#i love it. love their relationships to love and violence and emptiness and consumption | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chibsandchill · 3 months

Text

See me

Fandom: Saltburn

Pairing: Felix x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Each room in Saltburn is bursting at the seam with memories with you, and Felix remembers some of his favorite moments as he makes his way to his prize.

Warnings: Felix, Mentions and descriptions of acts of violence and murder, NSFW content, MDNI, 18+, unreliable narrator (Felix), toxic relationship, obsessive tendencies, grammatical and spelling errors, p in v sex, oral sex (m receiving), Felix is a creep, themes of violence - self-harm and equivalent themes are prevalent through the imagine, some parts of their dynamic takes inspiration from Hannigram but with my spin on obsession

I am not responsible for your media consumption. Read the tags.

MDNI

Masterlist

:-:-:-:-:-:-:

It’s a cloudy day when Felix first saw you,

but with you came the sun,

warmth, empathy, love.

Oh, how he loved your heart. But, oh, how careless you were with it. It was a gift,

one meant for him,

from you.

Then why did you waste it on those beneath you? You chipped away at it to mend sobbing students, tore at it until it bled and thick scars rose like mountains. You took on their pain with a blindingly bright smile,

only Felix saw how their burdens weighed you down.

The sun was meant to warm, to burn from far away,

but they tore you down from your place in the sky so that they might leech your warmth until you are left barren. Their sorrows were cold as ice against you.

They stole you from him. Piece by piece they ripped at you with filthy nails. You became known on campus as someone who’d listen. Who wouldn’t judge. How could you when you felt their problems as if they were your own? The more they spoke those words dripping with poison, the more they tainted the very blood in your veins with their darkness.

‘Walk in their shoes’.

You didn’t need to. You could walk in their skin, feel their emotions as if they were yours. Heartbreak plagued you, sorrow fell on you like an ever present shadow. The death of a family not yours turned your face gray and your eyes misty.

Until Felix put a stop to it all. How could he stand by and watch it happen? The slow destruction of a bright star, who burned so bright that all envied it.

Jenny from history of art, Carl from math, Robert from physics, Matilda from psychology, Caroline, Jeremy, Han, Thomas, Harry, Derek, Henry, Linda, Nico, Mark, John, Hans, William, Frederic. All turned away at your door.

“Yes, I’ll tell her.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

Oh, how they believed his lies. Sweet, sweet, Felix Catton wouldn’t lie to them. Surely not.

But lie, he did. It spewed from his lips like honey. All to have his sun beam at him again. To wash away the taint of the others from your skin, your heart, your eyes. He would have you look at him with soft, relaxed eyes.

Him. Him. Him. Him.

Your protector. Even if you didn’t know it yet.

“Felix.”

He hummed.

Your eyes are heavy with sleep when you look up at him, but the affection is hard to miss. It makes you glow. Felix curled his arm further around you, bringing you closer to him. But even then it is not close enough. He aches. It’s a want deeper than skin, deeper than bones or even his soul. It was as if his very being was made of want, of longing so intense he was blinded by it. If God was indeed real then he had created Felix with a thread laced with obsession, with love transcending all else.

Even thinking about you made his heart race, pound.

“Can I braid your hair?”

“‘Course.” He said against your skin.

As if you needed to ask. All of him was yours.

You try to sit up but Felix isn’t ready to break the contact yet. He feels like a battery, no matter how bizarre a comparison it is, constantly needing to be recharged so that he might survive when you part. He’s constantly cold without you, he feels empty; hollow. His hands are too light with the lack of you, he breathes too easy without the weight of you on his chest. If he could he’d carve his heart out so that you could carry it with you, for that was how he felt anyway. He’d gouge himself hollow so that he could fit you inside. Never to be parted again, joined together by shared blood, flesh and bone.

It’s not easy with his hold on you, but you manage to shift so that you sit in his lap instead. It’s not ideal if you mean to truly braid his hair but Felix won’t complain. He pushed his head into your touch when your fingers hover over him.

“Patience.” You half-heartedly scold him.

Your fingers weave through his hair, nails scratching just right against his scalp. With deft hands you untangle the mess you’d created during the night. There’s not much to braid but more than enough for you to wrap around your fingers and tug. The action pulls a low groan from his throat.

He grabs your hips. Felix wonders if you’ve noticed how he’s caged you in. You probably don’t, as sweet and trusting a being as you surely wouldn’t peel back his layers to gasp at the thriving darkness beneath. With you he was his truest self. Could you see him? Would you run if he were to cast off the layers? Let you see him?

Maybe you already could. You had seen the others. Even the empty ones, the ones who had gouged themselves hollow and shoved the essence of what they thought he wanted until it spilled from every hole in their body.

Felix wasn’t hollow. He was bursting at the seams with life, same as you. And yet you stayed. Surely you knew. You had to. You and he were one. Two pieces of a whole finally reunited.

He breaths in your scent, noses along your throat before allowing his head to rest in the crook of your neck. There’s a bruise there hidden on your shoulder blade. Late one night when you’d already fallen asleep he mouthed it into your skin with the moon as his witness,

only,

it had started to fade.

He’d have to do it again. Closer. Marking you under the cover of darkness wasn’t enough anymore. An unspoken claim didn’t satisfy him anymore. It wasn’t enough. He was beginning to think it never would be. He could bruise every inch of your skin with his love and his skin would still itch to do more – to prove himself more to you.

Just as his hands slide down to rest on the curve of your ass the scene slips through his fingers like sand.

He blinks it away. He’s standing in the driveway of Saltburn. Your favorite statue is left in shambles on the gravel with his blood splattered across the white marble.

“What the fuck.” Felix’s hand shakes and burns with pain. His knuckles are split open.

It had been a slip of a thought he had once when you first came to Saltburn and you’d taken to leaning on the statues, the furniture, walls, pillars. He’d wanted them all gone. He’d be your pillar. He wouldn’t crumble with age, would never make you think they stood strong only for the core to be riddled with holes from pests.

Felix was whole and strong, had made himself such,

for you.

He’d burnt the tendrils of influence his mother had dug into him since childhood. Torn the threads of her darkness right out of the tapestry. Oh, how she cried when she noticed. ‘Felix,’ she’d whispered, a rare show of emotion plastered across her face, ‘what have you done?’.

She shouldn’t have worried about what he had done. No, she should’ve worried about what he was going to do.

He watched you for weeks before approaching you. He noticed what made you laugh, what made you smile, frown, scowl. And so he took that too. Cut out the parts of himself that would drop the smile from your face and sewed on the parts that he lacked until he was left a patch-work version of perfecting befitting a Mary Shelley novel. Pus and blood seeped from the stitches. The sight was unseemly. So he waited until he’d perfected himself, until the stolen was assimilated, until it was like another Felix had never existed.

Felix throws the heavy doors open and the maids scurry away from his sight.

Duncan emerges from the pack. Even after all he’d seen, his adoration for Felix remained. “Welcome back, Felix.”

He nods.

And then he’s off.

The route he takes is reminiscent of your first tour of the mansion. He’s even nodding along as if hearing himself introduce it all. The staircase where he “fingered” his cousin. As if. Your face had reddened with equal parts jealousy and sheer disbelief of ‘what the fuck’.

One of the smaller sitting rooms. The green one. He fucking hates that room. But you love it. He went down on you for the first time there. Right on the couch with his granny’s ghost knocking down a shelf of antique plates over his head. The blood had driven you crazy.

The thought alone made him hard.

But this was also the first room you’d held him properly in. He’d been crying.

“What's wrong?” You ask when he threw the door open.

You’d been doing some summer reading for uni, but your fingers clutched the opening pages with strength that betrayed your pounding headache.

“Fucking Ollie.”

Your brows furrow “Oliver?”

Felix lay down on the couch with his head in your lap. You smell good. And you’re soft.

“Yeah.” He sigh. “He was lying to us this whole time. Turns out poor Oliver Quick has both a dad and mum who loves him. Even siblings! They live in a lovely house in a picture perfect neighborhood.”

‘I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you!’

As if there was even a sliver of Felix that didn’t belong to you, that didn’t scream out for you every second you were apart. Had Oliver not been paying attention? Could he not see the need that permated him? It ran so deep, was so all-consuming that he couldn’t contain it all. He breathed desire, cried longing, even fucking pissed envy. Envy even over the very air you breathed, the clothing that hugged you, the sheets for the audacity to imply he wasn’t enough to keep you warm.

You hum as your fingers drift down to cup his face.

“He was in love with me.”

“Isn’t everyone?” You joke.

Felix’s eyes opened (he hadn’t realized he closed them). “You love me?”

“Of course.” You trace a scar on his cheekbone.

“Say it.”

“I love you, Felix.”

Even that memory fades, but your words linger.

I love you, Felix.

You always linger. Your kisses burn his skin and he wishes it left a scar so that he could look upon it and relive it all.

The green room is abandoned quickly, and he’s off.

“A blue room!” You exclaim, and to Felix’s displeasure you let go of him to take it all in.

“Yeah. It’s… blue.”

“What? No ghosts? No artifacts?”

Felix shakes his head. “Nope. Just blue.”

Felix sees himself leaning against the door while you spin around the room. It’s like a movie, almost. Only it’s his memories and he can remember every second he’s ever spent in your presence. Including this one. And the next one.

The one where you’re on your knees.

You’re pressing soft kisses to the tip of his cock, pressing your love into every inch of skin you can find as if you wanted to stay there, to have your love replace the tar that ran through his veins.

It’s odd. He can almost feel the tingles left by your touch, but he’s untouched. Felix’s hands form fists at the sight. Was it possible to be jealous even of himself? The envy boiling in his stomach certainly said so. He would not share you even with himself.

Felix strides forward and sinks into the place his past self sits. He unbuckles his jeans and frees his cock from his underwear. If he were not so deep in madness he might’ve felt the cold of the room, but he was, and so he felt the warmth of your hands, the wetness of your mouth as you wrap your lips around his tip.

He moans. He didn’t know what he liked the most about it. The vulnerability, the act itself, your presence, or that it left you with a part of him inside you. You’d kneel in front of him for as long as it took, but Felix would not have you be uncomfortable and so he slid a pillow under your knees.

Your hands cup his balls. He twitches. You take more of him into you. It feels like heaven to have you wrap yourself around him. Wet, warm, silky heaven. All for him.

Him. Him. Him. Him. His.

You moan around him. It sends vibrations straight through him. It pulls a low groan straight from his chest, one that makes you moan. His pleasure is your pleasure, and your pleasure is his, and so the circle begins.

His eyes roll into the back of his head when you begin bobbing your head up and down. You slurp. Electricity runs down his spine. It’s wet. Sloppy. Saliva drips down your mouth as you press your nose into his abdomen.

Someone drops a plate somewhere in the house and the spell is broken. Not unlike a reflection in a lake is the memory distorted, wrong. You’re on your knees without the pillow. He’s standing above you, not sitting. Your knees are bruised and bleeding. You’re crying.

Some small part of him, one that he’d allowed to fester for far too long, enjoys the scene. Enjoys the submission, thrives in the knowledge that it is not only he that longs and wants and would press and press until nothing remains if only to bring you a sliver of happiness. You smile around his cock. It’s not the pain that brings you to tears.

This isn’t right. This isn’t him. It’s Elspeth messing with his head. It’s Oliver whispering his lies in his ear.

He wants to vomit. Why would they punish him so? To make him see you hurt,

to force him to see himself hurt you, brutalize you,

humiliate you.

Why, when he adored you, worshiped you. If there was a puddle he’d lay himself down to let you walk over him. He’d drown himself so that you would not have to dirty yourself. Like a tumor he’d performed surgery after surgery to remove what you didn’t like.

And you did the same.

The image is restored, but he’s already on his feet.

He would wait no longer.

Felix runs up the stairs but is forced to a halt by the moans coming from the king’s bedroom. Another memory? The door is already open.

“Tell me your vows again.”

You’ve got your legs up in the air behind you, head resting in your hands as you stare at him.

“Dear,” Felix turns around from where he stood by the window. Your name sounds like prayer on his lips. “I’ve never been alone. People have flocked to me since before I can remember. But they didn’t see me. But you… you, I let you see me. It’s a rare gift. And it’s one that I’ve never regretted giving you. I’ve never felt more loved than in your arms. Do I need to continue, Mrs Catton?”

You laugh.

“Come to bed, Felix.”

The memory changes before he can enjoy the sight of you in your wedding dress. The happiest day of his life. Gone in a blink.

You’re no longer on the bed. You’re in his arms, crying yet again. There’s blood on his shirt. No finger graces your finger. Felix closes his eyes. He knows this memory. KNows very well what he’d have to endure to get back to you.

“Y-you killed him!” You shudder.

Felix shushes you. “There was no other way.”

“There’s always another way.”

“Not this time."

Truly, there wasn’t. You saw much, but Oliver was so good at pretending to be someone else that he even fooled himself into believing his own lies. And so, you thought nothing of it when Oliver offered you his bottle of wine. Had no idea of the drugs that he’d shoved in there.

“Are you scared of me?” Felix asks you. His voice shakes. He remembers his own fear, how his stomach churned. He could write a thousand words and not even chip at the surface of the emotions he felt. A thrill at the thought of you finally seeing the deepest deepest parts of him? Disgust that he’d slipped and revealed a crack in his mask? Such fear that it clung to his very bones, stopped his lungs from working and had his own eyes water with tears? All true. And yet all of them are false. There wasn’t a single emotion he could place, they all blended together to form a concoction of heart-wrenching pain and fear.

The memory fades away. He doesn’t remember the rest. All he remembers is how it ended.

The headboard bangs against the wall with the force of his thrusts. His hands are cradling your face, kissing away the tears of pleasure. You push your legs up higher on his back where you’ve hitched them, your own hands pressing against his own face to bring him closer. He’s inside you but he’s not close enough.

Felix leans down to cover your whole body with his. You squeak at the change.

“Oh god,” you throw your head back with a moan.

He moves a deft finger down to press down on your clit. He experimented with pressure, directions, even spelled out his own name with your pleasure. Felix feels as though he’s on fire, but still he wants more. He wants to be closer. Closer. Closer. Closer.

You clench around his cock, and he stutters.

The love in your eyes makes him falter, before he drives into you faster than before. The bed squeaks, one hard thrust away from breaking. Fitting. So is he. Your right hand moved up his cheekbone, past his ear and to the back of his head. Your touch is gentle, barely-there pressure as you guide him down to slant your mouth over his. His heart aches with love, adoration, you. You’ve made it your home.

Yet again he is denied release as the memory is gone. The room is empty.

“Fuck.”

It’s not graceful the way he stalks out of the room. No more interruptions, he thinks.

The last door in the corridor. Yours. And his. Your marital chambers, as Duncan would call it. Old fashioned bastard.

He pushes it open without as much as a knock. And there you are.

“Felix!” You cross the room in seconds and then you’ve thrown yourself in his arms. “We missed you!”

Your rounded stomach presses into him. He rests his forehead on yours, pressing long, soft kisses against your lips, even as you giggle and try to move away. When you do, he chases after you. He’s not done. Never done.

His legs feel like jelly, his soul is on fire,

but he finally found you.

In a house full of memories and vengeful ghosts he found you.

And you saw him, as you always do, and he’s tugged back into bed with the comforting weight of you pressing him down into the mattress.

And he’s almost content.

Almost.

Taglist:

@fedyascoffin

#felix catton x reader #felix catton #felix catton x you #saltburn imagine #saltburn smut #saltburn x reader #saltburn #felix catton smut #felix catton imagine

431 notes · View notes

kittyscupcakeandbunny · 10 months

Text

Made by me

The Masterlist

CRAZY OVER YOU

[HYBRID AU]

[FINISHED]✅

Side Characters: Namjoon/doctor, Seokjin/doctor, Taehyung/Hybrid Tiger, Jungkook/Bunny Hybrid, Hoseok/assistant.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of blood, sharp objects, rut, beast behavior.

Genre: Fantasy, hybrids au, smut.

SUMMARY》 Yoongi is a black mamba hybrid one of rarest species of hybrids, who’s about to be put down due to his lack of interest in living. But everything changes after the new medical assistance (y/n) takes a liking to him. Meeting after meeting he realise his feelings for her are not the only thing growing.

INTRO - In the books they say

ONE - Love at first bite

TWO - Bath me with your love

THREE - Hungry for your love I

FOUR - The truth untold II

FIVE - Bitter taste, Jealousy and bites

SIX - Take Me Home

SEVEN - The last bite OUT NOW

SET ME FREE

[MAFIA AU]

On Going

Side Characters: Min Yoongi as Agust D/Mafia boss, Jung Hoseok as Jack/Concierge, Namjoon/Police detective, Jungkook/Police detective, Park Jimin/thief and gang leader, Taehyung/Mafia member FBI Mole, Paradise owner. Jin/unknown, Busan/Mafia boss.

Warnings: This story contains nsfw content (descriptive blood, gore, etc.) as well as sexual content. Mentions may include violence, consumption of alcohol, explicit sexual interactions, sharp objects, knife play, description of injuries, themes of major horror and also explores obsessive behaviors and codependency, robbery, killing, guns, torturing, fire, toxic yandere men, violence, possessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships.

SUMMARY: You made it. Now a police intern as you always promised to your father before he died, you were more than happy to finally be able to help people like he did. But the law was not what you expected to be like. You did not know how lonely it would be for a young woman to grow her career in this kingdom. Having to take care of your 18 year old brother wasn't easy too and things just got a lot worse when you've met Agust D. The king of the mafia Min. He sure knew how to make a life turn into a hell hole.

INTRO

ONE - Red Chopsticks

TWO - I’ll find you in a dark Paradise

THREE - A deal with the devil

FOUR - Welcome to my world

FIVE - Good girl gone bad COMING SOON

SIX - Dance with the devil COMING SOON

7 FINAL DESTINATION - LILITH

BREATH OF FIRE

[HYBRID GODS AU]

On Going

Side characters: Park Jimin/White fox hybrid.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, violence, sharp objects, suggestive words, smut, alcohol, killing.

Genre: Fantasy, romance, strangers to lovers, R +18.

SUMMARY: Did you know a fox only mates once in their life? For almost 400 years Min Yoongi never mated before, all theses years of emptiness and loneliness. He had tried so many times to end with his own hands. Until one night a hint of sweet and fire blows towards his nose, the smell was something he never felt before. And blood. Running for your life you felt hopeless in front of a lake, two man following you behind. Their disgusting smiles and eyes savoring your female body, you knew what they would do but you'd rather die. It all started with fire.

INTRO - Run little girl

ONE - Wood, cinnamon and honey.

TWO - Please wash away this blood on my skin

THREE - A taste of honey and dreams

FOUR - A rise from the shadows (coming soon)

FIVE - Lost in two words (coming soon)

SIX - coming soon

SEVEN - FINAL BREATH coming soon

BUNNY BUNS

[HYBRID AU]

COMING SOON

Side Characters: Yoongi/black cat hybrid, Hoseok/human, Taehyung/golden hybrid.

Warnings: Smut, violence, mentions of blood. And finally some fluff.

SUMMARY: Jungkook needed to hide. He was on the run. And what better place for a bunny hybrid to hide then a Bunny coffee shop? How could he resist? You smelled sweet and looked nice. All it took was one smile of yours and a bunny bread and he was on all fours for you.

INTRO - Bunny on the run

ONE - Bunnies don’t like water ( coming soon)

TWO - Carrot Cake 🥕(coming soon)

THREE - Bunny in the kitchen coming soon

FOUR - I’ll take care of you coming soon

FIVE - Bunny on the run coming soon

SIX - The last Bun. Coming soon.

ONE SHOTS

Coming soon

YOONGI

My Best Friends Crush

Characters: Min Yoongi/music theory Teacher, Jung Hoseok/dance teacher, Jungkook/art and design student, Jimin/danc student, reader/art student.

Genre: strangers to lovers, forbidden love?

Warnings: mentions of explicit language, sexual references(smutty material), consumption of alcohol, age difference.

Summary: “my whole life I always hated rules and protocols, growing to fin comfort on art as I could express myself unapologetically and freely. But there was one rule I made with myself; never fall in love with your friend crush.

With my rebellious nature, it was bound to be broken but I just never meet someone who would take that seriously.”

HOSEOK

JIMIN

JUNGKOOK

JIN

NAMJOON

TAEHYUNG

1K notes · View notes

bettyfrommars · 11 months

Text

I'm on Fire//biker!Eddie x fem!artist!Reader//Part 11

18+Only, pls no minors, jealous!Eddie, biker!Steve, possessiveness, mention of violence, alcohol consumption, mention of sex, rich people being rich, celebrity sighting, reader wears a dress and heels (for the sake of this story, please pretend that designers made dresses for all sizes in the 90's), dirty deeds, mention of an abusive relationship, being in love. Word count: 8.4k

Summary: As Eddie falls for you more and more, his jealousy comes to the surface. You have a scare as something reminds you of a bad relationship from your past, and you go out to dinner with a potential client, forcing Eddie to profess his feelings as he struggles with the fear of losing you. Steve is offered a new job opportunity that sounds almost too good to be true.

Series Masterlist

A/N: It's been a long time coming 🙃 I am worried that writing the next chapter might get me pregnant. Your comments/messages about this story mean everything to me, and this story wouldn't even exist without the love you've shown it. Thank you, I love you.

-------

I'm on Fire Part 11: No Ordinary Love

-------

Eddie showed up at the Velvet Hammer while you were working that night to make the non-verbal announcement that you were his girl to anyone who might not know it yet, and you took your break so he could fill you in on some of the drama with Steve. He sucked down two cigarettes in the span of 15 minutes, and you could tell that the stress was getting to him.

“Poor Robin,” your eyes glazed over a bit as you stared at the ground, your heart hurting. “She must be a wreck.”

Eddie nodded as he blew smoke to the side. “This isn’t even about Oliver, that greedy bitch just wants more money.”

You searched his face, trying to understand. “You mean, she doesn’t want Oliver in her life?”

Eddie shot the corners of his mouth down in a frown as he flicked ash to the pavement. “Hell no. Steve basically has to pay her off every now and then just so she will leave them alone,” and then Eddie’s eyes narrowed at the empty space in front of him. “No one is taking Oliver away, I can promise you that.”

Eddie stepped back to look you up and down, licking his lips, bucking his chin. “Has anyone tried to hit on you tonight?”

“Eddie…” you sighed and rolled your eyes a little.

“I’m serious,” he finished his cig and threw it to the ground. “I don’t want any of these fuckers thinking they can touch you.”

“Baby,” you wrapped your arms around him and put your head to his chest. “It’s just a job, and no one gets to touch me but you.”

“That’s fucking right,” he murmured, bending his head to kiss you. You still didn’t know that Charlene was the reason you lost the job you loved as a gallery director, and keeping that from you continued to gnaw at him.

He grabbed your chin to force your gaze up to meet his. “I’m dead serious, babe. It’s a respect thing. If anyone crosses a line with you in here, I’ll find out about it, and I’ll break their fucking hand.”

He wasn’t trying to scare you, personally, but his tone was intense, and a drastic change to how he normally spoke to you.

“I know, baby,” you answered in a whisper, suddenly feeling a damp heat between your thighs at his possessiveness over you.

The outfit you were wearing must’ve been turning him on too, because he groaned against your mouth, pulling your hips against his, not caring that the friction shot a ripple of pain into his stab wound.

“You’re gonna make me go back into work all turned on, babe,” you breathed between kisses. You slipped your hands around his ribs under the warmth of his leather.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, fingers digging into your thighs. “I’m about to take you right here. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

You pulled back to search his face, your brows knitting together. “Yeah, why have we been waiting?”

Eddie picked up the back of your skirt so that his middle finger could rub your slit over your underwear while he palmed your ass and it made you whimper. “I wanted it to be...special, I guess,” he admitted, brushing your lips with his, his finger teasing the soft skin at your underwear line.

“You just got stabbed, baby. I don’t want you to---”

“Shhhhhhh,” he said, rubbing his nose against yours. “It’s not my first stab wound baby, and it won’t be my last.”

“Wait,” you put your hand on his chest. “Is that supposed to comfort me?”

Just then the door to the bar flew open with a bang, like someone had kicked it, Sex on Wheelz by My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult blasting into the alleyway, and Eddie did quick work of moving in front of you, blocking your raised skirt from view while you adjusted yourself, and he was glaring at whoever it was.

Jackie stepped out with a Pall Mall between her lips, and paused to shoot the two of you a curious look, wiggling her brows. “What’s been going on out here, kids? None of that hanky panky, I hope.”

----------

A day later, there was a very familiar hunter green SUV parked outside of your place when you rolled around the corner to park in the driveway after some grocery shopping. It as a fairly popular model, and so you didn’t think much of it until you saw that the plates were from Michigan---the state you’d lived in until a year ago when you finally accepted Katie’s invitation to move in with her.

A freezing cold flush of blood burst through your veins as you sat in your car, afraid to get out.

The fear that your ex-fiance Craig would find you and come knocking on your door one day never left you, but your defenses had been lowering as you got comfortable in Hawkins; maybe you’d gotten too comfortable. Maybe you hadn’t covered your tracks enough and someone from your past had told him where you were.

Everything you’d been through in the past few weeks, and now this? You were actually too petrified to move, thinking maybe it was better to start your car up and drive away. But, if he knew where you lived, you would never be free of him. You’d have to get another restraining order, which never did any good anyway. You might even have to move again.

Tears threatened behind your eyes, as adrenaline pumped through you, but then you glanced up and saw Katie come around the corner of the house with an older woman in a floral pantsuit and a bob of gray hair.

Katie paused, and bent down to give you a questioning look, wondering why you were still sitting in your car, lurking. You watched the gray haired woman walk over to the SUV and unlock it with her key, as a gust of stale air escaped your chest with a hiss.

The hunter green SUV belonged to another teacher from the school, Ms. Olsen, and later on, once you were in the house, you told Katie about your moment of panic.

“God,” she was perched on the arm of the sofa. “You really think that piece of shit would go through that much trouble to find you? And then drive all the way out here?”

“In a heartbeat,” you said, pressing your dry lips together. “But, as far as Craig knows, I moved to Oregon to live near my mom, so Hawkins would be completely off his radar. I hope so, anyway.”

Katie stood up. “Well, thankfully it was just a scare. Holy shit, by the look on your face I thought you caught Eddie with another girl again or something.”

You huffed a heavy breath as you dropped your bag onto the side table. “Yeah, I still have the photos. Maybe we should have them framed or something. To remember the good ol’ times.”

