

Well if you feel like you resonate with this or it may help there a few great fanworks that explore this I can recommend if interested. Mmm comfort angst.

(Note don’t bother anyone for enjoying Nadakhan as a character. It’s fiction and it hurts no one)

#captain’s quarters theory #ninjago #ninjago jay #ninjago ninja #ninjago nadakhan #ninjago nya #ninjago thoughts #ninjago theory #ninjago angst #tw sex abuse #cw swearing #tw predator #tw implied abuse #cw sa implied #cw language #ninjago skybound #Oli speaks #Oli’s Skybound insanity #skybound slander

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whatsnewalycat · 6 months

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Psychomanteum / Chapter 14

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 14: Wish You Were Here

Chapter Summary: Dieter takes action.

Word Count: 9.9k+

Content / Warnings: dieter pov, implications of suicidal thoughts, swearing, alcohol use, airplane, uncertainty, parker/jackie, infidelity (not our heroes), thoughts of cocaine use/relapse, opera, fame, very vague understanding of the criminal justice system excuse that pls, bribery, lotta fucking dialogue, lotta yearning and self-reflection, angst, our boy is a big sappy mess and we love him for it

Notes: Chapter title from “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd. First and foremost, everything is gonna be ok, ok? I promise. Also, good news for people who like this story—since we’re nearing the end, I’m going to make it my primary writing focus for a while. Will be posting to AO3 later bc I can’t from mobile it’s a nightmare.

[ Previous Chapter ] [ Series Masterlist ] [ Next Chapter ]

— Dieter senses your absence before he even opens his eyes.

Oftentimes you wake before him, still weaning off your internal alarm of 5:30AM EST (not-a-fucking-chance o’clock PST). When this happens, you brew some coffee and drink your morning cup in bed, passing the time by reading, or fucking around on your phone, or writing in your journal.

Most of the time he opens his eyes and finds you deeply engrossed in one of these activities. Sometimes you’re cuddled up into his side, silently tracing patterns onto his skin. Even when you’re not in the same room when he wakes, he can still feel you, your life force brushing up against his.

But this morning is different.

Dieter winces at the morning light and sits up, rubbing his face before looking around the room. He clears his throat, then calls out your name.

It echoes back to him.

The silence that follows is eerie and distinct, its vacuousness an exclamation point that hurts his ears.

How can nothing be so loud?

Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, he goes to grab his phone off the nightstand and instead finds a note with his name on it. He sits there staring at it for a minute, rubbing the layered notebook paper between his fingertips.

The gears in his brain start to turn.

He looks at the armchair where your suitcase has been sitting the week and a half. It’s gone.

Understanding twists his guts bowtie.

Denying the cardstock confrontation, Dieter puts on a robe and searches the house.

He finds nothing.

Each empty room accumulates buzzing and hot beneath his skin.

He goes outside.

The patio, the garage, the driveway, the street.

Calling your name like a kid who lost his mom in a department store, panic building with every utterance, a desperate crescendo.

By the time he returns to the origin point, his thoughts are stumbling over one another trying to explain what the fuck could be possibly be happening, because this can’t be real.

It’s a joke, it’s a terrible joke that you’ll laugh about later—or, no, there was an emergency and you had to go—but wouldn’t you wake him? Wouldn’t you tell him? Maybe you went to the store and you’ll be right back. But why would you bring your suitcase?

He snatches the paper off his nightstand and unfolds it.

—

Dee,

I need you to know this isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I love you as much as humanly possible, and then some. Please understand that I couldn’t make you choose. That burden shouldn’t rest on you.

I’m sorry for ruining everything. I’m sorry for leaving like this. I’m sorry for not giving you a choice.

I love you with everything I am.

Until the next life,

Lua

PS: I stole some cash from your wallet. I’m sorry for that, too.

—

The words don’t compute at first.

He shakes his head and reads it again.

And again.

A thousand-pound weight drops his stomach to the floor. Adrenaline pumps through his heart and turns his limbs gelatin. Blood whooshes behind his ears, and—God, he’s going to be fucking sick.

The note wavers in his grip and the text starts to blur.

This isn’t right.

This can’t be happening.

He needs to talk to you right fucking now.

Overcome with this sudden rush of panic, Dieter grabs his phone off the nightstand, ignoring the barrage of notifications littering the screen, and calls you.

The line trills, and further away, he hears “I’ll Be Your Mirror” by The Velvet Underground and Nico play.

He follows the noise into the kitchen, where your phone buzzes on the countertop, displaying your contact photo for him. The one where you’re both mid-laugh with red lipstick and black face paint smudged all around your faces.

Your voicemail picks up.

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.”

A tone signals the start of recording. Dieter clears his throat, then says, “Hey, doll. It’s me. This is probably stupid because your phone is here, but I don’t know,” he pauses to gather himself as everything around him becomes blurred by tears. When he speaks again, his voice is somehow gummy and ragged at the same time, “I don’t know what to do. You’re gone, and there’s this note and… Fuck, whatever it is, we can figure it out. Please, Louella—Lua, baby, I love you. If you hear this somehow, please call me.”

When he hangs up, all he can do is stand there, staring at her phone.

The air particles around him throb with this deep, dense sorrow that cracks him wide open and hollows him out. It’s heavy. Infinite. All-consuming, like loss on loss on loss on loss.

He knows, like he just knows things, that this is what you were feeling before you left. He knows you left your phone so nobody could find you.

Beyond that, though… It's a brick wall. He tries, although he doesn’t really understand what the fuck he’s doing, to send out some kind of a psychic ping. Sometimes he can get a sense of you this way.

This time he gets nothing.

He can’t hone in on anything, can’t even feel the rough edges of your life force. The string that connects your tin cans has been severed.

What the fuck does that mean?

The not-knowing makes him anxious. His imagination starts wander deeper into the dark forest, showing him taxis and mirrors and riverbeds and—

Your phone jumps to life.

It starts ringing to the tune of “Take Your Mama” by Scissor Sisters, lighting up with a photo of you and Parker.

He scrambles to grab it and answers, “Parker—”

“Dieter?”

“Is she with you? Do you know where she is?”

“What do you mean? Isn’t she with you?”

“No, I just woke up and she’s fucking gone and there’s this note,” he sighs and throws his hand out at his side, “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“A note, what does the note say?”

“Hang on, let me,” he tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder, rummaging through the pockets of his robe, “Here we go, ok…”

He reads it to Parker, who remains silent for a long while afterwards.

“Until the next life?”

The tips of his ears heat up, and he runs a hand through his hair, “Yeah.”

“Have you talked to anyone else this morning?”

“No, I just woke up,” he starts pacing the length of his kitchen island, explaining, “Last night we were talking about moving in together, having her come out here, and… I don’t know, did I fucking scare her off or something? She seemed into it, but maybe I’m wrong, maybe I was going too fast—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, ok, slow down, papi,” Parker interjects, “It’s not like that. Her apartment was raided this morning.”

Dieter frowns, “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, some fucking journalist went poking around, talking to her neighbors and shit, digging into stuff about Ethan, their business, all that. He brought it all to the cops and demanded they do something about it, so they got a search warrant.”

Dieter stays quiet as his mind whirrs, trying to comprehend this information.

Parker continues.

“I went over there this morning, just to check in on the place, and it was fucking crawling with cops. I FaceTimed Lou and told her, then she hung up and I haven’t been able to reach her since. Figured she was talking to you, but…”

Poisoned words cycle through his head, begging to be released, but he traps them behind clamped lips.

“I called Reese to see if he knew anything, since he bumps elbows with a lotta those criminal justice guys, you know?”

“Reese?” Dieter furrows his brow, “Married guy? I thought you were done with him.”

“Yeah, well,” a sigh crackles in his ear, then Parker says, “Good thing I’m not. Turns out, he’s friends with the DA. He told Reese about the journalist shit, said they have a warrant out for Lou. Wanted on possession with intent to distribute and drug trafficking for the pot stuff, oh—and possession of cocaine, because apparently they found one of Ethan’s hiding spots.”

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

Hundreds of thoughts ricochet around his head screaming for attention. The whole goddamn dashboard is lit up and blaring WARNING WARNING WARNING—

The nausea returns. Dieter plucks a half-smoked joint from the ashtray on his countertop and lights it, then turns and slides down the cabinet onto the kitchen floor.

He takes a few hits, waiting until the overwhelm dims a bit before whispering, “Fuck, Parker, this is bad.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

The skunky smoke burns his lungs as he inhales again, holding holding holding, then lets it go.

Things start to slow down enough for him to backtrack, “Did you say a journalist?”

“Yeah, Reese couldn’t get a name, but there was this guy outside the building this morning who was—oh, fuck.”

“What oh fuck?” Dieter wrinkles his nose at the roach and takes one more drag before stubbing it out on the shiny hardwood floor.

“It was that point dexter motherfucker that did your interview. That was the guy! And I was on a video call with Lou—”

Parker cuts himself off with a gasp.

I couldn’t make you choose.

“Oh fuck,” Dieter breathes, “I gotta call you back.”

He hangs up and trades your phone for his own, rejecting an incoming call from Darlene.

It takes him three seconds to find it.

Dieter Bravo Girlfriend Wanted On Drug Trafficking Charges, Claims In Email to DIRT: “He Was In The Dark”

The header presented at the top of the article is your mugshot from your previous arrest. Your eyes appear puffy and dull and hopeless. Below it, the article continues:

Dieter Bravo’s newest girlfriend reportedly has a warrant out for her arrest in relation to drug trafficking charges.

Early this morning, the NYPD hit Louella Friedman’s Downtown Brooklyn apartment with a search warrant. Friedman was not present at the time the warrant was executed, so no arrests have been made, but law enforcement sources tell us that she is now wanted by the state of New York on multiple drug charges.

This is not Friedman's first run-in with the law. Just days ago, she appeared alongside Dieter Bravo for an exclusive interview with DIRT, in which she admitted to being convicted of felony drug trafficking in 2018. She stated during this interview that she has “changed a lot since then … we don’t want people to think we’re trying to hide any of this, because we’re not. We’re just trying to move forward together.”

The email we received from Friedman this morning paints a different picture:

“As you probably know, my apartment is being raided. I need one thing to be clear: Dieter is not complicit. He didn’t know about and did not take part in my illegal activity. He was in the dark. My mistakes are my own, and I ask that the blame be placed appropriately.”

It’s assumed that Friedman is still in the LA-area, as she and Bravo have been spotted out and about a few times this week. Before that, the pair were seen in New York, which leads us to wonder how much time the Academy Award winner actually spent in her apartment.

Bravo himself has a notoriously checkered past with drugs, and although his antics have been subdued since the “publicity stunt” for the movie Limbo (premiering next May), it wouldn’t be considered out of character for him to become knowingly involved with a drug dealer.

DIRT will continue reporting as this story unfolds.

—

The first person Dieter calls is Lincoln, who answers on the second ring with a cheerful, “Good morning, Dieter!”

“Lincoln, where the fuck are you?”

“I’m grabbing breakfast from that pla—”

“Change of plans,” Dieter leafs through the clothes hanging in his closet, “Get over here now.”

“What about—”

“Listen, I need you to get me the next flight to New York. And, uhh,” he rips a few shirts off their hangers and tosses them into the open suitcase on the floor, “Clear your schedule for at least two days. I need you to housesit.”

“Is everything alright?”

Dieter ponders the question for just a moment, long enough for a sharp ache to pierce through his chest, then says, “Hurry the fuck up, ok?”

He hangs up.

The second person he calls is his lawyer.

When he tells the guy about your situation, he says, “Well, it sounds like there’s enough room for deniability, I don’t think they’ll bring charges against you—”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dieter scoffs, “What about her, how could she get out of this?”

“With all due respect, Dieter, you’re my client, not her.”

“Come on, man. What if, you know, I was in her situation?”

On the other line, the lawyer sucks his teeth, then says, “Well, theoretically speaking, you would be looking to either turn yourself in or see if you could get the charges dropped.”

“How would one get the charges dropped?”

“The District Attorney would need to drop them.”

“Uh-huh,” Dieter nods and rubs his lips, then queries, “And if—you know, like you said, theoretically—if he were to be convinced to drop the charges—”

“See, that is a tight line to walk, and one must tread very carefully, you understand? Many methods people attempt to use in persuading district attorneys, for example, bribery or blackmail, get sticky quick. They offer the wrong amount of money, or don’t get enough dirt, or what have you, then they’re in a world of hurt.”

“Well, sure. Those people don’t use their head. But if someone wanted to just… sit down and talk to him, would that automatically raise a red flag?”

“Depends. If someone of similar notoriety as you reached out to him to set up a meeting, it might raise a red flag. But if they happened to run into each other… probably not as much.”

“I see.”

The front door swings open and he looks up, expecting to see Lincoln, but instead locks eyes with Darlene. She’s holding a phone to her ear and says, “Yeah, he’s here.”

“I gotta go,” he says, then hangs up the phone and greets Darlene, “Hey.”

Her heels click-clack on the floor as she strides over, taps on the screen of her phone, and says, “Ok, Mark, you’re on speaker. Dieter’s here.”

Darlene sets the phone down on the counter and starts rummaging through the leather bag hanging off her shoulder. The phone speaks:

“Dieter, we need to talk. Is Louella there?”

“No.”

“Is she going back to New York?”

Not sure how to answer the question, Dieter rolls his eyes, “Is that what this is about?”

“Yeah, look, this isn’t good. I’ll cut to the chase. If you endorse her claim and cut ties, we can keep you on, but if you don’t, we gotta let you go, bud.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Darlene answers this time, “We’re serious, Dieter. The optics are terrible—”

“The fucking optics, un-fucking-believable,” he mutters, pushing off the counter to pace the kitchen.

“Is it really unbelievable?” Darlene blinks, her scathing gaze steady on his, “Coke head dating a felon who’s wanted on drug charges? You don’t see how studios will react to that?”

He doesn’t answer. She continues.

“If you release a statement corroborating her story, explaining how you didn’t know, and things are over between you—”

A groan of agony rises in his throat.

“—it will work. She gave you an out, Dieter. Take it.”

His nostrils flare. Heat rises to his face and he hisses, “You never liked her, did you?”

Darlene scoffs, “What?”

“Did you even give her a chance, or did you just write her off the second you met her? That shit weasel from DIRT is the one that set all these fucking dominos up, did you know that?”

“No, of course not—”

“Dieter,” Mark sighs, “This isn’t personal. Look at the facts. You’ve done three stints in rehab just within the past decade. Beasts of the Bubble depicted you as a drug addict—Christ, you overdosed in that hotel. You just got divorced, had a ton of bad press from that. Now you’re in this very new, very serious relationship with a widowed felon. And, what, a week after swearing she’s a law-abiding citizen, cops find enough shit in her apartment to issue a warrant for her arrest? Do you know how that makes you look? Does it sound like you’re a person anyone could trust to sign onto a project?”

Dieter presses his palms against the kitchen counter and leans over the phone, “It sounds like you’ve already made a choice, Mark. You wanna drop me as a client, just fucking do it.”

“If you make a public statement saying you were shocked to find out that she took advantage of your vulnerable state, you’re not using, blah blah blah, this could go away relatively quickly. Most likely she’d be painted as a con woman or gold digger or something along those lines, which makes you the victim. Granted, that makes you look a bit like a sucker, but we can live with that.”

The nausea returns.

“I can’t,” Dieter shakes his head, “I’m sorry, but I can’t live with that. Saying that she tried to steal my money—god, not a fucking chance in hell—”

“Of course, you wouldn’t say that,” Darlene cuts in, “People might infer that, is all Mark means. You know how this works—”

“Yes, I do know how it works. And no, I can’t. I won’t. It’s all fucking bullshit, the whole thing. Darlene, you’re bullshit,” he directs his voice to the phone, “Mark, you’re fucking bullshit. Fucking… optics and public opinion and the two of you trying to stage direct my fucking life—my life. Mine. I am my own person. And I love her. I’m going to find her, and fix this, and spend the rest of my fucking life with her even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else but us.”

Darlene holds up her hand, “Dieter, you’re making a mistake—”

He laughs.

It booms, dry and humorless, through the house.

She jumps in surprise at the noise, then looks at him like he’s fucking crazy. Which is fair. He sounds fucking crazy.

But for once, he feels completely sane.

His spine straightens flag pole and he shakes his head, “Trust me, Darlene. I’m not.”

They sit there, staring at each other in a silent standoff. Her hazel eyes flick around his face, then drop to the phone.

“Mark, I’ll call you back.”

Darlene ends the call before Mark can respond and stomps around the dining room table to a solid oak credenza, popping the top off one of the decanters of booze.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I need a drink.”

“It’s 10am.”

Whiskey sloshes into the crystal tumbler. Darlene glances over her shoulder at him, holding up the bottle in question. He sighs, which she interprets correctly as a yes, and pours a second glass.

Dieter murmurs a thanks when she returns and hands it to him. He takes a big swallow of the liquor. Leaning back on the counter beside him, she does the same.

“How’s she doing?”

His stomach twists.

He takes another swig and shrugs, then digs the note from his robe pocket and gives it to her.

She reads it, then passes it back and empties her whiskey down her throat.

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he mutters into the tumbler as he drinks the remaining booze in one large, burning gulp.

“So you don’t know where she is?”

Dieter pinches his eyes closed, tilting his head up at the ceiling, and shakes his head, “She was gone when I woke up. Took her suitcase. Left her phone, funny enough.”

After a brief silence, she tells him, “I didn’t know David was looking into her. Even if I did, I would never try to get her in trouble. You know that, right?”

He shrugs. His shoulders weigh a million pounds.

“Look,” she sighs, “Maybe I don’t see whatever it is you see in her, but I do see that you love each other.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think she’s turning herself in?”

He furrows his brow and looks down at the floor, shaking his head, “No.”

Dieter breathes it in, that palpable emotion still clinging to the air. He sinks into the dense, dark feeling—blackest ink in the world—letting it carry him downstream. There’s a glimmer of something. A spark of you.

He speaks it out loud.

“She’s in the fucking woods now.”

“In the woods? Dieter, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, scrubbing his face with his hands, “I don’t fucking know. I’m scared, you know, with the note…”

He doesn’t want to say it. If he doesn’t speak it into existence, maybe it won’t be true, that you’re looking for a place to die. Like how dogs do when they’re ready, crawling off into isolation to protect their loved ones.

Darlene stays quiet.

He swallows hard and starts pacing the kitchen floor again, running his fingers through his hair, “If I can get the DA to drop the charges, maybe it won’t be too late. Maybe I can fix this. But I have to find her, too.“ A hot rush of frustration overtakes him. He slams his fist down on the countertop with a thud and barks, “FUCK!”

“Ok,” Darlene turns to face him, placing a hand on his arm, “It’s gonna be ok—”

“But what if it’s not?”

Emotion clouds his vocal cords and vision, warping both into a wet, smeary mess as he says, “What if she fucking—fuck, Darlene, what if she goes through with this? I can’t do this without her. I won’t.”

“We don’t know that this is a suicide note—”

His whole body twists up into a snarl, a guttural moan rising from his throat as the idea shreds him to bits. He shakes his head in protest, because he does, he knows that’s what this is, but he can’t fucking bear to speak its name.

Darlene watches him unravel for a moment before taking the crystal tumblers back to the credenza for a refill. When she returns, she holds one out to him and asks, “We need a plan to track her down. Have any ideas?”

He rolls his head on his shoulders to look at her, glancing down at the cup, “We?”

She nudges him again, so he takes it and sips while she grimaces, “If I didn’t raise hell about the interview and get David in trouble… who knows, maybe we wouldn’t be here. I doubt he was looking to write an exposé on her before that.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he shrugs, “Doesn’t matter now.”

“Still, I’m… sorry,” she stares down at her glass and swirls the amber liquid around a bit while telling him, “The contract, too. I’m sorry about that. Like Mark said, it’s not personal. It’s business.”

“I know.”

“You’re sure, though? That you don’t want to corroborate her story?”

“Yes, I’m sure I don’t want to throw the love of my life under the fucking bus, Darlene.”

She holds up a hand in defense, “Ok—”

“Even if that’s what she wanted me to do, no fucking way. She’s a good fucking person and I won’t sit here and agree with people saying she’s some fucking lowlife, because she’s not—”

“Ok ok ok—Dieter, I understand. I was just making sure.”

He huffs and takes a drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over them. The booze starts to course heat through Dieter’s veins, sedating his agitation, making his head swim.

“If you’re not my publicist anymore, why the fuck are you still here?”

“Because I’m still your friend.”

He looks over at her, meeting her hazel eyes, and senses sincerity.

His jaw works back and forth. He takes another drink, then tells her, “I’m going to New York to meet with the DA. Lincoln should be here any minute, he’ll stay here in case she comes back while I’m gone. I’m gonna have him try to track her whereabouts, see if she left any breadcrumbs—”

“You have a meeting with the DA?”

“Not… necessarily.”

“Then, what—” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “I don’t wanna know, do I?”

“Doubt it.”

“Right,” she sighs, shakes her head, then starts pacing, “Well, if Lincoln is here, he can call around to places, but I’m assuming you don’t want him to leave the house? In case she comes back?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll help follow up. Call around, and if needed, go to the places she might be. See if I can’t track her down.”

Hope swells in his chest. His posture softens, and he nods, “Thank you.”

She waves him off, “You said she left her phone, right?”

“Yeah, uhh,” he pulls it from his robe pocket and stares at the lock screen, “I felt, I dunno, weird… about going through it. So I haven’t yet.”

Darlene holds out her manicured hand, so he gives it to her.

“Zero two one four eight eight.”

She types in the passcode and starts tapping around as she paces, sipping her whiskey every now and then.

Meanwhile, Dieter finishes his drink and stares at the empty glass, wavering back and forth on whether or not to pour another. A hungry buzzing works through the tendons in his neck. There’s an old, familiar voice at the back of his head, urging him for more more more, begging, pleading for sedation, anything to make these big feelings less so.

Booze would be great, but you have the morphine, too, or the coke, fuck—now would be the perfect time for coke. It would straighten out your thoughts. Sharpen you. It could help you, Dieter, really. Help you clear your head and get to the bottom of this fucking mess, it could be the thing that saves her—

“She made an outbound call this morning,” Darlene murmurs as she punches the number into her phone, then raises it to her ear.

Dieter hears the faint voice from the speaker answer, “Hollywood Checker Cabs, how can I help you?”

She snaps her fingers at Dieter and pantomimes writing. He scrambles around the kitchen trying to find paper and a writing utensil while she asks, “Hi, my friend ordered a cab early this morning and I’m trying to track where she might’ve been dropped off, can you help me with that?”

Dieter finds a notebook on the counter. He pulls the pen from its spine and writes down your phone number and full name, then slides it over the island counter to Darlene, who nods and reads your phone number, then says, “Yeah, she called at 5:32, the pickup is—yep, that’s it, that’s her.”

She grabs the pen and starts scribing. Every few seconds she murmurs an uh-huh or ok.

Behind her, the door to the garage swings open and in comes Lincoln, carrying a brown paper bag and a backpack.

Concern creases his forehead as he approaches, and drops the paper bag on the counter, whispering to Dieter, “What’s going on?”

“Shh.”

Darlene glances up at them, then back at the notebook, and nods, “That’s incredibly helpful, thank you. Appreciate it.”

When she hangs up, she says, “The driver dropped her off at Union Station around 6:30 this morning,” then continues typing in her phone, “From there, she could’ve taken another taxi, or a bus, or a train—”

“She took a bus.”

Lincoln asks, “Who took a bus? Lua?”

They both ignore the question. Darlene blinks up at Dieter, and before she can question him, he shrugs, “Gut feeling.”

“Gut feeling,” she snorts, shaking her head, and tosses her phone in her bag with a sigh, “Well, I’ll drive over there and see if she’s still there. When does your flight leave?”

Dieter looks at Lincoln, who perks up and pulls out his phone, “Let’s see… A car will be here in… fifteen.”

“I’ll call you when I know more, ok?” Darlene says as she pulls her purse up onto her shoulder. She regards Dieter for a second or two before patting him on the shoulder, “We’re gonna find her.”

He doesn’t trust himself to verbalize the uncertainty churning in his guts, so he acknowledges the sentiment with a flaccid smile and a nod, thinking, “I fucking hope so.”

—

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.”

“Hey, love. I’m, uhh… leaving you an update, I guess. I’m going to New York to sort this shit out, talk to some people, see what I can do. But if you get this somehow, please, baby… please come home. Ok. I love you, bye.”

—

Suspended miles above the Midwest, with Dieter packed in a tin can alongside all the other mouth-breathing sardines, the in-flight WiFi goes out.

He tries watching a movie, but none of the information computes. His mind keeps wandering to you. What you’re doing, where you are, why you didn’t just fucking wake him up and talk to him.

Seconds twist under his skin.

The minutes lodge inside his throat.

The tiny screen could be showing him fucking anything, and his demeanor wouldn’t change a drop.

Tight-lipped. Hostile. Dead-eyed.

That’s what he gleans, anyway, from the way people react to his presence. The downcast glances and wide berths. How the flight attendant doesn’t even try to protest when he requests four mini-bottles of vodka.

Wincing with every swallow, Dieter drinks them and scrolls through his text history with you. It’s not uncommon for him to do this while idly passing the time alone, within the past few months especially.

Re-reading each conversation, admiring the photos and screenshots, allowing himself to daydream about you… usually, he finds it comforting.

This time it’s different.

It’s steeped in the knowledge that he may never receive another message from you.

Flipping his phone face down on the little shitty tray, he looks up at the Q*bert air vent and releases a big sigh. The thoughts of you creep back into his brain. He doesn’t shoo them away, though. It’s fucking pointless.

Please understand that I couldn’t make you choose. That burden shouldn’t rest on you.

A burden.

What a load of shit.

As if he wouldn’t let hellfire lick his bones to dust for one more earthly second with you. As if you don’t revive him every single time your lips meet his. As if he could breathe without you in the atmosphere.

Of fucking course he would choose you.

Over anything, really. Especially acting. Fuck, maybe that’s exactly what he needs. It’s all just stupid Hollywood bullshit anyway. Being owned by a dozen different people at any point in time. Everyone trying to get their finger in the goddamn pie. He’s tired of being a billboard first and a human second.

The more he thinks about it, the madder he gets. He douses his stomach with vodka, thinking about the fame machine, how it chewed you up and spit you out in no time at all.

He resents the public spotlight. His whole adolescence, he dreamed of having a successful career as an actor. He worked hard and got lucky and his dreams came to life, and now, well… he’s right back where he started.

Watching, helpless and terrified, as the person he loves gets pummeled half to death.

—

Dieter leans on the doorframe and gives apartment 14C three firm knocks.

The blaring music inside cuts. Parker stomps up to the other side of the door, “Who is it?”

“Fucking Santa Claus, who do you think?”

A thunk sounds from the deadbolt, then Parker swings the door open, propping a hand on his hip and shaking his head, “Santa Claus? Really?”

His face is fully dragged up in the style of Jackie Lantern, with blue eyeshadow and hot pink lips and harsh contour, while the rest of him is Regular Parker, with sweatpants and a baggy Bikini Kill t-shirt.

“Ho ho ho,” Dieter enters the cozy, dimly lit apartment and pulls him into a one-armed hug, “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too,” Parker mumbles as he wraps his lanky arms around Dieter and squeezes, “Wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Me too, bud,” Dieter takes a step back and ventures into what looks like a new-age opium den.

Incense and pot smoke cloud the air. A loom-woven tapestry, depicting a unicorn standing triumphant in a field of wildflowers, takes up almost the entire wall behind a well-worn sofa. On the opposite wall, at least 50 framed bug specimens hang on display.

Between the deep-seated couch and the TV sits a big octagonal coffee table, its glass top all littered with books and water bottles and cannabis paraphernalia.

Dieter, finding none of this surprising, looks around and nods, “Nice place.“

Parker bolts the door closed and turns to scan Dieter up and down, “Nice suit.”

“I hate this fucking thing,” he mutters, rolling his shoulders in a feeble attempt to make more room inside the jacket, then points to Parker’s sweatpants, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Shade,” Parker scoffs and starts off down the short hallway into his bedroom, “I’ll be ready in a minute, help yourself to whatever.”

“Where do you keep your liquor?”

“On top of the fridge.”

Dieter wanders into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of whiskey from its home, then starts flipping through cabinets. When he finds the one with cups, he calls out to Parker, “Want a drink?”

“Lord, please.”

He unscrews the cap and pours two generous servings. Before returning the bottle, he takes a pull off it. The cheap booze burns the whole way down, settling like fire in his belly.

Parker comes stomping back into the room, clawing at the back of his blue sequin gown, “Do me a favor, love, help me zip this?”

Dieter signals for him to spin around, then guides the zipper up his bony back as Parker asks, “Any updates from your neck of the woods?”

He taps on his shoulder, giving him the all clear.

Parker turns and leans back against the galley kitchen’s countertop opposite Dieter, who hands him a drink.