“I’m taking Robin out for happy hour to try and get her mind off of things,” Katie called to you as she opened the refrigerator and bent in to grab a soda. She was on her lunch break and on her way back to the school. “Do you want to come with? Just us girls? Steve has Ollie at the tattoo shop with him.”

You declined the offer only because you still needed to call John Gregson, and you wanted to catch him during office hours.

It took a while to get beeped through to his personal secretary, but when she finally took your call, she told you that Mr. Gregson was out of the office, but that she would get a message to him for you. Her snobby tone gave you the feeling that she was going to throw your message in the trash the second you hung up, but not five minutes later---he called you back.

“Hey there,” he beamed. You could hear him smiling through the phone. “I’m sorry my secretary made you wait. I told her to patch you through to my personal line next time.”

“I’m surprised you even remembered my name,” you were standing at the counter in front of a pad of paper with a pen in your hand just in case you needed to write anything down.

You’d be lying if you said the first few minutes of the conversation were completely innocent and did not dabble in flirtation. Your loyalty to Eddie was deep, but kindling a bit of a friendship with John was a necessary evil for the time being. A couple thousand dollars for a painting and a chance to let Charlene know you had tricks too? Priceless.

While he was letting you know what size canvas he wanted and some prominent color choices, you drifted off a bit, wondering if John knew about Charlene’s affair. Affairs, plural? You did not get the sense that he was at all lacking in cognitive function, and since he was such a successful business man, you assumed he could read people pretty well.

“Are you free for dinner tonight?”

He had to repeat it because your mind had gone rogue.

“Dinner? Tonight?” He continued. “With me.”

You had zero romantic feelings for John—your heart was very much engaged elsewhere---so you could shrug it off as a platonic business deal. But, you also couldn’t help but wonder how your newly christened boyfriend Eddie would feel about it. Appearances aside, he had to understand that, much like the guys you were nice to at the Velvet Hammer---it was just a job. Plus, John was very openly married, and attempting a blatant affair with you wouldn’t be a bright move.

Still, it felt like he was asking you on date.

“I could come to your office tomorrow? I’m free all day.” You offered.

“I won’t be in the office tomorrow, I’m flying to Boston for the rest of the week, but I could pick you up later today around 7:00?” He sounded humble, but at the same time very sure of himself. “You see, there is this new restaurant on the lake with a collection of artwork I’d think you’d enjoy. We could talk about the commission there in a more relaxed setting.”

You swallowed. He was very persuasive, you’d give him that. You knew the exact restaurant he was talking about; Sakura Black was owned by a movie star who had a vacation home in town. It was strictly reservation only and you’d always wanted to see what it was like on the inside. There was a private airport nearby and helicopter pad on the roof for the wealthy elite to pop over from the city for dinner to enjoy “small town life”.

You gnawed at your bottom lip for a few seconds, doodling frantic circles all over the pad of paper with your pen, and then you accepted.

“Well, you just made my day,” John told you.

After you hung up the phone, your hand stayed on the receiver, and you said, “fuck,” under your breath.

--------

“What do you mean he asked you out to dinner? You mean, like a date?” Eddie asked gruffly.

Eddie was in his coveralls with an over sized wrench in his hand with grease smeared across his cheek and thighs. You showed up at the garage about an hour after you’d talked to John, feeling like this was a conversation that needed to happen in person.

He frowned as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the desk in the office. His new part time helper Dana had just left and Wayne was away having one of his chemo treatments. He was leaning away from you, teeth grinding, jaw muscles flexing, as he absorbed the news. He had been damn near giddy when he saw you park and walk over; eagerly pulling your mouth to his as a smile stretched his lips. “Damn, I’ve missed my girl,” he’d murmured as he nuzzled your nose, and then the three other mechanics behind him started whistling and shouting, “get a room!” To which Eddie grabbed your hand and flipped them off.

“It’s not a romantic date, baby. He just wants to talk about this commission I’m going to do for him,” you soothed, giving him space as you rested your shoulder against the green metal door.

“Sure he does,” Eddie chided. But then he sucked his teeth and tried to cool the hot emotions that were bubbling up. “What did you say his name was?”

This was the even trickier part.

You sighed and rubbed your fingers across your forehead before you met his gaze again. “His name is John. John Gregson.”

Eddie snorted and turned on his heel, rubbing his hands down his face. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, babe. Please tell me you’re joking?” After keeping his back to you for a bit, shoulders tight, he finally turned around to face you and tapped the desk with his knuckle as he spoke. “You know who he is, right? Who he’s married to?”

You nodded as you gazed at the scuffed toes of his boots and the frayed ends of his coveralls where they sat at his laces.

Eddie gave a few slow blinks, spreading his fingers on the desk to brace himself as he leaned. “I don’t feel good about this, babe. I don’t want you alone with this guy.”

You did your best to explain the situation to him, going all the way back to when John purchased some art from an outdoor festival you participated in a few years ago, to how he recognized you at the Velvet Hammer, and then Steve giving you his card to hopefully bring some money your way.

Eddie waited, but his expression of doubt stayed the same. “Listen,” he ran the tip of his tongue over his top lip and came a bit closer to you, crossing his arms again. “I appreciate that you told me. But you don’t know these people, baby. They are rich and they are mean. They don’t care who they hurt, as long as they get what they want at the end of the day. John might seem like a decent dude, but I’d bet money that he’s no different.”

As Eddie said it, he knew there was a lot of his ego involved in trying to talk you out of it. It was his fault you lost the job as a gallery director—a job that you loved---and he wondered if he was being selfish in trying to keep you from whatever amount of money you could get from what’s his name. The last thing he wanted to do was push you away, and if anything could, it would be his jealousy. He was sure it had pushed people away in the past.

Eddie bowed his head, and you moved into his orbit, tugging his crossed arms down so he would lower them and let you in. “I’m fucking filthy, baby,” he said as you put your head to his chest and wrapped your arms around him. He placed his cheek on the top of your head. You nuzzled him, inhaling the scent of car exhaust and motor oil and the earthy soft undertones of his warm skin.

“Oh, god, don’t I know it,” you teased, pinching a handful of his ass.

He barked a low laugh despite himself and tightened his arms around you. “You make me this way.”

You swayed there together for a bit before he huffed out a heavy breath. “So, what time is your date?” He bit out the word ‘date’ so hard, his jaw clicked.

You pushed off of him, exasperated, and slightly offended. “Baby, it’s not a date. He doesn’t mean anything to me, it’s just like a…business thing. You know how much I love---”

But then the rest of it kind of choked in your throat, and you doubted yourself, and you clamped your mouth shut to keep any more from escaping. You didn’t doubt your feelings for him, but you doubted that blurting it out in that moment was the right thing to do.

Both of you were simultaneously paranoid that you’d scare the other one off by being too blunt about your feelings. Why? Because any time you had confessed your feelings to someone in the past, they either ruined your life or left you; there was no happy medium.

“Yeah? You love what?” Eddie waited, searching your face, interlacing his fingers with yours, anticipation burning in his chest.

You started to fidget under his intense gaze, shifting your attention around the room. “I-I love your stupid face.”

He squeezed your hand, and leaned in to press his lips flush against your ear, his warm breath making you shiver. “Ditto, babe.”

--------

Eddie was not smiling when you left the garage. You told him all of the details, including what time you were being picked up, the name of the restaurant (he rolled his eyes), and you told him you’d call the second you got home.

“Or, call me from the restaurant if he gets handsy or some stupid shit,” he added with a frown. “It would be my pleasure to go to jail for bouncing that clown into next week.”

You did all you could to comfort him, but at the end of the day, he was a grown man who needed to understand that you were excited for not only the money, but for the opportunity to be doing what you loved again. You felt like you’d lost your spark lately and you were anxious to get it back.

It was around 4 o’clock when you pulled up to the curb at the chocolate brown duplex with white trim that you shared with Katie. From behind the wheel, you spotted what looked like a big, flat white box with a string tied in a bow at the top. As you got closer, with your keys and bag in your hand, you realized there was a fancy note card on it addressed to you.

You put it on the island in the kitchen and started at it while your tongue slid across your teeth in contemplation. The store on the tag was from a French boutique in Chicago that you had never heard of in your life.

The inside of the card said: “I forgot to ask if you had something casual but elegant for tonight. See you at 7:00 -- J.”

Once you opened the lid of the box and pulled the tissue paper back, you let out a small gasp at the Dolce & Gabbana label staring you in the face. It was simple black dress with red lining, knee length but with a high slit up the leg, strapless, and there was a black choker and heels to match.

You hated to admit it, but perhaps Eddie’s read on John had been a tad on-the-nose.

--------

“Whoa there Julia Roberts,” Katie joked as you walked out to the living room at 6:45, trying to steady yourself on your new heels. “Is Richard Gere picking you up or what?”

Robin was there too and she spun around on the couch to whistle at you. “Good god, woman, Eddie should see you now. He’d blow a gasket.”

Under your breath you responded, “maybe, but not for the reason you’d think.”

Katie rested her hip on the back of the couch and combed her fingers through Robin’s hair as she raised her eyebrow at you. “Where are you going looking like a stick of dynamite? You look too nice for the Hammer.”

You opened your clutch to make sure you had the necessities. “I’m going to dinner with a potential client who wants to commission a painting,” you were withholding the bigger truth because you wanted to avoid getting into a discussion about it. “It’s not a big deal, I should be home in a few hours.”

Robin and Katie exchanged a look.

They did make sure to peak through the blinds when your ride arrived, though, and saw that it wasn’t just any old ride: it was a sleek, black Rolls-Royce, complete with chauffeur, and the man who got out to open the door for you was unarguably handsome and dapper. Salt n’ Pepper hair that was thick and a little wavy on top, tan skin, and what appeared to be an expensive, tailored suit. Once you had slipped into your seat behind the dark tinted windows, the man actually glanced up and caught the two girls watching, to which he gave a charming smile and a wave.

“THAT’S the client she’s going to dinner with?” Katie balked, realizing there was a lot you weren’t telling her. “He looks like Robert fucking Redford.”

“Oh, shit,” Robin whispered, her chin on Katie’s shoulder. “I think I know who that is. I can’t remember his name, but his face is always in the paper. Pretty sure he owns most of this town.”

You braced your hands on the smooth leather seat on either side of your hips as John found his place next to you and offered you a glass of champagne. “Or sparkling water, or gin, if you prefer?”

“Champagne sounds great,” you said with a quiver on your lips. You were too intimidated to admit you’d never been in a Rolls-Royce before, or any car worth its value.

He popped the cork and poured you a glass flute, his eyes covertly flashing to your legs as he worked. “I’m happy to see the dress fit. It looks like it was made for you.”

You cleared your throat as he passed your beverage over. “I’m nervous to spill on it. I think it costs more than my car.”

John smiled against the rim of his glass as he spoke. “If anything happens to it, we’ll just buy you another one,” he assured you with a wink.

----------

Around the same time you found the dress on your porch earlier that day, Steve picked up the phone at the shop after three rings, just before the machine was about to get it. He was in the middle of working on matching ankle tattoos for two sisters, and Oliver was at his special kid-sized plastic desk in the corner scrawling with crayons in a coloring book. Molly, the tattoo artist he rented a chair from was deeply absorbed in getting the lines in for a huge back piece on a client and she begged him to get it while Feel the Pain by Dinosaur Jr played in the background over the buzzing of a tattoo gun.

“Cutthroat Tattoo, this’s Steve,” his voice was a bit gruff, but he didn’t mean for it to be. It had been nonstop all day and the phone was ringing off the hook.

“You’re a hard man to track down,” the confident woman on the other end cooed. “Do you have a second? Is this a bad time?”

“Yeah, it is a bad time. Who’s this?” Steve frowned, running his thumb along the edge of the counter.

“I’m the one who bailed you out of jail,” she answered, with a hint of laughter in her voice.

Steve frowned even harder, walking further away from the customers so that he as at the corner of the desk against the wall. His mind was racing because he didn’t recognize the voice. Was it someone he fucked recently and forgot about? In that case, it was the least he could do to remember her name, but nothing was coming to him.

“Sweetheart, I’d love to thank you properly, but I still have no idea who you are,” he braced his hand high on the wall, his back muscles and tattoos visible under his thin wife beater. “Can I have a clue?”

She continued to ignore his question. “If you’re interested I might have a job for you. It pays well, and it will only be a couple hours out of your day.”

He dropped his hand from the wall and slipped it into his arm pit. “How much is ‘well’?”

She told him it would be a couple grand for a few hours, and he almost said yes before he even asked what the job even was.

“What’s the catch, baby?” He was still under the assumption that this was someone he had carnal knowledge of, and not a complete stranger. “Cause my days of being a high paid assassin are behind me.”

“Oh no, nothing like that,” she purred. “It’s just that I’m going to an event in a couple days and I need to hire a body guard to be my escort.”

Steve scoffed at the simplicity of what she was asking. “That’s all? Sweetheart, I’m your man.”

“I knew you were the right man for the job,” she praised.

“Hey,” he turned to give the woman in his chair a silent wink and thumbs up to let her know he’d be right there. “You still haven’t told me your name. I’m good with faces, darlin’, but voices? Not so much.”

“You can call me Char,” she told him, giving him her phone number. He took the cap off a pen with his teeth and ripped out a page from the phone book to write it down. “Give me a call when you’re done and we can work out the details.”

Char...Char...Steve’s mind raced with who that might be. But, damn all he could think of was how nice it would be to get his hands on that money. They’d been living paycheck to paycheck for a while now, and it would be nice to put a little extra in the bank so he could breathe for a fucking second. Body guard gigs were a piece of cake, and hell, if she wanted to pay him to have sex with her he might even agree to that as well, depending on what she was offering. Now, with Tina sniffing around again, he was on edge every second, and not sure if she really wanted to be in Oliver’s life, in which case he’d need to pay out the ass to hire a lawyer, or if she just wanted to squeeze his balls for more dough.

He couldn’t wait to brag to Eddie how mysterious women were stumbling over themselves to pay his bail and his bills.

--------

John made small talk with you as the driver, who was behind a black tinted partition, maneuvered the car up through the woods toward the lake. You passed a few MC members cruising along with the wind in their faces, and your heart stuck in your throat, hoping one of them were Eddie. Even Steve or Thumper would’ve been a welcome sight in that moment.

John was a gentleman, from what you could tell, and he was doing everything he could to make you comfortable, but you still felt terribly out of place; both in body and soul. To make matters worse, you were already missing Eddie. You realized that you could’ve gone to be with him that night instead, and the weight of your choice made your heart heavy. The song No Ordinary Love by Sade dripped softly from the speaker near your leg and it drowned out John’s voice for a few seconds as you thought about the beautiful, loving man you’d left waiting for you at home.

A magic, purple dusk exploded over the lake, between the trees as John came around to open your door and extend his hand for you to take.

“I don’t think I said it yet,” the side of his mouth lifted in a grin. He smelled like spices and expensive, Italian leather. “But you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

You rolled your shoulders and did the best to put all of your weight on the balls of your feet as you adjusted to the heels. He extended the crook of his arm to you and you took it, feeling like you were on some strange prom date.

Ahead of you was a walkway that led through a Japanese-style garden with a large Koi pond, on the way to a long, wide ranch-style building with gold lanterns dangling from the roof.

Sakura Black was known for it’s Japanese and Asian fusion cuisine. You’d only read about it in magazines, of course, and so it was a treat to see it all up close.

There was tight security from the time your chauffeur let you out at the curb to where you entered the building. A handful of muscular guys whose shoulders looked too big for their suit jackets, and whose necks were wider than their heads, talked to each other through ear pieces with dramatically serious faces, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think they were with the FBI or Secret Service. John didn’t even have to acknowledge them; they instantly ushered him through because they clearly recognized him.

You knew it was no secret that John was married, and you wondered what people thought your relationship was with him. Did they think you were one of his mistresses? Or was it a regular occurrence for him to bring young women there for dinner to talk over business deals? You honestly had no idea if you looked like a lucky girl or a fool to them.

Inside, the décor was warm tones and sharp edges; industrial design, with a pristine air of perfection and minimalism. You were a bit shocked when you realized that it made you miss the chaotic, clammy, nicotine saturated air of the Velvet Hammer.

The host with the wire rimmed glasses saw you and John coming, and got a bit flustered, before he stole himself for a proper greeting. “Your table is waiting, Mr. Gregson,” he extended his arm, encouraging you both to follow him down three steps to the main dining floor. There were solid windows along the back wall for a view of the lake at dusk, and the place was dimly lit, almost too dim for you to see if there were any celebrities in the crowd as you tried to scan around without moving your head. Soft murmuring voices heard over metal clinking on ceramic as waiters brought flaming dishes out on rolling carts.

John’s table was down close to one of the windows; there were two tealights burning in glass bubbles, and a bottle of red wine at the ready. You slipped free of John’s arm so that the host could pull your chair out for you, and you just so happened to move back two steps too many and you bumped into someone.

You both turned around at the same time to gush your apologies, and that was when you realized that the person you’d just smacked into was, in fact, the actor Richard Gere himself.

--------

Eddie was restless. He took a shower, and then nearly wore a hole in the floor from pacing.

He should’ve told you he didn’t want you to go. He should’ve told you...how he felt about you. God, was it too late? What if you realized that having an affair with with a rich dude was just what you needed? It would take away all of your stress, and you could stop working your ass off at the Velvet Hammer. It would help your art career, and you’d never have to worry about money. Surely, John Gregson was intelligent, well-spoken, successful—the type of man you deserved to be with. Since you met Eddie, your life had fallen into chaos and damn near poverty. In fact, the more he thought about it, what the hell did you even seen in him anyway?

He fully intended to wait by the phone until you called, but the minutes felt like hours, and he decided to take a ride over to Steve’s house for some company. Steve was still at the shop, but Robin had just arrived home after picking up Oliver, and it was a much needed distraction from his intrusive thoughts.

He read Oliver a bedtime story (it was coincidentally also one of his favorites: Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs) while Robin put away the dishes, and then the two adults had a beer out on the patio under dim yellow light where insects tapped and buzzed.

One sip and Robin sat up in her chair, regarding him with wide eyes. “Hold on, I almost forgot to tell you how hot your woman looked tonight. Wowza!”

Eddie’s beer paused halfway to his mouth and his smile dropped.

Robin licked her bottom teeth as she grinned, bending her knee to put her foot on the chair. “She was gorgeous, but also very sophisticated and elegant. Total show-stopper. You would’ve been on your knees.”

Eddie was gripping his beer can so tight, he crushed it a bit, forcing liquid to spurt out of the top.

“Yeah, how long ago was that?” Eddie asked in a mumble.

“How long was what? When I saw your girl? Um, maybe an hour ago. I left right after to pick Ollie up.”

Robin started talking about the whole mess with Tina, and a few minutes in, Eddie got to his feet. “I gotta go, Rob. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Thanks for the beer.”

“You have to go...right now? Seriously dude?” She balked. But Eddie was already grabbing his leather and taking long strides around the house to where he parked the chopper.

Robin sighed heavily into the mouth of her beer just before taking a few large gulps.

--------

Richard Gere reached out and put his palm on your elbow. “Are you okay? I didn’t meant to bulldoze into you like that.”

You were understandably speechless for a moment, mouth agape, as you looked from his face to the other people at his table. A part of you hoped to see Cindy Crawford there, but then you remembered they’d been divorced for a couple years. There were two other people with him: an older gentleman you did not recognize, and a woman who could’ve very well been a runway model.

You were about to speak when John came up behind you, resting his hand at your lower back. “Richard,” John greeted as they both shook hands. They knew each other? John introduced you. “This is that talented painter I was telling you about. I’m commissioning a piece for our lake house.”

Richard regarded you with invested interested. “A-ha, that’s right. I’d love to see your work. Do you have a card?”

“I don’t have one with me, but I---” you stammered, disbelief clouding your cognitive functions.

John’s hand made circles on your back as he spoke. “I’ll have my secretary send over her information tomorrow,” he told Richard.

Once the two of you were finally scooting into your table, John raised his eyebrow. “Richard’s a good friend, and an avid art collector. He loves finding new talent, that’s why I told him about you.”

Your heart raced as you put your napkin in your lap. Your seat faced the entrance where you’d just come in, and the side of Richard. He turned and winked at you as he put his hand onto the leg of the supermodel next to him.

The menu items didn’t have any prices on them, except for the wine list which had some going for hundreds of dollars. It made you gulp. You could probably live for a month on what these people were paying for one dinner.

“Is it okay if I order for you?” John asked, small, tortoise shell readers as the end of his nose. You were more than grateful for that suggestion, and he didn’t seem at all bothered when you said you were a vegetarian. Your waiter poured the wine, John started with appetizers, and the two of you proceeded to stick to the topic of business, and what he was hoping for in the artwork for his den.

It started to be less and less like a date and more like dinner with a friend, which made you feel a whole lot better about everything. You wondered what the story was between John and Charlene: how they met, how they fell in love, how they grew so far apart. There was probably someone there in the crowd who would see the two of you together and report back to Charlene. Would she even care?

Also, you really missed Eddie. You watched John hold his hands out in front of him, explaining a piece of art he bought while he was in Italy, with the romantic lake as a backdrop, and all you could think about was how you’d rather be kissing Eddie in the alley behind the Velvet Hammer, surrounded by the smell of rotting trash.

John expressly told the waiter to let the chef know which substitutions they required for your dietary needs, and he ordered another bottle of wine. You were watching him pour it when, several tables down, you spotted a waiter who you swore was your previous work colleague, Jeff. Just then, the guy with the golden blonde hair locked eyes with you at the same time and a wild look flashed across his face before he regained his composure and finished taking the order at the table he was at.

“Excuse me for just a moment?” You said to John as you got up from the table and placed your napkin on your seat. “I need to….” what was the phrase again? You couldn’t tell him you needed to use the toilet, that was vulgar. “...to go to the powder room. I’ll be right back.”

You made your way along the main floor and then up the steps, making eye contact with Jeff and motioning covertly for him to follow you. Jeff jerked his head, motioning you in the other direction, down between the bar and the kitchen. You both did good work of keeping your composure until you were hidden and out of ear shot.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jeff blurted, bouncing on the balls of his feet a bit.

“Um, I was about to ask you the same thing? Hello? You quit the gallery?” You exchanged a hug as you talked.

“Yeah, fuck that place,” Jeff adjusted the front of his shirt. “Besides you would not believe the celebrity sightings here. I’m gonna get swept off my feet soon.”

“Yeah no kidding,” you agreed in a whisper. “Richard Gere is basically sitting at our table.”

You were both speed-talking because neither one had much time.

“Who is that hot daddy you’re with?” Jeff asked.

“You’ll never believe it.”

“Try me?”

“It’s Charlene Gregson’s husband,” you said, exposing your lower teeth in a cringe.

Jeff made his mouth into an exaggerated “O” shape. “Girl, you have a lot of explaining to do. Why didn’t you call me?”

“Why didn’t you call ME?”

One of the other servers walked by and you hugged again, agreeing adamantly to meet up for cocktails as you wiggled fingers at each other to say farewell. You came up into the reception area, about to turn and make your way back down to the restaurant, when a deep voice made you freeze in your tracks.

“Hey.” It was Eddie.

---------

Eddie didn’t have a plan, he was just going. His hair flew in the wind, his hands twisting high up on the ape hanger handlebars, thundering along the winding mountain road like the devil was on his heels.

Sure, the restaurant you were at had tight security, but half of them were buddies of his. Plus, he wouldn’t have given a shit if he had to take them all on. In fact, bashing some heads in would’ve felt pretty fucking good in that moment.

He told Mick and Angus at the gate that he was there to cover for one of the guys, and they let him him right in; engine revving as the chopper crawled up the driveway and found a place right next to a red Ferrari. He ran his hand through his hair, rings clicking together as he swung his leg off the bike, adjusting his Coffin Kings leather cut over his plain white tee, exposing the tattoos from his neck to fingers. The black jeans he had on did not have holes in them but still—he was vastly under dressed for this crowd. God, he secretly hoped someone had the guts to try and throw him out; that would be fun.

He walked up to Rodney—a big dude with most of his dark hair in a buzz cut, but for the 5 inch long rat tail at the back---and offered him a smoke. Rodney had to wear his shirt buttoned at the collar and at his wrists to hide all of his tattoos. There were two other square-head dudes in suits positioned at the door, but Eddie didn’t know them.

He pointed his chin at the two in question, exhaling smoke. “Will I get any trouble from those two if I go in?”

Rodney wiped his nose with his thumb as his cheeks caved in for another drag. “Nah, they don’t mess with the Kings, man. They’re just gym bros. Say ‘boo’ and they’ll piss themselves.”

He made small talk for another minute or two, and then tossed his smoke when it was only halfway finished.

The two at the door moved immediately for Eddie, just as Rodney suggested they would. They even bowed their heads a bit, as if he were some type of mystical royalty.

The guy at the reception desk forgot to blink when he looked up at him, wondering if he should call the police or scream, but Eddie raised his hand with a partial smile, letting him know he didn’t want any trouble. “I’m just checking to see if someone is here,” he let him know. “It’s an emergency.”

“How about I check for you?” The guy in the wire-rimmed glasses asked nervously, shuffling papers. “Can I have a name?”

“No,” Eddie answered bluntly as he kept walking.

He stepped beyond a black partition to where he had a view of the lake windows and the people dining down below.

And then there you were.

Looking like a million bucks and then some. As confident as he’d been entering the building, now butterflies were exploding in his stomach and his face flushed with heat. If he didn’t know you, he’d be too nervous to even speak to you. You had always been way out of his league, but the way you looked that night really solidified the fact.

“Hey,” he said.

----------

“Eddie?” You stopped and looked around, not sure what was happening. “Baby, what are you doing here?”

You grabbed his hand and took him around the other side of the partition so that you weren’t right out in plain sight.

Eddie looked you up and down. “Did he buy you that dress?”

You only swallowed, and your silence said it all.

You took hold of his forearm, trying to meet his shifting gaze. “I promised you I’d call when I got home, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

He’d rehearsed the words over and over on the ride there, but now they might as well have been a foreign language.

Eddie cast his gaze beyond you to all of the people eating their dinner as he shifted his jaw from side to side. “Did you tell him you have a boyfriend? Maybe I should introduce myself.”

“Baby, baby, baby, look at me,” you coaxed; one finger hooked in his belt loop and one guiding his face so that he’d look at you. His skin was hot, like he had a temperature. “I can’t do this with you right now. Please. You’re stressing me out. I’ll come by your place as soon as I’m done here, okay?”

Eddie knew he was blowing it. Internally, he tried that little meditation trick when you count back from ten or whatever the fuck, and he took a deep breath, but it didn’t help.