“Yeah,” Dieter nods, takes a sip of the shitty whiskey, then explains, “Darlene was able to convince the security team at Union Station to let her review footage from this morning. At 6:30 this morning, Lua boarded a Greyhound bus that dropped her off in Fresno around 11:00. Darlene couldn’t get much over the phone from them, so she’s driving up there to raise hell, see what she can find out.”

The words come out dull and matter-of-fact. Offline, disconnected from the treasure chest labeled LUA.

Parker studies him, “How’re you holding up, papi, you doing ok?”

“No.”

He stares down into his cup and thinks he should probably say something else, but comes up with nothing. It feels both pointless and too painful.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

When he glances up at Parker, and their eyes meet, he recognizes the melancholy there. His own, reflected back at him.

He shifts a little and adds, “After we get this part over with, though, maybe we can… I don’t know, get hammered, cry about it. Drown our sorrows or whatever. If you want.”

The corner of Parker’s hot pink lips turns up in a smirk and he chuckles, “Long as we don’t get arrested doing this stupid ass shit, I will take you up on that.”

“We’re not gonna get arrested, I promise. He’ll take the offer.”

“And how do you know that?”

Dieter could make a reference to The Godfather here, or mention the thick wads of cash lining his Armani suit, but thinks better of it. Probably best he doesn’t know.

Instead, he asks, “Do you trust me?”

“You know we wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Then trust me, we’re gonna be fine. Just follow the plan.”

Parker snorts and shakes his head, muttering something about ‘you cryptic ass motherfucker’ into his glass as he takes a sip.

Dieter drinks, too, then tells him, “I like your dress.”

“Thanks,” he smiles, eyes flicking to the clock on the stove, “Fuck, I gotta finish getting ready or we’re gonna be late.”

“Can I pick out your hair?”

Parker groans a little, feigning annoyance. He pushes off the counter and starts towards his room, “Fine, but I reserve the right to veto.”

—

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.”

“Hey, doll, it’s me. I’m uhh… in New York, at Parker’s place—”

“Who are you talking to?”

“I’m leaving her a message.”

“Give it, I wanna say something.”

“Just hold on—”

“Hey Miss Lou, I love you, I miss you, and let me tell you, your boy is a goddamn mess. And, um… so am I. I’m worried about you—we’re worried about you. Just… let us know you’re ok, ok?”

“Me again. We’re gonna go fix this. I love you, Louella. Please come home.”

—

Instead of conversing en route to the Metropolitan Opera House, they pass a flask of whiskey back and forth and occasionally sing along to the music on Jackie Lantern’s “PUSSY POWER” playlist.

Although neither of them mention it, Dieter knows they’re essentially doing the same thing. Hyping themselves up. Trying to ban the performance anxiety from their brains as they get into character.

By the time he and Parker arrive at Metropolitan Opera House, the booze has fully assimilated into Dieter’s bloodstream.

Thank fucking god.

It grinds down the coarse edges of reality and allows him to slip effortlessly into a familiar skin.

Dieter Bravo: Washed-up Actor.

Dieter Bravo: Party Monster.

Dieter Bravo: Brazen Jackass.

A carefully curated persona so convincing, it had him fooled for years before you coaxed the real him out of hiding.

That guy, the real him, or whatever the fuck, is not the right man for this job. Too soft. Too emotional. Guy is a pansy, he would fucking cry or make a scene or something.

Seriously.

He has no jurisdiction here.

Here, in this glitzy opera house, among the other black-tie patrons who regard him and Jackie Lantern with a kind of grotesque curiosity that guy couldn’t fucking handle.

But, Dieter Bravo: Attention Whore?

Eating. This. Shit. Up.

“Literal fucking pearl clutching, ho-ly shit,” he murmurs to Jackie’s big, white blonde afro wig as they walk up the red carpeted stairs into the lobby.

It opens up into a huge space that reminds him of a cave.

Brightly-lit, thanks to the starburst chandeliers dripping from the ceiling like stalactites, but a cave all the same. All four stories of shining white marble look to be hollowed out over centuries. Smooth, curved staircases flowing into terraces, filled with hundreds of well-dressed people and the abstract murmur of their conversations.

For the millionth time today, he wishes you were here.

You would be awestruck, gazing around with starry eyes that would make him appreciate its beauty that much more. You would look at him, in that way you do, and everyone else would melt away. You would smile and make those crystal chandeliers look like bare fluorescent bulbs. Put the goddamn place to shame.

“Whaddaya think, sugar? Get a drink?”

He glances up at Jackie over the rim of his sunglasses and tosses his sloshy head back and forth, trying to gauge how drunk he actually is, then shrugs, “Fuck it, why not.”

She leads the way while Dieter follows in her wake, delighting at the number of people who ogle Jackie, with her big hair and her commanding presence and her blue gown, shimmering aqua and cyan and turquoise in the light.

Only a few people seem to notice him trailing behind her. Fewer yet glint any tell-tale signs of recognition. The little upright jolt. The furrowed brow leaping into a surprised expression. The whispered “Is that who I think it is?” to the person beside them. Or, his favorite, the scramble to grab their phone and snap a photo.

They order drinks and find a tall table in the corner to lean against. From this vantage point, they survey the crowd for their subjects.

“How much does your man know?”

“My man,” Jackie mutters to herself with a little scoff, glancing down at her martini, “He’s not my man. I’m just a rental.”

Dieter peels his eyes away from the crowd to look at her, “A rental?”

“Not good enough to invest in long-term.”

His head rocks back in understanding, and he frowns, “How long have you been seeing him?”

“Off and on for two years.”

As she says this, she looks up, flicking her eyes around the room. Then she zeroes in on something. Her posture perks to attention. That little glint of recognition.

Dieter follows her gaze to what can only be described as the most average looking white man in Manhattan. Dusty blonde hair, athletic build, black suit.

He would’ve completely overlooked the guy if not for the precision of Jackie’s stare.

Well, that and the fact that you’ve gone on your fair share of angry rants about the man, which involved you showing Dieter his Instagram. This is how he also recognizes the mousy woman standing at his side.

“He brought his wife?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you two me—”

“Nope.”

The sullen aura radiating off her makes Dieter tick his jaw back and forth. He looks between her and Reese, then asks, “Does he know the plan?”

“Kind of,” she shrugs, “Bare bones, enough to maintain plausible deniability.”

“Uh huh. How did Reese know about Mr. Lindorm’s uhhh…”

He scrunches his face up and turns his wrist around, trying to find the right word.

Jackie raises an eyebrow, “Proclivities?”

“I was gonna say fetish, but sure.”

She lands a playful smack on his arm, then sighs, “Sometimes it’s best I don’t ask.”

“Don’t ask don’t tell, good policy.”

This earns him a side-eye with very little humor attached. Sore spot. Fuck.

“Look,” he leans harder on the table, “All I’m saying is you could do better. No doubt about it. You uhh… I don’t know. You deserve someone who loves you so much, they would pluck the stars from the sky and craft them into a crown for you. Not someone who keeps you a secret.”

“Craft them into a—?” She blinks at him, “Ok, papi, what the fuck’re you talking about?”

He tries to formulate an answer, to figure out where the fuck that came from, but admits, “Fuck if I know.”

“I’m cutting you off.”

“I am not that drunk.”

“Better not be, cuz it’s fuckin’ showtime. Here they come.”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

He looks to the source, flicking his gaze up and down Reese’s neat tuxedo.

Reese extends his hand, “I don’t believe we’ve met, but I’m Senator Reese Bernard—”

“I don’t endorse political campaigns, sorry.”

He starts to turn back to Jackie, who mirrors the action, then Reese, right on cue, says, “Oh, no. Nothing like that, I’m just a big fan. Could I buy you and your um,” his eyes shift to Jackie, “Companion a drink? Maybe pick your brain for a bit?”

Dieter finds himself slightly surprised with Reese’s acting ability. That is, until he remembers the man acts every single day of his life. He raises his eyebrows in question at Jackie, who holds his gaze and shrugs, “Fine by me.”

“Alright, yeah.”

A boyish grin spreads across Reese’s face, then he turns to the little mouse of a woman behind him and murmurs something to her, jerking his head towards the bar.

She nods and walks off as Reese joins their table, glancing between Dieter and Jackie, “Well, this is certainly a way to shake things up at the opera, huh? Kind of exciting,” he settles his gaze on Jackie, giving her a charming smile, “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks, love,” she tilts her head at him, batting her lashes.

The way they look at each other, all goo-goo eyes, inspires Dieter to finish his drink. When he slams the empty glass down on the table, they both jump, snapping out of their nauseating little bubble.

“When’s our guy supposed to be here?”

“Ahhhh,” Reese frowns at his watch, then starts searching the lobby, “Should already be around somewhere. We always meet him and the missus over here for a drink before the show.”

“You guys do this often?”

He shrugs, “Every couple of weeks or so. Not really my cup of tea, or his even, but the gals love it.”

“Cute,” Dieter mutters.

Jackie shoots him a look, then asks Reese, “Do you really think this is gonna work?”

“Oh, definitely, definitely. The guy is smart when it comes to law, but thinks with his dick when it comes to most everything else,” he smirks at her, “And you’re just his type.”

In response, Dieter grunts and searches the room. His head feels weighted, brain sloshing around in the sea of alcohol he consumed throughout the day.

Maybe he should switch to water for a while, slow down this freight train.

Or maybe we should go in a different direction. Try to get a hold of something that will straighten us out.

This thought overrides his entire body, blaring and hot and uncomfortable in his veins, and he wonders if that’s why it’s called an impulse.

Wouldn’t it make you feel better?

His leg starts to bounce. He grits his teeth and reminds himself that he promised you he wouldn’t use cocaine again. Reminds himself of what you said in return:

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Your voice in his head makes his heart flutter, while the content of your statement sits heavy in his stomach, warring with that concentrated dose of urgency buzzing through him.

“There he is,” Jackie murmurs into her wine glass, “Over by the stairs.”

Jerking to attention like he fell asleep at the wheel, Dieter follows her laser-focused gaze to a distinguished salt-and-pepper man posing for a photo with a tall blonde woman.

The way they stand next to each other, all rigid and precise, their perfect, practiced smiles spread wide beneath dead eyes… it strikes him as familiar.

Middle-aged Barbie and Ken.

A fair comparison, although she looks closer to 20 than 40. Either that or she has a stellar plastic surgeon.

There’s something else, though.

It’s in the way they take a big step apart when the photographer gets his shot. How they seem to be bickering at each other out the side of their faces between fake smiles.

Anika and Dieter.

He studies them with a morbid kind of curiosity, wondering if that’s what they would have eventually been like if they tried to make it work. If, almost a year ago, he would’ve gone home to her instead of boarding that plane to New York.

They would’ve fought about it. Maybe they would’ve cried and had make-up sex. He probably would’ve gone to rehab, and couples counseling, and, hell, maybe they would’ve had a kid or something. Things would’ve felt real and good with her for a while.

But it would have faded.

After a while, he would have strayed again. He would have started getting high and fucking around all the time. He knows this like he knows you’re alive, like he just knows things, certain and right at the very core of him: He never would have found peace until he found you.

Instinctually, he wants to say you changed him, that you made him want to be a better man. But it dawns on him, with stunning clarity, that you didn’t. You didn’t change him any more than an astronomer changes the universe when they discover a star.

Which is to say, darling, that you just brought him into focus so he could see himself for who he really is.

Anything else would have been a plastic, miserable cohabitation.

As this sinks in, that hungry buzzing in his chest wanes. He understands that he can’t break his promise to you. More aptly, he won’t, because he’s not that man anymore.

—

Sometimes things go sideways.

For instance, sometimes the love of your life thinks that disappearing is the best solution to both save your career and evade a second felony.

Sometimes, though… the universe aligns in your favor, and a plan goes off better than you ever could have imaged.

Sometimes your girlfriend’s best friend’s boyfriend’s wife, who Dieter eventually learns is named Rachel, runs into her friends, Mr. and Mrs. District Attorney, on her way back from the bar and invites them to join your table.

They introduce themselves as John and—no fucking joke—Barbara Lindorm. Just as Reese predicted, John is captivated by Jackie the second he lays eyes on her. He occupies the open space next to her and laughs at her jokes, frequently splitting off into quiet little side conversations, where Dieter hears him ask where she’s from, what she does for a living, and whether she and Dieter are dating—which is great news, because it means he has not placed him as Dieter Bravo: Louella Friedman’s Meddlesome Boyfriend.

If Barbara notices her husband flirting, she doesn’t let it show. Dieter surmises it’s because he’s doing a bit of flirting himself, letting his gaze linger on her longer than appropriate, complimenting her dress, her hair, her nails. Not because he’s interested or anything, but rather to provide a bit of a distraction while Jackie reels in her husband.

It’s a little fucked up, sure, but you’d understand. Think big picture, baby. The greater good or whatever.

At one point, he sees Jackie pull out her phone and tell John, “Oh, I have to show you this picture from my last show, you’ll love this.”

This is the move. The part where she shows him a typed out message telling him to follow her at intermission.

Dieter calls attention to the other side of the table, asking Reese, “So, what, do you guys have regular seats or something? Since you come here so often.”

Reese sees the setup and nods, “Oh, definitely. A box, actually, they’re great seats—“ he cuts himself off with a gasp, slamming his palms down on the table, “Hold on, I’m getting a crazy idea. The other couple we usually come here with dropped out at the last minute. Do you two want their seats?”

Dieter glances over at Barbara, meeting her demure gaze, while he hears John murmur to Jackie, “You’re right, I do love that.”

“Why the hell not,” he licks his lips and shrugs, departing from Barbara’s eyes to meet Reese’s, “Let’s keep this party rolling.”

Reese grins, “Fantastic! Ok, do you guys wanna go now, or…?”

The lights wax and wane in brightness a few times, signaling curtain call, and Dieter smirks, “Lead the way.”

—

While waiting for the gilded curtains to part, Dieter flips through the program for Ariadne auf Naxos, tuning out the meaningless chit chat taking place around him.

He skims the synopsis provided, mostly just trying to look busy. One sentence catches his attention.

Ariadne is alone in front of her cave.

He tilts his head at it, lingering for a moment before resuming the skim. His eyes snag on the words stars vanish, then backtrack to the beginning of the sentence.

Entranced by Ariadne’s beauty, Bacchus tells her that he would sooner see the stars vanish than give her up.

Like he did with the last line, Dieter stares at it, slightly stunned. He shifts in his seat, glancing around before leaning over the program to re-read the opera’s synopsis from the beginning.

The passage briefly recounts the story of Ariadne, who assisted Thesus in escaping a labyrinth because she loved him. They were betrothed, and Ariadne left her family to be with him. On the trip home, Thesus abandoned her on a remote island while she was sleeping.

Ariadne woke and found herself alone on the beach. Heartbroken, she longed to die. When Bacchus arrived on the island, Ariadne first thought he was the messenger of death, then mistook him for Thesus. Bacchus explained that he was neither, he was a god. They fell in love and rose into the heavens.

Dieter sits back in his seat and fidgets, trying to find comfort despite this goddamn suit jacket, all stiff and tight with wads of cash. Despite the painful parallels his mind keeps drawing.

You are fucking everywhere.

The opera. The crystal galaxy chandeliers that hang from what looks like a bright white tunnel into the afterlife. The scalloped ceiling, backlit with a warm, golden light, reminding him of goldfish scales.

Are they signs or is he just losing his fucking mind?

“Probably both,” he mutters to himself.

Jackie looks up from her program at him, raising an eyebrow, “What?”

He shakes his head, nervously tugging at the whiskers that sprout from his jawline.

Before she can prod him further, the chandeliers float up into the white abyss and all of the lights dim, then the curtains part.

—

As soon as intermission starts, Jackie is on her feet.

John waits one cool second before excusing himself and following her into the hall. Reese hears this and turns around in his seat, asking Barbara how she likes the show so far. As she leans forward and begins to answer him, Reese locks eyes with Dieter and gives him a wink of approval.

Dieter nods and rises to his feet, then slips into the hall, weaving his way through the crowd.

See, when Jackie used to work catering gigs here, she got to know a member of the opera house staff who showed her a few private rooms that aren’t necessarily secret, but aren’t exactly advertised, either. They’re reserved for VIPs, when they want them, but mostly remain unoccupied during performances.

He follows the path Jackie mapped out for him earlier today to an unlabeled door on level three. Inside, he hears a familiar giggle and knows it’s the right one.

He pats down his suit jacket with both hands, double checking that he didn’t somehow drop all his money en route, then grabs the doorknob, twists it, and pushes the door open to reveal the smallest Victorian parlor he’s ever seen in his life.

It contains an antique sofa, a coffee table, and an armchair in the corner, and still feels cramped. The back wall is entirely occupied by a mirror. Probably an attempt to make the room look bigger.

On the ornate red sofa, Miss Jackie Lantern and Mister District Attorney are so busy making out, neither of them seem to notice his presence.

Dieter makes a point of closing the door with a loud bang. John jumps up and starts scrambling away from Jackie, his face all covered in hot pink lipstick, stammering out clichés, “I can explain, this isn’t what it looks like—”

“Save it, that’s not what this is,” Dieter waves him off as he approaches the couch, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

“What is this, then?” he looks from Dieter, who shucks off his jacket and sits down beside him, to Jackie, “A three way?”

Jackie sticks out her bottom lip in a sympathetic manner, shaking her head.

“This is an opportunity.”

John turns to him, narrowing his eyes, “Explain.”

“Well, see,” Dieter tosses his jacket on the coffee table, “I’m going to give you a stupid amount of money, I mean—really, truly, a fucking obscene amount of money. In return, you’ll drop the charges against Louella Friedman.”

He studies Dieter carefully.

“You and I both know that warrant was bullshit. Based on witness statements obtained by fucking paps, really?” Dieter clicks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his head, “That man is a gossip monger with a grudge. Zero fucking credibility. It wouldn’t hold up in court. It would be a waste of everyone’s time and money. This is an opportunity to cut through the red tape and get a little something for yourself in return.”

John sits back, crossing his arms. He frowns at the jacket for a while, seemingly running calculations in his head, then asks, “How much?”

“Hundred thousand.”

His eyebrows make a surprised jump. He presses his knuckles to his lips, considering this. His leg starts bouncing. He looks between Dieter and Jackie, these quick, sharp glares, “I don’t appreciate being set up like this.”

Dieter nods in acknowledgment. Jackie just blinks at him.

He releases a big sigh.

Sitting up, he grabs the jacket and digs into one of the pockets, then pulls out a few $10,000 bundles.

As he inspects them, Dieter asks, “Well?”

“You two are good,” John chuckles, then extends his hand to Dieter, “I’ll look into her case for you, see what we can do.”

He takes it, giving him an overly enthusiastic shake, “Good man. Thank you.”

“Louella Friedman?”

“That’s right. I, uhhh—I put her info in the front pocket.”

“Got it.”

Dieter stands and looks at Jackie, nodding to the door.

“Thanks, Johnny,” she winks, then rises to her feet and starts towards the door.

“Thank you, Jackie,” he grins at her for a second before returning to Dieter, “And thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Dieter pulls up the sleeves on his dress shirt, “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

John laughs at this, so Dieter feels compelled to clarify, “No, but really, the IRS might start asking questions if you do. So—don’t, ok?”

“Oh, well, yeah—”

Dieter turns on his heel and follows Jackie out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Johnny?” he raises an eyebrow at her as they walk away.

“He’s kinda cute. Good kisser.”

“Thinking about adding him to your roster?”

She snorts and gives him a playful shove, “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

—

Within thirty seconds of entering the apartment, Jackie has locked herself in the bathroom with the shower running.

Dieter collapses on the couch and slowly dismantles the remains of his suit, unknotting the bow-tie, taking off his dress shirt, wriggling out of his pants, until he’s left in boxers and an undershirt.

Exhaustion, emotional and physical, drains any remaining adrenaline from this evening’s success from his limbs.

Figuring it will take a while for the de-Jackiefication to take place in the bathroom, he checks his phone for updates, then decides to call and leave you a message before letting sleep take over.

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.”

“Hey, doll, it’s me. It is… just after midnight here in New York. Just wanted to let you know, I talked to the DA. He’s dropping the charges, because they’re bullshit, and uhhh… yeah. You can come out now, if you want. I… I miss you. All day I missed you. I wish you were here, and—listen, Lua, I get what you’re doing. You think you’re saving me or something by disappearing, but let me tell you, you are fucking not. Ok? I don’t think you understand… you save me every single day. Just by loving me. The acting, publicity, fucking—whatever, none of that fucking matters to me. I swear to god. You are—you are it for me. The end all be all. My sun, my moon, the stars, you are my whole fucking universe. You are… everything to me, Louella. I love you. I hope I see you soon.”

[ Next Chapter ]

#psychomanteum #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo x ofc #the bubble #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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strawbean · 1 year

Text

Domesticity

Featuring: Ghost, Soap, Rudy

Content Warning: lotta fluff, tiny bit of angst

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.

Ghost

He definitely separates his work life from his home life, making sure that he doesn’t bring anything back home

You know about his job and his title, the amount of people he’s killed and things he had to do, but you never see it and that’s all he wants

Never raises his voice, it would kill him if he saw how scared you would be by it

Vows to always get out to take a breather if he gets frustrated because of this, makes sure to tell you that he needs to calm down too

Onto more happy things now

Although he doesn’t mind the military issued meals, doesn’t mean he likes it at all even if he endures it

Because of this he loves your cooking and even took it upon himself to learn how to make meals based on the recipe books you have

Will lean against you and hang his head on your shoulder any time he gets, rubbing his hands up and down your hips

You read together, he’ll lean back while you sit with your back against him. Kisses your forehead to let you know he’s done reading the page

Every time you go out, he comes with you. Especially when he just comes back from a mission, admits he’s a bit paranoid. You don’t mind at all as long as he doesn’t bring anything dangerous or glares at anyone looking in your general vicinity

He makes you tea when you’re stressed, has taught you how to make his favourite tea as well. He won’t tell you whenever he’s stressed or slightly annoyed, but somehow you’ll know when to make him one when he is

Soap

Picks you up in his arms and spins you around whenever he comes back home, no matter where he went

Definitely gets you a dog at some point, says it’s to keep you company whenever he’s gone on long missions but gets jealous when the dog favours you

Has a whole sketchbook dedicated to you, even has little notes on things he noticed about you. Like how you snap your fingers when you’re remembered something, or how you mumble when reading

He gifts you the sketchbook when it’s full, you have a little shelf with all of them. You look at them when you miss him

You buy him some art supplies as a welcome home gift once, he gave you a fully coloured portrait of you a week later. It’s now in a frame by your bedside table

He’s given you more and more portraits, most of you, others of the dog and you together. Per request, he made one of himself with you (it’s in another portrait but now hung in the living room to show off)

When he’s with you he wants to do everything with you. It’s not a protective thing like his fellow Lt. (it partially is), but to also have a sense of normality with you

Almost rammed the cart into you and others several times because of this, please take his cart pushing privileges away

Rudy

This man wants you next to him all the time, just loves to cuddle you or just keep his hand on you at all times

Beach dates are very common. He makes sure to find a somewhat private space so you guys can have a bit of privacy

If you don’t speak Spanish, he’ll teach you a few phrases when you go on your dates. It gives him the chance to give you secret (not so secret eventually) compliments. One day you surprised him by complimenting back and he nearly fainted by his red his face got

Sings to you too, small lullabies from his childhood and rubs your back at the same time when you cant sleep

A small ritual of taking bubble baths together takes place whenever he comes back from missions. He protests a bit but slowly melts in your arms when he feels you run your fingers in his hair and giving him shoulder massages

Definitely the type to dance with you in the middle of the living room or while waiting for the food to be ready in the kitchen

While he was gone you decided to start putting his shirts on to sleep in, it eventually turned into you actually using his clothes outside the house to, to work even

Was pleasantly surprised to see you in one of his dress shirts and ties while coming back from your job one day

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.

#cod mwii #cod x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #rudy x reader #rodolfo x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #rodolfo parra x reader

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starrzhao · 10 months

Text

what are the odds? | k.tr

synopsis you've tried numerous attempts in confessing to taerae but somehow it always ends up turning into unfortunate accidents…misleading taerae into thinking you hate him at some poor attempts

pairing taerae x gn!reader

genre romance, fluff, humor, angst if you squint

word count 9.6k

content/tags sfw, miscommunication/misunderstanding trope, university!au setting, part-time barista!taerae

warnings I am not funny but I tried, swearing, a lotta things are unrealistic (anyways it’s fiction lol) , the y/n here is kind of a dumbass sorry (to clarify, you are not dumb at all! I’m just referring to the mc here 😭😞), low-key gave up halfway so things may be messy, will try to edit and proofread later when I have the time

featuring former boys planet trainees, kum junhyeon , park hanbin , cha woongki and seowon

taglist @leagreenly @kpoprhia @dimplewonie @shanb1n @wtfhyuck @mikaymee (kindly send an ask/dm if you’d like to be added or removed)

HOW IT ALL STARTED

One of your friends, sung hanbin had decided to host an open-mic event at his cafe for the first time. At first, you didn’t want to go because of the number of assignments you had all piled up as your horridly long to-do list was desperate for your attention. but your friend was also desperate too, begging you to come as he was afraid only a few people would bother to show up.

So being the good friend you are (and terrible procrastinator looking for an excuse to not do work), you decided to go. Your other friends, zhanghao, ricky and junhyeon also tagged along to support as well.

To your surprise, the cafe was actually really full, more and more people rolled in every hour and although you loved to socialize, your battery was draining from seeing the number of people at a high.

There were a lot of talented people who took the stage. With some pouring out their emotions with their personal spoken-word poetry, some inducing laughter with stand-up comedy and some taking the stage to sing their heart out with a touching ballad or a fun pop song.

It was a particularly entertaining night but with the number of people increasing in the cafe, it was draining and dreadful to be with a swarm of people. It wasn’t that you didn’t like to socialize, it was just suffocating to be in a large crowded cafe.

It was 1 am but the open-mic was still lively and has yet to reach its end with a quite big number of people still waiting in line to take the stage.

“I want to go home.” You yawn before comfortably resting your head on the table as you hear another poetry number.

“I gotta go I have a 7 am class tomorrow, the professor will rip my head off if I’m late again. I already told hanbin so he won’t kill me. Bye guys.” Ricky was the first one to leave from your group, bidding you guys a farewell.

Hanbin begged you guys to stay throughout the whole open mic to ensure there was going to be an audience for every performer. As the hours passed, less and less people were at the cafe.

“Thank you to everyone who came today especially to the ones who decided to stay until the end of our event. Now we know there’s still some of you who wish to perform their piece tonight but I’m afraid we have to end it after one last performance. Do not fret, there will be another open-mic event in the future! I hope to see you all stop by again. “ Hanbin relays his closing remarks for the event.

“And now, to finally wrap our event, let’s give the stage to the last but definitely not the least, kim taerae! Let’s all give it up for him.” Claps and cheers echoed through the room for the last performer. A young man walked into the stage with a guitar in his hand, he was dressed in a white denim jacket with a pair of blue jeans and his hair was styled in a little messy perm. He enters the stage and greets the crowd with a sweet smile.

“Hello everyone! I am kim taerae and to end today’s open-mic on a good note, I will be singing man in love by infinite. Hope you enjoy.” You were a little surprised at his low voice. You get up from your position and sit uptight, eager to watch the performance of the new man you found attractive. From his looks and to his speaking voice, he already seemed promising .

The moment he started singing, you melted over his vocals. His voice was quite deep yet also so sweet and soft. His voice was so captivating and everyone in the audience was in awe.

The performance was so satisfying and heartwarming to watch. He was also looking into the eyes of the members of the audience as if he was in a concert. At one point, your eyes meet and you felt your heart skip a beat as he flashed a charming bright smile as his eyes met yours for a moment.

At that moment, you felt your world stop for a moment like you have just met eye-to-eye with the love of your life. All throughout the performance, you felt as if you two were the only one there. As if taerae was pouring all those words out to you.

Soon, the song had finally come to an end and the crowd loudly claps and cheers, everyone was swooned by his heartfelt performance.

“Thank you everyone, hope you all enjoyed the night and get home safe. Take care!” He bids his farewell and everyone immediately stands up from their seats, ready to leave the event.

The next day arrived and here you were on your first day in a new class. You were sleep deprived and was trying your hardest not to fall asleep as soon as you sat down.

Everyone else chatted about whatever went on in their lives. A lot of the others already knew each other too. You were sitting in the back with no one next to you, feeling slightly out of place.

“Hey may I sit here?” A familiar low voice spoke. You get up and look at your left. Loe and behold, It was that sweet singer from yesterday.

“Yes of course.” You reply and flash a small smile.

“You’re kim taerae?”

“Oh yeah! How do you know me?

“I recognize you, you were at the open-mic last night at the cafe last night, right?”