He kissed your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he sucked his plump bottom lip into his teeth, biting down. “You’re just...so beautiful.”

You rose up to kiss his lips, and then you squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll call you once I’m home, and then I’ll come over okay? I promise.”

Eddie nodded as you got further away from him, so far that you finally had to let go of his hand as your reach stretched to its limit. After you made your way down the couple of steps, you turned around to make eye contact with him again, but he was looking down.

Once you got back to the table, you stretched your neck up to check, and you didn’t see him standing in the same spot anymore, so you let out a relieved sigh. Your meals were on the table, and you apologized for taking so long. “I ran into a friend,” you told John.

After a bit more conversation and a couple bites of food, you glanced over to see that Jeff was shuffling his way over to your table. The smile he had pressed across his face was not reaching his eyes as he came up beside you and John.

He asked your name, as if he didn’t know it. “There is a...telephone call for you. Follow me please?”

You exchanged a look with John as you finished chewing your food and pushed your chair out. You excused yourself, again.

“Take your time,” John called to you as you followed behind Jeff.

Jeff did not take you to a telephone; he motioned for you to follow him around the other side of the bar, to a narrow hallway hidden behind a black velvet curtain. The sounds of the shouts and pans clinking in the kitchen were clear as day.

There was Eddie, waiting with his arms crossed. Jeff patted your hand as he left you there and walked away.

“Baby what...” your shoulders dropped, exasperated.

“Hold up, wait,” Eddie put his hand out. “I have something to say, and then you can go back to doing...whatever.”

You leaned against the door that said EXIT above it in orange letters. You really just wanted to get this dinner over so you could, indeed, be with Eddie again, but he was intent on dragging it out.

Eddie cast his gaze to the floor, hooking his thumbs into his front belt loops. “Listen, I know I don’t deserve you, okay?”

“Eddie---”

“Shhhh,” he whispered. “Let me finish.”

You blinked and nodded, trying to be patient.

“So, I know I don’t have a lot right now, but one day I will. I’ll be comfortable at least. I’m not going to be in that apartment over the garage forever. I’ve made investments, I have some plans,” his eyes flicked to yours only briefly. “I’ve got enough money saved right now, what if I commission a painting from you? I can pay you whatever this dickhead is offering.”

You opened your mouth to speak but then--

He put his hand at your waist, urging you closer. “I wanna be the one you come to, baby. I want to take care of you. I will, if you’ll just let me.”

You couldn’t look at him for some reason, tears pooled at your lash line, and a lump lodged in your throat, your lip quivering. You’d been taking care of yourself for so long, you hadn’t realized how nice it would sound for someone to offer such a thing

The tip of his tongue came out to wet his bottom lip, and he slid his hand up along the side of your face, urging your eyes to meet his. “All I wanna do is make you happy and keep you safe,” his thumb brushed across the side of your mouth. “You’re everything to me, baby. I just wanna know that you’re mine.”

“But I am yours,” your voice squeaked as you sniffed back pending tears.

“Yeah, well, there’s something else,” Eddie’s heart rate quickened. He stepped forward to close the distance between the two of you and touched his forehead to yours briefly.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” he continued, swallowing hard. Your wet eyes were possibly contagious because his chocolate eyes were glistening now too. “But I’m just so fucking in love with you that I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel like I’m---”

But then you smashed your lips to his, blinking tears down your cheeks, tasting the salt as it dripped down your lips and mingled with your shared saliva. Your hands wandered all over each other, begging for purchase, eager moans vibrating in your throats. His words and the sweet eagerness of the kiss threatened to make a mess of your underwear right there in the restaurant.

You blinked and sniffed as you met his eyes again. You were shaking your head, almost in disbelief at the circumstances. “I love you so much,” you admitted, relieved to say the words after they’d been living on your tongue for so long.

Eddie found your mouth again, clutching the back of your neck to pull you closer, speaking in between eager kisses. “You do? Say it again, baby. Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you murmured against his lips as he wrapped his arms around and crushed you to him. The last I love you made a little laugh hitch in your throat at the absurdity of where this confession was taking place.

Eddie picked you up so that your feet were off the ground for a second, making you squeal, and then he searched your eyes, his pupils blown. “God, I want to be inside of you so bad right now,” he breathed.

You reached down to feel the outline of his cock grow stiff in his jeans, and you thought about telling John that there was an emergency and you had to split.

He rubbed his nose on yours and then took your wrist and flattened your palm over his heart. “You can finish your dinner, baby, I’ll wait for you in the parking lot, I don’t care how long it takes. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Part 12

------

@notsobubblybaby @eighty6babyyy @unfocused81 @aysheashea @truffleshuffle12 @manicmagicmayhem @etherealglimmer @dream-a-little-nightmare @rhirojo @ms1oftheboys @hellv1ra @emxcast @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @lma1986 @secretdryrose @falling-solar-system @kurdtbean @whatwedontdointheshadows @miarosso @layla-loves-ed @lofaewrites @eddiemunson95 @seventhlevelofhell @stylesxmunson @chelebelletx @texasblues @michellecrusher

@dandelionnfluff @nope-thanks @kelsiegrin @eddiemunson95 @clincallyonline17 @lilpotatobean2 @hideoutside @tlclick73 @mmunson86 @sidthedollface2 @leilalaufeyson02 @tenthmoon @corrodedcoffincumslut

#eddiemunsonseries #eddiemunson #eddiemunsonfic #biker eddie munson #eddie my beloved #older!eddie #steve harrington #older eddie munson #i'm on fire #90s au #boyfriend eddie munson

418 notes · View notes

thedansemacabres · 4 months

Text

The Almost Lost Relationship of Adonis and Dionysus

[ID: An image of the seats at the Theater of Dionysus in Athens. The sun shines on the pale steps, illuminating them slightly. Beyond the stairs, there is nothing else in the theatre and it acts as an empty scene.]

wordpress link

ADONIS IS KNOWN FOR BEING CAUGHT BETWEEN PERSEPHONE AND APHRODITE, and this eventually being the cause of his death—Artemis, Ares, Apollon, or perhaps all send a boar to gore Adonis and end the affair between him and Aphrodite. However, of course, there is always more to this story: that being the continuation, the romance of Adonis and Dionysus. This will serve as a small introduction to a relatively unknown aspect of Adonis’ mythology, especially in the perspective of Adonis representing infertile life compared to Dionysus’ fertility.

PANYASSIS, AND THEN PLATO

Apollodorus contains one of the earliest tellings of Adonis’ death from the 5th century poet Panyassis, who states that Adonis died twice—once when Persephone obtained him, and another when he was gored by a boar. However, continuing Panyassis’ fragment, Plato Comicus states that Adonis’ death was caused by Aphrodite and Dionysus, not Aphrodite and Persephone:

O Kinyras, king of the hairy-assed Cypriots, Your child is by nature most beautiful and most marvelous Of all humans, but two divinities will destroy him, She being rowed by secret oars, and he rowing them. (fr. 3)

By desiring and loving Adonis, Aphrodite and Dionysus later cause his demise. This is one of the earliest mentions of Adonis and Dionysus, whilst grim, does lead us slightly into the romance of Adonis and Dionysus. Another myth—or perhaps a continuation of this one—presents another tale, as recorded by Plutarch.

PLUTARCH’S FRAGMENT

Plutarch presents a differing story: that Dionysus fought with Aphrodite for Adonis and won. In discussing the ethics of food, particularly eating swine, he invokes this in a lost text written by Phanocles:

Εἰδὼς θεῖον Ἄδωνιν ὀρειφοίτης Διόνυσος ἥρπασεν, ἠγαθέην Κύπρον ἐποιχόμενος. Knowingly, mountain-roaming Dionysus carried away the divine Adonis, after approaching the Holy Cyprian with hostile purpose. Plutarch, Quaestiones Convivales

One of the many reasons he cites for pigs being less than ideal animals for consumption is that they gored Adonis—which, in hypothesis, could be a reason that some Aphrodisian cults avoided consuming pork, but this is merely my own thinking.

This fragment gives little context to the motives of Dionysus in this myth, the reaction of Aphrodite or Adonis. Despite this, the wording is of intrigue to me of several parts:

What does knowingly mean? The translation phrases it as Dionysus knowing, but knowing what? Or does this refer to Adonis knowing that he would be carried off—as in the original ancient Greek, it is placed as “knowing, divine Adonis.”

Adonis here is called a god, theos, which may refer to his apotheosis, which was of contention in ancient Greece.

“Hostile purpose”, ἐποιχόμενος, also refers to the passing of wine. So, instead of violence, he may have given Aphrodite wine in “exchange” for Adonis.

There is also something to be said of the similarity between Adonis being carried off with Dionysus carrying Ariadne away from Noxus. There were also contentions about the divinity of Ariadne, with some myths declaring her dying and another conflating her with Aphrodite—similarly to Adonis, who Plutarch mentioned previously could be identified with Dionysus.

PERSONAL EXPERIENCE

As remarked in the Adonia in Context, Adonis’ divinity was a contested question—with some remarking him as nothing sacred, while others entreating him as a deity. I personally have come to understand him as divine, returning from the underworld, especially as he journeyed there with Persephone. That within itself—returning to and from the underworld—is no task for mortals, even if it was divinely sanctioned by Zeus. If he did die when he was first received by Persephone, does this imply a cycle of resurrection that eventually led to a state in between, or an odd sense of immortality?

There is also the notable comparison of Adonis and Dionysus mirroring Ariadne and Dionysus, in which they are taken by Dionysus and become his lovers. In my own practice, this does come into Adonis being in our modern terms in a polycule with the god. Fascinatingly, Ariadne’s own divinity was of debate, perhaps remarking her as a parallel to Adonis himself. There is certainly something to be said of Adonis being a sterile god with the fertility god Dionysus, continuing the paradox of Dionysus. Adonis represents the ancient Greek man that was infertile and as such did not mature into a proper member of the polis, and Dionysus is the great disrupter of the polis.

As a personal practice though, there is always the option for others to honour them as I do—as divine lovers—and in my personal practice, Dionysus is the one who eventually “wins” Adonis. And as someone extremely unconventional and a “failed” man in the eyes of my biological family, Adonis is the perfect comfort as the failed adult who succeeds into immortality.

References

Edmund P. Cueva, (1996). Plutarch’s Ariadne in Chariton’s Chaereas and Callirhoe. American Journal of Philology,

Jameson, M. H. (2019). 2. The asexuality of Dionysus. In Cornell University Press eBooks (pp. 44–64). https://doi.org/10.7591/9781501733680-007

Plutarch, Quaestiones Convivales, stephpage 612c. (n.d.). http://data.perseus.org/citations/urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0007.tlg112.perseus-grc1:612c

Reitzammer, L. (2016). The Athenian Adonia in context: The Adonis Festival as cultural practice. https://muse.jhu.edu/book/45855

Seaford, R. (2006). Dionysos. Routledge.

#adonis deity #dionysus deity #dionysos deity #dionysus devotee #dionysus worship #aphrodite deity #aphrodite worship #hellenic pagan #hellenic polytheism #hellenic paganism #hellenic polytheist #helpol #dragonis.txt #witchcraft #pagan #witchblr #paganism #paganblr

170 notes · View notes

blossomwritesthings · 1 year

Text

❦― 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 :: 𝐬𝐤𝐳

❦― psa & reminders

- some of the following content contains 18+ content. if you are a minor, ageless in your profile, or have a default/empty blog, do NOT interact with such work. however, i take no responsibility for your own media consumption, so please read at your own risk.

- all of the following works are purely fictional, and in no way do they represent any of the stray kids as individuals in real-life.

- ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ғɪᴄs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ ɪᴅᴇᴀs, sᴏ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ. ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ/ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴀɴʏ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs).

💋 - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋread my rules & guidelines here! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋmy wip list! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ skz fic recs [sfw ver]! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋskz fic recs [nsfw ver]! :: 18+, MDNI! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋback to navigation! ࿐ྂ!

❦― tag directory

genres: ______ - angst [☹] - fluff [☾] - humor [☁] - contains violence [☄ ] - suggestive [✴] - pure smut [❦ , 18+ - mdni]

estimated length: ______ - ♣ :: reactions (depends on how many members are in it, but between 500-1.0k) - ✰ :: drabble/imagine/scenario (500-6.0k) - ♔ :: oneshot (1.5-15.k) - ♦ longfic (15.k+) - request [✎] - completed series [✢]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🥀 ot8

skz & lingerie ~ wc: 5.4k ~ ☾ , ✴ / ❦ , ✰

⤷ [established relationship] idol!skz. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov.

in which you wear lingerie around skz.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🥀 chan

when you awaken ~ wc: 3.0k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ♔

⤷ [established relationship] sick!fic. idol!chan. sick!reader. hurt/comfort. reader pov.

it's always at the most inconvenient of times that your body decides to gift you with your period- and this time around, it's during a moment when your boyfriend chan is busy in his studio. so surely, he won't have time to spare to comfort you, right??

use me ~ wc: 4.8k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ❦ , ♔

⤷ [established relationship] slightyandere!chan. idol!chan. hurt/comfort. reader pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

recently, life's been feeling rather dull for you. and with you getting caught into the trap of doing the same daily grind, it's up to your boyfriend chan to shake you from your cloud of unhappiness and try and heal your exhausted heart.

still my favourite girl ~ wk: 6.7k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ❦ , ♔

⤷ [established relationship] age gap au. idol!chan. hurt/comfort. reader pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

against your boyfriend chan's wishes, you had made a twitter account after many years - and what a mistake that was. now, you're left with the aftermath of the damage, and chan is the only person who can pick up the broken pieces of you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🥀 lee know

don't leave me, my love ～ wc: 8.3k ～ ☹ , ☾ , ♔

⤷ [established relationship] sick!fic. idol!minho. sick!reader. hurt/comfort. reader pov.

it's the dead of winter when you suddenly come down with a bad case of the flu. and your doting boyfriend minho is more than happy and willing to help you through the pain.

a voice of reason ~ wc: 3.7k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ♔

⤷ [established relationship] idol!minho. angry/protective!minho. hurt/comfort. reader pov.

for as long as you can remember, you've always hated going to the salon - always hated others touching your fragile hair. and now, as an adult, you want to change that... want to face your fears. but you've never had good luck, which becomes clearly apparent after your appointment at the salon.

⤷ [strangers to lovers] veterinarian!minho. client!reader. hurt/comfort. reader pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

dr. lee minho is known throughout your area as the city's hottest veterinarian, and he's also the very man that's been taking good care of your two cats for the past three years. but one day, you're thrown down a dark path of heartache when the cat that you've grown up with - nyx - is diagnosed with an acute form of bone cancer. burdened with the hardest decision of your entire life, you come at a crossroads of what to do. and throughout it all, minho is the single most person who continually stays by your side.

make me forget ~ wc: 5.0k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ❦ , ♔

⤷ [established relationship] idol!chan. curvy!reader. hurt/comfort. reader pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

you had thought that your scars from the past were healed, but evidently, your ex from college was still clouding your mind. thankfully, your boyfriend minho is right there to help you heal from the heartbreak.

: ̗̀➛〚 timestamps 〛

{ 𝟎𝟎:𝟏𝟗 } ~ ❦ , ✰ , smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🥀 changbin

fire & ice~ wc: 2.1k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ✴ , ♔

⤷ [established relationship] sick!fic. idol!changbin. sick!reader hurt/comfort. reader pov.

you never expected to find yourself in the gym late at night with your boyfriend changbin. but then again, you never expected that you'd get injured either.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🥀 hyunjin

never let go ～ wc: 6.3k ～ ☹ , ☾ , ♔

⤷ [established relationship] sick!fic. idol!hyunjin. sick!reader. hurt/comfort. reader pov.

it's been proving to be very difficult to keep the dance class that you take three times a week a secret from your boyfriend hyunjin. and the lies only become even harder to tell when you suddenly hurt your foot during class one night.

my girl ~ wc: 2.8k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ♔ , ✎

⤷ [established relationship] sick!fic. idol!hyunjin. sick!hyunjin. hurt/comfort. reader pov.

your first visit back to the small countryside village that your boyfriend hyunjin grew up in suddenly takes a turn for the worse when he starts feeling sick to his stomach. and you're the first person he turns to for comfort.

the sound of your name ~ wc: 10.6k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ❦ , ♔

⤷ [enemies to lovers] academic rivals x dark academia uni au. nonidol!hyunjin. rich hyunjin x poor reader. reader pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

ever since you started studying at korean national university of arts in seoul, hwang hyunjin, the other top student of the school and the dean's son, has been an absolute thorn in your ass. although, it turns out that not all thorns are necessarily bad.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🥀 jisung

late night fantasies ～ wc: 9.4k ～ ☹ , ❦ , ♔

⤷ [established relationship] idol!jisung. estranged!jisung. softdom!jisung. needy!jisung. hurt/comfort. reader pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

things between you and jisung have slowly fizzled out within the past few months. the tension only gets worse after a heated argument that almost ends with your breakup, which ultimately forces jisung to prove to you how much he still truly loves you.

i'm always here ~ wc: 2.6k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ♔

⤷ [established relationship] sick!fic. idol!jisung. spiraling/burn out!jisung. hurt/comfort. reader pov.

after a bout of not seeing your boyfriend jisung, you take it upon yourself to visit him one night in the studio. but what you find when you get there is the opposite of a happy sight.

the other half of it ~ wc: 4.1 ~ ☹ , ❦ , ♔

⤷ [established relationship w/a male oc] enemies to lovers. producer!jisung x hairstylist!reader. harddom!jisung. twin dynamic. cheating au. reader pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

the han twins are infamous in south korea for being the #1 duo in the country, with han jisoon gifted in rapping and han jisung in producing. jisoon is the best man a girl could ever ask for- and a wonderful boyfriend. it's just too bad that jisung is the one you truly want out of the two brothers.

: ̗̀➛〚 timestamps 〛

{ 𝟐𝟑:𝟒𝟏 } ~ ❦ , ✰ , smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🥀 felix

sparkles and butterflies ~ wc: 3.9k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ♔ , ✎

⤷ [established relationship] sick!fic. idol!felix. sick!felix. hurt/comfort. reader pov.

when your boyfriend felix unexpectedly falls ill with a bad migraine, you automatically throw yourself into the caretaker role. but maybe he needs more than just some pills to relieve the pain... maybe, all the medicine he really needs is you.

angel in the shadows ~ wc: 3.4k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ♔ , ✎

⤷ [established relationship] nonidol!felix. slight confession au. hurt/comfort. reader pov.

ever since you were a little girl, you've had to battle the shadowy demons away from the edges of your mind each and every night. and you're used to dealing with it at this point. but sometimes, you just need your boyfriend felix to help you through the bone-chilling nights.

react ~ wc: 4.3k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ❦ , ♔

⤷ [established relationship] nonidol!felix. softboy!felix // harddom!felix. estranged relationship. reader pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

in all of the time that you've dated him, felix has never dropped the innocent, flower boy persona that he's known for. but perhaps, you'll finally be the one to crack him open to show who he truly is underneath all of the softness and glitter.

⤷ [childhood friends to enemies to lovers] nonidol/collegegrad!felix. waitress!reader. hurt/comfort. reader pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

ever since you were born, all you've ever known is living a simple life in the small australian coastal town of bridgeport bay. you're content with working at your parent's beachside restaurant angel waves for the rest of your life, and you're happy with your place in the world - you have good friends and an even better boyfriend. that is, until everything comes to a standstill when a familiar face from the past visits town for the summer. and in the wake of his return, lee felix upturns everything you thought you were content with here in your comforting little beach town.

not-so-perfect gentleman ~ wc: 1.8k ~ ❦ , ♔

⤷ [established relationship] nonidol!felix. rich!felix. harddom!felix x sub!reader. reader pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

coming from one of the richest families in all of seoul, lee felix is known to be one of the most prim and proper young men in the city. too bad he's not so proper when it comes to you.

: ̗̀➛〚 timestamps 〛

{ 𝟏𝟎:𝟐𝟕 } ~ ❦ , ✰ , smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🥀 seungmin

coming soon...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🥀 jeongin

coming soon...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🥀 minlix

steal my breath away. ~ wc: 3.5k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ✴ , ♔

⤷ [confession au] idol!minho/idol!felix. introvert minho & extrovert felix. literally grumpy and sunshine troupe. hurt/comfort. minho pov.

although they were complete opposites, minho and felix got along perfectly - fit together like the two halves of a silvery moon. at least, that's what minho had initially thought for years, until felix suddenly starts outright avoiding him.

my dirty little secret. ~ wc: 5.5k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ❦ , ♔

⤷ [childhood friends to lovers au] nonidol!minho/nonidol!felix. straight (??) minho & gay felix. felix pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

minho has always been straight and felix has always been gay. but after a certain incident happens during a drunken game of truth-or-dare between friends, sexualities and feelings will be thoroughly questioned.

teach me. ~ wc: 6.7k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ❦ , ♔

⤷ [confession au] idol!minho/idol!felix. felix reads hentai. experienced minho x virgin felix. hurt/comfort. felix pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

felix feels like he's the most foolish, inexperienced virgin there is, virtually oblivious to the nuances of a sex life. but then minho comes along - and offers to... teach him, in more ways than just one.

best kind of distraction. ~ wc: 9.6k ~ ☹ , ☾ , ☄ , ❦ , ♔

⤷ [childhood best friends to lovers au] dancer!minho/dancer!felix. felix's in an abusive relationship. post-breakup blues. hurt/comfort. felix pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

felix thought he'd always be with his long-term boyfriend jicheul, until one drunken night ruins everything they'd built up together. and the only person he can turn to in his time of crisis is his childhood best friend, minho.

turn for me. ~ wc: 6.0k ~ ☾ , ❦ , ♔

⤷ [established relationship] idol!minho/idol!felix. felix is kinda inexperienced when it comes to sex toys. felix pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

felix never expected that his boyfriend minho would have such devious thoughts and ideas in his mind when he agreed to try out a handful of sex toys. but so quickly, he's finding out that the older man wants to do many new things with him.

❦― friendly disclaimer⌇sᴏᴍᴇ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ sᴍᴜᴛ. ᴛʜɪs ᴍᴇᴀɴs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ sᴜɪᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀs. ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ, ᴅɴɪ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɢᴇ ᴏғ 18.

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋback to navigation ࿐ྂ

529 notes · View notes

yutasbellybuttonpiercing · 1 year

Text

Love Station

Pairing: Huang Renjun x reader

AU/genre: smut, humor, fluff, angst, comfort, strangers to roommates to friends to lovers...?, non-idol!AU, idiot(s) in love

Word count: 13.978 words

Warnings: smoking cigarettes, alcohol consumption, making out under the influence, descriptions of toxic relationships, implied past domestic violence, overthinking, mentions of masturbation, reader has nipple piercings, fingering (f receiving), mentions of squirting and free use, lowkey heartbreak, everyone is dramatic, mentioned past mxm oral, Haechan flirts too much

A/n: Based on real events. Kind of. It's a bit cringe in the beginning, I apologize. Also, anything anybody does is questionable.

Taglist: @she-is-dreaming @nctzennikki09

Against common belief, Renjun hates his job working at the local gas station. Despite his extremely friendly and respectful way of interacting with rude customers who believe Renjun's the one that sets the gas prices as high as they are, he's fuming inside, swearing that if he gets another complaint about the car wash not working properly, or the vacuum needing to be fixed again (for the third time this week) he will snap, but he never does.

Apart from people going on his nerves on the daily about how he can't find their desired brand of cigarettes in the mass of different colored packages behind him (which his boss Mrs. Choi decides to re-sort every other week) within seconds, it's pretty boring.

Especially during the morning shifts (which he hadn't been informed he would be doing during the job interview a few months ago, but why not exploit a poor college student that earns minimum wage by making him get up at 4 in the morning every Monday?), not much happens.

Every time, he stands there and waits. And he waits for something – or someone – in particular.

It had started a few weeks ago, Renjun standing behind the counter, sorting packages of cigarettes and cigarillos all while the coffee machine was cleaning itself to provide him with some background noise (they used to have a bluetooth speaker, but apparently Mrs. Choi took it away – and Renjun's last bit of sanity with it) as he heard loud shouting outside.

Curious as he is, he placed the carton of cigarettes on the counter to spy through the big windows of the gas station onto the almost empty street, dimly lit by a few lampposts and the slowly arising sun, only to see nothing. Just as he wanted to give up, shrugging it off as some drunk teenagers still wandering around and about from the night before, he heard it again.

And then you came in sight.

Renjun had to gulp because, shit, even though your hair was tousled and your cheeks were messy with mascara and tears, he found you enticing, beautiful even. His question of who you were shouting at answered itself just a few seconds later as a male walked towards you with fast steps, making you back away from him, closer to the automatic doors of the gas station. Instantly, Renjun felt adrenaline rush through his veins, for some unknown reason he felt extremely protective of you, ready to step in between you and whoever it was that was trying to hurt you.

"Leave me alone! Go away!" You shouted as you stepped close enough to the glass doors for them to open up, giving Renjun the chance to finally make out the words you were saying.

"Give me the fucking keys," the man answered and you began rummaging through your bag as you stumbled into Renjun's gas station backwards.

"I don't have them," you answered, more tears running down your cheeks as the man grabbed your purse from you to look through it himself, only to drop it to the ground seconds later and rushing out without another word. You shouted after him, "great, now you fucked that up too!"

As soon as the man was out of sight, you slowly bent down to pick up your bag. The sounds of your sniffling slowly stopped as you looked through the display of beverages in the fridge, then stepped towards Renjun once you finally decided on one.

"This and Marlboro Gold, please," you huffed out, pulling your wallet from your purse. Renjun did as you asked, watching as your shaky fingers pulled your credit card out to pay.

"Are you okay? Do you need help?" Renjun finally brought himself to ask, and his soft voice made you look up into his eyes. Objectively, you looked awful, bags under your eyes as you gulped hard, immediately breaking the eye contact, but to Renjun you looked like the prettiest person he'd ever seen.

"I'm fine," you sighed, taking the cigarettes and Red Bull from the counter.

"Are you sure? Do you want me to call someone?"

"No, thank you, I just need to calm down."

"You can wait here, if you want," Renjun offered one of the comfortable bar stools on the side and you smiled, but shook your head, huffing out a weak laugh before exiting the gas station with another look into his eyes.

Renjun had almost given up on seeing you again, but there, an hour later, you were again, screaming at the top of your lungs for that man to finally leave you alone. Surprisingly, he did, and at the same time, Renjun's coworker walked in to take his place behind the counter for the next 5 hour shift.

Just his luck, you sat outside as he came out. He pulled the zipper of his jacket up and stuffed his hands into his pockets to protect him from the cold, and cautiously approached you.

"Hey, if you don't want to, that's okay, but if you need someone to talk to-"

The air was knocked out of his lungs as you got up, instantly wrapping your arms around him to press your face into his chest. He was surprised, but not averse to your sudden hug, his hands flying to gently lay on your back instinctively.

A minute or so passed, and when you finally peeled yourself off of him, he instantly missed your warmth.

"Sorry," you mumbled, sitting back down and Renjun mirrored your motion. You opened your cigarettes and offered him one. Renjun is not a regular smoker, just one or two at a party whenever he's drunk, you know, for the vibe, but he still accepted with a small 'thank you' before you lit it for him.

"You see, that was my boyfriend," you exhaled before sniffing, tapping onto your cigarette even though there were no ashes to tap away, "it's complicated."

Renjun watched you stare into the distance, dragging on your cigarette, and was reminded that he was holding one too. The cigarette kissed his lips as he admired you; you were so pretty, even in this state, and he wondered what happened between you and your boyfriend for you to look like this. So he asked.

"When you love someone, you do crazy shit," you laughed bitterly, gladly accepting the tissue Renjun offered you to wipe off your mascara stains, "and no one's taking me seriously anymore. He cheated on me, twice, and won't understand why it's hard for me to trust him."

Renjun made a noise of understanding, not feeling like words were necessary, like you just needed someone to pour your heart out to. Instead, he inhaled the smoke of his cigarette, finding the taste and effect of it quite pleasing even when he wasn't drunk.

"My family doesn't understand why I'm still with him, and honestly, I don't understand it either. It's crazy, he's crazy." You pulled at the sleeves of your thin jacket to hide something that looked an awful lot like bruises.

"Does he hurt you?" Renjun had to ask, worry written all over his face as he eyed your form.

"He does," you admitted, playing around with your cigarette before you began smiling, "but I just hurt him back."

"If you ever need help, you can always come here," Renjun said and gestured vaguely behind him towards the gas station, and you seemed like you really appreciated his offer.

That had been weeks ago, and ever since then, he hasn't seen you again. I mean, yeah, he has, in his dreams, but not in real life. Renjun's wondering if you're okay, if you broke up with your boyfriend or- yeah, actually, Renjun just wants to see you again, and it seems like the heavens above seem to have heard his silent pleads.

Later than last time, you hurry into the gas station, looking around cautiously before finally looking at Renjun, recognizing him instantly, and so does he. You look a little less demolished and more presentable.

"When you said, I could come here if I needed, you really meant it, huh?" You smile as you place the can on the counter, and Renjun smiles back, nodding.

"I broke up with him," you whisper as you press your card into the slit of the card reader and Renjun congratulates you cautiously, and you sigh. "Now all I need is a place to stay."

Some would say Renjun's dumb (read: his friend Donghyuck) for his next offer, others would call him a crazy bastard (read: his friend Donghyuck) for not letting this opportunity of getting closer to you slip, but, yes, he offers you to stay with him since he has a spare bedroom anyway (he's thrown temporary guest – caused by maintenance at their own place – and friend Donghyuck out to give you a place to stay. Donghyuck's still salty about that.).

Living with you is easy, Renjun finds, but maybe he's just too blinded by your interesting character and agonizing exterior, and all your flaws slip his mind, like for instance when you forgot cleaning your dishes for three weeks and there was no way to be sure if that whatever had been growing there was mold or if you'd gotten a cat with interesting markings without consulting Renjun first. Or when you phoned your friend loudly at three in the morning right after listening to the loudest metal band out there, only to go back to said band after your phone battery died (which you also had to announce loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear).

Renjun simply likes you, and with his rose-colored glasses, his eyes are shielded from the downstairs neighbor's spit particles that fly out of their mouth as they shout at Renjun for bringing such a loud burden of a roommate into their apartment complex.

And, sure, Renjun hopes that maybe this friendship-roommate-relationship could turn into something more, but right now, you do not seem to be ready. What makes him say that? Ask that the bags under his eyes when he has to get up thrice at night to comfort you through your crying, or rip your phone away every time you're about to call your ex.

Renjun comes home everyday approximately at the same time. He always has his classes, then goes to work his ass off at the gas station or the library before making his way home where he knows you're waiting for him, greeting him at the door with either the smell of a delicious home cooked meal, a movie already stuffed into the DVD player and his favorite snacks waiting on the couch table, or at least a bright smile and the wave of a hand.

When he comes in today finding none of these things, he knows it had happened again.

Quietly, he makes his way over to your room, already discarded of his jacket, shoes and backpack, he gently knocks on the door, even though he knows he's not going to receive an answer.

Gently, he opens your door, meeting nothing but darkness inside.

"Are you okay?"

He knows this question is pointless given the situation, though he still asks, every time, just to let you know that he's worried about you, always receiving a sniffle in response.

Making his way over to your bed that contains you rolled into a little bundle consisting of you and blankets, he steps over the countless pieces of laundry and your other belongings before he reaches the bed.

The mattress dips as he sits down and you stir a little, turning onto your side to look at him. You look awful, yet still like the prettiest person he's ever seen, even though your eyes are red and glossed over from crying, face puffy and tear stained.

He scoots closer to you, laying down so you're at eye level before he reaches out to push a strand of hair out of your face, the gentle action bringing tears to your eyes again. You lean in, giving in to the force drawing you to him, and press your face into his chest. Without hesitation, his arms hug around you, pulling you further into him.

"It's going to be okay," he assures you as you cry harder into his chest, minimizing the space between you.

He holds you. He's not impatient, he just lets you cry it all out until nothing but dry hiccups come out of you. Not knowing what's gotten into him, he presses a soft kiss onto the top of your head and your sobbing immediately stops, and that sets Renjun's mind into overdrive whether he's just calmed you down or if he's crossed a strict boundary line.

Renjun hates seeing you fall for your ex's antics all the time, an asshole who can't treat you right, who used your naïve nature in his favor to toy with you, only to throw you away once you got boring. He doesn't see in you what Renjun sees, he doesn't understand you, and he takes you for granted, something Renjun would never.

Renjun doesn't understand why you keep crawling back to him, but at least – and this part of him might be extremely egoistic and toxic – he gets to be the one to hold you every time you cry.

"Why does no one love me, Renjun? Why did he cheat on me? Why don't I mean anything to anyone?" You ask quietly, your voice shaky from crying so much, and it stings in Renjun's chest that you think so lowly of yourself.

I love you, he wants to say, but he doesn't get the words out of himself. Saying this could ruin everything he has with you, and that's all he has. And he knows that that's what you need right now: a friend, not another lover who could potentially break your heart, even though Renjun would never.

Besides that, how can Renjun be sure that it's love? He barely knows you. Yet you live together and Renjun gets that nervous flutter in his chest whenever he gets the chance to interact with you. So maybe it's love, or at least the seed that needed to be planted for it to grow into a beautiful flower of love.

"You know what?" You sniffle, turning your head to look up at Renjun, "let's get buzzed."

At first, Renjun was hesitant, but if alcoholism is the only way to cheer you up at the moment, he's willing to give it a try. Renjun might seem like he has the perfect solution for ever situation, always pre-calculating every possible outcome, but all that talent deflagrated into thin air once he met you. He feels like he can't read you (yet?).

Liquor floats both of your stomachs and soon after, all the tears on your face seem to have dried completely, leaving you with a lazy grin as you look at Renjun.

"I'm really glad we met," you say, resting your head in the crook of Renjun's neck, and Renjun can't help but feel all giddy inside at your affectionate touch and loving words. He tries to contain his excitement, but ends up wiggling his feet around cutely – a habit he's rather embarrassed about, but the way you seem to notice, but don't comment on it has his mind at ease – and he lays his head on top of yours.

"You wanna know the first thought I had when I saw you?"

Renjun's heart thumps harshly against his ribcage. He's sure that you're not going to say some lovey-dovey shit because you never do, though he's more excited than nervous about the words that are about to leave your mouth, so he asks you to continue.

Before you can begin speaking, you begin laughing, and Renjun feels himself smile as well. He's sure that it's mostly the alcohol that makes you giggle so hard, but he likes to imagine that he's the sole reason for your sudden outburst of happiness. A few hiccups interrupt your laughter, but soon after, you catch yourself, calming down enough to finally speak.

"When I first saw you, Renjunnie," you begin, gently removing your head from his shoulder to look into his face. Renjun mirrors your action immediately, feeling himself drawn very much to your rosy cheeks and glazed over eyes. "I thought you were really pretty."

Renjun chokes on his own spit briefly, aggressively trying to hold in a cough because that would be extremely embarrassing, but you don't really seem to notice as you gaze into his widened eyes, yours rather lidded and hazy as you blink at him slowly.

"I actually thought you were hot. Remember how I told you that my ex cheated on me several times, but I had been sure that I would never do the same to him?"

Renjun weakly nods, simultaneously loving and hating the turn your conversation was taking, the way you look so pretty right now, hair messy and barefaced, he can't help but to fall for you a little more with every passing second.

"The moment I saw you, I thought, if I did I'd do it with you."

A shaky breath leaves Renjun's parted lips, and he knows that this is a sensitive topic for you, but he can't help but to imagine how it would be like to be with you like that. How pretty you'd look underneath him, or on top of him, just anywhere near him where he's able to see your beautiful face. When you'd moan for him, beg him to go harder, and wrap yourself around him. How he'd whisper the three magic words into your ear right as you came for him.

"But why me?" Renjun manages to voice, praying to the heavens above that you'd keep looking into his face and no where else on his body, or else you might recognize the slight bulge in the front of his pants. It's not that Renjun's a virgin by any means, he's had his fair share of experience and is usually not one to pop a boner because of some erotic imagines his brain delivers, but somehow you make him like this, and it scares him as much as it turns him on.

"Why you?" You repeat his question, and Renjun is not sure if you're realizing it, but your face is inching closer to his, and he can already smell the sweet scent of burning liquor. "Well, because you're hot, Renjun, but also sweet. Who wouldn't want to cheat on their partner with someone like you?"

Renjun is definitely scared. Scared that you're just joking. He's scared that you're just drunk and have no idea what you're saying. He's scared of what will happen next.

"You made my heart flutter," you admit, and you're so close that you're going crosseyed as your gaze shifts down to look at Renjun's lips, and he feels his breath hitch and his mouth get dry. He feels as your forehead gently touches his own, and his stomach churns in the best way possible, sending waves of vibrating heat through his chest and into his every bone. "Even though I felt like absolute shit that day, you made it so much better. Thank you."

And with that, the only phrase circulating in Renjun's brain is the one about how drunken minds speak sober thoughts, and that he, for heaven's sake, should just finally lean in an kiss you.

Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.

So he dares to close the distance between your faces to connect his lips with yours.

Although you were crying the whole day, your lips are incredibly soft as they gently move against his own. Renjun feels like he too could cry, too many emotions mixing with the alcohol in his drunken mind as he feels what it would be like to finally have you. Tonight, he's getting a taste of you, a sweet and lingering one that makes the bitter aftertaste of the liquor fade into nothingness, a note that's just so unmistakably you that he'd recognize it everywhere without having tasted it ever before.

Renjun doesn't notice how it happens, but somehow you end up in his lap, your fingertips softly caressing the short hair behind his ears as you hold onto his face as if you're scared he'd fade away if you didn't grab him like that. Your lips had parted a while ago so Renjun could slip his tongue in and have it dance with your own. He's sure you can hear him whimper from time to time, but he doesn't care, honestly.

He just keeps holding onto your hips, or let his hands wander over the expanse of your back, stroking up to your shoulders and back down. He wants you to feel appreciated and loved and cared for, something no one's ever given you for a longer period of time in the past.

And though he's lost in the feeling of you that is so consuming of his every intend to think straight, he manages to question the moral rightness behind the sudden intimate act. I mean, he's sure that he wants this, but how can he be sure that you want this. What if you'll have changed your mind in the morning, what if you'll feel like he's taken advantage of your drunken state of mind to lure you into a false sense of security just to be one of the many people to use you?

A hand of yours has managed to crawl down Renjun's body, and as soon as he feels it pushing his shirt up to caress over the soft skin of his stomach, he knows he has to stop you. The little devil on his left shoulder forces him to kiss you a few more times, and he does, as passionately as he can possibly muster, enjoying what he's had of you since it's probably never going to happen again, before he lets the angel win, and pulls back.

The sight in front of him, he was not prepared for. Of course, it's you, but you look so delicious that he wants to dive back in immediately, but he can't.

"Are-" Renjun has to clear his throat to find his voice, "are you sure you want this?"

"Renjun-"

"Please, I really want to do this with you, but I can't, not when you're drunk like this. I can't have you regret any of this in the morning. Please."

You sigh, but nod. He knew you'd understand, you always understand him. And God, does it hurt as you slowly climb off his lap, but Renjun reminds himself why he's doing this: to protect you. That's why he stands up, trying to cover up the way his dick is straining against his pants as he helps you get up to tuck you into bed.

Renjun's forced you to gulp down a whole bottle of water and pee two more times before finally allowing you to sleep. You'd been rather flirty during the whole process, acting a little drunker than you actually are to have an excuse to let yourself stumble, giggle and fall into his arms about ten times too often for your level of intoxication to be the sole reason. Hence, he decided it would be better if you didn't sleep in the same bed that night.

The next morning, you come out of your room, groaning loudly as you rub your forehead, then your temples, and then your forehead again. Renjun's already sitting in the kitchen, his favorite '#1 friend' mug (that he'd bought for himself) in his hands as he occasionally takes a sip waiting for your appearance.

"Hey," he greets, and you answer with a tired response of the same syllable as you turn on the range hood to be able to smoke inside.

"About last night-"

"Please, don't mention it. I'm so sorry if I did something embarrassing again," you sheepishly laugh, tapping off the ashes into your cereal bowl from the morning before, and Renjun briefly contorts his face in disgust as he watches the small grey clump sail through the leftover milk.

Then he realizes what you said. "You don't remember?"

Apparently, no, you didn't remember anything, but Renjun's almost sure that it's because you don't want to remember anything because you regret everything from the very first moment your eyes met his. Renjun has to admit that he tends to be overly dramatic at times, especially when it comes to you. So, no, you probably don't hate him, he realizes due to your completely normal behavior towards him, but he's still too much of a coward to bring it up again.

That's why the short-cut making out session between the both of you is not mentioned again, although Renjun tries his best to bring it up at the perfect moment. Though, the perfect moment never comes.

Sure, he could've asked you the next time you were drinking together, but no, the atmosphere was way too chill for a serious conversation just as this one, and Renjun had a pretty important presentation just hours prior that took all of his concentration, leaving behind nothing but a lifeless shell of Renjun's ability to talk well.

The perfect moment could have been on that one night out with your friends when he was asked about his opinions on drunk sex and, later on, sexual relationships between roommates. It would have been way too weird though, with all your friends around, so Renjun kept his mouth shut.

Alright, Renjun sees the pattern.

It's a few days later and you sit on the couch, Clueless playing the background, and if Renjun was asked how he ended up in this situation, he could not give a plausible answer. Pretty much what happened was that you giggled over something, fell into his lap, looked up at him and then somehow magically ended up sitting on said lap with both of your hands squishing Renjun's cheeks.

"You're so cute," you giggle, your eyes sparkling as you keep pushing Renjun's cheeks together.

"What the fuck," is all Renjun manages to get out of his pouting lips before your eyes fall onto them.

"You know that feeling when you see something so cute that you want to kill it because your brain can't cope with its cuteness?" You scrunch your nose and giggle a little more, and Renjun has trouble nodding his head. He's almost thankful that he's not really able to talk, because if he could, a 'that's me with you' might've slipped out.

"Argh," you wiggle in his lap and Renjun does not like that at all. I mean, he does, but he doesn't. "I could just kiss you."

Renjun's eyes widen comically as you lean in to press an admittedly wet kiss right onto his nose. His heart stops beating for a second before making up for it by hammering away at double its usual speed. Renjun is afraid that you're able to hear it, or feel it with the way it makes the air in front of his chest vibrate.

"I love your nose, Renjun, it's so pretty and big."

"You know what they say," Renjun's words are muffled, but you can still hear him apparently as you begin laughing again, louder this time, and Renjun believes he's never heard someone laugh as perfectly as you do. You wrap your arms around Renjun's head, pulling him close to your chest, and Renjun feels his eyes roll back at your alluring scent and his undeniable closeness to your breasts.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." You quickly apologize, letting go of him, and Renjun has to clear his throat and unsuspiciously grab a pillow to put over his lap as soon as you get off him. "Is it true?"

"What?" Renjun breathes in as the words leave his mouth, he's honestly pretty focused on getting his blood out of his dick and nothing else.

"Big nose, big dick?"

Renjun chokes on air, eyes bulging out as he tries to catch his breath, fingers coming up to pull on the tight-but-not-really-tight collar of his turtleneck. He then continues to open and close his mouth like a fish. The only thing coming out is stuttering, until he finally manages to put it out there, "are you really asking me about the size of my cock right now?"

Renjun finds that you're staring at him for a second too long, maybe even letting your gaze flicker downwards to the pillow still adorning his lap for a brief moment, before you clap your hands together and announce that it was all a joke, but maybe he reads to much into things.

"I mean, I'm not complaining about the size of it," Renjun tries, but is hit in the face with a pillow, a numbing screech hitting his ears.

Over the past weeks, whatever he's been feeling for you has changed. Or, not particularly changed, but intensified, evolved. There has always been the little tingle inside of his heart at the sight of you, or the mere thought of you, your presence, whether it be inside of his apartment or only inside of his mind, that always made his heartbeat a little faster and his palms a little sweatier, or – to keep that anecdote – the seed is sprouting, poking its tiny green head out of the soil to announce that it's alive.

What changed, Renjun isn't aware of. He only knows that he's decided to think way less with his dick when it comes to you. Surely he can't deny how sexy your are with the way you look and carry yourself in general, and yes, he would not say no if the situation would ever come up, but he's not as eager to get in your pants as he was before.

Much rather, he wants to spend time with you, enjoy the little moments and actions of affection, like when his hand suddenly brushes yours as you walk close to each other, and instead of ignoring the incident, you grab onto his hand instead, sending tingling butterflies into his stomach.

This whole thing kind of confuses him, honestly. He's in his twenties, not as hormonal than 5 years ago, but his mind should be trained on getting his dick wet when he thinks about a girl he likes, right?

The exact same question, he asks his friend Donghyuck who – after a meal to Renjun's expenses and a long series of compliments – had finally forgiven Renjun for kicking him out of his apartment just so you could take his place.

"You're in love, you fucknut," Donghyuck retorts, using his napkin to gather the remaining crumbs of his BigMac into one tiny pile on the sticky tabletop of the fast food restaurant.

"Do you really think so?" Renjun blinks unsurely, teeth biting on the paper straw of his chocolate milkshake.

"I hope you are because if not, you have no excuse for throwing the best roommate ever out of your apartment for some chick," Donghyuck states and pushes his pointer finger into his mouth to wet it with saliva, then into the crumbs, moving it towards his mouth. Renjun, just in time, swats his hand away, causing the spit soaked crumbs to fly all over the table.

"That's gross," Renjun mumbles with a frown, then goes back to his task of demolishing the poor straw with his teeth. Donghyuck throws him an angry look, then collects himself and points an accusing finger at Renjun, who tries his hardest to ignore that that's the same finger that Donghyuck just made out with, then dragged through pure bacteria.

"Make a move on her, or I'll make you regret it." Donghyuck's pointing stare and stretched out finger intimidate Renjun a little, but he whines out, complaining that he's told Donghyuck that you're not ready for something new yet.

Renjun has to admit that your outbursts of panic and sadness over your ex had reduced to an absolute minimum of once a week at max, just as your general mentioning of him. All you ever talk about are your new hobbies that Renjun's pushed you into trying, your interests and, well, Renjun. If the roles had been swapped, and Donghyuck was in Renjun's place, Renjun'd have told him to fucking tell you already, but they're not. What if you're not ready, what if he fucks it up, what if he loses you?

Renjun shakes his head at the thought.

"I'm not saying stick your dick in her when she's not looking-"

"- because that would be highly inappropriate and plainly morally wrong-"

"- but tell her something, give her a sign."

Renjun really gives it a thought, maybe two, maybe 348 per minute. Honestly, he's completely stressed out and can't even focus on his work to the point where he has to print out the same receipt 3 times because he keeps throwing it away, lost in his thoughts (he just hopes Mrs. Choi won't notice the excessive amounts of missing receipt paper... they do not talk about what happened last time. Let's just say that he misses his coworker Jisung, he was a funny guy).

On one hand, he wants to do something big, have an occasion to finally hint to you that he's feeling more than platonic love for you, maybe even mention the drunk make out session weeks prior, but he doesn't want pressure you by doing something this big. On the other hand, if he doesn't give his all, maybe you'd think he's not completely sure about his feelings and just wants to toy with you like everyone else. It's a complete mental disaster, honestly.

Renjun keeps breaking his brain over this, but the answer just won't come to him. That is until one special customer places his order: Marlboro gold and a can of Red Bull. The idea strikes Renjun like lightning, and he almost gives the goods away for free, thanking the weirded out guy four times too often as he leaves the gas station hurriedly.

Donghyuck – as the hopeless romantic he is – is completely thrilled by Renjun's idea. He even throws in a little extra-ness and tells Renjun to put little notes on the Red Bull ("because you keep me up at night") and the pack of cigarettes ("because I'm addicted to you"), but Renjun believes that that's a little too much which resulted in Donghyuck fake-crying for a solid minute before giving up at the lack of reaction from Renjun.

The plan is simple: every Friday, you pick Renjun up from the gas station to walk home together after your pottery class, and this week, Donghyuck's going to be there already, inviting you to sit with him in the exact same spot where Renjun comforted you that day you first met. Once Renjun comes in sight, Donghyuck will leave immediately, and Renjun will hand you the goods, then just improvise on pouring the insides of his heart to you.

Said and done, Renjun gathers the receipts of the day to put them in the safe for Mrs. Choi to compare it to the contents of the cash register, and notices you walking along the street towards the gas station. Donghyuck, who hasn't left his assigned spot for the past 20 minutes, gets up to greet you, and Renjun has to bite onto his lip to contain a nervous smile.

He watches your surprised reaction as Donghyuck jabbers into your face and feels his heart skip a beat. Fucking hell, he's in deep if you talking to his friends gets him all giddy inside.

Waving his colleague goodbye, Renjun grabs the energy drink and cigarettes he's just bought off the counter and steps outside. It's way warmer than that day when you first met and Renjun feels admittedly sweaty, though this could be caused by his fizzling nerves and not the weather. Somehow – Renjun doesn't want to question how – Donghyuck had managed to get you to sit down with him, and as soon as the younger male notices Renjun approaching you, he just stands up and runs away. In any other situation, Renjun would have laughed at this weird kid, but he's got a situation to overthink.

Dumbfounded, you blink into the direction Donghyuck ran to, eyebrows raised and scrunched in concern, you breathe out before noticing Renjun as well. A wide grin spreads over your face at the sight of him.

"Your friend is really weird," you state and watch as Renjun sits down beside you.

"I know," Renjun chuckles, voice quieter and shakier than usual, but you don't seem to mind. He looks up at you, taking in the way the light breeze washes through your hair, heart pacing away in his chest at the sparkle in your eyes that only ever seems to be present when Renjun is as well. Blinking away his short-lived trance, Renjun pulls his presents for you out of his pockets. "I have something for you."

"Oh?" You smile, reaching out to grab onto the can and cigarettes, forcing down a smile. Renjun mentally high-fives himself. "What an odd order."

"It's what you bought the day we met," Renjun reminds you, biting onto his lip.

"Ah, that's right! I can't believe you remember!" You grin widely, ruffling Renjun's hair as you bounce a little. Renjun swears that he just melted away at the sight. You gently open the plastic with your fingers, opening the cigarettes to pull two of them from the package. "Would you, my dear Renjun, share this with me?"

The deep voice you speak in makes Renjun smile as he nods, taking the cigarette from you before quickly reaching into his pocket to pull out a lighter to assist you. You smile, lips hugging the bud of the cigarette as you inhale, then blow the smoke out away from Renjun who motions to light his own.

"What's the occasion?" You pinch his nose, and Renjun has no idea why, but he falls a little more for you in that moment.

"I actually have something to talk you to you about."

"Sounds serious," you joke, winking at Renjun who mentally falls down a bridge and survives. Renjun suddenly realizes that he should have gone with his gut feeling and prepare this talk a little better. A stutter comes out of him, and he uses his cigarette to give himself a small time frame to come up with a better way of saying "I am undeniably in love with your entire being, please marry me and have my children" without saying exactly that and sounding like an idiot.

You lean forward, catching Renjun's gaze with yours before you quietly say, "Am- am I masturbating too loud?"

Renjun chokes on air, almost falling backwards as his eyes widen dramatically. "No! I mean- I wouldn't know! I don't hear a thing! And even if I did, I'd not listen to it because-"

"I was just joking," you laugh, padding Renjun's shoulder and he releases about 4 kilograms of air from his lungs, then an awkward chuckle follows. "You're cute when you're flustered."

"You're cute."

"I'm cute?"

Renjun halts. Did he really just say that? "Yes?"

"It sounds like a question," you tease, licking over your bottom lip.

"It's not though," – go big or go home, Renjun – "and not only cute. You are, um, nice."

"Nice?" Your eyebrows raise in humored disbelief.

"No- I mean, yes, but- more than nice. What I'm trying to say is," Renjun closes his eyes and tries to steady his breath. This is not going as well as planned, but as he opens his eyes again, he sees you smiling at him.

"I like you."

As soon as it's out there, Renjun regrets it. Bazillions of questions rush through his mind, most of them along the lines of "did I just fuck it up?", but as he looks over at you, you're still smiling, biting onto your lower lip as you watch Renjun struggle.

"It's okay if you don't- I mean- I just wanted to get it out," Renjun tries to explain, "you know that one night where we- we drank together and- we kissed, but then you didn't remember and I thought you regretted it, but-"

"I like you too."

"I know- wait," Renjun abruptly looks up at you, still smiling at him, "you like me too?"

"You're an idiot," you say, grabbing his face with both of your hands to turn him towards you, "I actually remember the kiss, though I thought it was a dream. It actually made me realize that I... kind of liked you because I rarely dream, and never about... kissing."

For the first time since Renjun's known you, you seem shy, and it makes his heart flutter a little differently, a little more, a little faster.