“Ah yes that’s me!” He lightly chuckles in response.

“You were incredible last night, you were the perfect person to end the show. Your singing was amazing! It was so sweet and satisfying to hear. And then when y-I’m so sorry I think I’m rambling now.” His ears turned red from your compliment, keeping a shy smile on over the compliments you gave. You worried that you were doing too much.

“No no it’s fine! And thank you so much, I appreciate it, really.”

“ sorry I forgot to introduce myself but I’m y/n by the way. nice to meet you taerae.” You let your hand out to which he gladly shakes.

“And I’m well, as you already know haha, taerae but it’s very nice to meet you y/n. looking forward to getting to know you.” That sweet smile painted on his face as he seats himself next to you.

_________________________________

you have liked, actually no scratch that, you have been in love with taerae since the first day you met him..

After becoming seatmates on the first day and getting along, you were bound to see each other every week, and after talking to him during every class, sharing about anything and everything in your lives instead of actually paying attention to your lectures, your feelings had gotten stronger as you had gotten to know him more over the course of a few months

He was a very smart, humble and sweet person. A million words weren’t even enough to describe his personality. To top it all off, he was incredibly handsome too. He had that sweet signature smile that always brightened your day. It was hard not to fall for someone like him.

He also became a part-time employee at hanbin’s cafe, although you only every visited once a week to see hanbin, you started going everyday to see taerae.

_________________________________

“hey y/n we know that you’re down bad for mr. cutie pie over there but please pay attention to your friends.” junhyeon snaps at you from your trance after catching you once, again getting lost in your own world staring at taerae for the millionth time today.

currently, you and your friends were hanging at the cafe owned by hanbin located near your uni.

“Yeah, huh yes.” junhyeon and gunwook laugh at your reaction.

Speaking of the devil(or angel, you would think), taerae suddenly approaches your table.

“hey guys I’m clocking out now, just tell hanbin if you need anything. and y/n see you on monday!” he sends you his signature smile as he waves at your friends a farewell as he leaves the cafe.

“see you!” you were smiling so big at him, unaware of how you were smiling so big like a fool. junhyeon and gunwook giggle and whisper amongst themselves, teasing your absolutely lovesick state.

“yeah and they say they have a little crush, and they’ve been trying to hide it.” Junhyeon teases.

“Oh shut up.” You smack his arm and turn away, trying to hide your so painfully obvious blushing state.

“we are so sick of you shooting heart eyes at him for the longest time, oh god when do you plan on finally asking him out?” gunwook says.

“now that you mention it I think I’m planning on confessing to taerae soon.”

your friends dramatically gasp altogether. they certainly didn’t expect you to make a move a year after meeting him.

“You really are?”

“Yeah I was actually thinking of telling him after the open-mic tomorrow.”

“Ooooh how?” Sung hanbin chips in as he takes a seat at your table and casually sneaks a bite from zhanghao’s cheesecake sitting on the table.

“hey what the hell that’s mine, don’t think you’re so slick.” zhanghao snatches the fork from hanbin’s hand and hanbin chuckles at zhanghao’s annoyed state.

“hanbin what are you doing here aren’t you supposed to be working?” you turn to look at him and he comfortably sinks his back into the couch.

“you guys are the only ones here anyways and I’m closing the cafe in a bit. i also heard the words taerae and confess so of course I had to join in.”

“anyways moving back to the topic, how are you going to tell him” hanbin mentions once again.

“I was just planning on just simply saying it. All straight forward like hey.. I like you.”

Your friends squeal in excitement, you bury your face in your hands, embarrassed.

“I have a hunch he likes you too.” your ears turn red over what hanbin said, thinking the possibility of taerae reciprocating his feelings made you feel a little happy inside.

“Wishing you luck ” Hanbin pats your shoulder..

“Yeah like what are the odds that things could go wrong?”

RIGHT, WHAT ARE THE ODDS?

_________________________________

ATTEMPT 1 : THE OPEN MIC

“thank you for attending our open mic event this month ! I truly appreciate all your support and I’m always amazed by the talented performers that take on the stage. Hope you all get home safe and sound, thank you once again and I hope to see you again in our monthly open mic event once again next month.”

“Good luck.” Hanbin whispers in your year, sending you a fighting gesture as you proceed to look for taerae.

You look around and you spot him behind the cashier, currently counting a bunch of coins in his hand.

“Hey!” You catch the boy’s attention as he looks up and immediately flashes a smile as you near him.

“Hey what’s up? Did you enjoy tonight’s open-mic?”

“Yeah I did! And like always, you did absolutely amazing.” Taerae’s face flushing red after your compliment, you always found it so adorable when he’d get so shy.

“Uh taerae, I just wanted to tell you something.”

“Go ahead. I’m listening.” He places his arm on the counter, resting his chin on his palm, ready to listen to you.

“I don’t know where to begin..so the thing is.”

You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the moment.

“I’ve been keeping on eye on a certain someone for awhile now. Well whatever I shouldn’t be beating around the bush. I like-“

“Taerae! Let’s go!” A blue haired boy comes and wraps his arm around taerae’s neck, ruffling through his hair. You presumed it was the blue-haired roommate taerae always referred to in his stories about his dorm life.

“Later hanbin! Y/n’s trying to tell me something, go on..”

“Oh I’m so sorry I was interrupting something..”

“I like hearing the stories about your roommate, I wanted to meet him.” It just slipped. Forcing yourself to lie was defenitely not something you wanted to do but you felt too awkward to continue confessing.

“That’s me! Hello I am park hanbin, taerae’s amazing roommate that you hear about in his stories.” Hanbin winks at you, and puts his hand out. You shake his hand, pretending like you eagerly wanted to get to know him.

“Oh hey! That’s cool so I always heard really interesting stories about you so I’ve been dying to meet you.” You lied.

“I hear about you too, you seem cool. Hey wanna exchange numbers?”

“Yeah that’d be cool.” You and hanbin pull out your phones and quickly exchange numbers as taerae stands awkwardly behind the counter, witnessing your interaction.

“So uh i guess we can take our leave now? Thanks for coming today y/n and see you tomorrow during class!” Taerae pats hanbin’s shoulders, lowkey pushing him to go.

“Oh of course. See you taerae!” You smile and wave as they slowly take their leave.

“Nice to meet you y/n see you around too!” Hanbin cheekily throws a heart shooting gesture at you.

That was not definitely what you wanted to do.

_________________________________

PERHAPS A LETTER WILL DO?

“I don’t know if I can directly say it to him again.” You contemplated as you drew along your sketchbook. You were currently in ricky and zhanghao’s dorm, making a sketch of taerae as the two seriously focus on finishing their plates for their art classes due the next day, them being typical art students, while ranting about your confession process for the second time.

“Then perhaps you can try saying it to him by writing it in a letter instead?” Ricky suggests as he calmly moves the brush strokes against his canvas, multitasking listening to you while painting for his final’s project in his drawing and painting class.

“Writing him a letter-okay wait ricky I think that’s a great idea, I think i can do that.” you gasp as you turn to him, enlightened by the idea that doesn’t deal with direct confrontation.

“Eh but how are you doing it? Are you going to mail it? You know it’s a hassle and the courier rates are hell here or do you plan on just handing it to him then running away like an idiot. ” Zhanghao asks and you realize you didn’t fully grasp the idea yet. Writing down your feelings through a letter was definitely easier but how were you going to execute it?

“Hyung don’t be too pessimistic, it’s not so bad of an idea.” Ricky defends.

“Okay well..aha! I’ll just give it to him in the cafe after his shift, or I’ll just ask hanbin to slip it in his bag since I’m pretty sure it’d be impossible to slip it in during class.”

“Hmm..actually yeah that’s possible..not bad of an idea.”

“I’m a genius! oh hey guys look at my drawing, what do you think?” You flaunt your poorly drawn portrait of your crush and ricky lets out a huge laugh while zhanghao sends you a mortified look.

“is that taerae?” zhanghao points to your drawing, which was quite literally obvious as you wrote his name in red at the side.

“Yeah..i tried to draw him from memory.” You scratch the back of your head, embarrassed.

“Well as a fine arts student, I can definitely say it’s a drawing. Very abstract!” You send ricky a glare and smack his arm as he lets out a laugh.

“you should be thankful I didn’t pursue arts, picasso’s definitely shitting his pants right now.” You jokingly remarked.

“But I truly can’t draw at all what the hell.”

“It’s good that you know.” Ricky jokingly insults and you shoot him a glare.

You rip that paper from the sketchbook, folding it neatly and putting it to the side.

You open a new page, taking a deep breath before writing away your feelings on the paper. But everytime you wrote, your inner perfectionist fought you, making you restart the letter multiple times.

There were multiple pieces of papers scattered around ricky’s table and you had been stressing over it for over an hour and a half before finally finding the perfect words to say.

eventually you got all worn out from using all your brain power for the past hour as you fell asleep on ricky’s desk.

“psst, y/n you need to go, it’s getting late. “ at around 8pm, zhanghao wakes you up. You were a little groggy but you made sure to stand up and grab the letter as you leave. There were way too many paper in the desk and you had only remembered seeing the paper right next to you, but there were two, you bring the one on the right, assuming it was the letter.

_________________________________

you poured your heart out into the letter and made sure each and every word you said was heartfelt and true. you were about to pack the paper and you immediately hand it to hanbin upon arriving at the cafe in the morning. nervous yet also excited about sending taerae the letter.

and so, you wait for the next day to arrive.

_________________________________

“Hey taerae check your belongings before you leave! Need to make sure you don’t leave anything in the cafe, closing up in a bit.“ hanbin yells from the stock room as he secretly grins to himself. taerae rummages through his backpack, thoroughly checking through his things.

He finds a piece of paper in the front pocket and curiously, of course he opens it. Taerae immediately held his hand to his mouth, shocked over what he saw.

…

You anxiously waited for taerae to come to class as you fiddled with your fingers, afraid of what taerae’s reaction to the letter would be.

You spot taerae coming in and he waves at you from afar. You felt a sense of relief as you see taerae still openly greeting you and going your direction to take the seat next to yours like always.

“Hey. ” Taerae sits down and all of a sudden his face was painted with a hint of worry. You mentally start panicking over what he was going to say. Is he going to reject me? Tell me to get lost? Why does he lowkey looks scared? you thought

Taerae goes to grab something from his bag and you gulp nervously. He takes out a piece of paper and passes it to you.

“Oh taerae…”

“Open it.” He says and your hands shake a little as you open up the folded piece of paper, your heart was beating fast and taerae looked down on his desk, his hands clasped together, he just looked really anxious.

You open it and your eyes widen in shock.

“Oh shit.”

“Right? Isn’t it terrifying?” He points at the paper, hesitant to look at it. It was the poorly drawn portrait of him that you made when you were at hao and ricky’s dorm.

How the hell would you mess this up? And then it hit you, you grabbed the first paper you sw at the desk, assuming what you grabbed would be the letter.

“it’s scary to me because just look at the drawing, are they trying to say something about my appearance? And my name’s in red on the bottom. I thought it was a litte gift but when you think about it, would someone really gift you something like this.” You felt an arrow shoot through your heart. Not only did he just diss your drawing skills but he quickly assumed that this drawing was sent from a secret hater?

“what if they’re just shitty at drawing, you know but they were trying to do a nice little gesture?”

“But the red name, the poor handwriting, it just really feels like a hate message.” You felt your spirit leave your body.

“I don’t know I feel like I have to be on the lookout now, I’m scared someone’s coming after me.”

“YOU SENT HIM THE DRAWING?” ricky bursts out laughing at your failed mail delivery attempt.

“No oh my god my stomach hurts so much I can’t handle it..and the fact he thinks it’s a hate message is so fucking funny.” Ricky held onto stomach from laughing so hard and you glare at him. It was certainly not helping the embarrassment your were experiencing at the moment.

“Okay stop laughing dumbass it’s not funny.”

“Oh it is, it really is..” You smack his arm to make him get a grip and ricky lets out a loud ‘Ow’.

“Now what the fuck am I gonna do! I’m doomed!”

“You can always try again, you know? Maybe next time double check what you’re going to send to make sure you don’t send the love of your life your cursed looking drawings.”

“who send what what now?” Junhyeon quickly plops a seat next to ricky.

“y/n just sent taerae a drawing of him and he..thought it was….a threat..” ricky tries to hold his laugh in between his words.

“makes sense your skills are the worse of the worse i feel like i lose ten years of my life when I see you do any sort of artwork.”

“Oh shut up! Why are you all just constantly after my ass.”

“Anyways did you actually try to confess to him by using a drawing? “ junhyeon asked, visibly confused.

“No no no! I was supposed to leave him a letter. The thing is in the morning, I went to the cafe in the morning with hao to hand hanbin the letter so he could sneak it in his bag. I think i handed him the wrong one..because I was holding on to both of the folded papers and I forgot which was which..”

“Typical y/n moment..” ricky says and you raise your fork at him.

“Yeah okay okay.” ricky raises his hands in the air to defend himself from you potentially striking at him with your fork.

“Guys what do I do..”

“Why don’t you just tell him directly?” Junhyeon asks..

“Last time, I slipped up and lied that I wanted to mee his roommate, knowing damn well I don’t care about his roommate at all.””

“So what were you actually trying to send?“

“Okay I got another idea this time!” Ricky raises his hand you furrow one of your eyebrows at him.

_________________________________

ATTEMPT 2 : LEAVING THE LETTER AT THE LECTURE ROOM

“What time did hanbin say he was gonna come?”

“Hmm in like 30 minutes. He ends his shift at around 4.” Hao tells you. This time you were meant to leave the letter on his desk. Hanbin said he left his things in the lecture room and was going back after his shift to retrieve them.

you of course also made sure to double check to prevent the same mistake from happening again, it would be too much. You were positive that this time, nothing would go wrong and taerae would finally be able to read the words you’ve been meaning to relay.

“Shit shit shit! Guys I hear footsteps, I think it’s him!” Junhyeon yelled and panic immediately seeps into you.

“What? I thought his shift ends at 4, uh whatever guys hide!”

You and hao sneak under one of the tables at the back while junhyeon stood for awhile looking left and right, trying to figure out where to hide while he hears the footsteps getting louder and louder so he just hides behind the door, facing the corner, putting his black hoodie on.

Taerae walks into the room and hums a soft tune as he casually walks on his way onto his designated seat. He finds the paper on top and tilts his head to the side, surprised upon seeing a folded paper again. He scans the whole room with his sight before proceeding to slowly flip the fold.

The door abruptly closes as it emits an eerily creaking sound that echoed across the room. Taerae looks at its direction and notices a tall figure in a black hoodie at the corner of the room. His heart began to beat at an alarmingly fast rate.

“W-who are you?” He stutters out of fear as he slowly approaches the figure. The figure freezes into place, not moving an inch from its position.

“Were you here for me?” He slowly walks over and tries to gently approach the figure, he reaches out and tugs on the person’s arm and they suddenly turn around, instantly head butting taerae before he could take a look into their face, sending taerae into a fainting spell as he collapses onto the floor.

“Junhyeon what the fuck!” You and hao quickly rush over to the now, passed out, taerae laying on the floor.

“You shithead why did you headbutt him!”

“I didn’t want him to know it was me, okay! It was also a reflex i don’t know!”

“Yeah? Are you crazy!? He’s literally unconscious right now!!”

“But he’s not dead right?” Junhyeon slowly approaches his figure placing two fingers over his neck to check if he still had his pulse, he jumps but soon breathes a sigh of relief as he feels his pulse.

“Ah! Oh thank God.”

“Ugh whatever just bring to him the clinic.” Hao quickly goes to carry his left arm and you do the same on his other one.

_________________________________

You sit beside taerae’s peaceful sleeping state, patiently waiting for him to wake up, around 30 minutes has passed and he has yet to wake up.

Hao left early since he still had other senior duties to attend to while junhyeon left out of guilt, refusing to face taerae after giving him a concussion from a headbutt he didn’t mean to cause. He loved taerae too much to face him after what happened today.

You waited by taerae’s side even taking a nap as you waited for him to wake up.

You sat by the bed, with the letter in your hand. You opened it and reread each and every word once again as you look at taerae at the same time. You let out a huge sigh. You felt hesitant once again in confessing to taerae. Perhaps being by his side was enough, right?

But the feelings would always be there and you wouldn’t want to fight it. You sit and stare at his features for awhile, finding yourself enamored by his looks.

“I don’t think you’ll ever forgive me taerae..”

“for what?” you jolted from your seat the moment you hear that deep voice. taerae slowly tries to sit himself up and he squints at you as he rubs his eyes.

“oh my god you’re finally awake.”

“What happened I was at the classroom and I just blacked out, how did you find me..” You panic a little, trying to scramble through your brain to think of a random excuse, surely you weren’t going to tell him you were there to drop a letter where you basically profess your feelings.

“Uh i just stopped by the classroom, I thought I left something in the room.”

“oh okay..did you see anyone else there? like a person with a black hoodie? I think someone hit me in the head.”

Taerae tries to recall the situation, his memory still a little foggy over what happened. He couldn’t quite remember how the person looked as everything just happened so quickly.

“Wait..what if it was the same person who sent me that drawing from before? How would they even know that I was coming back? Because the moment I entered the room, I felt this eerie atmosphere, like someone was waiting for me?” You mentally curse at yourself for pushing through this plan, how the hell were you going to tell him the truth?

“I feel like I have this sort of secret anti? I don’t know I’m kinda scared to be alone now.”

“If you don’t mind, can you walk with me home today? It’s embarrassing but i feel kinda scared to walk hom alone.” You eyes widened in shock but you quickly agree anyways. You just got an offer to spend some extra time with your crush. However a huge part of you felt guilty about what happened.

“I’m sorry I can’t I have to go somewhere. Uh I think i actually need to go right now.” You stood up and taerae looks at you softly, almost like his eyes were pleading for you to not go away.

“Okay I’ll just call your roommate to get you since I really can’t, it’s park hanbin right?”

“yeah, do you have his number? I think I left my belongings at the room I don’t have my phone right now.”

“Ah yes i do! Let me dial him.” You scroll through your contacts searching for his name, quickly dialing him.

“Hey y/n, what’s up!” Hanbin responds almost immediately, greeting you in a cheery tone.

“Hey, so taerae’s at the clinic right now, he got a concussion and sprained his ankle and he kinda can’t get to his dorm alone right now so can you come pick him up right now?”

“Alright I see..”

“Sorry it’s kinda hard to explain right now but taerae’s gonna fill you in on the details later.”

“It’s okay i know what happened, junhyeon told me..”

“Ah r-really, okay anyways just come and get him right now.” You quickly end the call hoping he doesn’t go on and run his mouth on what happened.

“just stay here and wait for hanbin I think I’ll have to go now.”

“Take care! see you in the cafe and next week!” Taerae flashes you his warm smile as he waves at you.

“You too taerae.” You smile back and take your leave..

_________________________________

ATTEMPT HONESTLY CAN’T EVEN KEEP UP ANYMORE : FIGURING IT OUT AGAIN PART SOMETHING OR MAYBE NOT

You and your friends, ricky, junhyeon, zhanghao and sung hanbin and gunwook gathered in the same cafe once again.

_________________________________

“So what’s your new plan?”

“Guys I really don’t know anymore.” You let your head hit the table, feeling so defeated at the moment after thinking about your two failed confession attempts.

“Guys what’s a foolproof way of me confessing where I don’t need to do it on the spot, or one that doesn’t have a chance of leaving him terrified him in any way.”

“Yeah he’s been taerae-fied too many times.” Junhyeon jokes. You roll your eyes at his poor attempt of making a taerae pun.

“The plans have been so terrible.” You sigh.

“Taeraeble you could say..” Ricky softly says while looking down as junhyeon giggled, trying to surpress his laugh.

“Ok I swear if you guys say another one.” You glare at the two.

“Hmm perhaps maybe.” Gunwook leads. After junhyeon blabbered to him about what happened he was also then informed of the fact that you had feelings for taerae too.

“actually never mind I don’t know I thought i was thinking for a moment but it blew away sorry.”

“Junhyeon why did you invite gunwook over too, he’s no help either.” Gunwook turns to you and fakes a loud gasp and you roll your eyes over his dramatic act.

“By the way um sorry to say this late but, taerae just quit his job here yesterday. He also said he’s transferring outside of the school.” Sung hanbin mentions.

“Yeah and he also said he’s transferring next semester, he’s actually moving out next friday.” Sung hanbin adds. Everyone else is shocked over the sudden news. Taerae leaving so suddenly was never in anyone’s bingo cards.

“No! I love taerae too much! Why am I only knowing now that my man is leaving.” Junhyeon dramatically fake cries.

“Oh shit. i just realized.”

“What?”Hao turns to you.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to see taerae much anymore, it’s our last class next week and we don’t talk much outside.”You recalled that the last day of your class with taerae was already next week because after that it would be finals then everything’s done. You weren’t sure if you were going to still be able to talk to taerae knowing how you usually only talked during class.

Maybe a part of you wished for those accidents to happen because deep inside, you were afraid about letting taerae find out about your feelings, afraid that he wouldn’t like you back and you’d lose the friendship you’ve built for a year.

_________________________________

The last monday. the last class you were going to share with taerae ever.

“Hey y/n i want to tell you something.” You look in his direction. You were already had an idea on what he was going to say.

“I’m moving out next week and I quit my part time job at hanbin's cafe. Though maybe you’ve noticed and Hanbin might’ve already told you but yeah I just wanted to tell you.”

“Oh I guess we won’t be seeing each other much anymore..” You say and his eyes widened. He waves his hands and sends you a reassuring look.

“oh we won’t be seeing each other much anymore but I promise I’ll try to keep up with you! um my roommates wanted to throw a farewell party, honestly a little dramatic haha but I wanted to invite you and you friends over. It’s going to be a small one don’t worry.”

“Sure! I’d love to come, I’ll tell my friends too.”

“The last hurrah, you know. Also just so you know,, I genuinely enjoyed getting to know you this year, you were the best person I’ve met this year. I was so happy to have known you this year and I would have totally flunked this class because I might’ve have just ended up sleeping through every lecture haha.”

“Anyways I’ll see you at the party, yeah?” He points at you with that signature smile plastered on his face once again.

“Absolutely.” You smile back.

_________________________________

“I can’t do this anymore! I’ve tried everything like EVERYTHING yet somehow everytime I can’t seem to tell him how I feel.” You cried as you took another shot of soju. Initially, you were alone at the convenience store wanting to buy alone a beer or two to let loose but here you were with almost two empty soju bottles.

“why didn’t a single thing go right..” you bury your face in your hands.

a thought pops into your head and liquid courage pushed you to now film a voicemail on your phone to taerae. now, you were quite wasted and couldn’t see shit but you still pushed yourself.

you drunkenly record yourself professing your love to him, addressing him as you. you laugh to yourself as you finished recording and finally hit the send button.

“maybe this can work ahehe.”

“Y/n?” You hear a young man call out your name. You look up and your vision was too blurry to make out the owner of the voice. it was very familiar and clear to you but you just couldn’t seem to lay a finger on who it could be.

“You!” You stood up from your seat, pointing at the unknown man with your eyes closed. He takes a step back at your sudden move, confused on what to do.

You try to open you eyes, trying to take a look but soon your vision darkens and you pass out. the night going on as a blur.

_________________________________

your eyes flitter open and you feel your head ringing, a painful reminder of what happened last night. you wake up, confused as you look around, the surroundings being all too new.

since when did i have white sheets and a clean ass bedroom?

you slap yourself, trying to figure if it was a dream or not. but it wasn’t.

soon you hear a knock on the door on the far left and taerae enters, carrying a glass of tea and painkillers on a tray.

“oh you’re awake, anyways here take these for your hangover. finish the cup of tea and if your headache feels really unbearable, take a tylenol. anyways how are you feeling?” he hands the tray to you and he sits down by you.

“Honestly woke up with a terrible headache. Is this your place?I’m so sorry..” You ask.

“Yes but don’t worry about it, I saw you pass out last night and I didn’t want to leave you there.” he says and sends a reassuring smile your way. you felt your heart skip a beat for a second.

“anyways stay as long as you need! take care of yourself and rest. if you need water or anything, just call me! okay?” he says as he proceeds to leave the room.

you feel your phone vibrate next to you and you are shocked upon what you see when you receive a notification from park hanbin.

phanbin: let’s talk about this at the dorm party ;)

well, shit.

. Taerae invited the whole friend group (since he was friends with all of you too anyways) and the other dorm mates to come over. He requested it to not be so grand since he wanted it to be a simple farewell.

It was probably the last day you were ever going to see him and it kinda killed you inside knowing not a single attempt of your confessions worked and the words you’ve been trying to relay are going to be left unspoken. Other than that, you had also discovered that you had sent a voicemail to park hanbin, perhaps leading him on. You also couldn’t bear to see taerae after your past encounter. This day, you were definitely more than nervous to come.

You, ricky, sung hanbin and zhanghao decided to go the dorm together. When you arrive, you finally meet the other dormmates taerae had always talked about in his stories.

“Hi! I’m woongki, Nice to meet you. Come in.” The brown haired boy cheerfully greeted the four of you as soon as you guys came in as he lead you guys to sit on the couch. Another taller, black-haired boy goes next to him and introduces himself.

“Hey I’m seowon! Another roommate and woongki’s roommate.”

“I see, it makes so much sense that you’re roommates, you both are very smiley haha.” you say, seeing how cheery and friendly the two are in welcoming the both of you.

In the mean time, you got to chat with woongki and seowon. Park hanbin and taerae were still getting food and drinks.

From talking to them, you were also able to catch some stories and new facts about taerae. To your surprise, they reveal how he actually goes around the dorm wearing horrendous clothing pieces, wearing the same pair of red pants almost every day like it was the only pair of pants he owned. You also then learn about how taerae used to sing a lot in church growing up. His guitar was his pride and often, he would play and sing for them if ever anyone wanted him to. He could just sing on the spot if you asked him to.

The more you heard about him, the more endearing he was to you. It certainly didn’t help with making your feelings go away or having to deal with not seeing him anymore.

“Sorry we took long but we’re here!” Park hanbin and taerae finally arrived, with all their hands full with bags filled with snacks, chicken and beer.

For the night, you guys plan to play a few games then wrap up the night with a movie marathon afterwards.

The first game you guys decided to play was uno. It was fun, a lot of oohs and a lot of cheating with some players hiding specific cards. (yeah it was on junhyeon and ricky). Taerae on the other hand, often when he lost he’d go look over your cards and coach you, and despite taerae being the first one to lose almost all the time, he managed to make you win every time.

It was followed by a game of charades. It was even more chaotic than playing uno.

Then lastly, truth or dare.

The dares were pretty mild like for example, taking their shirt off for the whole game, having to eating a tablespoon of sugar or just doing a specific dance.

And for some reason, nobody chose truth because they were just pretty lame questions like did you ever fail a test? Or did you ever have your first kiss blablabla. the dares were more entertaining.

“Oooh y/n’s the chosen one!” Everyone cheered.

“So, what’s your choice, is it a truth or a dare?”

“I’ll choose truth.”

“Alright, let me think do you like anyone in the room?” Hanbin smirks, he was definitely planning on something.

“Of course I like everyone in the room, what are you implying.” You laugh with a hint of nervousness, trying to play off the question.

“No I mean, do you like like anyone, romantically?” He states, now you were sure park hanbin might have caught on and he defended knows.

“Be honest..”

You stop and take a small gulp as everyone’s eyes were all glued onto you in anticipation.

“Yeah..” you softly say and oohs were throwed. Your friends laugh and try to act all shocked as if they didn’t know you did and who it was.

“Woah really.” Park hanbin brings one of his hands to a mouth as he nods his head, seemingly not so shocked either.

“Who?”

“Come on it’s over it’s supposed to be one question.”

“We need to know!”

“Hanbin stop..they’re obviously not comfortable sharing especially in this setting so just stop.” Taerae sternly says making the whole room go silent.

“Well moving on then! Why don’t we start the movie marathon, yeah?” Everyone stands up from the ground and proceeds to lay on the couch. And chairs laying around.

You look in taerae’s direction and he gives you a small smile.

Buzz. Your phone rang.

You look over and recieve a text from park hanbin, asking you to meet up at his bedroom to discuss something. He looks at you and directs to go up with his eyes.

You roll your eyes but you get up anyways as you go upstairs, hanbin following along.

Taerae notices the two of you sneaking upstairs. He was curious about what you two were up to.

“Aw man there’s no more popcorn.” Junhyeon complains, his voice snapping taerae from his thoughts.

“Okay what now?”

“i know about it.”

“About how you feel.”

“About what?” You furrow one of your eyebrows as hanbin takes a pause, his lips pursed as he looks at the ground.

“I know you like me.” You pause there for a moment, your brain trying to function as for this time you had misled the wrong boy into thinking that you like him.

“Oh uh about it..”

“It’s fine you don’t have to deny it but y/n I’m sorry I don’t like you in that way though but you know maybe I could give you a chance and get to know you more first?” He shyly takes a step closer to you, moving his face closer to yours.

“Uh Hanbin.” You freeze on the spot, not knowing what to do or what to say.

“It’s not- like I don-“

“It’s okay you don’t have to deny it, look I acknowledge your feelin-“ He moves his face closer to yours to look into your eyes.

All of a sudden the door next to the two of you creaks open, revealing taerae standing there with his mouth wide open.

“Sorry to interrupt you guys but uh I just wanted to say I’m going to sleep now since I’m leaving early tomorrow.” Taerae awkwardly smiles and takes his leaves. You panic, assuming he probably overheard most of the conversation which might have misled him to thinking you actually had a crush on park hanbin.

You mentally curse at yourself as you watch taerae turn his back and turn away.

“Now going back..”

You quickly shut the door, take a deep breath and take a hold of hanbin’s shoulders. Well you hd to clear it up, it’s now or never.

“I don’t like you. I don’t have any feelings for you. I am not interested at you.” You look up at him and gave him a straight face. He tilts his head, knitting his eyebrows in confusion.

“Huh?Then why did you send me that voicemail?”

“Man this is so embarrassing.”You look at the ground in shame, not wanting to open the conversation over the embarrassing voicemail.

“I accidentally sent it to you..it was meant for someone else.” You facepalm.

“I was drunk and I wasn’t thinking clearly! It was really stupid of me. I just sent it to you thinking it was..someone else plus I was drunk! I my vision was all blurry too i’m sorry.” You continued, Hanbin lets out an oh as he scratches his head, embarrassed and confused.

“Wait then who was it for?”

“About that..”

“Tell me who? Who is it?” He whines as he playfully pokes your arm, curious as to who the lucky boy may be. You certainly didn’t want to tell the boy knowing he was taerae’s best friend and he might blabber about it to him.

“Secret.”

“Awwww come on….wait..Ha! Nevermind don’t tell me I know.” Hanbin lets out a light laugh, taking a step closer to you.

“Your crush on taerae is so painfully obvious.”he whispered. You freeze on the spot. He takes a step back and continues giggling to himself.

“I mean I could feel it before but I pushed it off because I thought you liked me..but it all makes more sense now. you, see taerae at the cafe everyday, you light up when he talks to you, you always stare at him, can you also not make that obvious? And lastly I can easily sense that the way you act around him is very different from everyone else.”

“Like you are in love with him.” He crosses his arms and he knew he was right.

“Pfft no.”

“Oh yeah you are.”

“But he’s moving away anyways so it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Aw sorry about that..”

“And from what happened earlier..he probably thinks I like you.”

“I’m so sorry about that, you know what, I’ll clear it up to him-“

“No you don’t have to, he’s leaving and I don’t want to cause anything. and it’s my fault really! I was the one who carelessly sent that voicemail, I’m sorry for leading you on too. So anyways, I think I might just go leave now.” You flash hanbin a smile to reassure him before leaving. Hanbin grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’m also sorry about earlier too by the way, y/n. Honestly-“

“Hanbin I’m sorry for cutting you off again but honestly I think I need to go now. I just don’t want taerae to know, and I’m not sure if we’ll keep up when he leaves so I iust hope we stay as friends, so we don’t leave at an awkward note. Anyways thank you and sorry hanbin but I gotta go now.” He loosens his grip on your wrist and pats your shoulder.

“Take care.”

Here you are, in the comfort of hanbin’s care sipping on a glass of iced coffee, staring out the window. Last night, you left the party early and you weren’t able to bid taerae a proper goodbye in person.

you open your phone, and stare at you text messages with taerae, contemplating on whether you wanted to write him a long goodbye message or to simply tell him good luck and take care.

“for how long are you going to stare at your phone.” hanbin gets you from your out-of-zone state.

“hanbin, I don’t know how to say goodbye. honestly I feel miserable. I hate that he’s leaving and I wasn’t even able to tell him how I feel.” you bury your face into yoir hands. hanbin takes the seat next to you and rubs your back. the boy you loved was leaving and he never even got the chance to know how you truly felt.

as if the heavens heard your cries, you felt your phone vibrate and you received a notification of a text message from park hanbin.

phanbin: y/n go run to taerae right now. he’s leaving soon but hey, you deserve to be able to tell him how you feel properly and now may be the perfect time. I also cleared up everything that happened last night lol so dw. anyways do this text me back and go run to him NOWWW!!!!!! he’s still in front of our dorm <3

You look at hanbun and he gives you a reassuring nod as an approval.

“Go now!!!” he yells good luck to you as you proceed to rush out of the cafe, running towards the direction of his dorm. You ran and ran, your feet moving at a full speed like you were at a marathon. a rush of adrenaline filled you and this time, you were motivated than ever to tell him how you truly feel.

you were just one block away from the dorm and soon, you spot a car parked in front of the dorm with a handful of boxes outside. you proceed to go there but you couldn’t see taerae around. you’re not too late, his boxes are here so he’s somewhere.

you take a deep breath first, resting your hands on your knees first from all the running. you forgot that you weren’t an athlete and your lack of exercise was getting right back at you.

you receive another text mess from park hanbin.

park hanbin:I I’m sorry i know you’re probably sprinting right now but he’s at the convenience store so you might have to do a little more running. his dumbass forgot to buy a few things. anyways good luck y/n! you got this.” he sends you a thumbs up emoji.

you run and run again and you curse under your breath, realizing how far the convenience store is. your legs were slowly getting wobbly and you onew your lack of physical activity was bound to get you someday but you hoped it wouldn’t be right now.

you just stop running and start walking instead. as you near the store, you spot the brown-haired young man outside, sitting on a table outside with his back facing you.

you take a deep breath before tapping his shoulder. he turns around and you thank the heavens that there was no plot twist of this being a non-taerae or else you were going to absolutely throw a fit.

“hey taerae! I needed to tell you something before you go and I wanted to give you a proper goodbye in person since I wasn’t able to last night.” you say and the boy stands up, flashing you a grin as he had gimbap in his mouth. he raises his hand and you were a little confused as to what he meant by that.

“should I say what I need to say or wait for you to finish?” he swallows his food down before speaking up.

“ok sorry you can go on now.” he lightly chuckles and you laugh a little.

you take a huge gulp, taking a look at the ground before looking straight at him right in the eye. he eagerly listens, giving you a reassuring look. it’s finally happening.

“taerae I have been dying to tell you this for a long time now honestly and although I don’t think now is the perfect time, I just wanted to get this off my chest before you go cause I know I would regret it if I didn’t tell you sooner.” you take a pause and he gives you another nod, a way of telling you he was still listening.

so here it goes.

“I li-“

you were soon cut off by the sound of the door opening as a man calls out to taerae“taerae hyung! Did you kn- y/n?” you look behind you and you spot junhyeon, holding a full meal of burgers and fries and a cup of come on a tray in his hands.

“junhyeon what the hell are you doing here?”

“I was helping taerae moving out then he went here to buy things then we just decided to eat here.” he says, standing there, a little confused. he quickly scans the situation between you and then it finally hit him.

“ah I believe I interrupted something here, sorry I will just eat inside.”

the boy quickly rushes back inside.

you turn to taerae again. “anyways, sorry for the little commotion there. anyways as I was saying, taerae-junhyeon what the actual fuck sit somewhere else.” junhyeon sat in front of the window directly facing the both of you. you motion to the boy to move the other way and he rolls his eyes before taking a seat somewhere else.

“oh god I hope it’s the last of him. I swear if anything goes wrong again-“

all of the sudden, the rain decides to twist the odds and rain on your parade. you grab taerae’s hand, about to take him inside but he firmly holds onto your hand, telling you to stay.

“taerae it’s raining, you’ll get sick, we have to get in i’ll just tell you inside.”

“no tell me right here, right now. you have been wanting to tell me for a long time and I know you want to say it already.” you felt a hint of seriousness in his tone.

“are you serious?well fine It’s so weird to say it right now but okay..taerae, i..” He nods, the words starting to get hesitant to leave your mouth. you take a deep breath and you finally mustered up the courage.

“taerae I like you. no, actually I’m in love with you. It’s embarrassing but It’s true and I can’t fight it anymore. I loved getting to know you and from the moment i first laid my eyes on you and heard your sweet voice back in that open mic, I fell in love. I was so lucky to be able to get to know you more too. you are the sweetest, kindest and most wonderful person I’ve ever met. It’s okay if you don’t like me back. I just want to say that I love and appreciate every moment I got to spend with you in the past year..it was so lovely to have known you taerae.” unexpectedly he lets out a light laugh, his big signature smile painted on his face. he gently takes both of your hands in his.

“I love you too, y/n. in fact, I’ve always known.” you felt like your ears betrayed you at the last part. what does he mean he always knew?

“back at the clinic, I saw the letter next to you while you slept. it had the words ‘to taerae’ written on it so I just opened it. I read each and every word you wrote and took it to heart. I was so happy to know you felt the same..but when you woke up, you hid the letter and I iust felt that you were still not ready to tell me so I didn’t open a convo about it. hanbin told me about everything and cleared everything up, actually both hanbins did, sung and park haha.” you both laugh.

“well..what now? you’re leaving now so what will be then? we’ll barely see each other now that we’re not in the same uni.”

“actually about that, I’m still in the same uni, I’m only moving dorms..”

“what?” the whole dramatic mood you had turned upside down. you playfully smack taerae’s arm, bursting into tears. he didn’t expect to see you cry but he just laughs and brings you into a hug.

“I forgot to specify to you guys that I was not transferring schools and only dorms and that just made me realize why everyone was dramatic with everything. please don’t cry..”

“that’s really mean taerae, I was actually so upset that you were leaving so I was miserable for nothing.” your bury your face into his chest, pulling him tighter and taerae began to laugh.

he slowly lets go and cups your face, breaking into a smile and you feel the whole world brighten as you look into his eyes again. he stares at your lips and your faces inch closer together.

“may I?” he asks and you nod your head before he gently brings your face closer to his with his finger and his arms snake around your waist. you felt the whole world stop as you melt into his touch. your lips seemingly shaped for one another.

slowly, he pulls away and breaks into a huge smile.

“finally! I’ve been waiting for this one.” you hear junhyeon’s screams from inside the store and you simply roll your eyes back at him, you and taerae laughing over his reaction.

you turn to look back at taerae.

“I really love you and I’m glad you’re finally mine.” you giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his face close enough for you noses to touch.

and finally, the odds were in your favor.

a/n and you reached the end! hope you enjoyed reading it. this has been sitting in my drafts for a month, but missing taerae and the new kcon behind drove me to finish this story! I also have a love-hate relationship with this which is why it took pretty long to write HAIAHSHSB sorry for some mistakes in the capatalization of names and grammar that I may have overlooked. But anyways feel free to leave feedback! I would love to hear your honest thoughts on this :>>>

#zb1 #zerobaseone #zb1 imagines #zb1 angst #zb1 fluff #taerae #kim taerae #taerae fluff #taerae angst #taerae imagines #taerae oneshots #taerae x reader

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mountttmase · 1 year

Text

An Unexpected Visitor

Note - so this is my first fic, just testing the waters to see how it goes 🙈 please don’t hate me if it’s bad

Pairing - Mason Mount x Reader

Word count - 2.6k

Warnings - a little bit of angst, a lotta bit of smut

‘Anything you want to share with the class?’ Your boss joked, catching you with your phone in your hand halfway through a very important meeting. Your face flushed out of embarrassment and also what you’d just seen on your phone.

‘Oh sorry’ you apologised, stuttering as now all eyes were on you. ‘I’m expecting a call from a client I thought it was them’ you lied before putting your phone in your pocket. Thankfully the messages had seemed to of stopped coming through now so you could try and forget what just happened and concentrate on the rest of what was being said.

Fifteen minutes later you were all released and you were the first one out the room, wanting to get back to the safety of your office as soon as possible. You were stopped in your tracks though by your PA Kim, greeting you with a huge smile. She was twice your age so like a mother to you and even in the mood you were in right now you couldn’t take it out on her.

‘Oh y/n, a Mason Mount turned up saying he had an appointment with you? i couldnt see anything in your diary but he assured me it was meant to be going ahead so I told him he could wait in your office’ she told you. Of course he was here and of course he’d managed to charm the pants off her too in order to get into your office but the way you were feeling right you didn’t want to look at him.

‘Thanks Kim, it’s okay I was expecting him’ you smiled, putting on a fake happy expression as not to arouse suspicion and she just nodded at you before returning to her desk.

You could see him as you approached the door through the little window and he was sat in your seat behind your desk, playing with newtons cradle you kept on there for show and you took a deep breath before entering. You faced away from him at first, pulling the shutter against the window closed so no one would be able to see you both and quietly locking the door. When you turned round he was looking at you with his usual cheeky smirk, but you could see from where you were stood that his eyes were dark, letting you know what mood he was in straight away.

‘Are you serious, Mason? Sending me nudes while I’m in a meeting?’

‘Oh, we’re using my full name huh? Wow I must be in trouble’ he laughed, but you were struggling to see the funny side at the moment. He caught on straight away when you didn’t laugh with him but he still kept that cheeky look on his face. ‘Come on baby, it was only a joke’

‘No Mason. You sent five in a bloody row I thought there was something wrong the way you kept messaging, only for me to open them up in a room full of men who barely take me seriously as it is’

‘Well you shouldn’t have left me in bed on my own this morning then when you know I wanted to fuck you’ he shrugged, speaking as if he was talking about the most mundane thing. You knew he was extra horny this morning for no apparent reason so you made sure to dress extra sexy in your right black bodycon dress. It came to your knees but there was a huge slit up the back giving mason a flash of your thighs every time you took a step. This was all in hopes of teasing him a bit, making sure he would be thinking about you all day before you would give him what he wanted when you got home, but you should of known Mason wouldn’t be able to wait.

The fact he was sat there, legs spread wide, hands on his thighs and the stupid grin still on his face made you even more furious. Clearly he was in a teasing mood today, only made more obvious by the way he looked you up and down whilst licking his lips slowly in order to try and seduce you.

If you didn’t know he was turned on by the way he was looking at you, the growing tent in his grey joggers made it even more obvious. A strange choice of his to wear out in public when he was feeling the way he was, or maybe he just wanted to make sure you knew.

‘You have no idea how sexy you are to me right now’ he told you in a low voice and your nostrils flared as you let out a short breath. You had to admit you were a little turned on yourself seeing him like this, but given the inappropriate setting you pushed that to the back of your head.

‘You’re in my seat’ you told him crossing your arms and he raised his eyebrows at you before standing up from behind your desk and making his way over you you. He stopped right in front of you, his hands on your waist and his breath fanning over your face. You refused to touch him back but you couldn’t help looking up into his lust filled eyes.

‘Go on, tell me off again. The way I’m feeling right now you might not even have to touch me to make me cum’ he whispered against your lips. You scoffed, pulling out of his hold and moving to sit in your seat.

‘Why are you here, Mase? What do you want?’ You questioned him as he took up the seat on the other side of your desk. He sat back in the same position he was in before and you briefly glanced down at the bulge in his boxers before you met his eyes again.

‘I think you know what I want’

‘You can’t be serious? I’m at work you idiot’ you scolded him and he winked at you in response. ‘Fuck you’ you breathed, a slight chuckle falling from your lips at his brazenness, before you unlocked your laptop to check your emails

‘That a threat or a promise?’ He enquired but you just ignored him, glancing over your screen before standing up to find a file on the other side of the room.

You heard him get up and follow you over but you made no effort of talk to him or move out the way when he brushed up behind you. The feel of him hard against your bum made your tummy flip but you were determined not to let him get to you. He knew exactly how to push your buttons though and when his lips landed on your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses all over it, you couldn’t help but shut your eyes.

‘You seem tense baby, come on let me help you relax’ he whispered in your ear, his hands on you hips now pulling you tighter against him and it took all your willpower not to react. He could tell you were slowly coming around to his way of thinking though so carried on kissing and sucking all the bits of skin he could reach.

‘We really shouldn’t be doing this’ you whispered, your mind no longer thinking about the file you were looking for.

‘You want me to stop?’ He asked, knowing if you told him to he would. He knew how to push the boundaries sometimes but he also knew when to back off if you really didn’t want it. This could have been one of those times but between the pictures he’s sent you earlier, his lips on your neck and the feeling of him against you sent you into a spin. Your normal morals flying out the window and all you wanted was the feeling of him inside you.

‘No, don’t stop’ you told him, and you felt him smile against your neck before detaching himself from you. He pulled you by your hand to turn you around, finally planting his lips on yours in a slow but heavy kiss.

‘Go bend over you desk for me’ he told you quietly, and you were about to protest but he cut you off with another kiss. ‘You’re lucky I’m not about to fuck you against the window, show everyone how well you take me’ he growled, nodding over to the floor the ceiling window in your office. You were high up enough so no one would be able to see you even he did want to do that, but the words made you shiver in fear. ‘So go bend over your desk. I won’t ask again’

You slowly walked over, clearing a little space but you didn’t bend over for him like he asked. Instead, you pulled your dress up so it bunched up around your hips and sat yourself on the desk with your legs dangling over the edge, trying to take some power back from him.

‘You forget Mason, we’re in my office so I make the rules’ you told him, slowly spreading your legs so he could get a peek at your underwear and his eyes shot down to look there immediately.

He slowly walked towards you, his hands grabbing the sides of your underwear as soon as he could reach, pulling them down your legs before getting down onto his knees, his head between your thighs. ‘Yes ma’am’ he winked and you leaned back with a smirk so he could have better access to your core. He propped your legs on his shoulders his arms reaching round to rest on your hips and he wasted no time before burring his face into you.

You knew you had to be quiet, but you couldn’t help the loud moans that came from you, you never could when he was working away down there. He pulled back after a particularly loud grunt came from you and you looked down at him with furrowed brows.

‘You need to be quiet for me baby’ he muttered ‘if we caught caught then I’m blaming you’ but he gave you no time to reply, ducking back down to repeat his actions from before. You tried your best to stay quiet but were getting closer to the finish line with every stroke of his tongue and he must of known you were close as he pulled off from you just as you were about to cum.

‘What the hell, Mason?’ You moaned but you turned silent when you saw the look in his eyes, staring down at you hungrily and you wished you could of taken the words back.

‘Payback’ he breathed, wiping his mouth with the cuff of his hoodie before pulling you up to stand and facing you away from him. ‘When I tell you to bend over, you bend over. No questions asked’ he told you, pushing on your back to force you over your desk and moving your legs apart slightly. ‘You’re lucky I need to cum myself cause otherwise I would have made you suffer a lot worse’ He told you and within the next second he thrust into you without any warning before wrapping your hair in his hand and pulling you up. You kept yourself balanced by holding you palms flat to the table but he was pounding into you so hard you could feel the table start to move.

‘So worried about what them lot out there think about you, if only they could see you now’ he said quietly and you bit your lip to stop any moans. ‘I bet you’d love to put on a show for them, show them what a good girl you can be?’

You whimpered in response and he fucked into you harder, your arms almost giving up on you but you managed to keep yourself up, even with mason going at you with this relentless pace.

‘You have no fucking idea what you do to me. Seeing you leave every morning in all your tight little outfits, knowing you’re off to boss people about. You’re so fucking sexy and you don’t even try’ he slowed down ever so slightly so he could lift one of your legs up onto the desk, letting him drive deeper into you and you both moaned out in unison over the new feeling.

He knew you were close by the way you fluttered around him so he sped up his actions, pulling you up to him fully so he could whisper in your ear. ‘you gonna cum for me?’ He questioned and you breathed out a quiet yes as he sucked on your skin. ‘Good girl, go on then’ he growled and a few seconds later you came over him, his hand over your mouth to silence your cries but the sound and feel of you bought on his own release. He thrust into you until he was spent, reaching over to the box of tissues you kept on your desk and grabbing a handful before pulling himself from you.

You could feel him trying to clean you up so you didn’t have any stains down your dress and you hissed at the contact.

‘Shit, sorry baby. Two seconds and I’m done yeah’ he told you, moving from behind you to pick your underwear up, handing them back over to you with a sheepish grin. He helped you put them back on, dropping a soft kiss on your lips when you were all sorted and you couldn’t help but smile. He was a pain in the arse but he was yours. ‘You okay?’ His whispered, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you again, rocking you from side to side.

‘Yeah, but next time you come here for a ‘meeting’ Mase, make sure you wear something a bit nicer so it’s more believable. Can’t having you turning up here in a tracksuit and expecting people to believe you’re a client of mine’

‘So I’m allowed back then?’ He smiled, his hands moving further down to pinch your bum and you nuzzled into his neck.

‘Not for a while no’ you scolded him but he just laughed and kissed your cheek. ‘Come on, you better go before people get suspicious. I’ll walk you out’ you said to him and with one final kiss you parted from each other, quietly unlocking your door and walking him over to the main reception. You could feel eyes on you, but from your quick glance around you could see it was just because Mason was in the room, not anyone realising what had taken place behind your office door.

‘Thank you for your time, Miss y/l/n. I’ll be in contact again soon’ he told you, stopping to face you and outstretching his hand for you to shake. You cottoned after a second or two, following his lead and shook his hand whilst giving him a smile.

‘You’re welcome Mr Mount. You’ve got my contact details so please feel free to get in touch if you need anything’

‘Oh I plan to’ he whispered, only loud enough for you to hear, before letting go of your hand and walking out of the building.

‘Was that Mason Mount?’ You heard from behind you, turning to see your boss who’d caught you on your phone earlier walking towards you.

‘Uh yes, the client i mentioned before, that’s him. He just popped by to ask a few questions’ you gulped, hoping he would buy what you were telling him and thankfully for you he did.

‘I’m impressed’ he nodded and you let out a little breath of relief. ‘Productive meeting I take it?’

‘I’d say so, yeah’

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #mason mount smut #mason mount blurb #mason mount fanfic #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #mason mount imagine

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sissylittlefeather · 5 months

Text

This is the Story

Chapter 12: The End

A/N: We've finally reached the end of this beautiful saga. I hope you have all enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I'm not sure I'll be able to fully give them up, so there may be an epilogue coming, but only time will tell.

I'm so thankful for everyone who has helped me along the way with this one, but I'm eternally grateful to my besties @ccab and @elvisfatass for all their love and encouragement. You two mean so much to me.

Need to catch up? Here is my Masterlist.

Warnings: angst, sadness, depression, and then the smutty fun stuff, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, also mentions of pregnancy and periods

Word count: 4.7kish

The depth of their misery is equaled only by their love for each other.

******

By sundown, Grace has packed everything in her car, including a crying Wendy.

"Mama, why do we have to leave Daddy? I like it here." She asks from the back seat, sniffling.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. We just have to go home."

"This is our home." Grace strokes Wendy's hair through the car window.

"I'm sorry, baby." She turns to look back at the house. She hasn't seen Elvis since she finished packing in the bedroom. She wonders if she should find him to say goodbye or if she should let him be. She goes back up to the bedroom one last time to the pile of things she left on the bed. She's left the boots he bought, the book, her necklace with his initials, and a few other things he's given her. She stands there with more tears on her face, looking at the pile. At the last second, she grabs the necklace. She can't leave it. She turns to walk out of the room and finds him there in the doorway.

"Grace, please don't leave."

"You know I don't have a choice."

"I'm not going to stop loving you. My heart is yours. If you ever change your mind, I'll be here."

"Elvis, please." As she goes to walk past him, he grabs her and holds her against him one last time. She melts into him, shoulders quaking as she cries on his chest.

"Honey, don't leave. We can figure this out together." He whispers into her hair. She almost gives in, wanting nothing more than to stay with him. But she can't forget about Wendy. Everything she does is for her and her good.

She pulls away from him and looks into his face.

"Kiss me goodbye."

"No. I refuse to believe this is goodbye." She looks at her feet.

"Then I have to go." She walks past him and down the stairs to the car out front. He leans against the doorframe and shakes as the tears stream down his face. He should've given her that last kiss. He tries to catch her before she leaves. But when he gets downstairs and to the driveway she's already gone.

******

He spends the rest of the day in bed. When the Colonel comes to visit the next day, he drags himself down the stairs.

"You've got a lotta nerve showing up here."

"My boy, I was only trying to protect-"

"You're fired."

"Now, my boy-"

"Get out of my house. And don't come back. You're fired. I don't care what I owe you. I'm done."

"You know it's a lot-"

"I SAID I DON'T CARE. GET OUT. I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN, YOU FUCKING BASTARD." He moves toward the Colonel menacingly.

"Don't do anything you'll regret..." The colonel tries to back away slowly, reaching for the door handle behind him.

"I'll regret my association with you for as long as I live. You've lost me the only woman I've ever truly loved. I suggest you leave before I find a gun."

The Colonel backs through the door, shaking his head, and leaves. Elvis slams the door behind him and sinks to the floor again. Jerry comes to his side.

"Come on, boss." He half carries him back up the stairs to the bedroom, where Elvis lays on the bed.

"Don't bother me until I say so."

"Yes, sir." Jerry watches with a look of concern as he backs out of the room. He's never seen Elvis like this before.

******

Almost two weeks later, Grace is still moping around her apartment. She takes Wendy to school everyday, but that's the extent of her ability to do anything. One day, there's a knock on her door. Her heart leaps. Somewhere inside her, she hopes it's Elvis. When she opens the door, though, she finds Maryann.

"What are you doing here?"

"We haven't heard from you since Christmas. And then I saw this." She tosses a tabloid on the counter. It's a picture of Elvis with a headline about him going back to Vegas early.

"Why aren't you with him?" Grace is lost in thought. The only thing she can see is that he has on her initial necklace in the photo. He's still wearing it. "Grace?"

"We broke up."

"Why?"

"My editor said I had to end things with him or I would be fired."

"And you chose your job? What the hell, Grace?"

"How would I take care of Wendy? If he left me?"

"You really think he would do that?"

"I don't know anymore." Maryann shakes her head. She can see now that her sister is broken by this decision. She decides not to push it any further.

"Well, I'm here. And I'm staying for a while. When was the last time you ate?"

"I don't know. My stomach hasn't been great lately."

"I'm making you some food." She starts to fiddle with pots and pans.

"No chicken. I can't eat chicken." Maryann stops.

"Grace. When was your last period?" Grace turns to her with a look of panic. She hadn't even noticed.

"I'm not sure."

"Because the last time you couldn't eat chicken..."

******

The first of February is Lisa Marie's 6th birthday. Priscilla brings her to Vegas for a party with Elvis and the rest of their friends.

He almost breaks down when Lisa's first question is about Wendy and Grace. Still, he swallows his feelings and slaps on a smile, explaining to her that they won't be there. She's sad, but after she sees the pile of her presents, she cheers up significantly.

He does his best to be happy all day for his baby girl, and he's pretty sure he's doing a decent job, but anyone who knows him can tell something is wrong. Priscilla walks over to Jerry about half way through the party.

"What's wrong with him?"

"With Elvis?"

"Yes. He's not himself."

"Grace left."

"And he's this messed up about it?" Priscilla raises her eyebrows.

"Priscilla, it's been almost a month and he's still broken. I don't know what to do." Jerry shrugs in frustration and Priscilla looks at Elvis across the room with Lisa.

"I'm sure he'll be better soon. He just needs a new girl." Jerry nods, but he's not sure he agrees.

******

By that first week in February, Grace has an appointment with her doctor, but she won't get the test results for another week or so. She's trying to go about her life as usual, but nothing is the way it should be. She misses Elvis every day so much that it hurts. And she still hasn't had a period. It was nice to have Maryann's company for a while, but she couldn't stay too long with the kids at home.

One day, after dropping Wendy off at school, the phone rings.

"Grace, it's Jerry. You have to come to Vegas."

"What? Why?"

"He's dying without you. He plays his shows like he's supposed to, but nothing is helping. When he's not on stage, he's in bed. He won't come to parties or anything. We've tried everything." Her heart sinks. She knew she was miserable, but she assumed he had moved back to his Vegas life and forgotten about her.

"I can't come back, Jerry. I appreciate you calling me, but I can't fix this."

"Please, Grace. He needs you." The last part makes her heart break in two. She didn't think it was possible to hurt any more for him, but she was wrong.

"I can't. I'm sorry. Tell him- nothing. Don't tell him you talked to me. I'm sorry." They hang up and Grace sits on the floor of her apartment weeping. Will this ever hurt any less?

******

In Vegas, the Memphis mafia guys continue doing everything in their power to get Elvis back to some semblance of himself. One night after a show, Jerry takes the initiative and brings a girl to him. She's young, blonde, beautiful, and everything Elvis used to like. He really hopes this will get him out of his funk.

He knocks and Elvis opens the door slowly. He's already in his pajamas and robe, despite the party that rages downstairs in his honor.

"What do you want, Jerry?"

"I brought you some company." He gestures to the girl, who waves nervously.