"Can I kiss you?" It's out there before Renjun even realizes he's opened his mouth. Instead of giving an answer, you just press your lips against his. Renjun melts into you, forgetting everything around him. He's only focused on the feeling of your lips and your taste, the sound of your gentle breathing, and the explosions of feelings in his heart. He's so focused that he doesn't even hear Donghyuck hollering in the background.

That night, Renjun finds himself lying awake with a wide smile plastered on his face. You like him too, his mind recalls the events of this afternoon, and you've kissed him. And then you kissed him once more when he was preparing dinner, just a chaste peck, but it was still a kiss. Then it happened once again on the couch, a movie quietly playing in the background as he watched you play on your phone from his spot next to you, face hidden behind a novel. He initiated the kiss that time, and he felt you smile against his mouth.

Not being able to contain his excitement over the situation, Renjun giggles quietly, hands cupping his face as he wiggles on top of his mattress. His mind, clouded with thoughts of only you, suggests that his bed would feel a lot better if you were in it. Hence, he grabs his phone, typing in a message for you. He knows that he shouldn't rush things, he doesn't want to pressure you since he's not sure the many wounds your ex has left in your heart have healed yet. This way, by just texting you, he's giving you a way out without you having to reject him. You could just pretend you didn't see it and were already asleep, but when he sees your response to his message of 'do you want to sleep together', his heart jumps in his chest, and soon after, you gently push the door open to reveal your face to Renjun.

"Sleep together?" You giggle as you enter, closing the door behind you, "but I didn't shave."

Renjun's smile falters for a moment, then his eyes widen as he realizes what you must've thought, "n-no! I just meant spending the night together, like, sleeping next to each other!" He quickly assures, hands wiggling through the air to support his point.

You chuckle, "so you want me to go back to my room and put some panties on?"

Blood rises and gathers hotly in Renjun's cheeks, then shoots down right into his dick. The simple thought of you coming over to his room so nonchalantly, casually wearing nothing but an oversized shirt to cover your core from his eyes, has him hardening quite quickly inside his boxers.

"Do whatever you feel comfortable with," he answers quietly, wanting to sound calm and collected, but his words come out so shakily that he's sure that you know of the effect you have on him.

Without another word, but with another smile, you slip under his blanket, instantly scooting close to him to place your head on his chest. Renjun is quick to place his arm around your body, holding you close to him. He's glad that it's relatively dark in his room, so as long as you don't directly focus on his crotch, he can get away with his boner.

Having you close should put Renjun's mind at ease, but the small conversation keeps his thoughts occupied, wondering if you want to sleep with him. You wouldn't come over to his room so quickly without any underwear if you were opposed to the idea, right? But at the same time, Renjun is afraid that you felt pressured. Or maybe it was just a simple joke?

"Is that something you want?" Renjun puts it out there.

"What? To fuck?"

Renjun chuckles nervously. "Yeah."

"Do you want a short or a long answer?"

"Don't leave out any details," Renjun assures you, pressing a kiss onto your head and you sigh contently.

"You see, I wasn't sure. But don't overthink this yet, I'm not done," you chuckle, moving your hand to stroke over Renjun's stomach, and he briefly appreciates that you seem to know him so well, "I told you before that I would have, you know, cheated on my ex with you, but back then I didn't really consider the potential sex-part of that. But somewhere around the time I jokingly asked about your size, I imagined it. Like, full on scenario and, shit, it was so hot."

Renjun forces down a smile that creeps onto his face, offering you his fingers to play around with, which you gladly accept.

"I tried to stop thinking about it, you know, to save our friendship-roommate-thingy, but I couldn't, especially not when I was touching myself."

The sound Renjun was opting for was an understanding hum, what comes out instead is something more of an aroused whine that makes you turn your head to look at his face, clearly amused.

"So you thought about me when-"

"Exactly."

"I see," Renjun simply states and clears his throat, but in his mind, he's dabbing right now, and he knows you can tell by the proud look on his face.

"I wasn't sure if I should tell you about this as it would inflate your ego, but honestly, you deserve it, Renjun. I want your ego to be big, I want to praise you. Because you're a good guy," you smile, inching closer to his face until your lips almost touch his, "and that turns me on so fucking much."

Just as Renjun groans out, you press your lips against his, tongue almost immediately pushing against his lips to beg for entrance. He allows you, letting his tongue dance with yours in a passionate kiss.

You begin moving, gently pulling him on top of you, and Renjun's hazy mind screams at him that it's going to happen now, he's going to fuck you. No, scratch that: he's going to make love to you.

"What I'm trying to say is," you break the kiss to catch your breath and look right into Renjun's eyes, "I'm sure that I want it. I trust you."

"Fuck," Renjun whines, burying his head in your neck to leave kisses there.

"Renjun..." you gasp as he sucks on the sweet spot behind your ear. He hums, running his hands over your sides and you grasp onto his shoulders."Touch me."

Renjun does not need to be told twice, his left hand coming up to gently cup your breast over your shirt, massaging it only to let his thumb flick over your nipple occasionally. Meanwhile, his right hand moves down your body, fingers dragging down over the expanse of your torso as it slips lower and lower in hopes to get you even more excited.

Finally, he reaches the hem of your shirt and pushes the fabric out of his way, then lets his fingers dance over the insides of your thighs. As much as he wants to touch you, he needs to drag this out. He's still afraid of losing you, so he has to make every second count. But as soon as he feels you bucking your hips into him, wanting more and more of him as you moan, he can't hold himself back any longer, and finally lets his finger run over your folds.

You mewl at his touch, and Renjun has to bite down on his lip to not moan out himself, too aroused by the feeling of your gathered wetness seeping out of you onto his finger. Spreading your wetness over your whole core, he gently eases one of his digits into you, and both of you moan at the feeling.

Renjun really tries to only focus on your face, but how can he when the shimmering moonlight catches his eye indirectly by being reflected by something. His gaze dips down, finally taking in your naked chest for the first time only to be met with a set of shiny jewelry adorning both of your nipples.

Involuntarily, his breath hitches, the slow movement of his finger inside you faltering as he takes you in. So beautiful, is all he can think. "Didn't know you- had those," he admits, trying to cover up the effect your piercings are having on him. Given your responding chuckle, he must have failed miserably, but he can't care about that right now.

"Had them for quite a while now," you inform him, and he doesn't know whether that's just a random information to throw in or if you're trying to tell him that they're fully healed and he should, for fuck's sake, just wrap his lips around them. Either way, he goes for the ladder, placing a kiss to your jaw, then your collarbone, only to then give an experimental lick to your nipple.

With the way your back arches, pushing your breast further towards his mouth, he can tell you're sensitive. Maybe that's a side effect of the piercings, maybe you'd always been like this. Renjun just knows that he absolutely adores how responsive you are to the soft touch of his tongue against the silver barbells and the area they adorn, so he keeps going.

He's careful, not applying too much pressure as he sucks on the nubs, afraid it'll hurt you. Though, your appreciative sounds that only rise in intensity the rougher he gets hint that he doesn't have to be that at all, careful.

His finger had picked up its movements again, gently feeling you up on the inside to stimulate you, but also to prep you for his length. As aforementioned, Renjun wouldn't say that he's breaking the world record with what's resting in his boxers – admittedly very hard at the moment – but he believes that a proper preparation for what's to come is going to make said event a lot more enjoyable for you. (Sure, he's fantasized about what you'd look like struggling to take him before, but that's besides the point right now).

A second finger is added, and you pant heavenly above him, grinding your hips while simultaneously pushing your chest further against him. Renjun feels like this is heaven, especially when he decides that, no, he's not going to break you and can rile you up even more by gently grazing his teeth over your nipple, as he's immediately rewarded by a whiney moan slipping from your parted lips and a clench of your wet walls around his fingers.

It's not long until start begging him to go further. Renjun, mind hazy from how aroused he is by inflicting pleasure on you, does not waste a second before pushing his remaining clothing out of the way. A gentle hand that you're moving to wrap around him is pushed away carefully, and you chuckle, getting the hint that Renjun can't wait any longer for this either.

Once he's positioned himself right at your entrance, dragging his tip through your folds a couple of times, you move to gently lay a hand on his cheek. His eyes immediately leave where you're almost connected to look back into yours. You look beautiful, even more beautiful than you usually do. He knows this might be a side effect of him being almost united with you quite literally, but he just needs you to know. The whispering words tumble out of him before he can stop himself. There is so much adoration in your eyes in response that he's just about to go all in and confess his undying love for you, but he believes that might be a bit much for now. Instead, he slowly pushes his hips forward.

The glide is easy because you're simply wet enough to soak right through his skin and into his heart (as if that didn't happen already), and both of you cannot contain the sounds of pleasure accompanying the feeling. Renjun just hopes that your heart beats just as hard as his does right now, but he doesn't dare check.

Inevitably, the incident lead to another, and that lead to yet another until it was an occasional thing for you and Renjun to fool around. An objective bystander (Donghyuck) would lovingly call it friends with benefits, but Renjun believes that there has to be more to it. On his end, at least.

Sure, he's had really strong feelings for you way before his tip abused your g-spot until you squirted all over his thighs, but he notices that it gets worse every time you so much as touch him, a lot worse even every time you clench around him repeatedly. A new high of worse was discovered when you whispered into his ear how no man had ever made you cum like that. And yes, that had been Renjun's go to topic to talk about every time he met up with his friends. Not to brag, but you'd been with other men, but he, Renjun, is the one who made you cum the hardest, fastest and longest, and Renjun strongly believes that the whole world has to know about that. Or, in other words: he bragged.

Though sometimes, Renjun really wishes he could tune his overthinking down to just a hobby level, but unfortunately it's an unpaid full-time job, and he has to practically beat the delusion into his brain that you probably like him just as much as he likes you. Otherwise you wouldn't let him hit every night, right? You wouldn't say these things if you didn't like him back. You wouldn't trust him with your darkest sexual fantasies and let him live out his if you weren't in love with him as well, right?

"I think it's a bit sus as well," Donghyuck confirms, the sound of his nail clipper supporting his statement.

"Do you have to clip your toenails right now? I'm eating," Renjun complains, holding a protective hand over his bowl. He really wonders if no one had ever taught Donghyuck manners, or if he just forgot all about them once he moved out.

"Yes, I have a date tonight," Donghyuck explains, tongue catching between his teeth as he concentrates on clipping the sharp corner of his big toenail.

"A date?" Renjun raises his brows in interest.

"Me, Julia Roberts and a glass of the finest wine under 5000₩."

"You really got me there for a second... I swear I will hit you if one of your stinky nails flies into my soup."

"Anyway," Donghyuck sighs, "maybe she does like you. I don't know, I'll have to spend more time with her to find it out."

"Not happening," Renjun mewls, mouth still full of vegetables. "I'm not letting you near her."

"Why not?" Donghyuck finally shifts his gaze away from his toes to look at Renjun.

"Because you're the kind of person that clips their toenails at the dining table. I don't want her to think my friends are weird. She already thinks you're weird as it is. No need to make it worse," Renjun reasons, disapprovingly eyeing Donghyuck's position.

"Okay, then," Donghyuck mumbles, quietly adding, "party pooper."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Just tell me again, what were the things she let you do to her?"

"She asked me to tie her up and do with her body as I wish- wait a second, I've told you that three times already. Could it be that you're getting off to this?!" Renjun squints accusingly.

"Julia Roberts can't satisfy all my needs, you know?" Donghyuck's eyebrows jump up, seemingly utterly satisfied with his joke.

"I'm really thinking about blocking your number as soon as you walk out this door."

"No, you need me. I think you should confess, and I know just the way to do it..."

How does one write a love letter? Renjun has to admit that he is not the best with words, neither with saying nor writing them. He's always been more of a painter than an author, in his opinion, and he realizes this once again as he's sitting in front of an empty page figuring out how to put his feelings into words in the least cringy way possible.

Donghyuck had made it sound so easy, given that the moon would be in Libra soon, the perfect time for a love confession. Renjun has not a single clue about what that means, but Donghyuck swore he's heard it from his friend Yuta. Libra is ruled by Venus after all, the planet of love. Unfortunately, Renjun is not very interested in astrology. The only thing he knows is that he's an Aries, apparently, which means he's impulsive and angry all the time.

And it shows, he has to realize, as he furiously puts the pen down he's been fidgeting with for the past half an hour, and angrily pushes his chair back to get up. Enough. He doesn't need the arrangements of the planets or whatever to help him confess his love to you. He can do that all by himself. And he's going to do it right now.

Lips pressed tightly together, he steps out of his room, then marches down the short hallway to knock at your door. He hears a bit of shuffling, then the door opens to reveal your form. Immediately, you smile, and Renjun melts at the sight of your messy hair and comfy clothing. God, he just likes you so, so much.

Ah, yes. The reason why he came over here is to tell you that. And yet here he stands, definitely at a loss of words which leads him to note that, once again, he should not rely on his improvising skills when it comes to confessing to you. Or just not in general, that would be best.

"Hello, stranger," you mumble, twirling a strand of hair around your finger, and Renjun has to huff out a laugh at the nickname, given it had not been over 3/4 of an hour since you've seen him last. "What brings you to my door at this hour?"

"Uh-" Renjun starts fiddling with the hems of his sweatshirt, eyes lowering to his fingers so he notices your feet stepping closer to him. You lift your hand, pushing his chin up with your pointer finger.

"If you came here to fuck me, you can just say so. Don't be shy," you grin, moving your finger to hook into the neckline of his shirt to pull him inside your bedroom.

In retrospect, Renjun can see why it wasn't such a great idea to confess to you like that. The room around you is dark, the candles you'd lit way before he even came to knock on your door already burned down, the only source of light being the moon shining through the window; an awful symbol that will forever remind Renjun of your first night together.

Renjun has to admit that it's a little cold, sitting in your room naked with just the blanket covering his private parts, when you're not close to him providing him with the general warmth of your body and the heat that spreads when you, well, exercise.

Renjun also has to admit that your cold reaction of "oh." to his confession of the three magic words has an effect on his body temperature, but more in a symbolic kind of way. It's silent, the only thing being heard is your shallow breathing which simultaneously calms Renjun down knowing you're still there and haven't left the country because you hate him so much, and stresses him out because it makes him aware that you exist, and that he's fucked up big time. He should say something.

"I'm sorry." Okay, maybe not that.

"It's fine," you sigh, not missing a heartbeat. The blanket is pushed all the way up to your chin, and Renjun does not major in psychology, but that doesn't seem like a good sign. You sigh again, moving your head to look at him. Renjun must look destroyed (not only because of the things you did to each other just minutes prior) because your features soften immediately. "I just- did not expect that."

"I shouldn't've put you on the spot like that. It just- came out." Renjun feels like he wants to jump out of the window face forward.

"Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't like you like that. Obviously" – you motion awkwardly between your naked bodies on the opposite ends of your mattress – "it's just that, um, I thought what we had was okay."

"You're not ready," Renjun sighs, "and I will respect that."

"It's not- just that. I mean, maybe it's that. I don't know, I didn't major in psychology." Renjun huffs out at this. "I just don't see myself in a relationship. Not right now, and, to be honest, right now I don't see myself in a relationship in the future either. I-" You breath out heavily and a little shaky, "It's hard, you know?"

"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I should've just kept it to myself."

"That's not what I meant. You shouldn't- I mean, we should be able to talk about our feelings, right? It's not a bad thing that you said it. It's just- I can't-"

"It's okay. Really, I understand," Renjun mumbles, but quite frankly, he doesn't really understand. How can you not want this? If you feel the same about him, why can't you just- date him. Make it official. He's the only one fucking you anyway. "I should go."

His heart feels extremely heavy as he gets up to collect his clothes, slipping at least his boxers on before opening your door.

"Hey," you stop him just at the door frame, making him turn to look at you, "are we okay?"

Are we okay? Renjun takes a deep breath. No. No, he is not okay, not in the slightest. He feels like his heart has been used as a punching bag in a teenage boy's room after his mom wouldn't let him skip school to play online games all day. Renjun feels hurt and sad and, honestly, a little bit angry.

"Yeah," he says, releasing the breath through his nose, nodding while facing the ground, then you again. There's a sad smile on your face, and he presses his lips together, nodding once before he closes your door.

The second the clicking noise of the door is heard, hot tears gather in Renjun's eyes, and he hurries over to his room before they can run down his cheeks. He'd much rather just soak them in his pillow than wipe them off the floor in front of your room.

Renjun doesn't know how to speak to you. Hence, he doesn't, staying over at Donghyuck's new place for a couple of days instead, but to no avail. You just wouldn't leave his head. Plus, your advances of talking to him, a genuine text message to ask if he's okay which he always responded to with nothing but thick, painful silence were not helping him get over you by any means.

Renjun isn't quite sure what he's feeling. There's a whole lot of sadness clouding his thoughts, of course, you'd practically rejected him. There's also a lot of anger, a little directed at you, some directed at himself, but most of it directed at your stupid douche of an ex boyfriend who is the sole reason why Renjun can't have you. But then, he's also scared because what if one day you'd decide to try it with him, but then realize that it's not working? Wouldn't that be worse? Maybe.

Renjun is just exhausted. He yearns to be with you, but he can't. He cannot risk hurting you just because he's still angry with you over something that's not your fault. At the same time, he knows that it'll only get worse the longer he waits. So he does just that, but anxiously.

That is until there's a knock on his door (read: the door to Donghyuck's room that he's been barricading for the past days leaving Donghyuck to sleep on his own couch). Renjun's imagination runs wild and his heart aches at the visual image of you standing there, eyebrows scrunched together in worry, but then-

"Open up, fucknut."

Donghyuck. Renjun's sad facade drops into one of pure irritation. Unfortunately, Renjun knows that Donghyuck won't leave him alone – a lesson he had to learn the hard way during their high school days, he doesn't like talking about the incident. He's never been the same since, their friendship hasn't either. Also, it's, like, Donghyuck's room, so he has practically no right to keep him outside whatsoever.

"Go away," he tries anyway.

"I will stay here knocking all night, or climb through the window."

"Why?" Renjun whines, stomping his feet on the ground like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"I'm interested how much your dick changed since high school," Donghyuck laughs, but Renjun sprints towards the door, opening it and pulling Donghyuck inside by the neckline of his shirt.

"Will you shut the fuck up? I do not need to be reminded of that," Renjun spits, then closes the door behind them, a deep crease in between his eyebrows.

"So you didn't like your first blowjob?" Donghyuck's voice is shrill and loud and accompanied by a sharp smirk.

"We've already talked about that that was not the problem," Renjun mumbles through gritted teeth. Donghyuck flops down on his own bed for the first time in days, sighing exaggeratingly with his arms crossed behind his head. He breathes a couple of times, and Renjun does nothing but stand there watching awkwardly until Donghyuck re-opens his eyes to look at him.

"Woah, you look like absolute horse shit, are you okay?"

"Um." Renjun blinks, not knowing how to respond to that. Sure, he could've slept a little more and maybe taken a shower, but for what? You weren't coming to see him anyway, so what's the use?

Donghyuck scrambles off the bed, getting unnecessarily close to Renjun's face to examine the dark circles under his friend's eyes, not shy to use his fingers to squish at the purple-ish skin.

"Hyuck-"

Donghyuck gazes into Renjun's eyes, a smirk forming on his lips. "Are we about to kiss right now?"

Renjun whines, pushing the younger back onto the bed by his shoulders.

"Oh, eager are we?"

"Shut up! I'm having a crisis," Renjun sighs, dragging his feet over the carpeted floor towards the obnoxious gaming chair that he's spend too many hours sitting on, contemplating over how his life is going to go from now on, and sits.

"So you're finally going to tell me what happened? I know that you're a 'I need space' kind of person, but sometimes it's good to talk about your feelings with a pal, you know?"

Renjun is once again surprised how Donghyuck can be such a great person.

"I confessed."

"Okay... and given the fact that you're moaning around in my room instead of hers, I'm assuming it didn't go well?" Donghyuck sits at the edge of the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees and places his face in his hands.

"Exactly."

"What happened exactly?"

"Well, I was inside of her. And she kept telling me how good I'm fucking her, praising me and keeping me so close, there were candles lit around us and- I just couldn't hold it in-" Renjun whines, reliving the moment vividly.

"You told her you love her while you were fucking her?" Donghyuck deadpans.

"...yes?"

"You are a crazy bastard, Renjun," Donghyuck laughs, patting a hand on Renjun's thigh, "honestly, I don't know why that didn't work, if it had been me-"

"Are you being sarcastic?" Renjun frowns. He's usually great at detecting Donghyuck's jokes, but he obviously hasn't been himself lately.

"No, I'm serious. Just imagine you inside me, whispering 'I love you' for the first time. God, I think I'd nut immediately and then cry," Donghyuck sighs dreamily.

"Donghyuck, I'm asking this in all honesty: do you have a crush on me?"

"All bromance, dude," Donghyuck confirms and Renjun lets out a relieved breath. He then further explains the rest of what happened that night, not even leaving out the details about how he cried in his pillow while listening to "Back To You" by Kun and Xiaojun all night long.

"Okay, buddy," Donghyuck sighs, scooting a little closer to Renjun whilst almost slipping off his mattress, then takes the older's hands in his. "She just wasn't ready. It's not your fault. Don't beat yourself up over this, yeah? You'll get a good night of sleep, and then you're going home tomorrow. You have to talk to her."

"But..." Renjun sighs.

"But what? What's the worst thing that could happen? She already rejected you, and she clearly misses you," Donghyuck says, motioning his head towards Renjun's phone that's lit up with yet another message from you.

"You're right."

"Of course I am," Donghyuck nods, then pulls Renjun up from his chair, then gets up as well and presses a really wet kiss to Renjun's cheek. Disapprovingly, Renjun motions to wipe it off, but Donghyuck catches his wrist just in time. "No, don't. I want there to be traces of me when you go back to her."

"You're so incredibly weird," Renjun retorts, cringing at the cool, wet spit drying on his skin, then gasps as he's pulled on the bed by Donghyuck.

"One night with me and you'll forget all about her," Donghyuck promises, a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes and Renjun can't help but break out a smile. They end up spending the night together, and Renjun has to push Donghyuck off him and keep him away with his feet planted against Donghyuck's ass, but it's all playful and good, and it makes Renjun finally forget about his worries about you. It's moments like these where he's most thankful for having Donghyuck in his life.

Renjun can't move. He's been standing here for five whole minutes, keys in hand already hovering in front of the lock, but he can't bring himself to push them inside, turn them, and face you. Maybe he should just turn around and go back to Donghyuck. But he'll be so disappointed with him, and Renjun'd never be hearing the end of the 'Renjun has no balls' jokes, so he makes a decision.

"I'm home," Renjun announces, not quite sure why he settled for this introduction, but that's just what he usually says. He kicks his shoes off, then turns to hang up his coat when he suddenly hears flopping footsteps that approach him so fast he can hardly comprehend them before someone wraps their arms around him from the back.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, he immediately recognizes your scent. Your arms wrap tighter around him, almost cutting off his air and he wonders if you've always been this strong.

"I missed you so fucking much," you finally say, voice muffled by the way your face is pressed into Renjun's back.

"I missed you too," he admits, grabbing your wrists gently to pull you off of him. He turns around to face you, and, fuck, you still look so beautiful that he feels all his feelings bubble back up like he's ready to blurt his love into your face all over again.

"Don't. Ever. Leave me. Again," you say, an eyebrow raised as you punctuate every word with a poke of your finger to his chest. Renjun grins stupidly. God, you're so perfect. How could he've ever been mad at you?

"I missed your nose," you admit, gently tapping the tip of his nose with your finger.

"My nose?"

"Yes, your nose," you motion to stroke over it, and Renjun's heart flutters, and he feels like he's sliding down the biggest water slide in the world, but instead of water, he rushes right into a pool that is just filled with you. He lets you drag him outside to the balcony, an admittedly very small one, but it's just big enough for the both of you to sit comfortably.

You pull out two cigarettes, and Renjun gladly accepts. You light it for him, then your own, and after a minute or so of smoking in silence, you speak up.

"So, I've been thinking," you say, and Renjun has to stop his stomach from dropping because after that scene at the front door, there's no way that you're going to tell him that you never want to see him again. Right?

"While you were gone, I'm gonna be honest, it didn't feel good. It felt really bad, actually. I realized that I did not only miss my daily dose of orgasms, but just your presence. I like being around you. I will forever be thankful that you even took me in in the first place. And I realized that I don't want to spend even just a day without you. Or you know, at least, knowing you'll come back soon, you get what I mean?"

Renjun grins. There is nothing he can do or say except for grinning widely and occasionally inhaling his cigarette.

"What I'm trying to say is," you say, taking a deep breath, "and this is kinda embarrassing after I lashed out on you like that – I'm sorry, by the way – and it's totally cool if that's not cool for you, but even though I can't say these words right now, I want to give it a try."

Motionless, Renjun keeps grinning. Then, his toes begin wiggling and he turns his head towards you who sits there anxiously nibbling at your fingernails awaiting his answer.

"I would fucking love that," Renjun finally says, still smiling widely, and you immediately mirror it. You scoot a little closer to him, placing your hand on his thigh with your palm facing upwards, then send him a look.

It's weird because Renjun's held your hand before, and he's been way more intimate with you, too, but as soon as your fingers intertwine, he gets a whole new set of butterflies fluttering around his intestines.

"Um, Renjun?"

Renjun hums, raising his brows to motions you to go on. You avert your gaze uncharacteristically shyly, then lean towards his ear to whisper, "can you say it again?"

You pull away, not looking at him, instead taking a last drag and pushing the butt of your cigarette into the ash trey. Renjun stifles a chuckle by biting down on his lips, then hooks his finger under your chin to turn you face to look at him. Your eyes are wide, and a little nervous, and he must admit that he finds that absolutely adorable.

Renjun gazes deeply into your eyes, tilting his head slightly before whispering, "I love you."

Your breath hitches in your throat, and your eyes switch between looking into his left and right one, even your grip on his hand tightens. Renjun feels intensely proud to get such a reaction from you.

"Again."

Renjun leans closer, catching a quick glimpse at your lips before looking into your eyes again. "I love you."

"Again," you whisper shakily, eyebrows scrunching gently.

"I love you." And with that, he closes the distance between your faces. Your lips feel familiarly soft moving so gently against his, and he's actually missed the scent of smoke that sometimes accompanies your kisses. Suddenly, the kiss intensifies. You start kissing him with vigor, your free hand moving to pull him closer to you.

The kiss feels desperate and needy, and he can feel every word you said earlier in the way you push yourself against him. It's then when you get up, pulling him along right into his bedroom.