"Jerry, I'm really not-"

"Will you just try? Look at her. Come on, boss. You're going to have to move on at some point." He nods as though he's defeated and opens the door for her to come in and then shuts it behind her. Jerry says a quick prayer that this will work before he walks away.

Inside the room, Elvis gestures for the girl to sit on the couch.

"What's your name, doll?" He can't call her honey. He just can't.

"I'm Linda. It's nice to meet you." She is very attractive and he knows he should try.

"Why don't you come sit a little closer to me." He pats the couch right next to him and she scoots into his shoulder. He puts his hand on her knee and then looks down into her face. He tries with everything inside him not to think of Grace as he leans in and presses his lips against hers.

Suddenly, he pulls back and stands up. He feels like he might be sick.

"I'm sorry. I can't do this." She looks at him puzzled.

"Am I not-"

"It's not you. I just... I'm in love with someone else." He hangs his head and she stands up. When she puts her hand on his shoulder, the dam breaks. He sits back down on the couch with his head in his hands weeping. The girl looks at him awkwardly and then sits down on the couch too.

"Do you... do you wanna tell me about it?" Before he can stop it the words just start pouring out of him.

"I've never loved anyone the way I love her. She's the love of my life. But she doesn't believe that I'll be faithful. She doesn't trust me. And it's my own goddamn fault." The girl is shocked to see him so broken. He always seems so strong and in control on stage. She never dreamed he would have this depth of emotion.

"It sounds like you need to show her you're serious. Most women just want some security, especially if they've been hurt before." He looks up at her, eyes red and puffy.

"Security?"

"Yeah. She needs to know you mean what you say. Words are great but action is better."

"Action."

"Mhmm." She nods her head, glad that he's finally stopped crying. "How far are you willing to go for her?"

"I want to marry her."

"Then you gotta tell her that."

"What if she says no?"

"That's a risk you're going to have to take if you mean what you're saying." He nods slowly and pats her hand.

"Thank you, Linda. I'm sorry this didn't go how you planned."

"It's okay. I hope it goes well for you." They stand up and he walks her to the door.

On the elevator ride down, she and Jerry are both silent. Jerry can tell by the way Elvis looked that his plan failed. He's wracking his brain for what to do next. And she's still reeling from the conversation she just had with Elvis Presley.

******

Grace sits in the meeting with Frank, praying he can't tell that she's spent most of the morning crying.

"This manuscript is beautiful, Grace."

"Mhmm."

"We're looking at a publication date in the next month." Grace takes a deep breath.

"You can't publish it."

"Grace..."

"You just can't. I'm saying no."

"You know the higher ups won't like that."

"I don't care. Fire me. I'll find a new job."

"Grace."

"I'm done, Frank."

"You really loved him, didn't you?" Grace looks at the ceiling, trying to keep her tears in her eyes. "You still do."

"I can't have my name on this book. Publish it under a different author. I can't do this anymore."

"Well. We're no longer working with his manager. Elvis told us to publish the book only if you want to." Her heart leaps and she looks up at Frank with a flicker of hope.

"What happened to the Colonel?"

"He said he fired him."

"So... you don't have to publish it?"

"Not unless you want us to."

"No. Please don't." Frank looks at her sadly.

"Finish your novel, Grace. I'll keep you on a contract for just that project. Once it's done, that'll be the end of our professional relationship. You're fired." She nods and gathers her things.

******

After the shows in Vegas end, Elvis seems to get a second wind of sorts. He spends his afternoons looking for something around town. Jerry and the rest of the Memphis mafia breathe more easily, hoping this marks the end of his depression over Grace. Maybe he's finally decided to move on and is ready to get back to himself before he leaves for tour in a couple of weeks.

On the third day after he finishes playing shows, he seems to find what he's looking for. He sits by the phone in his suite anxiously fiddling with the small box. He keeps picking up the phone and putting it back down. His stomach flip-flops every other second and his palms are sweating. When he can't sit still any longer he stands up and paces for a bit, always coming back to his seat by the phone.

Finally, when he just can't take it anymore, he picks up the receiver.

"Fuck it." He dials quickly and waits as the phone rings, his heart lodged in his throat.

"Hello?" Even just the sound of her voice comforts him in a way he hasn't felt in months.

******

"Hi Grace." Her heart stops cold. It's him. She's spent the days since she got fired trying to come up with an excuse to go to Vegas, but she just couldn't get up the nerve. And now he's calling her.

"Elvis." She responds breathlessly.

"I want you to come to Vegas."

"When?"

"As soon as you can." She glances at the calendar. Today is the 12th of February. Her doctor appointment to get the test results is tomorrow.

"I can be there on the 14th."

"Valentine's Day. That's perfect." She didn't even think about the fact that it would be Valentine's Day. Perfect for what?

"Don't bring Wendy. I want it to just be us. Can you swing that?"

"I'll call Paulette."

"Okay, well, I-I-I guess I'll see you then." The thought of seeing her again brings out his nervous stutter. "Grace?"

"Yes?" She doesn't know what to say, but she doesn't want to hang up either.

"I miss you, honey." Her heart melts and the tears gather in her eyes.

"I miss you too." There's so much more to say, but neither of them can bring themselves to say it.

******

After he hangs up, Elvis breathes a sigh of relief. She agreed to come to Vegas. He knows this may not mean anything, but for the first time in months, he has some hope. He puts the box in his pocket and sets out to make the arrangements.

******

The next day, Grace sits in her car in the parking lot of her doctor's office crying hysterically.

The test confirmed what she was too terrified to contemplate as a reality.

She's pregnant.

As the tears stream down her face, a million thoughts run around her mind. Just when she thought she had a chance of getting Elvis back, this happens. Surely, he won't want anything to do with her now. And even if he does, it'll only be out of obligation.

She doesn't have a job. It's hard enough trying to support Wendy. How will she raise and care for two children on her own?

Maybe she'll invent a dead husband to explain why she has two children with no man. She shakes her head at that thought.

And what will this do for Elvis's image? What if it gets out that this is his baby? Should she even tell him?

She holds her head in her hands and continues weeping. How will she face him tomorrow?

******

Elvis paces nervously in his suite. She's here in the hotel. He sent Jerry to the airport to pick her up an hour ago with a message to meet him downstairs at 7. He's actually going to take her to a real restaurant for dinner. He no longer cares if anyone sees them together. In fact, he hopes there are pictures in magazines after tonight. Every few minutes, he pats his pocket to make sure the box is still there.

He's dressed in the velvet jacket again, this time with a white silk shirt under it, unbuttoned enough for her to see that he's wearing the initial necklace. A cigarillo hangs from his mouth and he keeps running his hand through his hair, so it's especially fluffy. He's trying to recreate the feeling of New Year's Eve, since it's the last time they were really happy together, but he's not sure he's succeeded.

Finally, he looks at the clock and it's five til. He can head downstairs and not look like he's too desperate. When the elevator opens, he looks around anxiously. He spots her standing uneasily in the lobby. She's looking around for him too, her dark hair pulled into a low bun, purse tucked up under her arm. She has on the black dress she wore for Halloween. His eyes drift slowly over her body as the dress hugs her curves perfectly. He wants to touch her so badly it hurts. When he can't stand it anymore, he walks over to her and resists the urge to wrap his arms around her.

"Hi honey." She turns to face him, obviously nervous too.

"Oh hi!"

"Should we... go?" She nods and he leads her through the lobby to the parking garage where his car is waiting. He wants tonight to be as normal as possible, so he's driving his own car.

They make small talk as he drives the short distance to the restaurant. It's clear that they're not sure how to approach their reunion. Neither wants to be the first one to take the conversation into deeper territory. Yet they're both sitting on secrets that will require a real talk at some point.

At the restaurant, they're seated at a private table in the back. He pulls her chair out for her and softly grazes her shoulder she sits. His touch is electric and they both shiver with the contact.

They eat, talking about everything and nothing. He tells her about firing the Colonel and she tells him about being fired for not publishing the book. At last, they sit there with nothing to distract them and they both know the time has come. He clears his throat, assuming he's the only one with a confession.

"Grace, I asked you to come here for a reason."

"Elvis, wait-"

"No, I need to say this. I love you, Grace. I'm barely half a person without you. I can't live-"

"Elvis, I'm pregnant." His mouth drops open and Grace's mind runs wild. She's pretty sure he's about to backtrack on everything he just said.

"I'm sorry I just blurted it out like that, but I feel like you needed to know before you made some big declaration." He closes his mouth and sits quietly, his heart pounding as he reaches into his pocket. "Anyway, so now you know. I don't expect anything from you. I've had a baby out of wedlock before, I can do it again-"

"No. You won't." He sets the box on the table and opens it. Inside is a 8 carat emerald cut diamond engagement ring. Now it's Grace's turn to be speechless. He slides out of his chair and onto one knee beside her with the ring box in his hand.

"Grace, I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. You are the other half of my soul and I've been searching for you for as long as I can remember. Everything about you is music and poetry and you amaze me every day. You are the only woman I want for the rest of my life. Please let me love you forever. Marry me, Grace Dubois."

"Yes." She whispers it, unable to summon any more words. And besides, that's the only one that really matters. The smile that spreads across his face could light up a million dark rooms and he pulls the ring out of the box and slides it onto her finger. Without another thought, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a deep and passionate kiss. Then, he kisses her cheek and they embrace.

"I love you, Elvis. God, I love you so much." She laughs as the tears slide down her cheeks and he pulls back, cupping her face in his hands.

"Oh, Grace. I'm so excited for this life with you, for our child, for our family. I've never been this happy before."

"Me neither. I'm just so glad you're happy about the baby." He stands up and goes back to his chair, pulling it closer to hers so he can keep hold of her hand.

"Of course, honey. The girls need another sibling. I love that we will have one that is part of both of us." He kisses her hand. Then, he looks around.

"Hey, you know where we are?"

"Vegas?"

"We could get married tonight." His eyes sparkle with excitement and she laughs.

"We could."

"Why not?"

"I honestly can't think of a single damn reason."

They laugh together and head out of the restaurant hand in hand.

******

Elvis and Grace make it to a chapel before the paparazzi find them, but the way out is crowded with cameras. Elvis doesn't care. He holds up her hand to show off the ring and tells anyone who'll listen that he's happily married. Grace is shy at first, but his energy is contagious and before long, she's the perfect picture of a blushing bride. They kiss one last time for the cameras before he helps her into the car and they drive away, laughing and waving.

******

Back at the International, they maintain decorum only as far as the elevator. Once the doors begin to close, they turn and wrap around each other passionately, mouths pressed together with tongues dancing wildly. He slides his hands back to her ass and rolls his hips into her. She moans into his mouth and he kisses down her neck to her cleavage, running his tongue along the edge of her dress.

When the doors finally open, they tumble out of the elevator together to the door of his suite. He presses her body against the door with his own and she nibbles on his earlobe as he fiddles with the key. They roll into the room together, kicking off shoes and shedding clothing left and right. By the time they make it to the bedroom, they're both naked.

He lays her gently on the bed and kisses down her body to her stomach. He kisses just below her bellybutton and looks up at her softly. She knows he's thinking about the baby that's settled there for the moment. But he quickly switches gears and moves down lower on her body. He kisses the inside of each thigh before he presses his mouth to her center and she moans loudly, arching her back. He moves his tongue in circles over and around her most sensitive spot. He was always skilled, but in the time they've been together he's learned her body and knows exactly how to make her crazy. He slides first one finger and then two inside her and begins to move them against her as she squirms. He continues to move his tongue in a way that causes her to cry out his name. He knows exactly what she wants and he gives it to her until the waves of ecstatic pleasure wash over her again and again and she runs her fingers through his hair. He kisses back up her body and lines his cock up with her entrance. When he pushes into her slowly, they groan together at the sensation of him sliding into her tight pussy. She takes all of him easily, almost as though she was made for him to fill her up. He fucks into her, kissing her shoulder and neck and cheek.

"God, honey, I missed you so much. You feel so good." He says, his voice a husky whisper. She moans into his mouth as he pounds his hips against hers.

"I love you so much. Don't stop. Don't ever stop."

"Honey, that ring on your finger is a promise that I won't." He leans in and kisses her deeply, all the while filling her rhythmically with his cock.

She pushes him onto his back and settles between his legs. He loves it when she takes control like this. He never dreamed he would, but there's something about the way their love is a give and take that drives him wild.

Holding the base of him in one hand, she sinks her mouth down onto him, rolling his foreskin back so that the sensitive head hits the back of her throat.

"Oh, fuck, honey." He moans loudly and throws his head back. She continues to work, running her tongue up the bottom of his shaft and licking small circles around him. She's learned his body too and it's obvious by how she makes him come undone.

When he's approaching the edge, she stops and pulls back. He whimpers and aligns her hips with his desperately. He's so close to his release and it's been so long that he feels like he might burst. She slips him into her slowly and then lets him drive into her from underneath. He holds her tight to his chest with both arms while he fucks her, grabbing the back of her hair and pulling her in for deep kisses.

Before too long, he slams into her one last time, filling her with warmth as he shudders and pulses inside her. Neither of them expected her to tumble over the edge with him, but she does, the heat from her orgasm exploding from her center, muffling her hearing and coursing through her like wildfire. They lay there together panting and sweating for a moment. Then, she pulls off of him and settles in the crook of his arm, her fingers making circles in his chest hair. He's the first one to speak.

"I think I can handle doing that forever."

"You better! Not much choice now." They laugh and he rolls over to face her, bringing her fingers to his lips, suddenly serious.

"I know we said vows at the chapel, but I'm making another one to you now. I promise to always love you like this, even when it's hard. I promise to always try."

Her eyes glisten and she holds her hand to his cheek.

"I promise to trust you and believe in you with my whole heart. I love you, Elvis Presley. Always."

They settle in to sleep, finally secure in knowing there's no end to the nights they'll spend wrapped up in each other.

******

The first stop on his tour is Tulsa, so Paulette brings Wendy and they head to Grace's mom's house. The welcome they receive is warm and chaotic and their joy is undeniable. At first, Ruth is disappointed that they didn't have a big wedding, but the news of a new grandchild distracts her.

After several hours of family time, Elvis and Grace head to the hotel where they stayed for Thanksgiving, leaving Wendy to stay with her grandma again.

When they get to the door of their room, he stops her.

"Wait, I wanna carry you over the threshold." He scoops her into his arms.

"This is not our home, though?" She looks at him puzzled.

"Honey, my home is wherever you are." He kicks the door open and carries her inside, never looking back.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The End

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @ashtag6887 @aliypop @your-nanas-house @dkayfixates @everythingelvispresley @xanatenshi @returntopresley @p0lksaladannie @deniseinmn @jaqueline19997 @that-hotdog @18lkpeters @joshuntildawn13 @rjmartin11 @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis #elvis presley fic #elvis fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis presley x oc #grace dubois #this is the story #Spotify

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liknws · 8 months

Text

[ 001 ] it's all felix's fault.

⎯⎯ PAIRING: han jisung x reader/oc ⎯⎯ TAGS: rockstar!3racha plus jeongin, non!idol au, lovers to exes to enemies, one tour bus instead of one bed trope, subtweeting but in songs dropped during concerts, right person wrong time, whole lotta angst, lots of anger, mutual pining ⎯⎯ RATING: 18+, mature ⎯⎯ WARNINGS: none this chapter! let me know if i missed any ⎯⎯ WORD COUNT: 3k (3,683)

⎯⎯ SUMMARY: it’s been three years since the break up, three years since leaving the band you helped start, three years since you’ve even talked about your ex. not only have you been able to avoid talking about him, but you’ve been able to avoid him all together. until that same band you helped start decides to change labels and not a single person warned you that your safe place was about to be invaded by three men you’d do anything to avoid.

[ masterlist ]

“It’s not like we’re going to see them all the time.” The words are a mimic of Felix from months ago. Admittedly, he was trying his best to cheer you up and offer some sort of reassurance that just because 3RACHA was joining Shadow Side Records, doesn’t mean that Jisung and the others were going to immediately be forced into your life again.

“This is all your fault.” Seungmin speaks up from the back of the room, zipping up his suitcase for the fifth time. Minho had absolutely insisted on double checking what he’d packed- according to Minho the youngest in the band had a habit of packing no socks but overpacks on shirts. The argument that followed had brought a smile to your face for the first time in days.

“It’s not Felix’s fault. He didn’t use his magic powers to force us to tour with 3RACHA,” Lily interjects. She’s quick to come to his defense, reaching out to hold his hand. “Don’t worry Lixie, no one really blames you.” The softness in which Lily handles them all makes you melt every time and you’re grabbing his other hand. Putting it on your heart, you smile at him fondly.

“I promise, Lix. I’m not mad at you at all. The universe is just a cruel bitch sometimes.” Your reassurance does the trick it seems, the smile that brightens his face and makes the freckles on his skin contrast beautifully against the light flush in his cheeks. “You’re precious and I could never ever be mad at my Sunshine.”

“Instagram Live coming through!” Hyunjin shouts through the door, giving all of you less than a few seconds to scramble to make sure nothing incriminating or spoiler–wise is laying around the room before he’s walking in backwards with the camera pointing at himself. You and Felix are the first one’s in the frame and light up.

“Hi Hues!”Felix greets the viewers with a wave. He was the one to come up with the fan base’s name and you had found it too cute to argue. You and Hyunjin were quick to adopt the name but Minho had taken some convincing. Seungmin had only caved thanks to the peer pressure of the rest of the band. You’re sure he secretly loves it though.

The comments in the video scroll past so quickly that you’re unable to keep up. Hyunjin had taken to livestreaming as often as he could with fans, even if it was just small check-ins and quick conversations. It’s done well for the fanbase, you realize, having them feel more engaged with the band members. You’re almost always in the streams with him, even if you just sit and annoy him while he tries to talk to the fans.

“Who’s ready for the tour? Everyone got their show tickets?” You poke over Hyunjin’s shoulder with a grin, arm looped across his back to cuddle into him. A wave to the camera, you’re laughing at the influx of excitement you can see in the chatters. “We can’t wait to see you guys out there with us.” The excitement of the fans only elevates your own until you’ve forgotten the whole reason for this tour in the first place. For the Hues you could do anything, you would do anything for them. Without them you wouldn’t be given any of the opportunities you had and their continual support is what lets you do what you love everyday.

“Sorry guys, we have to go. Time to hit the road in a bit and I should save Cherry from Lino before he’s stuffed into his own suitcase.” Hyunjin makes a quick sign off before doing just as he said, running to Seungmin’s aid to shield him from an annoyed Minho. You catch the word underwear and immediately decide it’s not something to concern yourself with.

・❥・

Okay, so there is one thing you can’t do for Hues. “I cannot share one bus with them.” Hands slam on the table top, those closest to you flinching a little at the sound of palms slapping as you stand up. You point to the four on the other side of the table. “I agreed to the tour but I refuse to share a space with them.” Eyes cut to your old band, people you once called friends, maybe even family. “Sorry, Jeongin was it? I’m sure you’re lovely and all.” He gives you a sad smile and wow you almost feel bad for lumping him in with the other three. None of it was his fault at all, you didn’t even know him. “But our,” you gesture to your band. “Last two albums went platinum and you’re saying we can’t afford a separate bus?”

“It’s just a few months. It’s not like we’re telling you to move house together.” Lily’s ever patient nature was wearing thin and you could tell by the slight narrowing of her eyes. You’re pushing it by arguing this and there wasn’t a way around it. “The label just agrees that one bus is best right now between the equipment being transported in the other vehicles and the cost of rental and paying a driver plus full time security for the road and any flights.” She puts up a hand to stop your continual arguing, shaking her head. “Trust me, I tried. I really did okay. They’re set on this. Unless you want to sleep with the drums in the truck, you’ll just have to deal. The bright side is that when we stop at hotels they are spending the money on suites for each band so you’ll have that to look forward to.”

“Fine. I’m getting the back room and not the bunks.” Your agreement makes her smile but your declaration of the only bedroom has a few people around the table jumping in to argue. “With Lily! Her and I are the only non-men on the bus and we get the only bedroom with a real door and if you want to argue about it, argue with the fucking wall.” You drop into your seat with a huff, arms crossed as you glare at anyone that might look like they want to argue the point but it’s hard to when the logic is there. The rest of the bus will be full of men, you and Lily deserve at least a little privacy from them.

“With that out of the way- On to the rest of the details. The trucks are being loaded right now. We have all the gear you guys went over with the crew, wardrobe will be at the venues but you’re mostly in charge of whatever you want to wear. You should have all been fitted for your new earpieces.” She looks down at the paper in front of her and checks off things as she goes over them. “So I will be the general tour manager as well as the personal manager for Ultra Violet. Until we can get a manager settled for you guys long term, just come to me for anything you’ll need okay?” She glances between Jeongin, Chan, Changbin, and finally settles on Jisung for a little bit too long before moving on. “Are there any pre-performance or show rituals I should prepare for? Or let the venues know of it?”

“Jisung gets really nervous and needs a group hug right before going on.” You speak up without even realizing it, like an old habit coming back. Nine pairs of eyes turn to stare at you in varying degrees of surprise and confusion. “Unless that’s changed.”

“N-no. I, yeah, I still do that.” He stumbles over his words a bit, blinking in surprise still before looking at Lily with an apologetic smile. “But we have that handled, don’t worry about that.”

“No, it’s okay. If you need anything just let me know. It’s my job, it’s what I’m here for. Anything else?”

“We have a war cry or chant we do.” Chan speaks up, taking the lead of the conversation while Changbin and Jisung huddle back together, sharing whispers. You don’t miss the glances your way from the pair but you pretend not to notice or care, instead just watching Lily and Chan talk about what 3RACHA would need for this tour. Smaller details like diet requirements, allergines, and other arrangements before the checklist is complete.

“Well we have about an hour before we have to hit the road so just be at the busses in the next forty five minutes, okay?” She dismisses you guys and you’re the first to stand and bolt from the room, leaving your conference room chair spinning in the haste of your exit.

・❥・

“Want to talk about that earlier?” Felix lays next to you, arms wrapped around your waist as he cuddles you closer on the bed. It’s been a few hours on the road already, the quiet of the bus is tense and uncomfortable. Your band is mostly unwilling to mingle with the other four just out of solidarity to you, even though you can tell it’s painful for Felix to not be welcoming to the others. Hyunjin too, he’s looked over at the four more than a few times wanting to join in their games.

“I’ve known him since we were in high school, Lix. Some things just stick around, you know? Like his favorite snack is cheesecake, he laughs with his whole soul, and when he’s super anxious he bounces his leg.”

“Those are very specific things to know.” The new voice speaks up, sticking his head in the door of your room. Minho smiles teasingly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “You two aren’t as quiet as you think. We can hear you in the bunks, just so you know. The walls are very thin on this bus.”

Mortified, your face flushes deep red before you’re hiding in Felix’s chest with a groan. Minho laughs and sits on the edge of the bed, hand rubbing on your back as he continues to giggle. “Shut up, Min. I’ve managed to make a fool of myself twice already. This is fucking stupid.”

“I don’t think the others heard you. They’re in the front swapping embarrassing stage stories. I heard something about ripped pants and left.” Both you and Felix erupt in laughs over this, his body shaking yours while he holds you. “Seungmin was roasting Changbin about some voice crack on stage and that’s how it started.” There’s a bit of pride in your chest at that.

“Lily just texted and wanted to talk about dinner plans.” He holds a hand out to you both and hauls you off the bed with a dramatic grunt. The back of your hand meets his chest in a playful hit while laughing. You’re thankful for his steady presence, he’s been there for you since you two had met. His love was a bit different than Hyunjin and Felix but you knew it was there nonetheless. Seungmin, you still questioned every once in a while.

“Thanks for joining us. Changbin was starting to whine about being hungry.” Hyunjin is sitting next to the mentioned man on one of the couches, turning to look at you when the three stepped into the small living room space at the front of the bus. You glance around and notice the only empty seat is next to Chan or Jisung so instead you drop to sit on the floor, back leaning against one of the half walls sectioning off the kitchen.

“Do you guys have any first night traditions for tour?” Hyunjin asks excitedly, leaning forward a little to glance around at 3RACHA. You open your mouth but close it quickly, realizing that it’s not for you to answer and lots of things have likely changed in the three years since you were on tour with them.

“We budget for a huge dinner with the whole crew, any opener that might be with us. Everyone that worked to get the tour started and make it happen.” Chan offers in answer, making her head snap up and eyes go wide. You hadn’t expected that answer at all- you’d been the one to start that. Your first ever tour with 3RACHA years ago, back when the music was still considered underground or indie, when the tour was the four of you in a van and two or three friends in another van with all the instruments.

“Really? We do that too.” Felix is all smiles and sunshine, happy to hear that they have the same tradition. Three sets of once familiar eyes look in your direction, one of them coming with an inquisitive eyebrow raise before looking back to Felix. “They were so insistent on it, saying that the label could take the cost out of their personal earnings but it was their way of thanking everyone they could that supports them behind the curtain.”

“It’s cool to hear that you kept up with that,” Jisung says. He smiles at you, that disarming smile that makes his already round cheeks puffier and you just want to pinch them off his face. You can barely meet his eye and give him the stiffest of nods before looking pointedly anywhere but at him.

“What about getting a few pizzas and we all hang out together? If we’re going to be in a bus together for months without much space, we might want to get to know each other and set up some rules.” Minho is quick to offer, cutting the awkward silence before it could settle over everyone. You’re thankful, shooting him a smile and he just gives you a wink. He can read you like a book, often calls you so easy to read it’s like a picture book.

・❥・

“I’m so serious, Jinnie! If I see one more pair of your underwear on the bathroom floor I will choke you with it.” You’re leaned over, on your knees reaching for him to prove your threat. After getting all the pizzas everyone wanted, you had all agreed to sit on the floor so that everyone could sit to see everyone else. There are elbows and knees invading personal spaces but once the tension was broken with the first joke it all seemed okay for the most part.

“Hues will be devastated to hear the most handsome member died!” He dramatically protests, laughing as he falls backwards to get away from your reach.

You pause, suddenly serious. “I didn’t threaten Minho.” The devious smirk curls up your lips gives away the teasing as you settle back in between Felix and Jeongin, smug at the incredulous look on Hyunjin’s face. Everyone broke into laughter then, the sound loud and full of warmth in the small space.

Lily returns from the driver’s cab of the bus, smiling at all the laughter. “I know everyone’s having fun but there is one serious rule we should go over. Normally this is a private conversation between talents and their managers but since I’m both we’re just going to do it here and rip off the bandaid.”

A few of you groan and fall back, making various half-assed arguments about how she didn’t need to speak it outloud. “We’re all adults and the label understands that things happen. Still, the executives wanted me to make it clear that there can’t be dating or sex between you guys while on tour. Given the,” she hesitates before sighing. “Given the history of the bands, they think it’s best that things are kept strictly platonic.”

You tense at the mention and the laughter dies in your chest. Suddenly the tears in the corners of your eyes aren’t from laughter and they burn more than they did a second ago.

“What you decided to do outside of that, is your decision. Please use discretion and for security it’s not to be brought to the bus. As you know each venue we’re playing more than one night so you’ll have a hotel suite in every city to do what you want, that’s a conversation between you and your bandmates.” Without waiting for a reply, Lily heads back to the driver’s cab of the bus and closes the door so the two bands are left alone. Work mode Lily is a person made of no nonsense but also the most level headed and trustworthy as well. She’ll joke and laugh with you guys through the tour but she won’t let being friends get in the way of her doing her job. You respect the hell out of her for that.

“So that means no trying to kiss Chan, Hyunjin,” Seungmin breaks the silence in the best way he knows how: roasting his best friends. Hyunjin sits up and throws what you assume is a pepperoni at him, shouting about how he absolutely does not want to kiss Chan of all people. “Well don’t kiss me either.” Cue more laughter, though it feels a little empty in your chest. Forced.

Clearly you’re not the only one who thinks so, Felix looking over at you with concern. You shrug, answering his unvoiced question. Looking away from him you finally let your gaze wander to Jisung who seems to have had the same idea. You two catch eyes and you swear your traitorous heart beats a little faster looking into his eyes. He looks like he wants to say something, so you just shake your head ever so slightly to dissuade him to do so.

“I’m going to head to bed.” You want to make a quick exit, get out from under his stare as fast as possible. You can feel it, each time you two meet eyes, the cracks in your heart threatening to grow. You had barely put yourself together the first time, you were still healing from it. To know that he can have you weak kneed with a look and have your heart racing with a smile shakes you, throwing you off kilter. You just needed to sleep, to put space between you two and remind yourself why you left three years ago.

“Actually that’s a great idea. I think we should all go to bed, there’s a lot of work to do in the morning when we get to the first stadium.” Chan is the natural leader, always has been. You remember when it was him directing around your ragtag team and now he seems even more mature.

By the time everyone has settled in their bunks, you in your bedroom, the bus is quiet. The only sounds are the hums of the road, the small fans set in the bunks, and the soft whispers of different conversations. It’s comforting to hear the familiar sounds, to be back on the road doing exactly what you always dreamed of.

There’s a soft knock at your door and you assume it’s Lily checking that you’re still up so she can come get ready for bed herself. “I’m up.” You sit up in bed, flicking on the small lap next to you as Jisung walks through the door slowly. He’s barefaced with glasses on, looking just the right amount of comfortable and beautiful.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“About what?” You're pulling your legs up, gesturing at the foot of the bed if he wants to sit. He declines with a shake of his head.

“I assume that your friends know everything about us-” You cut him off with an affirmation, stating that they do in fact know every detail of you and Jisung’s history. “That explains why Minho looks like he wants to kill me.”

“That’s just his face.” The quip is so natural you don’t realize you’re being comfortable with him until he laughs. “What did you want to talk about? Please, I want to get some sleep before tomorrow.”

“Just- thanks. Thanks for giving us a chance.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking down as he talks.

“Let me be very clear here, Ji. I am not giving you any kind of chance. This tour is good for my band’s career, this situation has nothing to do with you or Chan or Changbin.” You’re trying not to raise your voice. “I was perfectly happy to never have you around again, to never have to speak your name or see you ever again. When I left and closed that door, it was meant to stay shut forever. You hurt me, in ways that I am still healing from and probably will be for the rest of my life. You broke my heart and my trust.”

“I’m so sorry. I never- I didn’t mean to. I promised you I would never hurt you and I still did. I hate myself all the time, every day, for what I did. You deserved so much better than what I did.”

“I do, you’re right. I don’t care about your apology. This isn’t anger, Jisung. This is indifference. You no longer matter in my life. You, 3RACHA, all of it is the past. I’ve moved on.” You don’t realize how raised your voice has become until a few bodies are shoving their way into the bedroom. Hyunjin is immediately at your side, Felix crawling in on the other side of the bed. The two sandwich you in a hug and you relax.

“Come on, Ji. Leave them alone.” Changbin is soft, reaching for his friend’s arm to guide him from the room. He catches your eyes and you know that he sees it, that every word you just said is a lie. You will never be able to stop loving Jisung. You will never move on from the love of your life. The one you were meant to spend forever with. Sealed with a ring and a kiss and your best friends as the only witnesses.

“Angel, why did you lie?” Felix brushes your cheeks, wiping at the tears you hadn’t realized were spilling over your lashes.

“Because if he stops looking at me like he still loves me, then maybe I can convince myself I don’t love him too.”

taglist!

@borahae-reads @shoverse @katsukis1wife @hanjis-blog @kpopsstuffs @chaotic-world-of-the-j @justletmehavethenamemarsomfg @ylixbok @eternitywaveshello @pearbunny @pinkskzs

#jisung x y/n #han jisung x y/n #jisung x reader #han jisung x reader #jisung x you #han jisung x you #han jisung angst #jisung angst #jisung fic #skz fanfic #skz x reader #skz x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz writing #skz imagine #skz x you

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avirxy · 1 month

Text

Mary crawls along the edge of the pickup truck, back pressed against the dirt stained tire. She picked this party specifically, it’s wild and erratic, with plenty of people.

To her right she can see Darci and Jim, moving in the shadows, but it’s her job to sink the hook.

She peers through the cab window hesitantly to gauge, he’s sitting on the outskirts of the bonfire, swirling his plastic cup like he’s contemplating everything all at once.

He’s alone, all alone and most party goers are inside the house this late, the throbbing bass loudly proving that.

Mary figured it’s as good as time as any, rounding the truck.

“Hey,”

He looks up.

“Will you help me get this cooler in the truck?”

She motions at one of the sidelong ones set by the beer pong tables. It’s probably empty, but he won’t get the chance to pick it up.

“Oh, I mean yeah,” He sets his cup down in the dirt and rises, wiping his hands on his jeans.

It’s a shame he’s nice, Mary bites the inside of her cheek.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” He comments, squinting at her confused.

Just a few more steps, he’ll be close enough, the branches overhead shudder.

“I’m sorry.” Mary apologizes just as a heavy, stone hand knocks against the back of his head, the guy instantly crumples. Jim slings him over his shoulder carefully.

“Let’s go,” Darci whispers.

They have what they need, why linger?

His troll form casts large, wispy shadows along the trees. Mary knows he’s not the one they need to fear though.

Toby’s waiting on the porch of the old farmhouse they’ve taken refuge in, arms folded over his chest, it’s easier to do this out of town, keeps things quiet.

“You got one?”

“What’s it look like?” Mary snarks in return, trying to fight off the creeping sense of bile climbing up her throat.

It’s cold, and dark, and creepy inside the abandoned house but none of those things really bother her anymore.

Darci’s hand wraps around her arm, squeezing it for support. The guy’s started to wake up after their trek through the woods, shifting in Jim’s iron grip.

“You can put him down,” Mary jerks her thumb at the door, “there’s no way he could outrun all of us.”

Jim does just that, gentle compared to his menacing appearance.

“Well..let’s just do it,”

Toby opens the basement door slowly, tediously slow in Mary’s opinion. An awful, chilling feeling rushes up the stairs, like a draft, but so, so much worse.

He turns back, swallowing tightly.

“It’s your turn,”

The ritual they performed was supposed to be a joke. It’d been a stupid game, to call upon the Eldritch Queen, as they’d sat corralled in a circle on Darci’s living room floor.

It’d messed them all up in different ways, but what was in the basement was by far the worst punishment. It’s not her friend..it can’t be. But why are they still doing this then? Jim is forthright with the clinging fact, he’s not giving up.

She almost feels bad for the guy, as she hauls him up on his feet, he’s trembling like a leaf in her grasp, pulse racing through his skin.

“I—I don’t know what this is, but I..I didn’t do anything, I don’t have much cash—you can have my wallet.”

“Breathe slowly,” Mary advises, even though she knows it won’t do him any good, “show no signs of fear.”

Fear only makes her play with her prey, the rush of the hunt.

Mary shoves him down the rickety stairs roughly with no warning, watching him roll and collapse as he hits the bottom, she was hoping it’d knock him unconscious, that’d be a lesser way.

Darci’s already turned her head away, unable to bare witness, Toby has too, hand still shakily grasping the door handle.

Jim wears a mix of horrified and sympathetic, hands clenched at his sides. He’s still watching though.

Mary can’t find it in herself to look away anymore, she feels compelled to watch, to see what her stupid, foolish suggestion that night so long ago had wrought.

As he rises to his knees, clawing at the ground, clearly disoriented, his hazel eyes snap up to meet hers, these noiseless shapes above.

“Please,” The guy begins to beg, his foot hitting the first step loosely and that’s as far as he gets. A ghoulish, blackened hand tearing his gravity out from under him.

His body slams back into the cement, ripping the air from his lungs, unable to make a sound at first.

She never goes for them, not even after it’s over, maybe that’s why Mary naively hangs onto the sliver of a possibility, the barest, gut churning amount.

That her friend is still in there, somewhere, deep down.

Even after she closes the basement door, locks it tight and the screams begin in earnest.

#trollhunters #tales of arcadia #toa #jim lake jr #toby domzalski #darci scott #mary wang #asks #au #nothing like sacrificing people for your friend

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dixonlvr-online · 2 years

Text

A shoulder to cry on

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence, of Negan era events. This is the Hilltop reunion after Daryl escaped the Saviors.

Genre: A lotta angst, a little fluff

A/N: I cried writing this, lol. Inspired by that one Felix/Will scene in TWD: World Beyond.

It was time to fight.

Weeks ago, you had borne witness to the horror of Glenn and Abraham’s murders by Negan, the leader of the Saviors. At the same time, you had watched your husband, Daryl, be pulled away from you into their clutches. No amount of tears, or screams, or pleads had brought him safely back to you, so as soon as Rick gave the word, you were prepared to turn to your final option: war.

With the thought of Daryl’s torture fueling you forward, you marched on to Hilltop with the rest of your group. It was time to bring the communities together, to end the Saviors once and for all. To get your loved one back.

The gates of Hilltop opened to reveal Maggie, smiling and holding her arms out to greet you all. Rick fell into her arms first, the two hugging for a while, before she turned to you. You could see the relieved tears in her eyes as she smiled, pulling you into her. You held on tight, grateful to see your friend alive and well after so many weeks away.

She pulled back, placing a hand on your arm. You watched as she turned her head to the side, gesturing for you to look at something. You turned to see what, and-

Your heart stopped. You could’ve sworn for just a second, your heart stopped beating. Because there he was: Daryl, standing there looking at you.

Tears were streaming down your face before you even made it into his arms. You held onto him for dear life, his arms wrapped equally as tight around you. Your knees trembled, threatening to give out, but you held on. You heard him sniffle and lifted his face to look at him. Like you, he had tears streaming down his face, but he seemed too focused on studying you to give into the full weight of his emotions.

You studied him, too. Taking in every feature as if you’d never seen them before. Every line, every scar, was familiar to you, something you’d seen thousands of times, but now they had a new light. Now, after weeks apart, not knowing if he was dead or alive, every inch of him glowed with a beauty that had you crying all over again.

He was here. He was safe. He was back in your arms.

Neither of you spoke. You just kept looking at each other. It was only when you felt a presence behind you that you pulled apart, letting Rick and the others share a greeting with him as well. You knew how much he meant to all of them, how much they meant to them, but you wanted him back in your arms as soon as possible.

The group was a collective of crying messes, everyone hugging everyone over and over again. The relief was flooding in, the grief settling.

You found Daryl again, placing a hand on his arm to keep him close. He seemed to feel the same way, gluing himself to your hip. The two of you smiled and nodded along with the others, hearing Rick explain why you were all there, without really listening. You two still hadn’t spoken a word to each other, hadn’t needed to, but the proximity was starting to grow intoxicating.

You both followed the group up to the big house, hand in hand. Once inside, Daryl pulled you away from the group, quietly relocating you to what you assumed was the room he’d been staying in. If the others noticed, they didn’t mind.

He closed the door behind you, letting the silence fall. You felt yourself choking up again, but managed to contain it. You wanted this to be a joyful reunion, a happy homecoming, not a blubbering mess. Daryl met your eyes.

“Hi,” he said. You felt your bottom lip tremble.

“Hi,” you responded, voice shaking. Daryl pulled you to him, hands holding your hips in place. You rested your hands on his arms, keeping him tight against you.

“...Hi,” he stuttered again, causing you to gently laugh.

“You said that already,” you remarked. He smiled, a small curve.

“I guess I did,” he said. You leaned in, watching his curved lips, burning the memory into your brain. He placed a gentle hand on your hand to pull you in, closing the gap, meeting your mouth with his.

It was a sweet, longing, careful kiss. Like you were afraid to break each other by pushing too hard. He pulled back, revealing the teary glistening in his eyes. His body was shaking against you, trying so hard to hold it in, but he couldn’t. The dam burst, and Daryl was choking on sobs.

You pulled his head down onto your shoulder, letting him cry. He collapsed into you, finally letting the pain, the sorrow, the grief he’d felt these past weeks come to the surface. You held him close, letting him lean on you, letting him get everything out.

You didn’t say anything. It was enough that you were here, together, holding the one person you loved most in this world. And swearing to never let him go again.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead #twd #norman reedus

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dameronology · 2 years

Note

enemies to lovers with billy 😈

Did you mean: the best prompt?

no but fr fr i feel like this prompt is low key perfect for him because billy hargrove has a lotta enemies but probably not many lovers (like lovers in the sense of...love??) so let's examine that huh

warnings: angst, canon-typical mentions of domestic abuse & language

getting in billy hargrove's bad books is not hard. literally all it takes is looking at him wrong or bumping him into by accident and he's >:(

tbf by default he's kind of mean to everyone. we'll call it a defense mechanism

but to be his actual enemy?? that takes a bit more

you would have to hurt him in some kinda way. probably one where you meet for the first time and instantly he's taken aback by the way he feels about you - like it's warm and fuzzy and different to when he's met other people he's into - but straight away you tell him to fuck off because you know who he is and what he's like

and honestly it's quite funny because the tension between you is so DAMN obvious

it's not even bad tension. it's just the way you both give each other this intense eye contact and throw creative insults without even trying

"nice toupee, hargrove" etc

one night, you're all hanging out with your mutual friends - there's weed and alcohol and board games - and before you know it, you and billy are the last two left in your living room

you refuse to let him drive home and whilst you're bickering about how his ability to drive when he's sober is bad enough, it's like something snaps and suddenly his lips are on yours

so you starting shacking up in secret, basically

he has a few minor bruises that you see in passing but hell, you're too distracted to ask and it's not like billy would ever answer

you don't actually begin to see the depth behind his personality until one day at the pool; billy's in a BAD mood - even by his standards - and he makes a backhanded comment to you in passing that's just a little too far

so you follow him to the staff area, about to asking him what the fuck his problem is, and you walk in on him taking off his shirt

everyone (especially the milfs) had noted that he was wearing one today, which was out of character

you see bruises all over his chest and shoulders. deep, purplish-red bruises that are clearly fresh and littered with cuts. not deep ones, but that's not the point

it's a vulnerable moment for him; it's also the first time since you met that his ice cold eyes don't hold that usual spark. they're dull and unforgiving, and he doesn't say a word when you make eye contact in the middle as you're stood behind him

"oh my god," you murmur, "what the fuck did your dad do?"

you don't push any further. you don't need to.

billy is quiet as you clean up his cuts. there's not a single world said until after, when you - completely unprompted - promise not to tell a soul what you saw

he didn't expect to feel safe with you, but that connection he'd wanted to push for since the day you met was finally being forged and billy wasn't about to let that go

so he calls you the next day and, in his own words tells you everything

"i have to put up a front," he explains

"i gotta be a tough guy for my dad so i might as well be one for everyone, right? then no one suspects a thing. it fucked me off when my hard-ass pushed you away the first time we met but i had no idea what to say to you without actually explaining everything"

to be honest, it was probably the fact you promised not to tell anyone about what you'd witnessed that made him trust you. because after everything - him being a dick mostly, but specifically and especially on that day - you still showed yourself to have integrity

and it's not until you say "billy, i respect you more for being a human with emotions rather than a hard ass all the time" that he softens up a little

and now with established depth to your hook up situation, he jumps the gun and asks if you want to pursue something more serious

it's an easy decision: he's difficult as fuck so rest assured, the thrill of the chase will be there but this time, you have someone you can reside in and with whom you can find a mutual safe space

the transition isn't instant; there's a learning curve for both of you. billy has to learn when to open up and you have to teach yourself patience and not to force him

you learn together, though

#asks #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove reader insert #billy hargrove headcanons #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove smut #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine

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millersdjarin · 1 year

Text

Some Invisible String

Chapter V: One Single Thread of Gold

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (afab)

Rating: E (18+ only!)

Summary: Ten years after Reader left Joel for reasons he still doesn’t know, they find themselves together again in a town called Jackson. Joel has questions he’s too afraid to ask; and Reader dreads having to give the answers.

Chapter length: 4.2k

Warnings/Tags: injury recovery, light angst, SMUT, crying during sex (but in a happy way), happy ending, unprotected p in v

Chapter Four (Previous) | Series Masterlist | Fic Masterlist

notes: final chapter! thank u for reading, i hope you enjoy ❤️

ps since tlou has new fans from the show (YAY!), just a heads up that this is post TLOU part 1 and following the details of game canon vs tv show canon, so spores for example. so, spoilers ahead for the story ❤️

“See? Told you she wouldn’t believe us.”

“I do,” I find myself saying, blinking at Ellie and Joel in their kitchen like each of them has just grown a second head. “I do believe you. I just…holy shit. You can breathe in spores, and everything?”

“Yup.”

I stare at Ellie with wide-eyes. Her sleeve is rolled up, revealing her bite. I never thought I’d see a healed bite from an infected. “Jesus,” I breathe out. I reach down for her arm, then ask, “Can I?”

Ellie nods and lifts it up to meet me, letting her forearm sit in my hand. I run my finger over the scar, feeling its raised bumps and wrinkles, completely dumfounded by the fact that this is an actual infected bite but it’s not red and angry, threatening to turn its victim at any minute; it’s been there for a year and a half. It’s healed, just as if it was from a dog, or something. Except it is absolutely, without question, the kind of bite that should’ve rendered her a clicker by now.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I let her arm go. “I assume you don’t tell anyone about this?”

Rolling her sleeve back down, Ellie shakes her head. “No. We agreed it’s safer that way. Only a few people know.”

Something warm spreads in my chest. “I’m honoured to be one of them,” I give her a smile, hoping it comes across as genuine as I mean it to. “My lips are sealed. It’s pretty amazing, though, right? Did you get bitten when you were with Joel?”

“I…no. No, it was before that. We actually met because we…”

Gently, Joel continues for her, “We were going to the Fireflies. They thought she was the key to finding a cure, but…it didn’t work out.”

The vaguest hint of a frown works its way onto my face. I study Joel where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, delicious arms folded over his chest, his jaw working away. I’ve never been able to describe what it is about him that I pick up on when he’s lying. All I know is that I know a lie from Joel when I hear one.

He looks at me like he knows that. Like he’s saying Not now.

“Damn,” I say to Ellie, then offer her a smile again, “you got a badass scar, though. Not that you can show anyone it, but still.”

She laughs a little. “I guess so.”

“So you came all the way from Boston to Wyoming together? How the hell did you manage that?”

“A whole lotta luck,” Joel says with a wry smile.

“And teamwork,” Ellie adds.

I laugh. “I’m impressed.”

“You survived on your own, too,” Ellie says. “That’s also pretty badass.”

“It’s very badass,” I agree, but resist a shudder at the bad memories from the last decade that instantly pour into my mind.

“We should get you sitting down,” Joel says, gesturing to my leg. It is starting to throb; we’ve been standing here talking about all this for a while.

I nod and start hobbling to the living room. Joel puts his arm around me to help, and to be honest I probably don’t need it, but I will take any opportunity I can get to be close to him. Our kiss from this morning is still fresh on my skin like it only just ended. I can feel his lips, his breath, his hands; a perfect ghost of him all over me.

“Ellie, why don’t you go get the horses ready, then we’ll head out for a ride? I just gotta talk to Tyler over here before we go.”

My heart leaps in my chest.

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Who the fuck is Tyler?”

Joel gives me a smirk.

“That’s what he used to call me,” I explain with a nostalgic smile, remembering the first time he called me it. “I’m from Tyler in Texas. When we first met, all we knew about each other was we were both from Texas.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” Ellie laughs. She points her thumb towards the back door and says, “I’ll go get ready to ride. Do you wanna come with us?”

“I should probably get some rest,” I reply. “But thanks.”

Then, when Ellie is gone and out of earshot, I turn to Joel where he stands by the living room window. He’s got one thumb hooked over his belt, the light from the window shining around him, making him into a lovely silhouette. I’d ask him to come closer, to kiss me, to even just hold my hand, but I have a question first.

“So,” I say, leaning back against the sofa, “why’d you lie back there? About the cure?”

Heavily, he sighs. Steps over to me, sits down, rubs his hands over his face.

Then, he tells me.

“And…she doesn’t know,” I clarify after the whole story is out there in the open. Like a mist in the room, lingering, waiting for my reaction.

“She doesn’t know.”

I exhale. His hand is sitting on his knee now, his other running over his beard with his elbow propped on the arm of the couch.

I’m not surprised he did that for Ellie. Rushing through an entire army of Fireflies to save her life. I’m not surprised in the slightest, and I also know why he kept it a secret.

What I am, though, is so fucking in love with him that it hurts my chest; and this only makes it stronger. I reach out and take the hand on his leg, threading our fingers together.

“Do you feel that you did the right thing?” I ask, looking at his side profile.

“There ain’t a doubt in my mind,” he answers without hesitation, then turns to look at me. “I’d do it a thousand times for her.”

A smile tugs at my lips as my chest blooms with affection. I squeeze his hand, trying to come up with words that don’t just sound cheesy, that don’t sound like I’m making fun of him. “Who knew you were so soft?” I ask. Which, okay, is partially teasing. But not entirely.

He chuckles. The smile on his face is so precious to me, and I think I’ve seen it more in the past week I’ve been here than I ever did in our five years together back then. He just looks so light. Still weighed down by the weight of this world, of course, and not without his own grief or fears; but, God, he smiles like he means it. Like he’s not afraid to anymore. Like the fear of the smile ruining everything has lifted from him.

Naturally, I can’t get enough of it.

“I think you did,” he answers my question, sincere.

“Hm, I think the Joel I fell for was a little rougher around the edges,” I smirk, fully teasing now as he turns his body towards me and leans over me, brushing his hand over my cheek.

His eyes locked onto mine, he rasps, “I can still be rough around the edges. If you want me to be.”

With my hand on the back of his neck, I lean in and kiss him. Because he’s so fucking handsome, he’s here, he’s Joel.

There are still thoughts in my head that keep trying to push through; thoughts of doubt, of worry, of fear. I don’t know where this is going, where I’m going, or what I should assume about either of those things.

But with his lips moving against mine, I force the thoughts away, because I’ve waited so long for this feeling and I’m not about to ruin it as soon as it’s started.

“I gotta go,” he says against my lips, rueful. He lifts up his thumb and smoothes it over my bottom lip. “We’ll pick this up later?” He asks, hopefully flicking his eyes between both of mine.

I nod, biting my lip. “Please.”

When Joel gets back, he makes us dinner.

The three of us sit around the dining table in the living room, a candle in the middle of the table, flickering along with the fireplace across the room. It’s been two decades since I had a home-cooked meal like this; sitting at a table, inside a house, safe and warm. With people I know and trust.

Ellie and I talk about movies and music, teasing Joel for his taste in both. We talk until it’s late and Ellie is yawning while Joel tells her that maybe she should get some sleep. She protests, claiming she’s ‘not even tired’, to which Joel responds, “I’ve heard that before.”

But after a while, she gives in to the tiredness so obviously weighing at her, and stands up from the table. “Alright. I’ll see you guys in the morning. Thanks for dinner, Joel.”

“Night, Ellie,” Joel says, watching her as she walks towards the living room. “Sleep well.”

“Night,” I say with a smile. Ellie gives us both a wave, lifting her arm up high without turning back, and then she’s up the stairs and gone.

I look at Joel, and warmth settles in my chest. The light in here is warm, mostly coming from the dim lights in the living room now, along with the candlelight flickering over Joel’s face. It casts highlights and shadows and I want to reach out and touch them with my fingers, with my mouth.

Reaching across to him, I run my fingertips over his knuckles, and he smiles, twisting his hand so he can take hold of mine and squeeze.

“You want some wine?” He asks into the comfortable quiet.

“Love some,” I reply. “Can’t remember the last time I had any. Decent stuff, at least.”

He pours a deep, red wine into two glasses, and when he comes back to the table, he doesn’t sit back on his seat. Instead, he pulls away a chair and turns to me, perching on the edge of the table, his legs at the same level as my shoulders. Then he holds up his glass for me to tap mine against.

I do. “What are we toasting to?” I ask, looking up at him from under my eyelashes, drinking in more than just the wine; his heat, his hard thighs so close to my face, the way he’s looking down at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. Like we’re not living in the end of the world. Like we’re just on a regular date at his house, drinking wine after sunset.

“Think we got a lot to toast to,” he says after taking a sip. With his spare hand, he reaches out, and brushes some pieces of hair back from my face. “This, right here, for one.”

Smiling, I lean into his touch, closing my eyes. My lips press into his palm before he lays it on my cheek. “Agreed.”

His lips spread into a small, contented smile. I put my spare hand on his waist, then slide it around so it’s pressed against his back. We just drink our wine like that, sitting with a hand on each other, existing in one of the only quiet moments we’ve ever had together. It’s just us, right now. It could be that nothing else exists. Just us. Just him, leaning against the table, gazing down at me like I’m something precious he can’t take his eyes off of.

When I’ve finished the last of my wine, I put my glass down on the table, and make use of my newly freed hand to rub it up his thigh. He sighs, swallowing the last of his.

“You wanna go to bed?” I ask, letting my voice run soft and sultry.

“I’d love to,” he says, “just one thing first.”

“Hm?” I hum, pressing my forehead into his thigh, right against the denim of his jeans. His hand slides back into my hair, gently playing with it. I can feel heat rising in my belly, a need to be closer to him just thrumming through my veins.

“Don’t tell Ellie, but I’ve been working on a little somethin’ for her. The shed out back, Tommy and I have made it into her own space just for her. I thought she’d appreciate having a place to call her own.”

I look up at him and smile. “She’ll love that.”

Joel nods. He stares at me for a minute, pondering. “And…since we’re talkin’ about living arrangements…”

Dread shoots through my stomach, piercing through any of that rising arousal that his touch had ignited.

He doesn’t want me to stay.

That has to be it, right? He’s been thinking about it, too, ever since I got here. I don’t blame him; how can he ever trust me again? How can we ever—

“I was wonderin’ if you wanted to move in.”

Oh.

Well, that brought my racing thoughts to a shuddering halt.

He seems to take my silence as apprehension, because suddenly he’s nervous, trying to explain himself, “Only if you want. I know it’s…I know a lot has changed, especially today, and I really was going to offer for you to live here before we…you know.”

I swallow down the lump of emotion that has made itself at home in my throat. I’m just staring up at him, wide-eyed, probably looking like I’m on the edge of tears.

He wants me to stay.

Fucking fuck, he doesn’t just want me to stay in town; he wants me to stay with him.

“You…” I stammer. “You want me to…”

He holds up a hand like he’s trying to calm a situation, one that actually doesn’t need calming, but the look on my face probably suggests otherwise— “Now I know it’s sudden, and if you want to ask Maria for your own place, she’s already suggested some…or…unless you don’t want to stay here at all?” Doubt creeps into his features, a jolt of anxiety I so rarely see.

“No!” I manage to squeak out, tightening my grip on his jeans. It doesn’t seem to clear anything up for him; he just frowns. “I mean, no, I…I don’t want to leave,” I say, finding that I mean it. Why wouldn’t I mean it? Why the fuck would I ever want to leave this place? And now that I have Joel…

Fuck, I have Joel.

There are no words. None that are good enough, big enough, to express the overwhelming feelings that are bubbling up inside me.

Instead of talking, I stand up, lean into him, and kiss him.

He makes a pleasantly surprised noise, his hand staying on the back of my head as he lets my lips press to his, my hand going to mirror his. I open my mouth, feel him sigh when he opens his too, moving our lips together slowly but passionately. Desperately. Because it’s the only way I can think to tell him how I really feel.

Maybe in another life, I’d have said it’s too soon. That we’re rushing into things.

But we live in a world where one of us could die any day. And after everything, after all this time, I don’t want to waste any more time.

If he’ll have me—I’ll have him.

“So is that a yes?” He pulls away for a second and gives a nervous little chuckle. His thumb strokes at my cheekbone, his eyes looking down into mine, glowing in the candlelight.

I nod. “Yes, it’s a yes,” I say. The heat is back in my belly again, feeling his knee pressed up between my legs, his face so close to mine and breath blowing against my mouth. “Yes, it’s a fucking yes, Joel. God, I—” I kiss him again, because I can’t not. “I can’t believe this.”

He laughs into my mouth and kisses me quiet, bringing up his other hand to cradle the other side of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair again like they did this morning. I sigh, unable to resist, and melt at his touch. At his mouth. At him.

“Joel,” I say, breathless, “Joel, will you please take me to bed?”

He laughs again, a breathy chuckle that brushes into my mouth before trailing down my neck along with his lips, pressing closed-mouthed kisses all along my jaw. “Can you make it up the stairs?”

“For this, yes.”

When he pulls back, he’s grinning, showing his teeth and the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. I dive in and kiss at each line, each mark of his life, everything he’s been through, all his laughs and tears and shouts and smiles—

“Joel,” I find myself whimpering against the corner of his mouth.

His hands, steady on my waist, squeeze me. “You alright?”

Tears are stinging in my eyes and nose. I try to swallow them back, press my nose into his neck. “Take me to bed,” I beg again, this time in just a breathy whisper, “Please.”

His hands are precious and gentle on the back of my head again, cradling me in his warm palms, his fingertips threaded into my hair. I’m sitting on the end of his bed and he’s bending down to kiss me, my head craning up to meet him as best I can. I’d strain to reach him forever if that’s what it took. If the only reprieve from the stretch was his hand on the back of my neck. It would be enough.

He pulls away from my lips for a second and breathes against me. “Goddamn,” he curses.

I stroke his forearms, running my fingers through the hairs there. “Yeah,” I breathe, “yeah.”

“You know how long I’ve wanted this?” He asks.

I didn’t used to. I thought he’d never want this. Want me.

But now…

I nod, and pull him down further, wanting to be closer, closer, closer. “I think I do.”

Carefully he backs me up along the bed, crawling on top of me as I shuffle up towards the pillows. I try to kiss him as we move but it ends up too clumsy and my leg kind of hurts as I’m crawling backwards, and he chuckles at my efforts, settling above me once I’m lying down.