Renjun doesn't waste any time closing the door, and pulls you into his chest, lips colliding once again as you quickly strip each other of your clothes while making your way over to the bed.

The only time your lips part is when you're taking off your shirts, and when Renjun gently guides you to lay down. He knows your body like the back of his hand, but he's still pleasantly surprised at how wet you are as his fingers ghost over your folds.

You desperately hum against his lips, pushing your hips upwards. Renjun gets the hint, and just in time with his tip nudging at your entrance, he breaks the kiss. He almost melts at the way your eyes are glossed over, and he leans in to peck you one last time before slowly pushing in.

"I love you."

You whine this time, desperately pulling him closer, and he leans his forearms on either side of your head. Your arms wrap around his waist, gently stroking over his sides and back as he bottoms out, then sets a slow pace. You let out soft sounds, quite the change from your usual loud moaning when he's being rough with you.

Renjun feels like he's in heaven. He knows that these exact thoughts go through his head quite often, but there is no other way to describe it (as aforementioned, he's not that good with words). Though your effect on his body, and the things you do to and/or with him, are anything but holy, he feels the need to call you angelic. It's certainly not the first time your warm walls hug him, but it feels different. Renjun is not one to compare sexual encounters, especially not when the general vibes of them differs so tremendously, but this time he feels so much closer to you, and he really likes that.

Renjun is going soft on you, taking his time to really make you feel all of him. There is no rush, just pure love that he feels the need to show you with more than just his words, but with gentle actions that prove how well he knows you and your body. He wants to be the person who shows you what it feels like to be loved.

Renjun doesn't know whether it lasted seconds, minutes, hours or days. He only knows that once he finished, you were clinging onto his body, tears staining the soft skin of your cheeks because he had succeeded in showing you his love. In that moment, as bizarre as it might seen because he was sleeping with you, he found you really started trusting him. You'd been so afraid of being played all over again that you simply couldn't accept his love for you until you were certain you could trust him with the remainings of your heart. And Renjun feels really proud of that.

He may or may not have called in sick for work twice this week to spend more time with you. It's not like you're really doing anything besides cuddling, talking, or gifting each other orgasms, just simply being as close to one another as possible. Still, Renjun does not have the balls to formally ask you out.

"You know how sunflowers always move so they're pointing at the sun?" Renjun says, moving his Rook to A5 on the checkered wooden board before mimicking the way the sun inches over the sky on the daily. You grin, nod, then take out his Rook with your Knight.

"What happens when the sun sets and then rises, do they just-" Renjun snaps his head back to its original position, East.

In response, your eyebrows scrunch in amusement, lips tightening before you can't hold back your laughter. Renjun grins widely, from one ear to another, especially when your laughing escalates which results in you accidentally kicking the chess board with your knee which causes all the figures to fall and roll over the entirety of your tabletop. He's not sure if you noticed, but he was losing terribly just now.

"Oh man, now I ruined our game night," you giggle, wiping a single tear that left your eyes and sniffling once, very harshly. Renjun's heart and stomach are currently fighting over who's got more butterflies to tickle his insides.

"It's okay," he responds lowly, sitting with his back against the couch only to then take your hand and gently guide you to sit on his lap. You chuckle, but comply straightening your back as your hands come to lay on his shoulders.

Renjun strokes over your hair, smiling up at you, feeling like the luckiest guy in the world. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips that you reciprocate. "You know, I have a few other things in mind that we could do instead."

"Oh, really? Another game?" You grin, eyes fluttering shut as Renjun's lips come in contact with your neck.

"Call it what you want," Renjun mumbles, earning a snicker from you.

"I actually wanted to talk to you about something," you sigh happily, thoughts already distracted because Renjun – not to brag – just knows how to touch you to get you going.

"You do?" Renjun pulls back, brows rising to show his interest in your talking.

"Yeah," you say, nervously biting your lower lip. Old Renjun would've felt a rush of anxiety rippling through his body, but new Renjun, or as Donghyuck likes to call him: weeny lover boy Renjun, can't do anything but stare at you lovingly.

His heart begins beating a little faster as you lean forward, your breath ghosting over his ear has goosebumps covering his body in the best way. "I-" you kiss the shell of his ear which gives Renjun the chills, "I love you too."

Nothing. There is nothing in Renjun's head for a split second. He stands there, in his own mind, a wide area of nothing but white nothingness until he finds his way back to reality. You love him? You love him back?

The surprise must be written all over his face as he grabs you by the shoulders to make you look at him, a chuckle coming from you. Renjun is not sure what's going on, but his heart is simultaneously beating faster and slower at the same time. A doctor would look incredibly anxious staring at the heart rate monitor if he was at a hospital right now. His apple watch would tell him to stop whatever the fuck he's doing right now, if he had one.

"Seriously?"

"Yes," you laugh, and finally Renjun can put on a smile. No, he doesn't put it on, it forms itself, spreading over his entire face before he crashes you into his chest, hugging you so tightly he's surprise your rips don't collapse. Then he pulls you into a kiss, but not only one, but dozens of them, all over your face until you push him away giggling.

"Hold on," you say, still grinning.

"Okay." Renjun is the happiest guy on earth.

You scramble off his lap, getting on one knee in front of him, and this time it's Renjun's turn to scrunch his eyebrows weirdly before breaking out in laughter.

"Huang Renjun, would you like to be my boyfriend?"

397 notes · View notes

babyhatesreality · 1 year

Text

The Sinner and the Saint Ch 4

Pairings: Slow Burn Mob!Boss Bucky x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, f!reader, language, fake names (for now), reader is referred to and goes by her stage name, sarcastic talk of mafia violence, everybody has secrets, reader says unkind things about herself, reader is an exotic dancer, slow burn relationship. There will be many, many more warnings for future chapters including mafia and all the stuff that comes with that, kinks, and smut. ALSO- narrative focus will go back and forth between Bucky and reader from here on out.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. MINORS DNI. THIS IS AN 18+ STORY ONLY AND IS NSFW. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR ANY OF MY WORKS TO BE COPIED, REPRINTED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY PLATFORM EXCEPT MY OWN.

Previous- Chapter 3

Chapter 4

“Here you go, Mr. Barnes,” Natasha said with corporate formality. “She’s all yours.”

Bucky Barnes scanned the print out of the week’s schedule quickly, trying to find your stage name and start planning. Then it hit him. He looked up at Natasha quizzically.

“‘MR.’ Barnes?” he said, his forehead furrowing in confusion. “What the fuck, Red? Since when am I ‘Mr. Barnes’ to you?”

Natasha returned to her formal smile with her hands politely folded behind her back. “You’re the one who stormed in here like Pacino with a grudge,” she said sweetly. He could practically see the sarcasm radiating off her, and it made him scowl. “I just thought we were moving in a more professional direction, that’s all.” She tilted her head and gave him her empty, saccharine smile.

Bucky suddenly chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “Remind me again why I haven’t murdered you yet?” he said, looking at her affectionately.

“Because you love me,” she said, slugging him on the arm in a sisterly way and dropping her corporate stance. “Also because who else would keep this place running like a top? Don’t you like owning the most successful exotic dance hall in all of New York City?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Bucky said, going back to the list, waving her away with a hand. She chuckled and gave Steve a quick wink. She grinned at the slight blush that crossed the blonde’s face, but he remained perfectly stoic. She’d get him to crack one of these days, she thought to herself.

Bucky made sure to catch your stage name everywhere it was printed on the list, even going so far as to take a quick picture of it and save it to his phone, just in case. He carefully folded up the print out and put it in his jacket pocket, right next to his heart. He turned to Steve, a strange and fascinating glint in his eye.

“She’s new in town, only been here a little while,” he said, answering his right hand man’s unspoken question. He and Steve had been best buddies since the cradle, and no hierarchy in the family could or would ever change that. “She didn’t recognize me.”

“For the amount we pay the press to keep your face out of it, I’m glad to hear it,” Steve replied, the tiniest smile curving at the corner of his lip. He gave a slight nod to Bucky’s gloves. “She didn’t think anything of the gloves?”

“Nope. Gave her the old standby,” Bucky said, shrugging with a smug grin.

Steve looked at his best friend, slightly exacerbated. “Don’t tell me you used the-”

“Poor circulation,” Bucky interrupted proudly. “Works every time.” Steve just rolled his eyes- being one of the only people in the world who could do that in Bucky’s presence and live- but didn’t comment further. Bucky turned back to Natasha.

“Make sure none of the girls tell her who I am. You tell them all to keep their mouths shut,” the Don ordered, the power radiating off him as it always did when he was in full boss mode. “Especially Nebula. She tries to fuck with Angel and she’ll be sorry.”

“Done,” Natasha said, folding her arms. A soft smile bloomed on her face. “I’ve never seen you like this over a woman before, Buggy.”

“How many times do I gotta tell you, Red? Stop calling me Buggy.”

“Then stop calling me Red. What is it about Angel that’s got you so smitten?”

Bucky ran his index finger around his mouth as he got lost in thoughts of you, too caught up in the last hour to remember he was annoyed at his little surrogate sister for calling him that stupid childhood nickname. A slight grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he thought about your honesty, your passion, and your nervousness. The sparkle and snap of your eyes. Those insane legs that just would not quit. There were a few other things he’d noticed too, but it was too early to think along those lines...in company. Finally, he turned to them.

“That’s my business,” he said with finality. They both knew better than to challenge that. He reached into his other inside jacket pocket and withdrew an envelope. “Make sure she gets the whole thing. And that she knows she’s mine for the rest of the week.” He wanted to give you something to think about tonight. He wondered if you would dream of him.

*********************************************************************

“You’re KIDDING.”

You stared at the contents of the envelope. It was easily three times your rent in cold, hard cash- and in New York City, that was saying something. Your gaze shot back up to Natasha in disbelief. She seemed to be enjoying your confusion.

“I told you, if you made a good impression you’d walk away plush,” she said, grinning at you. “And you made a really good impression.”

“Is this what it costs to be in the VIP Champagne Room?”

“No, that’s just your tip. Your cut of the fee will be in your check.”

“THERE’S MORE? I....Jesus...what-”

“Take a deep breath, Angel. You did good, kid.”

“But I barely did anything!”

“You talked. You were honest. You gave him what he wanted. Why is that so hard to understand, honey?”

“I just...” your words failed you. It wasn’t real- couldn’t be. You finally just held up the envelope. “I’m not worth THIS.” Natasha’s face took on a sternness you had never seen before.

“You listen to me, Angel,” she said, stepping deliberately towards you. You were suddenly aware of how powerful she was- something you’d never really noticed before. She was not someone to be fucked with. “You are absolutely worth that. And more. And you better hope that whoever made you think that you aren’t never meets me. Because it will not end well for them.” She stared you down, daring you to contradict her. When all you could do was blink in wonder at her, she held her position for one more moment, before relaxing and chuckling, instantly breaking the tension. She lovingly chucked you under the chin. “Got it slugger?” she said in a joking tone, making you giggle in relief. “Oh. Also, he’s booked you for the week,” she added nonchalantly, her smug smile making a reappearance.

“WHAT?!” you shrieked, back to panicking instantly after the sweet but tense moment.

“Keep your voice down, there’s still a show going on,” she scolded gently, before shrugging and grinning again as you obediently snapped your mouth shut. “What can I say? You did good, kid. He’s also coming to watch you dance tomorrow night, too.”

“Natasha, who IS he?”

“I told you. He’s a frequent flyer around here.”

“Yeah, but he’s got to be more than that. He told me that you two know each other, that you’re...how did he put it? Work colleagues?”

“He said that?” she asked, looking surprised.

“Actually, he said you were like a sister to him.”

“That one I find hard to believe,” she said, arching her eyebrow sarcastically at you. “What did he actually say?”

“Um...”

“Just tell me.”

“That you were like the sister he never wanted.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” she chuckled. You could have sworn you heard her mutter “Dick,” but had turned her face away for a moment, before refocusing on you. She chewed on her lip for a second, like she was thinking. “We’ve known each other for a very long time.”

“Is he an investor in the club or something?”

“He’s here enough, he ought to be.”

“What’s his real name?”

“Oh, no. If he didn’t tell you that, there’s no way I will.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because no.”

“Is that a normal thing for the VIP room? No one uses real names?”

“It can be. Don’t stress over that one, honey. Instead, you should be thinking about what song you’re going to perform tomorrow night. You want a classic, or something new?”

Your brain instantly thought of fucking him senseless after you’d performed all the song possibilities that you had. What in the world were you going to choose?

And then, the perfect song came to you. You only hoped Natasha would go for it. It wasn’t the typical fare- but then again, neither were you.

****************************************************************************

The next day, you were a bundle of nerves. There was a giddiness combined with anxiety that reminded you, strangely, of an opening night buzz. Something was about to happen, something big. Or maybe you’d flop and fail. Either way, your life was about to change.

You picked out your performance outfit carefully, as well as a special one for the Champagne Room afterwards. Just because you were already booked with this gorgeous and mysterious stud didn’t mean that you didn’t want to try to look your best. Although you were probably fooling yourself. Maybe he really did just want to keep talking. Maybe this was all for nothing and he just needed a sympathetic ear.

Then you thought about the way his bare finger traced your cheek before he left the room. And your heart beat its new rhythm.

Or maybe not.

Sprite came to give you the heads up that you were on deck. You marched out of the dressing room, took off your robe, hung it on the hook next to Sersi’s who was currently onstage, and took a deep breath. You barely noticed the applause and hoots and hollers as Sersi exited, but you managed to give her a smile and a kind word as she passed, almost as if you were on autopilot. Rhodey announced your name, and you slipped through the mylar curtain. Your stage persona took over then, and you felt your face bloom into that mysterious, alluring smile that drove the patrons wild.

You couldn’t help but quickly scan the room. And there he was. Tucked into a smaller booth in the back, over to the side, with a perfect view of the stage. You’d never have noticed it if you weren’t looking, but now it seemed to draw your attention like a siren’s call. He was wearing a dark suit tonight, black shirt with no tie, but still with the leather gloves. And you nearly lost your cool when his deep blue eyes instantly locked on yours.

Summoning up everything you had in you, you marshaled your professionalism and shut out everything but the moment. You subtly brought your right foot behind your left, and looked down. You were ready.

The music started. You looked up slowly. Right into those blue eyes. Your lips twisted into a devilish smile.

Chapter 4

#mafia!bucky #mafia bucky #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mafia!bucky x reader #mafia bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob boss bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky #mob!boss bucky #mob!boss bucky x reader

196 notes · View notes

moonlight-prose · 1 year

Text

HURT

➝ 02. ONLY ONES WHO KNOW

a/n: i am in deep for this man and it's only the second week of his show. not sure how i'll survive the rest of it. what did y'all think of episode 2? so, the story continues and i finally get to delve in a bit deeper on the relationship between these two. something i'm incredibly excited about. look out for some drabbles/interludes coming soon regarding this story. thanks for all the lovely comments on the last chapter. i'm glad you're all enjoying it!

summary: for days you traveled with a man you barely knew. until you finally gain the courage to ask him about the watch on his wrist.

word count: 4.7k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: not explicit yet but still 18+, cussing, violence, gore, angst, blood, tw death, gratuitous prose about the apocalypse setting, slow burn, tw food consumption.

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

Silence filled the space between you, filling the void of what was never there. You’d been walking together for days, taking paths here and there through unknown streets and abandoned towns. It seemed that when Joel made the offer for you to accompany him, he simply meant he’ll show you the way. He wouldn’t be your friend, your buddy as you walked, hell he would barely even talk, and for a while you accepted that.

You kept yourself busy by looking at the scenery, digging through empty buildings for useful things, and fighting off the odd infected that still remained. For the first three days you told yourself that neither of you would stick around long enough to know the other. Eventually, you’d part ways. Meaning you would be alone once more. So what was the point of learning meaningless information, that would do nothing to help either of your situations

By the fourth day you were slowly losing your mind with just small worded responses, and questions that still hung in the air—frozen against the time that passed. You weren’t sure how long it would take to get to Boston. Shit you weren’t even sure where you were now, having crossed through town after town without ever finding a name or sign. All that would remain of them in your memory was the sight of the decay. Of the buildings slowly losing the remnant of a lifeless humanity that remained—nature overtaking what was rightfully hers.

You’d seen it everywhere. The brutalization of the apocalypse coming to full fruition before your very eyes. With humanity gone, the world could finally heal. You could recall learning about the fall of humanity in school; professors talked about what the world might look like once everyone disappeared. Would the world fall to pieces from the destruction humans caused, or would it adapt?

You never used to see it that way though. Never thought that nature was healing, so much as it was taking over. There was a time where you could remember hating the world—wishing for its ultimate demise. You wanted it all to end. Life, death…time. You didn’t care which one went first, as long as it took you with them.

But now that the years had passed and you’d finally grown up, you could see what you didn’t catch before. You were still alive…somehow. Yet still the pain remained. The grief that you tried so hard to forget about was stored inside your bag, carried around with each trudging step you continued to make in silence.

Silence had been your only companion for some time now, and you were thoroughly exhausted of its company.

Perhaps that’s why you eventually broke down and asked him the question that made him close himself off.

It was a reaction you never expected to happen. One that left you wracking your mind for what you could have said that made this journey even more uncomfortable.

“Where did you get your watch?”

You had asked him as you ate dinner—or at least a makeshift meal of something he killed. The fire crackled in the night air, creating warmth you hadn’t enjoyed in awhile. Reminding you of late nights in your childhood home. The fireplace emitting the soft warmth that lulled you to sleep on the couch. Before you could stop and think about it, you’d simply asked him—thinking it would start a small conversation.

Only for the question to hang in the air like the deafening silence. Each minute ticked by just a little bit slower because of it. You watched his entire body stiffen, his jaw twitching as he stopped chewing his food, and stared into the fire. The man you thought you knew as Joel, disappeared before your very eyes.

It was an honest question. One that usually created small talk. Except you couldn’t help but think that you’d fucked up in a big way once the words left your mouth. You’d seen him fiddle with the watch before. Tracing his finger along the wristband, touching the broken glass that still remained. You had half a mind to ask why he still wore it if it was broken. But then you realized…if you had something left from your old life—you’d keep it with you too.

Even if it stopped working.

The sun began to dip below the horizon again, bathing the small forest area you were currently traveling through, in darkness. Eventually you’d have to stop for the night, find a place that both of you deemed safe enough, but Joel seemed intent on continuing. The past few days he stopped before the sun began to dip below the trees. However, today he seemed different. Off. You didn’t want to blame your question on his actions that resembled a lost man simply putting one foot in front of the other, but you knew it had to be the cause.

So, you stopped walking. The small hideout was covered with larger rocks, creating a makeshift sitting area. You wondered if people used this before—thinking they could survive in the woods as the cities were torn apart.

It took him a minute to realize the echo of your footsteps didn’t follow his, forcing him to turn. A look remained in his eyes that told you everything you needed to know. He was lost. Though his expression was empty, he couldn’t hide the dazed glint in his eyes.

“We can’t stop here,” he said gruffly, his voice rough from not being used.

You shrugged, dropping your bag to the ground and starting to button up your coat. “You’re exhausted, I’m hungry, and there’s nothing we can do in the dark.”

“I’m not—” he started, his eyebrows pulling together.

“You know how to use a bow and arrow right?”

He watched you dig up the archaic weapon you both found in an abandoned house a day ago. Joel didn’t question why you picked it up, figuring that you knew how to use it. When in reality, you simply grabbed it in case it would come in handy. Weapons weren’t your forte. You barely learned how to shoot a fucking gun the right way. But he looked like he knew enough to use the weapon with ease; hopefully it would assist both of you in hunting down something larger to eat.

“If you didn’t know how to use it, why did you take it?”

Tracing the design on the side of the arrow with your eyes, you stepped away from the small hideout, heading towards the thicket of trees that were ahead of you. “Figured you knew how to use it,” you called over your shoulder. “Thought you might need another weapon.”

He didn’t respond, but he did follow you. The crunch of leaves underneath his boots, reverberating off the trees. If you weren’t careful you would attract something that neither of you would be able to outrun. You knew his bullets were too important to use hunting wise, but arrows could be reused if they stayed intact. Or at least you hoped that’s what would happen.

“We’ll need to go further out,” he said, walking past you and quickly taking the lead, his gun still strapped to his shoulder—his bag back with yours.

Once again, you walked in silence. Conversation didn’t seem to come easy to him you noticed, and rather than push him into talking, you allowed him to start it off. After the question, you knew that stepping where you didn’t belong wasn’t the best choice with Joel. He was reserved. Far more than you. His past would remain a mystery—you were okay with that—but it seemed he didn’t want to share anything other than hunting tips and small words shared over a meal.

He headed towards a small cliff, his eyes scanning the area for animals. Over the years, you’d seen hunters before. Been privy to how they worked, how they killed. They held an animalistic quality to their movements that reminded you too much of the infected. They killed as if they enjoyed it. You had killed yourself, but Joel was different. He moved like a predator, taking in his surroundings with a careful and analytical gaze. You noticed it while walking with him, watched him take note of everything that could be used as a weapon and every place he could hide.

Joel was a survivor, that much remained clear to you. He was dangerous beneath the surface. And you wondered how much he had to endure to get to this point. What had he seen or even done to stay alive as the world crumpled at his feet? You figured you’d never know the truth, and perhaps it was better that way.

What was the point of knowing this man? By the time you reached Boston, you would go your separate ways—following different paths in order to remain alive and somewhat human. You didn’t want to see his humanity, witness his vulnerabilities, because that would make parting so much harder.

What was the point in growing attached when eventually…time would tear you apart in the end anyways?

“You know what you’re doing with that?” he asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. Thankfully he ignored the fact that your gaze was trained on him.

Nodding, you notched the arrow in place, attempting to pull it back and aim well enough to make the shot. “Easy,” you replied, hearing the slight shake in your voice.

Fuck the nerves. You’ve killed before. Taken life from animals and people alike, but never like this. A gun had always been your preferred weapon, due to its easy nature, and you hated that Joel could see that. All you ever had to do before was aim and pull a trigger, but this called for something more. A skill you didn’t have in your arsenal.

He shook his head subtly, standing to his full height as you struggled with the weapon—your arms shaking beneath the strain of keeping the position.

“Relax,” he said, his hand settling on your tense shoulders. “You’ll hurt yourself if you do it this way.”

Huffing, you tried to listen to his words, forcing your body to release the tension that riddled it. “I told you I don’t know how to use this.”

“No, you didn’t.” If you turned your head you would have caught the small hint of a grin forming on his lips. “Lift your elbow more,” he stated, nudging it with his hand and causing a jolt to go through your arm.

“Like this?” Your words were soft as he shifted your movements with his hands that barely touched you.

Something moved in the distance, the rustling of branches telling you where to aim, but Joel was already way ahead of you. His hand slid over yours, helping you adjust your hold until the arrow went steady—pointing directly where it needed to go. The breath you released was shaky; your nerves showing through clearly enough for him to see. You hoped he had the decency to ignore them. To help you take the shot and move on, but his hand clasped over yours tighter, as if to reassure you.

Whatever existed in the air between you, unspoken and forever silent, worked its way through your body. Until the shake in your arms disappeared and your chest felt lighter.

Once again the rustling echoed in the distance, what you guessed to be a wild rabbit coming out to find food for itself. You didn’t give yourself time to wonder anymore, because Joel was nudging your foot forward with his. Pushing you into a stance that released the pressure you felt on your lower back. Taking in a breath, you felt him release his against the back of your neck, causing your hair to stand straight and chills to spread down your spine.

You wanted to lean into him. Feel his warmth a bit longer, but the animal was getting closer—your window closing with each passing second.

“You see it?” he murmured, head nodding in its direction.

“Yeah…I see it.”

Taking in a breath, you felt him guide your arm, the arrow in position, before you let it go. You could have sworn time slowed down as it flew through the air. Its movements, soundless amidst the echo of nature that resounded through the area. With bated breath, you watched it soar until it hit its mark with a thud—the animal collapsing into the brush. Dead.

Laughing, you dropped your arm and half expected him to shift away from you, but he remained. His hand, still clutching onto yours with a gentler touch. Rather than pull away, you allowed him to stand there—his breath brushing along your neck softly every few seconds. Neither of you spoke. Too afraid of breaking whatever this was, of losing the small comfort of his touch.

Eventually you would have to collect the rabbit and things would go back to the semblance of normal that came before. But for now…you weren’t two survivors. You weren’t on the brink of losing to the fear, giving into the idea of a quick death. For those small minutes, you were a woman being touched by a man.

You were human again.

“Good job,” he said, pulling away entirely and allowing the cold air to envelop you again.

You wondered if he felt it. The speed of your heartbeat, the longing that caused an ache to spread throughout your body. Did he long for touch too? Or had he cut himself off from that? You wanted to know the answer, but asking him questions never went well with you. So you stood there, watching him walk down the cliff and towards the animal whose life would sustain yours for just a bit longer.

That was the irony of the apocalypse. No matter how much you tried to escape it, death would remain.

Whether good or bad, it would forever be the only constant in this world.

The fire crackled in the night air. You watched as sparks floated up to the sky before being extinguished by oxygen. The sight made you smile, bringing you back to childhood memories of camping and college nights sitting at bonfires. You remembered fire being contiguous to joy, small moments of peace that came before the pain.

It was pure, a way to end the infection, but also a way to sustain life. So, you relished in it, sitting on ground beside your bag as Joel worked with the rabbit. He claimed that it needed to be cooked and eaten so you could move on—the smell attracting not just infected, but larger animals that might have survived too. You took his word as the truth, assisting him by bringing the fire to life and setting it in a makeshift pit.

“Where’d you learn to do this?” he asked, setting up the rabbit over the flames.

You grinned, pushing a piece of wood in closer. “He speaks,” you joked.

“When he needs to.” He didn’t smile, didn’t offer you anything other than the small retort, but you took it nonetheless.

“My brother. He used to be a Marine.” You pushed around the brush beneath the wood. “He’d always tell me that I needed to know two things. How to defend myself and how to build a fire. Somehow I was always better at building the fire.”

He didn’t comment, didn’t need to. You saw the way he listened to you, his eyes flickering back and forth from the fire before landing back on you. The moon hung low in the sky, the light from it illuminating the area around you, but the fire illuminated him. Casting shadows across his face and deepening the growing lines that were barely beginning to show with his age. You never asked how old he was—didn’t feel the need to—but now as you gazed at him, you wondered.

“I’m sorry about before,” you admitted, tearing your eyes away from him.

“Sorry ‘bout what?”

A crack echoed in the air as the wood snapped in two, falling to the ground and catching onto the brush.

“I shouldn’t have asked about your watch.” Once again he averted his attention elsewhere, turning the rabbit and avoiding your gaze. After a moment, you figured pushing past it was your best option. So you opted for something different. “What’s your name?”

He glanced up, eyebrows furrowing. “You know my name.”

“No, I mean your full name.”

“Hm.” He shifted, stretching his leg out. “Miller’s my last name.”

Your lips pulled up, teeth digging into your bottom lip. “Joel…Miller. It’s nice.”

He huffed slightly, almost a laugh but not quite. “What’s yours?”

“Hm.” You mused, glancing at the fire that ate away at the wood.

Your full name fell from your lips, foreign sounding to your ears after years of never hearing it. At times you felt like a myth that no one could remember—a forgotten deity with no name to hold as your own. When he repeated it, the sound curling around his tongue and filling your stomach with warmth, you knew you wanted to hear him say it again.

If only to remember who you used to be for a brief moment longer.

He used his knife to tear off pieces of meat, handing it to you quickly before it cooled off. The small gesture reminded you of the people you used to survive with. How they’d make sure everyone got enough to eat, handing off the food with a smile; the kindness in their hearts, extinguished at the first pull of a trigger. You wanted to remember them with the same nostalgia as your old life, but there was nothing to be had there.

“Where’s your brother now?” Joel asked, interrupting your train of memories.

A sour feeling spread through your stomach, your chest tightening with each intake of breath. While normally, you’d forgo answering questions about your past, it seemed only fair this time.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, digging your teeth into the meat and chewing slowly, savoring its flavor. “I uh…I managed to get out of Boston before they bombed the place. Made it home to see him gone.”

He stayed quiet, giving you room to continue if you wanted to. You should have stopped there, having answered his question with the truth, but after so long of sitting in your grief—it begged you to spill free.

“I had a mom too,” you said, staring at the orange glow of the flames. “I thought I’d find her when I got back. I mean she raised a man to become a Marine so she obviously must have known how to fight.” The breath felt heavy in your lungs, the sting of tears burning your eyes. “She was dead when I got there. Didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye,” you finished bitterly, the memory still burned into your mind.

If you could go back you would in a heartbeat. If only to have a chance to speak to her again, to tell her all the things you left unsaid. The world fell to shit faster than anyone expected—the virus spreading too quickly to give you enough time. So, you remained with what little you could still remember about her—hoping it would be enough in the end.

Joel didn’t respond. He simply stared at his watch, his thumb brushing along the face of it tenderly. You almost didn’t want him to say anything. For the first time in days, you were okay with sitting in silence with him. Content to simply stare at the fire, finish your meal, and go on your way. You knew that if he spoke, if he answered your question, there’d be no going back…for either of you.

“Her name was Sarah,” he said, eyes not meeting yours and body rigid. The words made you freeze, eyes trained on his silhouette that the shadows played along.

You didn’t ask who she was, what she meant to him, because you knew he wouldn’t tell you either way. He said her name, and answered your question in his own way. It occurred to you that you were the only ones who knew each other's secret weight of grief and that was enough for you. Taking his words with a nod, you continued to eat until you finished off what he gave you; your stomach finally full after so long.

The smell of smoke filled your senses as you fought against the wave of exhaustion that riddled your body. You couldn’t sleep here. Not when the threat of infected remained dangerous in the woods. Although you weren’t sure what the fuck they’d be doing in the middle of nowhere anyways. They couldn’t survive here.

You weren’t sure how much time passed before you decided to lay down, your head propped up on your bag. The floor was uncomfortable; the rocks digging into your spine were the only thing keeping you awake, but you made do.

“What I wouldn’t give for some vodka,” you said, staring at the stars in the sky, trying to catch sight of some familiar constellations.

Joel scoffed, the sound still unfamiliar to your ears. “I’m more of a whiskey man myself.”

“Oh yeah? Where are you from?”

“Texas,” he replied, his southern drawl thicker as if to emphasize his point.

You snorted, staring at the moon. “Should’ve known with the way you can fucking shoot.”

The fire would die down soon enough, leaving the both of you to freeze. Yet that didn’t stop you from settling further into your position, in an attempt to find a comfortable spot. You missed the bed from a few days ago—how it was so soft beneath your body. So normal after the hell you’d been through. But you knew if you two had stayed there, you’d be left to deal with the consequences that were sure to come.

“Do you think they’ve got alcohol in Boston?” you blurted out, feeling your eyes grow heavy.

He sighed, shifting his movements until his back was pressed up against the boulder. “Don’t know. I hope so.”

“What else do you like Texas?”

“Ha ha,” he drawled, his eyes falling shut. “I used to own a guitar.”

That perked you up a bit. “Don’t tell me you can sing?”

“I can’t sing.”

“Shit,” you whispered. “A girl can dream.”

“What about you Boston?” You could have sworn you heard a smile in his voice.

You smirked. “Ha ha.” Crossing your arms, you did your best to fight sleep, knowing if something happened you needed to be ready to run. “I used to have a record collection my mom started for me as a kid.” He hummed, his eyes still shut. “Nothing you would have listened to since you probably like country music.”

His foot tapped your arm, bringing out a peal of laughter from your chest that was most likely caused by the delirium of your sleeplessness. The last time you got some rest was a few days ago in that house. Even if you wanted to fight against it, you knew you’d pass out regardless—leaving the both of you vulnerable to any attacks. You reasoned that an hour or two wouldn’t hurt and before you could question the feeling in your gut, you were gone.

Falling into the arms of exhaustion that beckoned you closer. Promising a safe haven of a dark void without pain.

“Boston. Wake up.” Someone shaking your shoulders, jolted you awake. Your eyes flew open, hand going to the gun on your side. Only to see Joel crouching over you—the morning sun barely coming up above the trees.

You groaned, head falling back against your bag. “There’s a nicer way of waking people up, you know. A good morning—”

His hand slapped over your mouth, fingers curling around your jaw to snap it shut as he raised a finger to his lips. Fear filled your body, the cold wash of anxiety spreading down your spine as you sat up slowly. His eyes were hard, expression mimicking his emotions. The longer you stared at him, the more you realized that the man you met had returned—the hunter who was ruthless when need be.

Before you could ask him what was going on, you heard it. The familiar chilling screech of an infected. Your body jolted, eyes going wide before you slowly reached for the gun and pulled it into your lap.

Joel nodded, letting go of your jaw before gesturing with his hand to follow him as he crouched behind the rocks. You had half a mind to ask what the fuck one of those things was doing all the way out here, but figured neither of you knew the answer. Both of you were bound to run into another one sooner or later. From the sound of it, you could tell it was a runner.

Probably some poor bastard who was out trying to survive on their own. A flash of sympathy shot through your heart, before you loaded a bullet into the chamber of your gun.

“We need to go around,” he said lowly, his gun at the ready—bow and arrow strapped across his back.

“Can’t we just kill it?”

He shook his head, slowly shifting around the rock. “There might be more than one.”

“Shit.” Exhaling, you nodded at him to move, ready to run if you had to.

Standing to your full height with him, you caught sight of the infected staggering around the forest. They were barely turned, the fungus not even grown out of its body yet. Which meant that they were fast, able to chase if they caught sight of you and Joel. Holding your breath, you crept around the trees with your weapon at the ready—the nerves now prominent in your racing heart.

Neither of you spoke, too afraid of catching its attention, but it was too late. Before you could pull him back, Joel’s boot landed on a stick, snapping it in two. The sound bounced off the trees—a terrifying stillness accompanying it, and for a moment you thought maybe you both got lucky. Maybe it didn’t hear.

Until it screeched, whipping around to see you and him standing there, guns at the ready.

Joel loaded his shotgun, pointing it at the runner, but it launched its body at him, taking him to the ground in a tackle. You heard Joel shout, his arm slamming against the thing’s throat to block a bite. Only you knew that wouldn’t work. Grabbing the fallen gun, you pointed it quickly, took the best aim you could, and pulled the trigger. It went off with a loud bang, blood splattering on the dirty floor. The gun slammed into your shoulder, nearly toppling you over, but you held steady as Joel pushed himself free. His head falling to the forest floor.

While he caught his breath, you surveyed the area for signs of more of them. But the forest remained silent. You must not be far from a city or town for one of those things to find you all the way out here. Thankfully it was only a runner and not something far worse. You’d heard the stories, knew what else resided in the darkness, and hoped that you’d never have to meet it.

“Not bad Boston,” he rasped.

You shrugged. “I had a good teacher,” you said, offering your hand to pull him up. He groaned as he stood, wiping the leaves off his pants. “Hey Joel.”

His eyes met yours—a flash of something you guessed to be concern going through them. “Yeah?”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

For the first time in days you saw his lips pull up into a smile, his laugh hitting your ears and sending that familiar and welcome heat through your body.

“Good idea,” he replied, taking the shotgun back.

This time, you took the lead. Heading further into the trees with him following close behind. The sun continued to rise in the distance, morning finally greeting what remained of the world. All the while your brain replayed his laugh, the sound deep and raspy just like his voice, yet…more. You found that you wanted to hear him laugh again. Wanted to know what he sounded like when he was happy, but that you’d probably never get to witness it again.

Maybe in another life, you reasoned to yourself and that thought alone was good enough for you.

For now.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #the last of us fic #the last of us #my writing

210 notes · View notes

lavenderhhaze · 1 year

Text

解体愛好家 - DEMOLITION LOVERS

pairing: Hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: angst, 00's alt rock band!au

words: 4.3k

warnings: recreational drugs, profanities, toxic relationships, manipulative behaviour, underage smoking and alcohol consumption, alcohol poisoning, attempted suicide, mentions of self harm, mentions of guns and violence, allusions to sex, blood, both hyunjin and y/n are toxic mfs

A/N: inspired by robbers by the 1975. hyunjin is literally matty healy. SO many MCR and 1975 references sprinkled in there. took a long time to escape my drafts but hey. really dark topics, do read the warnings, please.

For Hyunjin, you began with a feeling of inevitability. Since his eyes had crossed yours, that one fateful encounter opposite the big screen re-run of The Street Fighter, he knew you. You were meant to know him a little bit better than everyone else; to know him as more than just the lead-guitarist of the latest face of the alt-rock scene. Two lives meant to converge.

And so you were; lovers meant to find each other time and time again, despite the world coming in between. Repeated patterns of lost and found. His heart yours to break and yours would be his — robbers of each other's happiness.

Twin flames? If he believed in that sort of thing.

You came to him — a face he had never seen and a voice he had never heard; an unexpected surprise and a defining moment.

"Mind filling me up on what I missed?"

"In that movie, he didn't give a shit about anything. Exept live fast, die young and leaving behind a good looking corpse."

"Like you?"

"Like me."

It was strange, how one girl and an empty theatre was no less than a collision of stars, slamming into him so hard that it sent his relatively neat looking world descending into this sort of madness.

Hwang Hyunjin's neat looking world is tiny, crowded and anomalous — just how he likes it. From the very beginning, it has always been Minho, Jisung and Felix. Despite the ups and downs, all the broken glass and the screaming matches, he is their's and they are his.

Hyunjin's neat looking world is art and music. It is his white Epiphone Les Paul guitar, Mahogany body and Rosewood fretboard, he would announce proudly. It is the scribbled lyrics in his notebook which would make it to the second verse of their next single. His love for music is a stroke, a heart attack — both sudden and complete.

"Hwang, what is this mystery girl bullshit I'm seeing?"

“As the dust settles on disbandment rumours and drug scandals, The Muse guitarist and frontman: Hwang Hyunjin spotted with mystery girl in AMC, Jersey.”

Felix laughs, head tipped back with his dimples at full display, his chair only balancing on its last two legs, "Apparently Hyunjin is a hopeless fucking romantic now."

It had been everywhere. Perhaps, maybe, the ever stone-faced lead guitarist has an ounce of romanticism in his body? A little bit more than his facade—he air of confidence and cigarette smoke that surrounds him, that moves with him, that often times was him?

Perhaps he is one of gentle touches and tactile love — one to find music in laughter, to make music of laughter. One to find his lover's face in the sunset, love songs blasting loud on the stereo while he sings along—

"Bullshit."

Minho only watches — Hyunjin now a subject to his curiosity, with an eyebrow raised. He knows him through and through, his washed up past, all the cliché rock star origins and the stacked up liquor bottles. And of course, he knows when Hyunjin is lying.

"It's a good look, though," Felix reasons, his crossed legs now tipped up on the table, his smile grows smug by the second. "You seem less. . .untouchable. The movie dates and holding hands type, you know? The boyfriend kind of guy."

Jisung chips in," And with that face of yours, it means more fans you bring in. As long as the Manager doesn't fucking mind, of course."

Minho hasn't said a word yet. He doesn't have to. The all dark singer is the picture of a menace. Inky hair and inky eyes, earings glinting as they catch the light, he doesn't even need to try. And he keeps it up, day through night; because this intimidation is the only thing holding the group together.

For Minho, it has always been simple. Words come to him and he writes them. Taste of Blood, Contagious, Sonder. It has been hit after hit for the singer-songwriter. He doesn't abridge; his words are raw. And that? The reason he could fetch the limelight.

And after that, it had been easy. Signing to Black Records, so much paperwork, managers and P.R., and marketting and recruiting. He had his three boys and his past well swept under the rug. So terrifyingly easy.

His past doesn't exist anymore. Unless he wants it to. Years of abuse swept under the fucking rug, because he needs to be indifferent. He is indifferent. Being raised by a single mother coming home drunk every morning didn't matter because he can do what he loves. Raising Felix himself, sheltering him from the fucking hell he lived through doesn't matter because they both can do what they love.

Because now, he doesn't have to deal with pain that's grotesque and raw. No more bleeding himself dry just to feel something, winters spent in a thin knit sweater, tired and hungry out of his fucking mind. Now, his pain was the kind to be dealt with quietly. Polished smile against the polite corruption in this white collared industry. Because he learnt to get up and leave.

And that's what he keeps doing: leaving, leaving and leaving.

Minho is what he wants to be — arrogance personified. And his past doesn't slip through the cracks; not to a single interviewer no matter how hard they try to dig. Because he's perfectly good at leaving. Hyunjin can't, he could never.

Indifferent, arrogant and a charmer — that's who Minho is for anyone who cares to know. And a mystery for anyone who tried to find out.

And finally he speaks: Hyun, I don't want you to fuck it all up.

The next fifteen months follow, fifteen months where they are expected to churn out another album, with a long line of managers and promoters and agencies with their hands around their necks. Fifteen whole months where Hyunjin's life has been you, you and you.

It had started that one February evening, the end of the European tour, all four had been brought back to Newark. Italy and Paris seemed like a distant dream; mornings and evenings and nights — all bleeding into each other. Days spent at the studio — the boys, their cigarettes and their booze.

Cigarette in hand, Hyunjin only hopes to smoke himself to death.

"Your coping mechanisms don't seem real healthy, Hyun."

A deep breath, Hyunjin hopes he won't say things he'll come to regret, he prays.

"I don't think yours are that healthy either, darling," he glances pointedly at his Felix's arms, now covered up in that silk button up he bought him for his birthday. His words are sharp, tied up neatly with a nickname despite having the same effect.

That's who Hyunjin is — he bites back.

The pair stands in solidarity outside the entry sign of a club, awaiting the eldest. Minho had wandered off with a girl — his girl; doing god knows what.

Unlike Hyunjin, Minho was free to love — or fuck, he really didn't know what went on between the two of them. All he knew was that Minho counted days to meet this girl. Despite the half hearted one-nighters he had pulled all around Europe — the blonde in Paris, the freckled-brunette after their show in Oslo and that obnoxiously loud red head in Vienna — he found his way back to her. They held this strange fucking gravity for each other.

Felix is quiet, no longer fazed by Hyunjin's harsh words. Although his arms are crossed, fingers digging into the exact spots the elder had pointed out seconds ago and Hyunjin already regrets everything he has said.

But he won't apologize. He hasn't, ever.

The streets, earlier thick with cars and people have now thinned out, slowly sinking into the calm of the late evening. The wait for Minho has been getting maddening, the seconds between him and his drugs, girls and booze far too long to handle.

"Fuck it, Felix. He can get in by himself."

He shoves past, a sideward glance of acknowledgement at Felix, asking him to come along.

"Take care, Hyun," Felix whispers, grabbing at his collar and his voice low. "I will fucking cry if I find you lying half dead on the sidewalk again."

Again, he's quickly dismissed. Hand on heart, with a promise from Hyunjin. But he's never one to keep promises. He never did.

He's been at it for hours; Felix and Minho lost in the drunken haze and the red lights diffused by paper lanterns at the bar. He throws back shots as if it's water, enjoying the numbness that he subsides in.

And then, he sees you — a vision in red, drawn in back, you fit right in. Hyunjin's world is in pieces : your eyes, your hair, his hand on your shoulder, slowly engulfing you so close that he can hear your heartbeat. His world is shattered and he couldn't be happier.

"Hyunjin?"

He's far too mesmerized to answer. You — in flesh, in front of him. Your eyes the colour of midnight and your skin the shade of sunset, you — his very own north star.

"It's me."

"I read about you in the newspaper last week. Is it true? Are you okay? This hiatus, the hospital photographs— shit, are you fucking okay, Hyunjin?"

That article. That week. When he had drunken himself to near-death, the feeling of death's fingers on his neck still so fresh. And Felix had found him, lying on the side walk; breathless, hopeless and lifeless. It haunted him.

And the paparazzi had followed him all the way, eager to catch glimpses of Minho and Jisung carrying him to the hospital. They had cashed in on everything — Hyunjin's lifeless body, a crying Felix on the verge of a panic attack, Jisung's shaking hands and Minho — still stoic and impassive.

"Ask me again, darling. One by one."

After his third shot, he had kissed you. Hands in your hair and your shoulders and your waist, your skin so warm under his fingertips. The first time he had kissed you — under the red lights of the bar, liquor on his tongue and glitter in your hair. One kiss and he was already hooked.

He would follow you across the fucking world to find you again.

You're the same as him — broken, and he held you so, as if you're glass waiting to shatter. He sees it in your smile, in the way your eyes glimmer under the muted red lights as you withdraw from him.

You're peace to him — a getaway from the three months he spent cooped up in the crammed studio. So he holds you close, deathly afraid of losing whatever he has.

"I wrote you a song."

"You did?"

He did. He fucking did; and for once, he was proud of himself. Midnight's spent hunched over his guitar and that notebook so that he had something tangible of you.

So, at 3:05, back pressed against the cool counter of the bar, you within his reach and drunk off his fucking mind, he sings.

You're cold and I burn, I guess I never learn.

Hours later, he's at the same bar, hands and feet too heavy to move. And you're gone, all that's left of you being the phone number scribbled on his wrist. Dissapearing into thin air like sand slipping from his closed fist. All he remembers is your laugh — ringing through the air like music to his ears and then suddenly — nothing.

He had spent the rest of the night pushing through the crowd, looking for Minho and Felix and then giving into this solitude — breathing in lines of powdered dust from sticky tabletops and alcohol ridden fingertips. He is burning, his fire fuelled only by the endless list of failures.

He almost laughs, remembering his promise to Felix. Like always, he never keeps them.

The hospital again. Felix is absolutely sick of the hospital — the white tiles and the smell of bleach, the awful silence weighing down the air and the undertone of sickness running through and through.

And still, he wouldn't leave.

His eyes are only on Hyunjin — his friend, his brother, his fucking lifeline — lying limp and lifeless under the crisp white sheets, held back by a network of IVs and tubes. Hyunjin is a strange sort of calm, his skin now porcelain white, purple veins branching and scattering under his eyelids and on his neck.

It has been three days. Three whole days since Felix was met with a broken promise. Three whole days since the paramedics arrived and Hyunjin was carried away from him, dissapearing amidst all the shouts and ambulances and the paparazzi. Everything was a haze — the mechanical beeping, the latex gloves against skin and the clicks and flashes of cameras.

Felix was shoved out of the way, his arm held firmly by Minho as he cried. He tried to reach for Hyunjin, his fingers combing into his dark hair only to be slapped away by a nurse.

"Sir, please."

For the first time, he seen a tear slip past Minho's eye, only to be swiped away by the sleeve of his shirt. His brother had cracked. And he was fucking terrified.

Felix hasn't given death much of a thought. The last one was his mother's, and he didn't care much. Dead; death; dying. It was nothing but a fleeting thought — a nightmare he was too young to care about. But suddenly, as the elder lies before him, his chest tightens and his heart sinks.

He can almost see death looming in front of him. And truth be told — he is terrified.

Hyunjin's life has always been a nightmare — absent mother and absent father. Then a gun pointed at his head at fifteen. 0.357 Magnum, execution-style; he had said. Then came the cigarettes, the alcohol and finally the coicaine and heroine. And now finally, it was this mystery girl from the theatre. A drug of choice, I choose my poison.

But Felix always believed he could be the sunshine to Hyunjin's moonlight. It isn't his job to heal all his wounds, he is aware. But it is more of a responsibility. And he had failed. Fucking miserably. Twice.

He exchanges shifts with Jisung, leaving the crammed white room to sit in the hallway. It's a void — white, white, white, with misery and sickness. Felix needs air, he needs his guitar, he needs to be held.

Fucking weak, he chuckles at himself. Making everything about yourself.

"He's back, he's back. He's fucking back, goddammit."

And there he is — eyes the shape of cresents, honey coloured and tired. Almost a smile, he sees. The white of the hospital doens't seem to faze him, like he expected this, as if he's used to this.

"You asshole, Hwang."

A ghost of a smile haunts his lips as he's surrounded again. Nurses checking his pulse and his oxygen in a rush. But Felix feels peace. He's alive.

"You stayed the whole time?"

"I can't fucking leave. Even if i want to."

The second time was in March, when Hyunjin was out of his fucking mind, deprived of any uppers and downers. Even his last dead resort — prescription medication, was heavily monitored. By the managers, by Minho, by the entire fucking world breathing down his neck.

Your phone number was an imprint in his mind, and his fingers with a psyche of their own as he dialled it up. His heart erratic — hoping, praying and pleading.

"I want to see you," his voice breaks. So does he. "Please."

And suddenly, it's you, you, you again. You don't ask about that February night. The newspapers were talking again, pictures and articles and quotations, all about that goddamn scandal. He knows that you know.

Peach and honey in the air, sunlight and your skin. Sometimes Hyunjin wonders if he has ever truly loved. You're lying on his stomach, your hair a wild display his hand runs through.

"Have you ever been to Vegas?" You ask, eyes faraway.

"Nope."

"Did you know that when they're done with all those neon lights, they just dump them in this big graveyard in the desert? Don't you think that's sad? Abandoned. Never lit up again."

"I could light them up."

Hyunjin has never been a romantic. He has never dreamed of promises rolling off your breath — you in your cocaine coloured wedding dress. Summer wind in your hair and wedding photographs tied up neatly in his attic.

And yet he dreams of you that night. An overhead conversation with your name mentioned. A half read book of yours on the coffee table, you were right there — minutes before. He finds himself walking down the street, catching a glimpse of you, only to find out it wasn't you at all. It has always been like that; always reaching for you but never quite touching.

"Do you love her?" Minho had asked that morning.

He's empty. He wonders, do I? Or is she the same chemical happiness the drugs brought him. Ten minutes of numbness that subsides as soon as you're gone.

"Of course, I do."

"Stop fucking lying." Minho's words are venom, his eyes dark. He has never cared so much. "If you did. If you gave a shit about her — about us, about me — you would get up and fucking fix yourself. Get off the fucking drugs, stop drinking. Would you?"

Hyunjin is silent, his face a dark shadow. The words are heavy. And Minho is screaming, his facade off. He can't keep up his arrogant calmness any longer; not when his friend is dying — killing himself the longer they go. He's crying, for the first time in fifteen years, hot tears running down his face. Burning. There is something so delicate about this time, so fragile.

Because he's been there, seen everything through and through. Being held back in rehab because the sight of those little white pills terrified him. He refused to take them, crying and throwing up at the mere thought. Eventually as he was broken down piece by piece, he started downing them unthinkingly — sometimes holding them under his tongue or between his teeth.

And he is reliving his nightmare. Seeing his best fucking friend ruining himself on the floor, his past slipping through the cracks.

He holds on to him by the collar of his shirt, his grip so tight his fingers sting. This time, he can't just get up and leave.

"You wouldn't. So don't you fucking dare tell me you care about us until you've fixed up this goddamn mess."

And he's gone. Leaving. Leaving. Leaving.

Leaving Hyunjin abandoned and weak. He rubs his face, holding himself for once. He's sick to his stomach, he can't stand himself. He was a self fulfilling prophecy — a tragedy writing itself. Broken home, unrequited love, another soul subsiding to chemical happiness, a broken fucking rockstar — such a cliché.

Fix yourself, goddammit. Sometimes he wishes love was enough.

That evening, a mid-March sunset, Felix had found everything in place. Hyunjin's shoes neatly arranged by the entrance, the bedsheets folded and crisp, notebook half open on the bed with overflowing lyrics.

"He'll skin us alive if we're late to the recording again," he had warned, bass slung on his shoulder.

Two knocks on the only locked door — the bathroom, and hope fucking extinguishes.

Panic settles deep in his bones, his maniac heart beating a disgruntled rhythm against his chest. He's screaming, shouting, his words a bleeding mess. Hyunjin, don't you do this to me a third time. Time is still, he's floating.

Hwang fucking Hyunjin, I hate you.

It isn't supposed to go like this. Nothing is supposed to go like this. The industry is stressful, sure; but he was promised money, fame and most of all his fucking friends. It's supposed to be years of their bullshit catastrophic friendship, their patience stretched so thin, it's yet to snap.

Hyunjin — his skin pale, his jaw slack, drenched. A pale arm limp, hanging off — reaching to him; reaching for him. His best friend — a beautiful fucking tragedy.

"What the fuck. You're kidding me, this is a fucking joke."

He's screaming, Minho is screaming. Jisung joins the turmoil. The eldest has the sense to dial up the number. He's still screaming, grabbing at his friend — his cheeks, his neck, his arms; looking for a pulse, for any sort of life.

The paramedics are here, guiding the three through the last ten minutes of panic. Hyunjin chokes and chortles. He's alive. He's fucking alive. Perhaps an awful figment of his imagination, the subtle heaving of his chest: he's breathing. But fuck, the time between each breath too long — excruciatingly long.

"Hurry. Please, fucking hurry."