The backs of his fingers trace down my face. He gazes down at me, his eyes glittering in the warm, dim light of his bedroom. I want to dive in, devour him, let him devour me, feel him as close as possible because I’ve wanted it for so fucking long—

But he’s so soft above me, so comforting and familiar and new all at once, and I could just as easily just stare at him like this forever, the look in his eyes, gazing like I’m something he wants. Something he needs.

“Do I have something on my face?” I tease, just a little shakily, not sure what else to say. “You’re staring.”

He shakes his head once. “Sorry. Can’t help it.”

I smile up at him, press my hand to his cheek. “Me, neither.” My other hand moves around to the back of his neck, and I dip it down below the collar of his shirt, feeling at the heat of his back, pushing it down as far as it’ll go. He stifles a moan, letting his eyes flutter closed. “Joel,” I whisper against him, pressing our foreheads together, “how many times do I have to ask you to fuck me?”

His breath hitches, catching in his throat. “You technically haven’t asked me that at all yet, darlin’,” he replies after a beat.

“Well, then, I’m asking you now,” I pull away to meet his eyes again. Lightly, I curl the hand that’s under his shirt, running my fingertips over the small of his back, digging them in just a little. “Please, Joel. Take me. I’m yours. I’m—”

He dives in before I can say anything else, opening his mouth against mine and kissing me with a new, fevered urgency. He holds himself up above me with his palms on either side of my head, and at the feeling of his tongue brushing against mine, my hips instinctively buck up to try and find some friction.

Without moving his mouth from mine, he shifts his legs, gently using his knee to push mine apart and then settling it there between them. Slowly, as he kisses me so quickly and passionately that I only just register what he’s doing, he slides his knee up and presses it against my centre.

It feels fucking incredible. I’m throbbing already, pulsing for him, desperate for more friction. Another instinct, to grind down against his thigh, pushing myself further against him as he kisses me like his life depends on it.

One of his hands moves a little so his fingertips are brushing over my temple, pushing bits of hair away from my face. I let the hand on his cheek slide back into his hair, taking a handful of it and pulling, revelling in the choked moan he lets out against my mouth. The vibration of his voice is intoxicating, and I wonder, not for the first time, how it’d feel against the place that his knee is currently pushed against.

My hand on his back scrapes again, digging my nails in probably a little too hard, but he doesn’t complain; his lips break away from mine with a loud smack, and I’m about to protest, about to pull him back in when they start to messily trail down my jaw in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. I gasp, my mouth falling open. His mouth is so warm, so wet, I can hear him breathing through it with his nose right up at my ear, can feel the heat of his thigh where it’s pressed against me—

“Joel,” I gasp out as his mouth settles at the pulse point on my neck. He starts to suck, and I can feel just enough of his teeth that I know it’s going to make a mark, the suction pulling sparks of pleasure from my neck all down my body.

He hums in approval as I put my other hand on his waist, above his shirt this time, but starting to ruck it up, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans.

“Joel, please…”

“Mm?” He trails his lips, open and hot, back up to the underside of my jaw, and waits there. “What do you need, darlin’?”

“I need…”

Pulling himself away from me, he takes a careful hold of my hands, withdrawing them from both under and over his shirt. He takes them, entwines our fingers, then presses them down against the pillow on either side of my head. “I’ll give you whatever you want,” he promises in a low, husky voice that I have literally dreamed of hearing say that for God knows how long—“just tell me what you need, darlin’, and I’ll do it.”

My mouth suddenly dry, I swallow, gasping for air even without his lips on me. He licks his own, glancing down at my mouth, hungry. “I already told you,” I say, breathless and squeezing his hands, “I need you to fuck me.”

One side of his lovely lips quirk up into a smile. He leans down, kisses me, this time soft and close-mouthed. Then he presses our foreheads together again, and his breath is hot and fast against my face. I want to lean up into him, kiss him again, feel the burn of his beard against my skin, let it mark me up. But before I can, he whispers, “I’ve wanted to hear you say that for too damn long.”

Then his hands are leaving mine, and he leans back, pulling far enough away that I can feel the loss of his body heat. He sits against my thigh, one of his still pressed just not quite hard enough to my middle, and I’m just about to pull him back down again when he takes his hands and starts to unbutton my shirt.

Oh, fuck.

The way he does it so carefully, calloused fingers working expertly on each one, just slow enough that it drives me insane. He watches his fingers, hunger growing in his eyes, licking his lips with every inch of my skin that he exposes.

Then, when all of the buttons are undone, he first meets my eyes for a quick moment with a grin, then takes hold of each side of my open shirt and flings them aside, revealing my bare stomach and bra.

“Oh, darlin��,” he exhales, gazing at that part of me like it’s the most incredible thing he’s ever seen. All I can do is lie there, watching him watch me, feeling as his hands press against my navel, slowly sliding up my ribs, to the curve of my breasts, back down again. “You’re so beautiful.”

Sudden, unexpected emotion bubbles up in my throat.

I never thought any of this would happen. Hell, I thought I was going to die not two weeks ago.

When I left Joel, I thought I’d never see him again. And I thought that, even if I did, he’d not want anything to do with me.

And yet here we are, and he’s not just here, he’s mine, touching me with such care and desire and lust and I, God, I can’t put into words how it feels to have him like this—

“Hey,” his soft voice breaks me from my tumbling thoughts. His eyes leave my torso, and I swear to God I feel the lack of their heat. He meets my gaze instead, a soft frown of concern creasing his forehead. “You alright?”

Frantic, I nod. I need him to know that I’ve never been better. I have literally never, in my life, felt like this. I reach up for him, taking hold of his face and bringing it down to mine, not quite pressing our foreheads together. “Joel,” I whisper. He lifts one of his hands from my stomach, brushes the backs of his fingers down my face. “I’ve literally never been happier.”

He smiles. A beautiful little tilt of his lips that has me feeling just as much heat between my thighs as I do with his touch—

Speaking of, I grind down on him again, and my eyes flutter closed at the sensation. I need more. I need more, but he’s still hovering over me, concerned, and I realise that he’s not just brushing his fingers over my cheeks to touch me, he’s brushing away tears.

Tears.

I’m fucking crying. We’re supposed to be having sex, and I’m fucking crying.

Humiliated, I feel my cheeks flush bright red and immediately rush to wipe away the tears. “Sorry,” I croak out, finding more tears in my throat ready to fall, “God, I’m—I’m sorry, I’m fine, I promise…”

He keeps stroking my face. For a moment he watches me, and I can see in his eyes that he’s not judging me. He still looks a little bit worried, but as he looks between each of my eyes, he asks, soft, “Are you sure?”

And I nod in an instant. “I really am,” God, I can’t believe I’m crying. I’m still crying. “It’s just…” The weight of the last decade—fuck, the last two decades, who are we kidding—feels like it’s weighing me down and lifting all at once, suddenly washing over me in a wave that I can’t find my way up from and I don’t know if I want to.

Joel nods like he understands. Leaning down, he kisses away the newest tears on my cheeks. “It’s a lot,” he says, gentle. “I know. After everything.” The hand that isn’t on my cheek moves from my ribcage, instead taking a hold of my hand again, and putting it on the pillow by my head like before. “I’m here, darlin’. Alright? I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Feeling just a little pathetic, I sniff. “I’m alright,” I promise him. My hand finds purchase on the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

He gazes down at me for another long moment, his free hand stroking at my hair. I close my eyes into the touch, focus on him, his breathing, his body over mine, protecting me. Keeping me there, because it’s the only place I want to be.

“I just love you,” I find myself whispering with my eyes still closed. At the confession, a small shot of dread shoots through my stomach in an instant, and at first, I can’t quite bring myself to look at him. But as the silence stretches on, I have to.

I open one eye first. A part of me expected him to get up and leave.

But I don’t know why. Because instead, he’s just staring down at me, a new softness on his features that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. His lips quirk into a small smile. His eyes are glistening, disbelieving. “I love you,” he breathes out. I feel the words on my skin, sinking into my bones.

Relieved, I close my eyes again. Then I feel him kiss me, soft.

“I love you,” he says again. “I always have. I always will.”

Feeling a fresh wave of tears threaten to fall, I nod and press my nose into his cheek, grasping on to the back of his head like it’s a lifeline. It kind of is. “Can you please be inside me before I embarrass myself by crying again?” I whisper into his ear, not totally unaware of the fact that I sound even more like I’m crying now. Which, I’m not. I don’t want to cry anymore. I’ve cried enough.

His chuckle is breathy and warm against the shell of my ear. “‘Course I can,” he gently nips at my earlobe, then in one smooth movement, he pushes his knee right up against my still very clothed pussy and I let out a cry. Pleasure shoots through me, and the tears subside to make way for a gasp that pulls out of my lips.

It all happens very quickly, and yet very slowly, after that.

One minute, we’re both still clothed and kissing slowly and softly. The next, I’m tugging off his shirt, he’s unhooking my bra, putting his head between my breasts and kissing the centre of my ribcage with an open mouth. I undo his belt clumsily, push his jeans down to his ankles. He kicks them off and climbs back on top of me as soon as he can, helping me out of my own jeans. It takes a bit of working around my bandage, a distant pain still throbbing away over it.

He looks up at me and raises his eyebrows. “You tell me if this starts hurting,” he says, not a suggestion.

I nod. “I will.”

He wastes no time getting back to my lips, one of his hands travelling all-too slowly down my body towards my centre. I ruck my hips up into his touch, and soon his fingers are pressing against my bare skin, right above my clit where I need him.

“Joel,” I say, “touch me. Please.”

He obliges without a word, sliding the tips of his two fingers down through my folds and towards my entrance, gathering wetness. I hear the slick of it, feel it, and he takes it up to my clit before pressing there in earnest.

“You tell me if it don’t feel good,” he murmurs against my lips. “Need this to be good for you.”

Desperate, I nod, clutching his head with both of my hands as I press my hips up into his delicious touch, the circles he’s making around my clit.

His fingers are inside me, then, thumb pressing against the precious bundle of nerves that he seems intent on pushing on.

“God, Joel, that’s just—that’s just right,” I gasp.

He smiles against my mouth and keeps going, slowly pumping two fingers in and out of me, stretching them apart a few times to get me ready. The sheer anticipation of having his cock inside me is enough to have me pulsing, getting wetter and wetter by the minute.

He readies his cock, holding it against my entrance. Looking into my eyes, he smiles, and presses the tenderest of kisses to my lips. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you…” the words fade off into a breathless whisper as he slides inside me, past my folds and right to my core, so hot and warm and wide and, God, fuck, it was so worth the wait—

I cling to him, scratch my nails down his bare back. As he starts to thrust, slow but not hesitant, he attaches his mouth to my shoulder and sucks. With one hand stroking my hair, he brings the other back to my clit, working it in time with his thrusts.

“Jesus…God, you feel so good…” he grunts against my neck.

“Joel,” I plead, “please…harder, faster…I need you…”

My words pull the loveliest of moans from his throat and it’s like he melts beneath them, beneath my breath and my hands, pushing himself further inside me so the head of his cock is reaching as high as it can go, gently pushing against my cervix. Before he starts going any faster, he pauses, panting in my ear, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Joel, I can take it…”

“Your leg…”

“I’ll tell you if it hurts. Joel, please…”

He lets out a shuddering breath.

Then, he does just what I ask him to do.

It’s not painful. But it is a lot.

His dick hits the highest point inside me he can get to, and it’s so sensitive, it feels like he’s fucking up into my belly button, thrusting so hard that it meets resistance at the top of each curve of him inside me—

His finger gets harder against my clit, too. And, fucking hell, if it wasn’t intense before, it’s fucking overwhelming now.

Not-quite-painful pleasure sparks through from deep inside me to every inch of my body.

“Darlin’,” he gasps, opening his mouth against my neck in pleasure, as his pants get more frantic and his thrusts more erratic. It feels so good, and I’m just pinned underneath him, my left knee pressed into his hip, the other leg still flat on the bed.

His thrusts are jolting me, and there’s definitely pain coming from my wound, but it’s absolutely nothing compared to the feeling of him inside me, fucking me into the mattress as I feel the sweat on his skin—“Darlin’, you feel so good, wrapped around me like this…wanted you for so long, so fuckin’ long, thought about this so many times with my hand on me—” he keeps spilling words, filthy words, into the place where my neck meets my shoulder, and I lap it all up. His voice is like sweet, husky syrup to my ears and I hold him there with his words buzzing into my skin, letting them carry me away to a place where it’s just the two of us, just his cock sliding in and out, fucking me just like I always dreamed of it, his finger still rubbing earnest circles over my clit—

It comes over me suddenly, builds up unexpectedly. “Joel! Joel, I’m gonna…”

He kisses the shell of my ear, all hot breath and wet spit, “Do it, baby, come on my cock…come for me, darlin’, I gotcha…”

And I do. Pleasure rises and rises and rises and then drops, a strangled cry finding its way out of my throat before Joel presses his hand over my mouth to swallow the sound. He moans along with me, and when he lifts his head from my neck, the look on his face keeps me riding my orgasm for just that little bit longer. Totally relaxed in pleasure, his eyes fluttering as they struggle to stay open, his mouth hanging open with spit glistening on his lips. He comes, then, inside of me, and it spills down my thighs with each push back in and out.

I stroke the back of his head as the aftershocks from my high milk his pleasure out for as long as they can. I can feel the release of his muscles, the last of his orgasm fading and leaving him flushed and hot and lovely inside me.

I pant against his cheek. He breathes against mine, fast, taking deep breaths. He’s still inside me. I don’t want him to ever not be.

So when he goes to pull out, I twist my leg at his hip so my foot presses into the base of his back, anchoring him there. “Stay,” I say, pleading, “please. Just for a minute.”

Wordless, he nods, and leaves precious little kisses all across my face and neck. Peppers them down my chest as far as he can go with the way I’ve got him pinned in place. I could keep him here forever. Inside me, on top of me, all around me. His hair is wet with sweat, beads of it dripping down from the back of his neck and onto my breasts.

Jesus.

“Joel,” I whisper. It feels like I’m only ever going to be able to say his name again. “That was…Jesus, Joel, that was good.”

Breathy, he chuckles. “Better than good,” he says. Then he pulls away, and I feel the cold nip of the air start to tickle against my skin, the wetness between my thighs getting cooler. Goosebumps raise on my skin, and Joel notices. “Sorry, darlin’, I’m gonna have to pull out now. Get us cleaned up a bit and warm.” He sounds genuinely sorry, stroking my face as if in consolation.

I sigh, but I know he’s right. Nodding, I give him one last, long kiss on his mouth. “Hurry back,” I say when he climbs off of me and heads into the bathroom.

Hearing the gentle slosh of water, I close my eyes, and feel the cool sheets beneath my skin. There’s a mess between my thighs, dripping down onto the sheet. We should probably have put a towel down. But.

I am about to tell Joel as much when he comes back in with a warm, wet washcloth, but then realise he’s brought a towel with him, too. Too little, too late.

“We made a bit of a mess,” I say, letting my head loll towards him on the pillow. He chuckles in the quiet dimness of the room, the low light flickering over his bare skin.

“Nothin’ we can’t clear up,” he replies, settling between my legs again. Carefully, he wipes at my skin with the washcloth, clearing away my own wetness and his release. I sigh, enjoying the warmth, the way he rubs absently at my knee with his spare hand. He cleans himself up next, then tosses the washcloth across the room.

“Scooch,” he says gently, pushing at my hip. “I’ll put a towel down.”

“Joel, I think you’re about a half hour too late with that,” I smirk, but do as he asks so he can lay the towel over the mattress, spreading it as far as he can.

“We can clean the sheets properly in the morning,” he announces, the grabs the comforter from the floor—I don’t even remember when it got there—and carefully brings it up over my body.

I sigh into the cool fabric and feel the mattress dip beneath Joel’s weight. He crawls into bed beside me, and soon his arms are pulling me against his chest.

I settle with my head over his ribcage, my leg hooked over his as he lies on his back. The covers are pulled right up to my neck, and I take a moment to pull the corner over the top of Joel’s chest, only just avoiding my face.

“Joel,” I say, quiet.

“Hm?” He murmurs as his hand absently rubs circles into my shoulder. His eyes are closed, his other hand propped under his head. When I look up at him, he looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him, blissed-out and content. It’s such a beautiful sight that I debate resisting the tiredness in my body and just staying up to watch him like this.

I lift my hand, take hold of his cheek. Turn him to face me, then lean in and kiss him. “I’ve always loved you,” I whisper against his mouth. “I need you to know that.”

His eyes crack open to look into mine. “I always loved you, too,” he strokes at my bottom lip with his thumb. “Now, come on. Let’s get some sleep, alright? Been wantin’ to hold you to sleep for a long time.”

Warmth blooms in my chest. I kiss him again, just once, and snuggle in closer before putting my head back where it was.

And, just like the invisible string that seemed to tie us together all this time, I sit comfortably in this space, letting all the tangles and the knots in my mind unravel. What’s past is past, and we’re here now.

After everything, after the good, the bad, letting this thing between us come back from the dead—

We’re here.

{❤️end❤️}

notes: ah i can't believe it's finished ❤️ thank you SO much for reading and enjoying this fic with me, all your responses have made me so happy and i'm just so glad it's brought some of you joy. i hope you enjoyed the final chapter! i'm considering maybe writing some one-shots set in this universe at some point, or some little drabbles, so keep an eye out for those :)

love u, take care of yourself! ❤️

ps: as always this is post-apocalyptic and a fanfiction but in real life don't forget to always practice safe sex babes!

taglist below

@rosymythologies @lover1307 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @pinkrose1422 @lavenderhhze @abbyhaslongshorts @trippoverrt @emilianamason

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller story #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #my fic #my fic: joel #my fic: joel smut

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ponder-the-orb · 3 months

Text

Shades of red

Pairing: Fem Tav/Ascended Astarion, (unnamed tav)

Tags: 18+, smut and angst, biting (whole lotta biting), blood, choking, P in V

Word count: 6K

Summary:

She sees the blood smeared like rouge on his lips as he lifts his head. A beautiful colour. Their colour.

She isn’t sure the last time she hasn’t thought about her life in shades of red: dripping from her hands, hot in her mouth, shining sharp and violent in his eyes.

She looks down at those same eyes now, burning intensely as he works her. There’s an image she hasn’t been able to get out of her mind for a while, more faded than a dream. She’s sure they were softer once, rich like apple skin, fresh as autumn hues. Now if she stares too long it feels like she’s looking down the lit barrel of a cannon.

***

Forever gives one ample time to think. Was the man she once knew ever even real or just another mask to be dropped once 7000 souls had been burned through her eyes?

Read on AO3 or below

How long can eternity truly be? It’s a question that’s been turning in the back of her mind with numbing regularity for a while now. The very idea of time seems to wear away when she has forever at her fingertips, stretching on and on into a grey horizon. It’s not really a concept that exists between the dark walls of the palace anyway. She couldn’t tell you how long she’d been here with any more accuracy than guessing the number of pebbles lining the streets of Baldur’s Gate beyond. Years seem to melt past with unknowable speed but the turning of days drag slower than dripping molasses.

Never is that thought more pressing than the nights Astarion feels charitable enough to acquiesce to audience requests.

The ballroom is draped in half darkness, his preferred atmosphere for these meetings. Long shadows shift in flickering silence from the high ceiling, the wrought iron candelabra standing stiff as they throw their orange glow over both the polished tile and his quaking guest.

He’s reclined in the throne at the end of the room, the lack of furniture only serving to make the space between him and the visitor seem that much longer. She stands behind him as usual, one hand at her side, the other gripped to the top of the chair just behind the crown of his head. It’s her place - looking every bit the beautiful weapon she’s been polished to be. Cold. Sharp. Sheathed.

Astarion’s head inclines as they continue to speak, a clear sign he’s only half paying attention to whoever this poor soul is. She never needs the details but from a glance she can glean he’s some elven noble who’d drawn the short straw to come and beg at his feet.

Before, these meetings had almost made her smile. Those with status always wear their fineries like armour but golden threads do little to hide their true nature once they cross this threshold. Tonight is no different. The elf’s words are steady but his eyes shake madly in their sockets, never landing on either of them for too long.

It’s not exactly surprising. It’s an open secret as to the nature of those who dwell here. Whispers of power, blood and darkness float throughout all of Baldur’s Gate and beyond, working their way into every rotted inn and polished mansion. If the palace is where this elf has ended up then all brighter roads had obviously crumbled under his feet.

She keeps her gaze fixed just over the elf’s head to the door as he continues- something about debts or an ongoing feud. He could have come with tales of great gold dragons circling the palace or a portal ripped open at the centre of the city and she still doubts it would be enough to cause her expression to break. Astarion’s either.

There’s the tiniest sigh from his lips and she instantly draws her gaze back to the pale sweep of his profile. She’d call him beautiful but the word doesn’t taste right when she’s used it to describe the same perfection for Gods-knows how many years now. The only change is the colour of his clothes. Today’s ensemble is wrapped by two grand peacocks, immaculately stitched in scarlet and black. She can’t even say that it’s one of the more resplendent outfits when every garment in his wardrobe is equally fine.

Her own dress matches - naturally.

It only takes a few more seconds before he slightly raises his index finger. The signal that this conversation is decidedly over.

She’s on the elf instantly, her hand slamming clean through his chest to the other side. The rest of his sentence gargles in his throat and his body crumples to the floor in a pathetic heap. Blood pools sticky and savoury from the wound until there’s an almost perfect disc reddening the tiles. Her stomach clenches at the scent. Hunger, ravenous as an unquelled blaze snarls within but she resists the urge to feast. She stares at the gore dripping down her arm instead as she catches her breath.

Astarion’s feet are silent behind her but she sees him approaching in the blood, his own eyes fixed to the spot where her reflection should be.

“Slower than usual. You haven’t been eating,” he comments dryly. It’s not a question.

She keeps staring at her wet hand. It quivers at her overwhelming urge to suck it clean and then the floor.

“I will when you do. I’m not hungry,” she answers without turning to him. They both know it’s a poor lie. She’d been in a constant state of starving since the second she opened newly reddened eyes, something she’d never quite acclimatised to.

He raises her stained hand to his lips and licks a stripe from her palm to her wrist. He doesn’t tear his eyes from hers as he audibly swallows. She does too but for a decidedly hotter reason.

“Not the finest fare I will admit but it’s better than hunting for whatever wastes are wandering the lower city,” he says calmly, a red drop staining the corner of his mouth like a bloody kiss. “And you know I’d never let that dreck anywhere near your lips.”

Some nameless spawn shuffles forward and drags the body back into the shadows, their gifted feast for the night.

Her eyes stay fixed to the smear. She wants to lick it. She wants to bite his lip and taste him properly, drink something that sings for her, something to drown the other thoughts forever clawing at the flat wall of nothingness wrapped around her mind.

His fingers flex harder around her wrist. “What’s the matter?”

She sighs - the question with a thousand answers, and so many of them so so stupid. She wants to leave and see every corner of this Gods-forsaken continent. She wants to stay and never leave their bedchamber. She wants to feast until she rips apart at the seams. She wants to starve and see how far she can push herself as a spawn. She wants more.

She holds his gaze, waiting for him to relent.

Above it all, she wants one thing. The one thing that’s slowly pushing her to dull foggy madness as she waits.

“It’s nothing,” she answers softly. She doesn’t want to have this fight again and she’s fairly certain she doesn’t need to answer anyway. His stare is so intense she’s sure it can see through to the very back of her skull. His own expression is as impassive as an ivory mask, perfectly carved and cool. What she’d give to crack through and unspool that beautiful, maniacal mind and understand his whims for just a moment. She’s sure she could once upon a time- a lifetime ago, perhaps when the word lifetime actually meant something.

His tongue suddenly flicks out and catches the drop at the corner of his mouth. Her own tongue mimics the movement behind her teeth, a jealous breath rushing from her nose. She isn’t sure how long it’s been since he’s actually touched her- perhaps days. Maybe months. She can’t quite remember the number of moons she’d watched rise and fall from the balcony, throwing a dagger in the air and catching it bladeside again and again until it finally left a scar.

He slides his free hand up her neck and cups the side of her face. “Perhaps I’ve been neglecting you of late,” he murmurs, lightly tracing the contour of her jaw, then her ear until she shivers slightly. It’s a small thing- the sweet reminder of exactly who she is to him.

His right hand. His treasure. His precious thing.

She remembers the first time someone had dared question that fact, years back. She’d heard the whisper from the dark of their library- a jovial tone and one far too warm for these halls.

“I guess there’s no thinking blood required, eh?”

She’d ripped the head from the spawn’s shoulders and tossed it towards another before the words had cooled in the air. She almost wishes it was the only time.

He tugs her towards the door, the lights snuffing out with every step as they go. “Come.”

He leads them to the other end of the palace and into her bedchamber. Their bedchamber really though she can’t recall the last time he’d used it… or slept at all. To be fair she hadn’t for at least a few days, exhaustion just another pain she’s found she can put up with.

The room is grand but mostly empty save for the ridiculously huge bed he’d had installed. He’d clawed away anything in the palace left by its former master, even his name forbidden to be said aloud. She’d seen all too many messes left smeared for days on the new carpets when anyone had forgotten that particular rule- a warning few had forgotten since.

Besides a few drapes the only thing she’d added was a painting, the one staring down like a great round eye opposite the bed. Both of them had been captured in a similar pose to when they'd received their unfortunate guest- pale faces stark against the dark backdrop, his hand resting over hers. It's her only real reminder of how she looks or at least some overpaid artist's interpretation of her. She’s as beautiful as temptation itself but it’s hard to imagine such grandeur when her face hardly feels the same. She’ll never age, never wrinkle or shrink but it’s like she can still feel the hands of time slowly pulling more of her away under her skin.

He closes the door and then the distance between them. Even at the same height he still seems to tower over her into infinity like some dark God. She can’t remember if she had any faith before this, but there can’t have been a being divine or otherwise that she’d loved with such fervour. Worshipping with bloody hands and eager parched lips.

“No audience here. Now-” He tilts her chin up, his thumb resting against her bottom lip. “Tell me what you want.”

She feels a lie rolling on her tongue but she can’t quite spit it out. “You know what I want.”

“Say it.”

“Make me a true vampire.”

He releases her face, shaking his head. “Gods. This again.” He doesn’t seem as irked as the last time she’d pressed this, but her gut still twists when he turns away. It’s the same cool brush off as always, the way one would to an errant pet that’s not quite trained yet.

“I really didn’t want to discuss this now,” she admits quietly. Last time her frustration had gotten so loud she’s surprised her voice hadn’t cracked the windows.

Her fist had instead after he’d stalked away from that conversation.

She takes a risk, palming a hand to his shoulder and slowly turning him back around. “I know you promised. It’s just been so long,” she starts carefully, keeping her eyes to his chest. She cups his other shoulder when he doesn’t pull away, letting herself feel the strength hidden under the dark cloth. “I want to be stronger. For both of us.”

It’s a half truth. She does want it for them- the power being full vampire would give her coupled with his extra gifts would be everything. They could take more, do more, finally see more of the world in bright and dazzling splendour.

Her lip quirks up at the thought. Perhaps even feel more too.

He sighs and runs his finger over the crest of her hand. “Your strength is already quite the feat to behold. You change any more and you might destroy a wall.” He holds it firm as she starts to step away, his chuckle soft.

“I said that I will. You know that I will. But the timing has to be perfect.” He brushes a stray hair away from her face, winding it around his finger and letting it fall back against her shoulder. “You’ve tasted me enough, you must know being sired by the Ascendent will take a little more preparation than your standard vampire. But when I do, I’ll be able to give you so much more, more than you even have now.” His hand leaves hers to grasp her chin, fingers lightly pressing into both cheeks until she’s pinned under his gaze. “I’ll not waste such a gift on any regular night. It requires proper celebration. And time.” He leans in until each word kisses over her lips in a long low whisper. “Time for me to properly indulge you. Pleasure upon pleasure upon pleasure.”

It’s a heady promise and one she’s heard before. That doesn’t stop it being so easy to let herself sink into the words - the sweetness of such a beautiful tale.

She closes her eyes, waiting for his kiss.

He chuckles again when she finally opens them, his smirk perfectly pointed.

“Until then, you still share in immortality with me. So tell me, what else can I possibly give to you?” He squeezes her face again before releasing her.

She rubs her cheeks. “You have so many other spawn. They all share it too.”

His hand lashes out and grabs her wrist, a little harder this time. “All this time and you still believe you’re just some spawn? Like the rest of them?” He jerks her closer, folding her into the circle of his arms until their bodies rock together with her every breath. “How many times must we go through this?”

She clings to the sides of his jacket, pressing back harder.

“Have I extended any of my talents to anyone else?”

She shakes her head.

“Do I make you do such grunt work?”

“No, but-”

“Then how can you possibly think you’re the same?”

Her answering protest vanishes as he slips a hand under the back of her dress. He curls his fingers over the skin of her waist, cradling her in a way that has something prodding below the surface of her mind, smudged memories too worn to pull into focus.

“You will always be my first. My first spawn. My first thinking blood. The first person I told everything to.” He lightly scrapes his teeth down her neck until she shudders in his arms, the memory quickly disintegrating. “200 years of nothing and I finally had something that was mine. No power on this or any plane is going to take that away from me.”

He tilts her head back and finally crashes their lips together in a firm, desperate kiss. It’s as messy as a storm - every movement taking more like he’s drawing the remaining life from inside her. She can taste the wine on his breath, the blood on his teeth- tart and rich and maddening.

Something stirs within her again, something larger and familiar. Even under the fog, she has what feels like aeons of love for this man inside, swelling and gnawing, threatening to burst and consume her whole with its painful teeth. It’s the only feeling she can fathom with any clarity, equal parts sin and sanctity.

She holds him, her arms clamping round his middle with all the strength she can muster.

She’d be less than nothing without it, drained to dust. So she’ll let herself be devoured by the pleasures of hell’s flames with a smile on her face and tears on her cheeks.

“You could have anyone,” she breathes against his lips.

She yelps as his hand digs into her thigh and roughly hitches it to his hip.

“I want you,” he murmurs, kissing her again. Satisfaction blooms under her skin as he opens his mouth, her body already on fire for him. She knows it. Of course she knows it. She wanted to hear him say it, hear the words as sweet as a siren’s trill to drag her back to the present.

“But perhaps you need reminding.” He pushes her until the backs of her knees hit the bed. “I will see you living the best life. Even if you won’t take care of yourself, I’m not letting either of us go hungry.” His fingers brush from her face down to her chest, blood from that elf still shining against the fine material. He pinches the fabric and tugs, red smearing over his thumb.

“What a mess,” he observes quietly.

Before she can apologise, he grabs two fistfuls of the fabric and pulls, tearing it and her undershirt apart until she’s all but nude before him. He turns her and pulls the remains of her outfit from her body, pressing his hand against her bare stomach so her back curves against him. She shivers slightly as his fingers rip through the seams of her underwear and leave her fully naked. He sweeps his hand up over the curves of her torso and slips his thumb into her mouth, the cool taste of the elf’s blood igniting the fires in her stomach.

Her restraint snaps immediately and she sucks, desperate for more. She moans as he adds a second coated finger, the frustration in her gut only matched by the one growing hot and frenzied between her legs.

“That’s it,” he says quietly as she licks them clean. “Don’t deny me. Don’t deny what you are.”

His hand moves from her lips until she feels it close around the sides of her throat, his thumb resting over the twin scars there. Their matching pair he’d said when she’d awoken that first day. She can’t see it in a mirror but she can feel it, still aching like it’s a fresh wet wound.

He touches his mouth to her ear. “No more doubts. You are mine. Say it.”

Her words dry to a sigh as his thumbnail scratches across the hollow of her throat.

He squeezes harder at her silence until she throws her head back against his shoulder.

“Say it.”

“Yours,” she gasps out.

His other hand wanders down her body to cup her breast and she arches into his touch.

“That’s better,” he whispers, rolling her nipple between his fingers until she keens softly. He pinches harder, drawing a louder gasp, her back slamming back against his torso.

She presses her free hand to her neck so their joint touch encircles her throat in a makeshift collar. His smile grows against her ear.

They both know it'll only ever be a symbol. She’ll bow her neck for one without him even having to say, but it’s so much more for him to not need to. Where could she ever run to where he wouldn’t find her?

Bound in blood and flesh for eternity.

He brushes his mouth down to the base of her neck and bites down hard. White hot pain melts into pleasure as he does it again, his tongue laving over the fresh marks. She moans and grabs the back of his head to press him down harder. The caress of his lips, his tongue- it’s her bloody paradise. She barely registers his hand move from her neck and down over her stomach, seeking its prize.

He cups her between the legs and her mind starts to spin. He spreads her, her breath hissing between her teeth as he fingers tease a familiar path through her folds, so achingly close to where she needs to be touched.

He holds her upright as he pulls off her neck, kissing the shell of her ear. “Delicious.”

She presses down, grinding her clit against the heat of his palm. He’d mastered the command of her body long ago, what it takes to make her beg, gasp, to drown out any needless thoughts in red wet screams.

He spins her round, one hand sliding up her spine and leaning her backwards. He lowers his mouth just below her collarbone, lips and teeth dragging further down until he bites again over the swell of her left breast. She moans again at the sensation as his tongue traces over the wound and then against her nipple in a slow circle.

She sees the blood smeared like rouge on his lips as he lifts his head. A beautiful colour. Their colour.

She isn’t sure the last time she hasn’t thought about her life in shades of red: dripping from her hands, hot in her mouth, shining sharp and violent in his eyes.

She looks down at those same eyes now, burning intensely as he works her.

There’s an image she hasn’t been able to get out of her mind for a while, more faded than a dream. She’s sure they were softer once, rich like apple skin, fresh as autumn hues. Now if she stares too long it feels like she’s looking down the lit barrel of a cannon.

There are other moments too, touches that almost felt tender, maybe even unsure. They’re all wrapped in his same face but somehow different. Different enough for her to wonder if the man she knew before the ascension was even real or just another mask. One he could finally drop when she let 7000 souls burn through her eyes.

She pushes the thought away, angry it could still worm its way back to her when she’s in his arms. She could live long enough to watch the oceans boil and the skies crash down and she’d still stand steadfast as bedrock knowing that she’d never have made any other choice.

She cradles the back of his head, keeping his lips right above her cold silent heart.

Of course she’d burn the world if it kept him safe. And she’ll stand next to him as king of the ashes knowing there’s nowhere else where her broken parts would ever feel even close to whole.

A sliver of moonlight cuts through the curtains and over the portrait in front of them. The lacquer shines coldly, Astarion’s painted eyes staring at their bloody pleasure with the unyielding intensity of the sun. The eyes of a killer to so many fools, too scared to look past their scorching surface. She knows better. Knows that the true eyes of a killer watch from next to him, as flat and dull as a red sheet. Numb. Trained. Obedient.

He softly bites her nipple and her fingers tighten in his hair. “Please.”

He languidly moves on to her other breast, sucking and nipping in a sharp tease.

She tugs harder. “Gods, please.”

He lifts off of her with a sinfully wet noise. “You know as well as I that the Gods fear to tread these halls. Not even the divine would dare intrude on a night like this.” He kisses the tip of her nipple, dragging his lips down over the new fresh marks until she groans and shivers. “So, who’s name should you be saying?”

Her hips rock against nothing but cold air. Gods she needs to feel him. Feel something.

“Astarion,” she cries.

He nips harder and pushes her onto the bed below.

She slides up the sheets, blood from her last meal still splattered around her like a handful of rose petals on the silk. He ignores it, roughly pushing her thighs apart and licking one firm stroke through her folds until her hips arch off the mattress. He does it again, then again, lingering against her clit before twisting and biting the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

She cries out again. She isn’t sure how many more places he can mark her before she all but melts away from this reality.

She lifts herself onto her forearms as he spreads her wider, swallowing another embarrassingly loud noise as he tongue dips inside her with a shallow thrust. Blood beads from the fresh bite and trickles down the slope of her leg, heading towards his shoulder.

She quickly pulls her thighs away and scrambles towards him.

“Wait.” She wipes his mouth when he looks up, then unlaces his shirt as carefully as she can. His trousers follow so she can finally see him. All of him.

“Better,” she breathes, tracing the slope of his shoulder. He catches her hand before it can go any further and turns it slowly between his fingers. She expects him to bite again. Her wrist is already dotted with so many tiny marks that she isn’t sure there’s any virgin skin left to taste. The ghost of a blush runs through her instead as he skims his lips from her forearm to her palm, scraping the skin but not letting it break.

Through half-open eyes she quickly catches his, the way they study the veins on her wrist like the secret to the universe is tangled in them. They’re open wider now, like some gaping red maw. It’s so much. Too much. She blinks and the look is gone, his eyes now closed and his mouth back on hers.

He pushes her down onto the bed and climbs over her. She grabs the back of his head but he quickly pulls her hands away, pinning them above her. She doesn’t resist, letting herself be claimed again as he pushes inside.

Gods, she needed this. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be wrapped up in darkness and in him. She hooks her feet around the small of his back to pull him deeper, revelling in every near silent breath he pants against her ear.

He sets their pace. Fast. Fucking her into the mattress below until she’s crying out his name with every precise movement. She gives back in kind, thrusting with him until he finally releases her wrists to find better purchase by her head. She immediately grabs his back, one hand sliding down and stroking over the familiar ridges of his scars. It’s a jagged reminder of the past, one he refuses to speak of again. As cold as it sounds in her head, she knows why he doesn’t. What power could truly be so impenetrable if people knew he could feel pain once, fear- terror even.

So it stays locked away behind both their mouths, same as anything that ever brought them such sadness. His own kindness in a way, she reasons. Why exhume those parts of the past when they’re much better off laying with the rest of her mortal affairs. Buried.

He moves harder and her nails dig in. She hopes they leave marks, scarlet crescents sore enough that he might feel how deep her own claim to him runs.

She tightens around him, desperate to come. Desperate to pull him with her too. But he stops suddenly, letting her waver on the very edge of that little death. It feels like she’s dancing on some taught cusp, pulled so tight like a bow string and begging to be released.

She reaches down to touch herself but he grabs her hand again.

“Bad girl,” he whispers in a tone so low it almost pushes her over that edge. He flips her over, clamping his hands over her hips as he pushes back inside. He wastes no time setting a faster rhythm, ramming into her mercilessly until she’s screaming into the silks below, loud enough to drown her doubt and that of every wretched spawn in this place. It’ll only be her. Forever.

His fingers dig in hard enough that she knows there will be a pretty set of inky marks there, painful to the touch for days. The hurt doesn’t matter anyway- not when she knows what true torture feels like. She can still remember the night she was changed, perhaps more vividly than anything else. The way her body snapped and convulsed as every part of her died and then roughly reshaped into something new. Something that was his.

“He’ll ruin you.”

The warning calls from somewhere dusty in the back of her mind. She can’t quite place where it came from. Probably the same closed door where every half faded image and whispered concern hid and occasionally slipped through when her nights alone were so utterly silent she could almost hear her brain churning. There’s a shadow of a half elf’s face, mismatched eyes, the fading melody of a wizard’s warning. She can’t grab them and pull them into focus, the words buried too far below the surface of her mind.

She turns her face into the silks as if she could rub the thought away. Perhaps she’s scared to dig too deep and remember what it is she might have wanted before every moment was about their shared dream. Bright and bloody and beautiful.

Astarion’s hand finds her clit and everything else melts away. There’s nothing else now, just their sweat on the sheets and the discordant slap of his body on hers.

So let them sin, feast, burn. She’s already ruined anyway - punctured with so many holes that whatever there was of her mortal life had trickled out long ago.

She finally comes against his hand and collapses in a sticky, spent heap under him. He slowly traces his finger down the length of her spine as she catches her breath, every inch of her body heavy and useless. She barely registers herself being heaved into his lap, her head falling against his shoulder with a gentle thud.

The haze of her orgasm parts a little when she smells something fresh above her. Blood, his blood. It starts to drip in a slow mess over her mouth like thick hot rain. Her body moves on pure instinct, surging up to clamp down on his cut forearm, but he holds her steady by her hair. She swallows the offering, her hunger only growing at the tease of something so decadent. He guides her head back further, letting a few more drops fall messily over her face before finally lowering it to her waiting mouth.

He doesn’t flinch as she drinks desperately. It’s exquisite, like cool wine to her parched throat. She’s sure she could drink him dry or until her stomach bursts open and she’d still not be satisfied. She sucks harder, flitting her gaze up to his as he watches with clear amusement. There’s still one more thing she wants. One thing she’s not sure he’d ever let her do even if she still had a soul to offer him. She wants to sink her own fangs into his neck, the one place she never has. She wants to cover those ugly punctures just for her own pleasure.

“I love you,” she whispers as he pulls back. It might be these moments when such love swells the most: clothes shed, scratches still fresh on his skin, hair curling out of place against his forehead- a reminder that the ritual can’t keep him quite so perfect for every moment of forever.

He wipes the remaining blood from her lips, his thumb resting there a moment longer. “And I adore you, terribly.”

She narrows her eyes and digs her nails in harder, enough to draw blood. “Say it properly. Say it.”

He raises an eyebrow, but his smile doesn’t waver. He presses his arms back to her mouth, squeezing the back of her head as she sucks again. “I love you.”

She bites down harder at the words. They’re what she wants and yet she doesn’t understand why it doesn’t feel like enough. The fog in her mind clears a little as her hunger quietens but she can’t think of even a moment when something was enough for either of them. They have almost everything this realm could offer and it still feels the same.

How big will the pile of gold and corpses need to be before either of them can remember what joy actually tastes like?

He pulls his arms away and kisses her again, slower this time. She keeps her eyes closed as he stops, trying to centre herself.

“Are we bad people?” she murmurs.

He drops her from his lap, eyeing her curiously. “My, what a question.” He looks past her to the mirror on the bedside table, brushing his fingers through the mess she’d made of his hair. “Good and bad are such trivial concepts to us. Darling, you need to think bigger than that. We are everything. Beyond such unimaginative definitions.”

“Right.” She pulls the sheet over her torso. The room feels colder somehow, like the darkness itself is judging her nakedness.

“None of that,” he says, rubbing her cheek. “Besides, thanks to me you’ve become one of the finest killers, dead or alive. Nothing can stand in our way.”

“The only one who could kill you I suppose,” she mumbles, leaning into the touch.

He quickly nips her chin, then her throat. “Oh my love. Now that’s something I’d like to see.” He pushes her back down and crawls over her, sliding his hands over both of hers. “So tell me, how would you do it? How would you defeat the most powerful being alive?”

“Who else could get close enough?” She leans up and kisses directly over his heart. “One thrust with the right weapon is all it would take.”

“And then what would you do? You’re mine- always.” He moves a fraction more until his legs trap her thighs, the hands so gently wrapped around hers now pinning them into the mattress. “No direction. No love. No power. Without me your life would be a shadowed path. Pure nothingness.” Every word wraps around her like velvet, his hands the softest chains she could be caught in. “You must know it hurts me to even think of you like that,” he continues, dipping down and running his nose against hers.

He squeezes her hands harder as he does, walking her along the very edge of pain before letting go. She flexes her limbs slightly, letting the soreness settle along with her mind.

He kisses her forehead, each wrist then her lips again. “But we need not worry about such awful things.”

She cradles the back of his neck, idly wondering just how hard she’d have to press to snap it. “Of course not.”

His eyes drift up and down her body as she answers, before his hand works its way between her legs again. She lets him, her hips bucking with needle-sharp pleasure as he presses against her over-sensitive clit.

“Until the world falls down,” she says, throwing her head back and grinding her core against his fingers.

He leans forward and muffles her exhausted moans with shining, brazen lips. “And even after that.”

Perhaps that’s how long eternity is, she thinks and surrenders herself to him again.

It’s almost dawn when he rolls away from her. He leaves a promise of tonight against her shoulder as she stares at the ceiling, thinking in circles.

One day, when she finally drives a stake through his chest, she’ll weep. He’s more than everything to her, his arms as tight as a cage, as comforting as salvation. The only person with a heart as black and silent as hers and yet she’d still rip it out and give it to him on a sharpened skewer if he asked.

It’ll break her, but it's still her task and hers alone. One she can do with deliberate and devoted hands, away from any angry mob or pack of ravenous spawn.

She surges up and captures his lips before he goes, kissing with every ounce of passion still warm inside her.

Until then they’ll stay like this, wrapped and writhing in bloody matrimony. Frozen. Perfect.

Red.

***

I'm mainly bummed I couldn't work out a way to get him to turn into a bat during this. Perhaps another time...

#bg3 astarion #astarion #ascended astarion #vampire ascendant #astarion fic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fic #astarion ancunin #my writing #mywriting

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lexissrosea · 2 years

Text

all i need.

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Fem! Reader

summary: 2.7k. bradley decides to take a flight above the clouds to clear his head and remember old times.

warnings: terminally ill reader! mentions of heart failure, mentions of death, whole lotta angst, please read with caution!!

a/n: this is inspo'd from irl experiences TT also my first one-shot that i've written in like 6 yrs?? but yeah, bradley brain rot LOL any text that is italicized is a flashback but i'm sure yall know the drill

There was nothing like the hot summer sun that beat through the windshield of Rooster’s aircraft. Aside from being a fighter pilot, Rooster spent his free time flying privately at a local flight academy that allowed him to use their planes as he pleased. Whenever he needed to clear his head or blow off some steam, flying was the best way to do so. It made him feel more connected to his father—and, of course, friends he had lost along the way.

As the plane ascended into the air, Rooster glanced to the side of him, his eyes lingering on the empty seat. A feeling of yearning ached in his chest as he shook his head, looking ahead once more. His chest rose as he took in a sharp breath of air only to release it seconds later through pursed lips.

‘You.. You should be here with me.’ He thought to himself as he looked at the sky. ‘How I would’ve loved to fly alongside you.’

As Rooster’s plane climbed to 6,000 feet, he did as he usually would, which was trim the plane out and set the power to allow his plane to go into ‘cruise mode’. Although he was enjoying the flight, the ache that had disturbed him earlier was still stretching across his entire torso. At the time of his father’s death, he was so young that he didn’t understand exactly what his mother was going through. Rooster couldn’t imagine losing a partner at that age, nor could he imagine losing the love of his life. Throughout his childhood, Rooster watched his mother struggle to take care of him on her own. Knowing exactly what he wanted to do with his life, he knew that he never wanted to allow himself to get close to any woman, for fear of hurting them just like how his mother was hurt.

But, there you were, standing outside that restaurant with the most gorgeous dress on and tears in your eyes. Rooster was driving home late one night after going to the store to pick up tomatoes for dinner. As he stopped at the red light, he noticed you in all your glory. Rooster couldn’t help but admire the way the dress hugged your body perfectly, or how your eyes twinkled with curiosity. Was it the tears or just your personality? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he had to talk to you.

And, that’s exactly what he did.

Through your conversation, he learned that you had waited in that restaurant for more than two hours. Your date had ditched you last minute, and it was the first time in months that you had decided to dress yourself up. Rooster, being the gentleman he is, gladly forgot about his spaghetti and lead you back into the restaurant, ready to give you the date of a lifetime. He wasn’t dressed appropriately for a high-end dinner, but heavens you were, and that’s all that mattered to him. From there, the rest was history.

He wasted no time introducing you to all the Top Gun folk, as well as Maverick who couldn’t stop telling you all about Rooster’s embarrassing kid stories, much to Rooster’s dismay. You learned all about his history including his dad, his time training, and the mission that they had gone on. You were always amazed by his stories, no matter how big or little.

Rooster was sure that you’d be the woman he’d marry.

Or at least that’s what he hoped.

“Bradley, I’m fine, really—Bradley, c’mon, look at me, please.”

Bradley sat in the corner with his head in his hands. His eyes stared coldly at the tile floor as the smell of the hospital room consumed his senses. He felt as though his senses were going numb and although he didn’t want to be upset with you, he was. Who knew that instead of being in his father’s position, he’d be in his mother’s, fearing for his partner’s life.

You watched as his head slowly picked up, his dark brown eyes meeting yours. In his eyes were a bundle of emotions that you read so vividly. Fear, frustration, resentment. Your body stilled as he sluggishly moved from the stool in the corner to the chair that sat next to your bedside.

You had been experiencing extreme chest pains and your heart was beating rapidly. It felt like the walls were closing in on you. It wasn’t the first time that you had experienced these symptoms, but usually, when they’d come about, they weren’t as extreme. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t control your breathing, and each breath came as quick as it left. When Bradley found you, you were hunched over the counter, unable to speak or even look at him due to the pain. Almost immediately, he rushed you to the E.R. and that was how you found yourselves in this situation.

The doctors were running blood work on you to see what the problem was while you and Bradley were forced to wait in agonizing dread.

You felt his large, calloused hands entangle themselves with your own as he laid his head on the side of your bed. He continued to stay quiet, but his hands squeezed your own every few seconds. You could tell that his eyes were studying your every move as a sigh escaped his throat.

“Bradley, honey, I’m sorry for scaring you,” you frowned, gently rubbing your thumb over the backside of his hand.

Bradley let out a deep exhale, “It’s not your fault, darlin’. I was just.. I was terrified. The look of pain on your face, it just—I don’t wanna lose you, (y/n). Please don’t let me lose another person.”

You watched as tears threatened to fall from his glassy eyes and guilt filled you to the brim. Amid the chaos, you had completely forgotten how bad this truly affected him. Although it was slightly painful to do so, you brought your other arm around to lift his head. Leaning forward, you laid a chaste kiss on his forehead, your lips lingering in that spot for just a moment.

“I’m not leaving you, Bradley,” you said, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “besides, we have our whole future ahead of us. You still haven’t put a ring on this finger, y’know?” Your teasing tone caused a smirk to grace his features.

“Well, I guess I’m just gonna have to get you a ring then, right, darlin’?” He chuckled as he kissed your knuckles, being careful of the IV needle that you were hooked up to. His voice came out like a low hum as he continued to squeeze your hand, “What do you want for our future, honey?”

Your eyes widened at his question. “What do I want? Well, I… If we get married—”

“Uh, uh, not if. When.” Bradley corrected, clicking his tongue at you.

You rolled your eyes, “Yes, honey, when we get married, I wanna have our ceremony at the beach. The one near the restaurant where we first met.. And, I want all of our friends to be there, like Jake or Tash. Oh! We can’t forget Mav, Maverick definitely needs to be at our wedding.” You exclaimed.

Bradley couldn’t help but chuckle at your excited expression. “Darlin’, of course, they’re gonna be there. What about music? Your dress? Hey, I think I’ll wear one of my Hawaiian shirts. Which one did you like? The Navy blue one with the white flowers, right?”

“That is my favorite… But, you’re not wearing your Hawaiian shirts to our wedding.” You giggled as he pulled a surprised face. “And as for music, hm… I always love when you sing that one song, the all I need one.”

“Oh, you mean this one?” He smirked as suddenly, both his hands enclosed around your own. Bradley started in a low hum, his voice singing the tune. “You’re all I need to get by… You’re all I want, love, in my life…”

You smiled as he sang ever so lovingly toward you, his eyes shining with joy with every word that melodically left his mouth. You always loved when Bradley sang, and you’d never miss a chance to sit on his lap at the Hard Deck and yell the lyrics to ‘Great Balls of Fire’ whenever he played. In moments like these, it was like all stress left the window. It didn’t matter what was happening or what emotion was running through the two of you. All it took was a little bit of Bradley’s ‘singing magic’ to uplift your spirits.

As his humming became a little less coherent and dragged at the end of the phrases, Bradley looked into your eyes.

“You’re gonna be beautiful walking down that aisle one day, future Mrs. Bradshaw,” he murmured, playing with your fingertips. “Then, we’ll get a nice big house together and have a couple of mini Bradshaws running around, what do you think?”

“Oh, Bradley,” you giggled. But, just as the laugh left your mouth, you felt a question stirring around your mind. “Hey, honey… You think you’ll ever take me flying one day?”

“Flying?”

“Yeah, you ever gonna take me up in one of those big planes you fly?” You whispered, a joking tone to your voice.

Bradley only shook his head, taking his large hand and ruffling it against the top of your head. “You just focus on getting better, darlin’. Then, we can talk about flying you up in a plane.”

A knock at the door interrupted the two of you as a doctor peaked their head through the door. The doctor quietly asked for Bradley to follow them outside the door while shooting a small smile your way. Bradley’s face was riddled with worry, but he gave you a gentle peck on the lips and followed suit after the doctor.

As the door closed, the doctor looked at the clipboard in their hand with a frown.

“Mr. Bradshaw, our tests came back for Ms. (l/n), and it looks like, unfortunately, Ms. (l/n) has developed advanced heart failure. We are currently unsure of the causes, but it looks like Ms. (l/n) has a history of high blood pressure and that could be a factor in her diagnosis.”

Bradley could feel the blood drain from his face at the doctor’s words. That couldn’t have been true. Not you, he couldn’t lose you. You were in perfect health. Why? Why now? Why after talking about everything that the two of you wanted to do together? Why was he receiving this news now? Why was it even happening?

The doctor carefully, but cautiously, laid a soothing hand on Bradley’s shoulder as their frown deepened. “I understand that this is a very unfortunate and sudden situation. If we were able to get to the bottom of this issue sooner, she wouldn’t have been so far along. But, at the stage we are at now, it is best that we provide you with options that can make Ms. (l/n) comfortable.”

Bradley knew exactly what the doctor meant by making you comfortable. He wasn’t even sure what to say.

“How much time does she have?”

“It could be six months or less. We recommend that you spend as much time with her as possible.”

Rooster felt his eyes glaze over as he recounted the memories. How devastated you were to hear the news, and you couldn’t stop crying apologies into his chest. The plane continued to soar high over the town of Miramar and as Rooster looked down at the houses, he subconsciously began humming.

The air was cold, the room was dim, and the only sound that could be heard was the machine that kept your body alive. You didn’t have six months, you didn’t even have one month. In two weeks, you had suffered a heart attack after you and Bradley went out to get groceries. Although you weren’t supposed to exert yourself because of your condition, and despite Bradley’s protests, you went to the store with him anyway. But, you underestimated just how much strain that would put on your body.

Just like the first time, Bradley had walked into the kitchen and dropped everything that he was holding. Instead of finding you hunched over the counter, he found you flat on your back, your chest still with no movement.

He rushed to your side, immediately dialed 911, and began to do compressions. It wasn’t until thirty minutes later did paramedics show up at the door. Your unconscious body was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance that Bradley had followed swiftly. When you had finally arrived, Bradley wasn’t allowed to follow you. Instead, he was placed in the hospital’s ‘quiet room’ where he contacted not only your shared friends but your parents as well.

When Bradley had heard the severity of the situation, he felt as though his entire world came crashing down on him. You were too young, he still had so many things he wanted to do with you.

After three days of being on life support, tonight would be your last.

Everyone had gathered at your bedside, all there to say their goodbyes, but as well be there for their friend. Bradley hadn’t slept in days, and it was obvious in the dark circles that accumulated beneath his dull eyes. Not only had he not slept in days, but he refused to leave your bedside. Maverick was forced to bring food up from the hospital’s cafeteria to make sure that Bradley was eating enough. He would never sleep on the bench to the side. He was always right next to you, holding your hand, singing your favorite songs, talking to you as if you could respond. He was desperate for your voice, desperate for your touch, and desperate for that smile that he adored so much.

He felt a hand lay against his shoulder as his eyes groggily looked up to see who it was. It was none other than Jake. But, instead of that charming—most times arrogant—smile, he held a sullen frown laced upon his lips.

“It’s time.”

Bradley wiped away his tears as he noticed the nurse standing to the side, ready to shut off the machines and take out the tubes. He couldn’t bear to watch the scene unravel, so he quietly excused himself and told the gang to alert him when it was all over. Bradley knew that after the tubes were taken out, it would be time to play the waiting game.

When it was time for him to come back into the room, he grabbed his phone from his back pocket and played the song that he knew you loved. As the melody came in, everyone watched him curiously.

“Hey, darlin’, you remember this song? This is our song… This was gonna be our song,” he choked out, tears already forming in his eyes as he grasped your face. “I.. I can’t sing as well as I usually do… Sorry, honey. But, I’m gonna… I’m gonna try.”

Bradley caressed your face gently, imaging that you were still around, that you were still conscious. “You’re amazing.. M..My life’s never felt so right… I love you..” He sang through a croaky throat as tears streamed down his face.

“Darlin’, I’m gonna love you forever,” Bradley cried, leaning his head into your chest.

The group came around and rubbed Bradley’s back, letting him know that they were there. But, all he wanted was for you to wake up, to look at him once more with those beautiful eyes.

Bradley never left your side, and he stayed until you took your last breath.

Occasionally, Rooster would look down at his chest and smile. The thumbprint urn pendant hung proudly around his neck, along with your engagement ring that he bought just days before your accident.

“You see that, darlin’? You see the view..? It’s not a jet, but…” Bradley’s voice trailed off as he frowned. “I… I really miss you, (y/n).”

As he looked towards the sun, he was reminded of your shining smile and the twinkle of your eyes, just like that night he had met you.

Rooster allowed one hand to stray away from the control handle and instead, caress the pendant with his thumb. A smile found its way to his lips as he looked at the clouds ahead.

“Now, you’ll get to protect me on every flight I take, darlin’,” he chuckled, “Say hi to mom and dad for me.”

a/n: aaa i hope yall enjoyed that because it was a spontaneous idea i got in the middle of the night. if anyone's wondering the name of the song, it's 'all i need' by the green :)

#bradley bradshaw one shot #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun one shot #top gun x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x you #top gun rooster #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster imagine

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