And yet again, Hyunjin is taken away from him. All Felix can do is stare at him with a look of distant horror. It's all a dream. A bad fucking dream, he convinces himself, hardly aware of the chaos surrounding him.

Hyunjin had said he wanted to kill himself. And Felix? He just let him.

Felix has always been the fragile one, the one who needed to be taken care off, the delicate one. A dandelion inflorescence losing a part of himself to life with every passing year. And Hyunjin is the one who did the caring — Minho, his brother but Hyunjin, his twin flame.

And this being the third straight week he has spent at the same hospital, his best friend lying motionless in white for the third time broke his heart.

And then there is you, Hyunjin's girl, appearing and dissapearing from thin air none the same. You had come to the studio shaking, talking about some letter. A suicide note. So you got the privilege of a suicide not, not his brothers, his own bandmates. And Minho had talked some sense into you — both of your hands held in his, earnest.

He doesn't wake up for two days. Two whole days driving Felix fucking insane.

He still spends the hours on his bedside, with you. It is driving him insane. The constant beeping of the machines, the drip of the IV, the day melting into night and the night into day.

And the first time he sees movement, your hands are already sliding across Hyunjin's cheeks, holding him through blurry vision and the tears on your face. "I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Hyun."

Felix is next: "Why didn't you tell me, Hwang? Fuck you for doing this to me thrice."

Liar.

Hyunjin seems to panic, his cresent eyes now wild and scared : he's lost, despite being with the two he cherishes the most. And as another crowd of nurses takes over him, Felix sees the articles writing themselves, adding him to the list of fallen stars in the likes of Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin.

After fifteen minutes of checking his vitals, the nurse speaks again, a pointed glance at Felix although his words are directed at Hyunjin, "Press the button if you need anything, if anything happens."

And she leaves, the door closing as the pale white uniform dissapears from sight, leaving the three alone.

Three people. Three stories.

The silence is heavy and fragile — and you the first to break it.

"Hyunjin."

"I know. I told you, it's a mess — I am a mess. I can't do this.”

Felix just stands, uncomfortable. A thousand words on the tip of his tongue but with the intensity of the way Hyunjin looks at you, he feels like he's interrupting. He's different. You're different. And Felix is a thousand times more careful.

"No, Hyun," you continue, your voice terrible, broken. "You tried to kill yourself."

"Do you hate me?"

You ponder, looking at him over and over, studying him, looking through him. "Yes. You broke my fucking heart, Hyun."

Hyunjin burries his face in his hands, as if she told him what he already knew. His heart in his own hands — broken like a promise. He's an insolent child, reprimanded by his mother.

"I didn't mean to."

"You didn't?" you breathe, voice dry, tone incredulous. "It doesn't matter! You still did it. You love me, Hyun? And you still drowned yourself in that fucking bathtub. You broke my —" a sideward glance at Felix, "you broke our hearts. It doesn't matter, you didn't mean to."

Hyunjin flinches, recoiling within himself. He falters, swallowing his words.

Next is Felix, leaning over to catch one of his wrists in his hands. He feels the pulse against his thumbs, rhythmic and assuring — alive, alive, alive. He stands sniffling, tears dripping down his chin, but only frowns, not gathering his best friend up in his arms and smoothening his hair.

"Feli—"

"No you don't." He interrupts, unable to hide the bite in his voice. "You put me through hell, you know that? If you died, you know what would be left of me?"

Hyunjin is silent again, only his hand outstretched asking him to take it. And with him in his arms, Felix is a child again — used to being taken care of. He's heaving, all his sobs hidden in the mess of the elder's hair.

"This doesn't change anything. I'm still mad at you. You're a goddamn mess."

Hyunjin laughs, his voice so full despite the sound being muffled, "I fucking hate you, Lix."

Minutes pass, minutes of nothing but them holding each other. And you watch, content and complete, the reassurance a constant chant in your mind: alive, alive, alive. Felix won't look at him; not yet. He can't. But he'd take a bullet for him, and he'd never say it out loud.

"Hyunjin. Rehab. Do it for us."

And for once, Hyunjin doesn't care. Beyond the tightlit hospital chamber, beyond Felix, Jisung, Minho and you; perhaps the world thinks of him as aimless and a little bit mad. But for now? Hyunjin doesn't fucking care.

116 notes · View notes

dictee · 1 year

Text

so much in this show about consumption. the very first conversation w lestat louis and miss lily. “i disembarked for the music but then there was the food” “what’s been your favorite dish?” “she puts a gun to my head asks me to choose...” [fade out into louis voiceover] [fades back in] “and the women...all shades of skin...white...black...cinnamon..i’ve emptied a bank vault sampling i must say but it was not until a few nights later” [describes seeing louis for the first time] sex and eating are both instances of sampling the local goods theyre both things bought by wealth and whiteness and also for a vampire carnal and literal hunger do actually overlap and he can literally eat who he fucks. he’s talking about women explicitly but flirting with louis implicitly too.

And obviously he doesn’t see louis on the same level as women or as food--he desperately wants an equal because he wants to be loved! long before he turns louis into a vampire he sees him as elevated over other humans. hes captivated by sorrow as much as he is beauty. he is interested in louis as a person in a way that he clearly isnt with the people he fucks and/or eats. they’re both aware of this and convinced of this Especially in the first 2/3 of the relationship where they have a carefully maintained semblance of equality lestat is so persistently indulgent romantic generous doting. louis has his own thing with the azalea. lestat hasnt revealed the extent of his powers. etc etc. so then the assault in episode five is i think genuinely surprising to both of them. bc we know from the start what lestat is capable of! his violence and his cruelty are never obscured! louis fully expects lestat to eat antoinette after he fucks her and is thrown when he doesn’t! but neither of them expect louis to fall into the same category as everyone else. even seeing hearing lestat tell antoinette he loves her after chopping off her finger louis still maintains that there’s a difference between him and antoinette and he’s the one lestat genuinely loves. and hes RIGHT about that is the thing. theyre right. lestat loves louis differently and more than anyone else! he doesnt love anyone else. but its NOT ENOUGH. for the difference in how lestat treats louis. to ultimately be substantial. although neither of them would ever want to acknowledge it. it’s still there! all the parallels lestat makes between lily and louis even though louis is her john and theyre on totally different rungs. cherrie moraga has this essay where she talks about how difficult it is for gay men to have solidarity with women because to truly have solidarity with women would mean acknowledging the truth that they can be hurt like women. The brutality of episode five is inevitable and yet no one sees it coming

#iwtv #this is so much text.#rape mention /#abuse /#so smart of them to make antoinette a woman in the show #and so intersting that we do not see lestat having casual affairs w men.

152 notes · View notes

multifandom-worlds · 2 days

Text

You're More Than Your Marks

Genre:Angst

Word count:2.9k

Warnings: Violence, derogatory language, feelings of worthlessness, implied self-harm

Pairing: Mattheo x Kaida(OC)

Authors note: This started as one thing and ended up being very different. It features @slytherins-heir's OC, Bethany. I love my girl, if you don't, that's okay.

Remember that your content consumption is on you

Kaida sat in the back of the library, textbooks from multiple courses strewn about the table in front of her. The chairs, once occupied by her fellow housemates, now sit vacant. They had what they needed—help with Muggle Studies. As soon as their assignments were complete, they left, leaving her with a mountain of parchment and feeling used. She quickly rubbed her eyes beneath her glasses before pushing her feelings down. She was disappointed - not in them but in herself for actually believing they would hold up their end of the agreement.

“Hey, Kaids.” The all-too-familiar voice of her best friend interrupts her concentration. “Where’s your friends? I thought you guys were going to be studying together for your N.E.W.T.s? Did you scare them all away with that resting bitch face of yours?” He teases, plopping down into one of the empty chairs across from her

“Fuck off, Nott. I’m not in the mood for your shit today.” Kaida responds, not looking up from her parchment where she was taking notes. Her anxiety and stress were high, too high to deal with her best friend's quips - things that would typically just roll off her back. Her hostility towards him and calling him by his last name was a major red flag to Theo.

He pulled away the parchment just as she was going to write, causing ink to spray everywhere. “Kai, you need a break. You’re stressed out about this, and it’s not a good look on you. Let’s see Matt; he’s in detention as usual. We can tease him through the door like we always do.”

Kaida looks up at Theo, glaring daggers at him before taking her parchment back. “I distinctly remember telling you to fuck off, Theo. I can’t waste time like you; I need to study; just because you and Matt don’t give a rat's ass about the N.E.W.T.s doesn’t mean I do. Now get out of my sight before I put your ass in the hospital wing.”

Theo throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Damn, mio amico, no need to be like that; I was just trying to get your mind off studying. I know how much enjoyment you get out of teasing him when he’s in detention.”

She sighs, takes her glasses off, and puts them on the table. “I’m sorry, Teddy; I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I need to live up to my house, and with how many classes I’m next to failing in, even with Tom’s help, I’m going to be the laughingstock of Ravenclaw. Have you ever met a stupid Ravenclaw? You have now.”

Theo sighs before rising from his chair and walking around the table. He bends down, wrapping his arms around her shoulders before resting his chin on the top of her head. She almost instinctively relaxes against his embrace. “Kaida, you’re a lot smarter than you realize,” He says before kissing the top of her head. “I hate seeing you so stressed and hearing you speak so negatively about my best friend. I’ll leave you alone, but if I come by after my class in several hours and you’re still here, I’m sending Matt to deal with you. I’m not losing my best friend because she has this stupid idea in her head.”

Theo lets go of her before walking out of the library to go to class, leaving Kaida alone once again. She brushed her bangs out of her face, not paying any attention to Thoe’s half-threat of sending her boyfriend. Theo knew they weren’t public with their relationship; he wouldn’t do that to her…right?

Before Theo could answer, he heard a couple of Ravenclaw students talking. He usually wouldn’t pay much attention to them, but what caught his attention was the fact that they were talking about his beloved Kaida.

Theo walked down the corridors, hands shoved in his pockets, heading to his last class of the day. He met up with Mattheo, who had just gotten out of detention with McGonagall. The two of them walked to class, talking amongst themselves.

“Have you seen Kaida yet today, Theo? She hasn’t texted me all day and wasn’t in Divination with me, which is weird for her because she loves Divination. I walked by the library and couldn’t see her,” Mattheo says as they walk into Potions together. He has been on edge all day because he has not heard from her.

“The fact Kaida actually believed we’d stay and help her study, I knew she was a freak, always hanging out with those Slytherin fucks, but I didn’t think she was stupid too.” One boy said

“I bet the only reason they keep her around is because she’s a good lay. At this point, she’s probably slept with the entire Slytherin house.” A second boy added.

Mattheo was seeing red - no one disrespected his Ravenclaw and got away with it. “Matt, don’t. It’s not worth it. They don’t know her like we do, and you don’t want to give it away.” Theo says, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder and leading him to their table with Draco, Tom and Bethany.

“What’s gotten into you, loverboy?” Bethany teases before seeing Mattheo's expression. His fist clenches so tight that his knuckles start turning white; he glares at the Ravenclaw boys, his jaw tight. “Theo, care to explain?” Bethany asks, turning her attention to the Italian sitting beside him.

“He overheard those two Ravenclaws insulting Kaida. Basically, she was supposed to study with them, but they used her to finish their assignments and left her alone to struggle. Then they called her a freak and stupid,” Theo explains.

“They also called her a whore, Theo. A fucking whore. They assumed she was sleeping with the entirety of Slytherin. What the fuck. How are you not angry about this? Why are you so calm about this, Theo? I’m going to rip their fucking tongues out and shove it down their throats.” Mattheo says through gritted teeth, still watching them as Snape begins class.

“Mr. Riddle, might I ask what you are doing other than preparing your potion?” Snape's voice cut through Mattheo’s fantasizing about the ending of those two Ravenclaw boys. He opened his mouth to reply, but Tom cut him off.

“Forgive my brother, Professor.” Tom began. “I’ll make sure he completes his potion by the end of class, sir.”

“Very well,” Snape said before walking away to monitor the rest of the class.

“You finish this damned potion, and I won’t turn you over for fighting those two students,” Tom says before turning back to Bethany and their potion. “Don’t make me regret this; if those two are not in the hospital wing or St. Mungo’s, I will put you in the hospital wing.”

Mattheo finally turns his attention back to the cauldron, momentarily satiated by Tom's comment. Being the brother of the Slytherin prefect did come with its advantages—but also the fact that his brother’s girlfriend, Bethany, was one of Kaida’s best friends.

Three hours and an almost perfect potion later, Mattheo was free to seek his vengeance against those who dared slight his girlfriend. Finding them was easy enough; they were walking towards the Ravenclaw dorms when Mattheo unleashed all his pent-up rage.

He grabbed the second boy by the collar and slammed him face-first into the wall before throwing him to the floor. He grabs the back of the first boy's shirt as he tries to flee and throws him to the floor as well. Soon, it became a full-on 2 v 1 fight. The crowd gathered quickly, watching the bloodshed; anyone who tried to intervene on behalf of the Ravenclaw students was quickly put back in their place by Theo.

McGonagall comes sweeping through the corridors. “What is the meaning of this!?” She asks, seeing the gathering; upon further investigation, she sees the two Ravenclaws lying bloodied and unconscious on the floor, Mattheo standing over them, him bloodied and breathing heavily. “Merlin! Alert Madam Pomfry, somebody.”

“Professor, I will ensure my brother receives an adequate punishment for this transgression,” Tom said, stepping protectively in front of his brother. “I absolutely do not condone fighting within the halls or grounds of Hogwarts.”

After everything was sorted and the two students were in Madam Pomfry's care, Mattheo had gotten away with the fight thanks to Tom, so he and Theo began walking towards the library. “Are you sure you don't want to go clean up before seeing if she's there? You know how she gets when you get hurt?” Theo asked, taking in his friend's bloody nose, busted lip, and damaged knuckles.

“No, I need to know if she's okay. You said you were worried about her; I'm not going to leave her alone. I don't know what sort of damage she's done to herself because of her stress.” Mattheo says, worry slowly infiltrating his voice.

They made it to the library quickly, given how other students cleared the halls as they walked by. They scan the surroundings in search of her. Much to their dismay, there she is, repeatedly hitting the back of her head against the wall she is sitting against, her hands clawing at her thighs, eyes closed, and tears silently rolling down her cheeks.

“I thought I told you to fuck off, Teddy,” Kaida says as they approach, hearing footsteps. “I'm not leaving until I know everything. I already told you I need to live up to the Ravenclaw name and prove to my family that I’m not stupid. If that means I have to spend all night in the library, I will. Now, go be a pain in the ass to someone else, I’m busy.”

“It’s not just Theo, mon coeur.” Mattheo whispers, placing his hand between her head and the wall. Immediately, Kaida’s eyes shoot open and land on him. She must have been silently crying for hours, given how red and bloodshot her eyes were. “You haven’t come to a single class all day; you’re not answering any of my messages, and you’ve told Theo to fuck off twice. That’s not like you, mon coeur, talk to me.”

“I’ve been here studying, something you two should be doing,” she says, picking up her quill again and going back to her notes. You shouldn’t be here, Riddle, not with me, not looking like that.” She says softer, not wanting to make eye contact. “You’re going to be kicked out for bleeding all over everything.”

“What the fuck, Kaida?” Mattheo shouts, startling Kaida. She looks up at him, eyes sparkling with fresh tears. She looks around to see if anyone heard him or saw them together. She saw Madam Pince walking over to the 3 of them, a look of contempt on her face.

“The 2 of you, out!” She orders, pointing at Kaida and Mattheo. Kaida bites her lip to keep from crying more as she starts to pack her stuff up.

“You two go; I'll bring your stuff back,” Theo says, stopping her. He begins to gather her belongings as Kaida runs from the library. Theo frowns, watching his best friend go. He turns to Mattheo. “Way to go, Riddle. Yell at your already stressed-out girlfriend; what damage can that possibly do?” he says sarcastically.

“Oh fuck off, Nott,” Mattheo sighed, running after her, leaving Theo to collect the rest of Kaida’s textbooks and notes. Mattheo runs through the corridors, listening for any signs of her, ignoring all the looks he receives. He was scared. He was afraid of losing his girlfriend, his happiness, and his safe space. The longer it took him to find her, the more anxious and frightened he got.

He finds her just as she gets into the courtyard, surrounded by other students. “Kaida!” he calls, grabbing her hand and pulling her back into his chest. He was acutely aware of all the eyes on them, but at that moment, he did not care. “Kaida, Mon Coeur,” he says softly, resting his chin on the top of her head. She can hear his heart beating frantically.

“Matty….not here…the others…” Kaida says hesitantly, pulling away. She craved nothing more than his comfort, but she was scared of what people would say.

“I don't care. Fuck all of them. I need my girl. I need to make sure she's okay.” He whispers, wrapping his arms tighter around her. He wasn't going to let her leave, not in the state she was in. “Kaida, I need you. Don't you understand that?”

All her stress and anxiety finally reached a breaking point. She clutched into his uniform so tightly, crying into his chest. He held her close and gently rubbed her back. “C-can we go p-please? Anywhere else but here..”

Mattheo nodded, kissing the top of her head before carefully pulling away. He cupped her cheeks gently, wiping her tears with his calloused thumbs. “Let's go, Mon Coeur. Theo's going to meet us in our dorm,” he said.

He kisses her nose before wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her tight to his side. She kept her eyes downcast as they walked to the Slytherin dorms. She felt somehow…safer with Mattheo by her side, like she was immune to any attacks, verbal or physical when Mattheo was by her side.

They descend the stairs, Mattheo's hand never leaving her waist. He glared at anyone who dared cast a suspicious glance their way, leaving hushed conversations in their wake.

“Was that Mattheo Riddle? Why's he with that Ravenclaw?”

“What’s a Ravenclaw doing in our dorms?”

“I bet he won a fight, and she's his prize.”

“Did you hear he went 2v1 on some Ravenclaw boys? They’re being transferred to St. Mungo’s.”

“Well, I heard Tom Riddle was even there!”

“What did those students say to cause that much violence?”

“Was that you? Did you send those two boys to the hospital?” Kaida asks as soon as they are alone in his dorm. She grabs his blanket and immediately wraps it around her shoulders. She looks at him, fully understanding the scope of his injuries.

He nods, keeping some distance between them. “Yes. They were speaking so negatively about you so openly. I was having none of it. You’re not stupid, Kaids. Far, far from it. I know you told Theo you were, but you really aren’t. Grades aren’t everything.”

Kaida looks at Mattheo. “Thank you, Matty, for coming to find me…I’m so scared of failing; I don’t want to be one of those Ravenclaws that becomes renowned for being a fucking idiot. I need to get my grades up, but nothing makes sense! I can’t make it make sense, and I feel like an idiot. Why isn’t it making sense? Why can’t I do it?”

Mattheo goes to sit beside her, wrapping her in his arms. “You’re so much more than just your grades, mon coeur. Rowena Ravenclaw didn’t just value book smarts; she valued wisdom and wit as well as intelligence. She valued curiosity, something you have in abundance. You’re always asking questions and wanting to know how things work. Just because you can’t pick up potions or herbology doesn’t make you stupid. You are gifted in divination and history. Professor Trelawney said herself she has never seen a student as gifted in smoke reading….what’s that called again?”

“Capnomancy…but there’s always libanomancy, which is incense smoke...” Kaida says, resting her head on his shoulder and fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

“Right, I can never remember. But also, in The History of Magic, you know more than Hermione does. She may be the “brightest witch of her age,” but they have never met you. You are wise; you have seen things you should never have seen and experienced things you should never experience. You embody everything that makes up Ravenclaws. I don’t want you to lose your spark, your inquisitive and curious nature, simply because of some stupid tests that tell you what jobs you could do when you graduate.”

Kaida really wanted to believe him, but she found it so tricky, too. “But why? Why would that be a bad thing? Why would losing my spark, as you put it, be a bad thing? I’m a freak, Matty. Everyone says it. I don’t even know why you’re with me. I doubt I’m even going to get a career after I graduate; I’m not smart enough for anything.”

“My perfect Kaida…” Mattheo says softly, hooking his finger under her chin to force her to look at him. “You would make a fantastic Unspeakable. You love to learn things; you’re always trying to figure things out; you want to know how things work. Or you could be a historian. There are jobs out there for you, mon coeur. There are good, respectable jobs that could greatly benefit from an individual like you. Or you could go into something with divination. Kaida, there is a job for you out there; we’ll find it, even if that means we leave the magical world and live as muggles; I don’t care. If you lose your spark, I lose my girlfriend. I would lose everything that made me fall in love with you; you would be a shell of your otherwise vibrant self. There is no me without you, Kaida; I need you to understand that.”

Kaida tries to look away, but Mattheo isn’t having that. “Look at me, K. Look me in the eye when I tell you that I am lost without you. You are the best thing to happen to me and Theo. We can’t lose you, K. Please, we need you to ease up on studying. Come to us, we will help you; please don’t do this alone.”

Kaida nods, tears once again welling in her eyes. “Thank you...Matthew Riddle. Meeting you has changed my life for the better.”

#slytherin boys angst #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x oc #Matthei riddle x Kaida #mattheo riddle angst #matteo riddle fluff #slytherin boys mattheo #slytherin boys

9 notes · View notes

nexusnyx · 1 year

Text

to my sweetheart

40s!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader [2.6k] Summary: Each night Bucky gets some sleep, which is not often, he dreams of two things for certain: The first, of course, it's you. The calm before the storm. The second, and this was as weird as everything else, was falling. He hated every second of it and hated the first second he woke up the most—when he felt that weird sense of deja vú. 📝 this was based on this post. if you like it, reblogs and comments make all the difference. I hope you enjoy this sweetheart Saturday. | 🏷️ established relationship, letters, angst, longing, love declarations. warnings⚠️ mature content—depictions of sex, so minors dni. age-typical topics— war, drugs, violence, death, depression & alcohol consumption... etc.

masterlist | series masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤAugust, 1943.

Somewhere between England and Italy, Bucky lost track of time.

Days weren't the same now and he wondered if they ever would be. The empty gaps between horrors and the eerie quietude of bars in towns he's never heard the name of—they make him queasy.

Bucky's lost in time, but not without a compass.

Your words guide him home.

In spilled ink that he sees in the corner of the pages or the coffee stains on pages two or three, Bucky can see you crouched down behind your work's balcony, writing with one hand and nursing your mug of pure caffeine with the other.

Those things.

The memories. They're what keep him grounded at first.

Any memory from that Sunday before being shipped back is his safe place. Dum Dum called those days a "mind palace". Bucky laughed at him when he did, and Morita said, "you say the wildest fuckin' things, Dum Dum," but he'd been right.

Bucky needed a fortress to hide.

Somewhere no war could reach, or sink its claws inside.

Everything around him shone lights on the most twisted things and ideals—he buried himself in the memories.

In you.

The letters were only a bridge.

He noticed that having a head on his shoulders helped the others, too.

ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ"In a way, sweetheart, you're like everybody's guardian angel here, y'know? They say 'Sarge, it's easy to not go crazy when we've gotta fella like you around', but most of them don't know that you keep me not crazy. So they owe ya one, even if they don't know it. If When we all make it out of here, I'll let 'em know, and that way, they can pay ya. DumDum already knows you don't like anything with lem I hope it's soon."

ㅤㅤㅤ

As he buries the safe parts of his mind in a random Sunday day, Bucky realizes a lot about himself.

They're traveling from London to a city in the countryside of Italy when he notices that he's sturdy. The word strong is intimately attached to the idea of Morita now—a tall, broad fortitude of a man whose presence is twice bigger than himself. But Bucky's sturdy—like a good structure, a firm base.

His unity gets a mission.

He doesn't think about it. If you're being logical, he told his reflection, this is better. No trenches. No open air.

(It wasn't better. It was unknown, uncharted territory.

Bucky remained with his head held high. Told his men—"we'll work it out.")

The letters are his safe boat, and he floats in the warm waters of your fountains for as long as the damned mails allow him to.

It's a chilling shock when the boat is pulled from underneath him.

The cold waters of reality suck—and the government provides the aid for it.

Bucky re-reads the letters tucked inside his metal box when the mailman tells them about the mess up.

He feels himself slipping when his hands are shaking—the repeated words stop being enough with his mind lost in scenarios of you back home, alone.

The lack of replies from Steve is the last straw. Or the final pull.

Bucky allows the morphine to numb him.

He didn't keep his men from tobacco, prostitutes, alcohol, and the cheap morphine provided by the ones that wanted all soldiers placated the most.

It was... needed.

That's what he told himself.

You need this. If you wanna make it back to her and him, you need this. But you better be fucking smart about it, too, 'cause they will both whoop your ass if you come back fucked up.

Bucky's morning prayer: you need this. if you wanna make it back to her and him, you need this, but you better...

As long as it kept him microdosing as much as possible, all should be fine.

Right?

Not right.

Nothing was right, but fuck.

There was nothing human about staying alive like this. Nothing humane about how the people up top handled the world and played with everyone else living in it, and Bucky made the skin between his thumb and forefinger bleed trying to organize those thoughts as he wrote them to you.

Pages, so many pages of the inside of James Buchanan Barnes, and all because someone answered from the other side. When mail wasn't intercepted—when things weren't fucked.

Bucky could almost hear the disappointment in your voice every time he put something in his mouth that he shouldn't.

Be that a cigarette, alcohol, drugs.

He heard, "Jay... that shit's nasty, c'mon."

It made him smile.

When he heard, "You better not think I'm gonna kiss you if you keep using this crap," the smile left, though.

Even you weren't immune to the dark, intrusive thoughts.

(Sometimes, they won. The ugly thoughts devoured if he'd been obligated to pull the trigger many times. If he kept hearing the sound of something exploding, or his eyes stumbled upon worse than bits and pieces flying here and there.

On those nights, he went either to Morita or Dum Dum. The three of them understood each other better. Talked things out, sometimes.

"This has to end at some fuckin' point," Bucky pleaded. To what or who, no one fucking knew. He turned to Morita, "how stupid is this? Just—how fuckin' stupid is this, Jim?"

"The stupidest," said Jim. Bucky liked hearing him pissed off. "But that's who rules this world for you, Sarge. Stupid men.")

Each night Bucky gets some sleep, which is not often, he dreams of two things for certain: The first, of course, it's you. The calm before the storm.

The second, and this was as weird as everything else, was falling. He hated every second of it and hated the first second he woke up the most—when he felt that weird sense of deja vú.

When he asked Dum Dum about it, his reply was as helpful as not hearing from you and Steve in longer than Bucky could care for:

"Eugh. Put a cup of water next to ya before you sleep, Sarge. That''s like hair and teeth fallin' and shit like that—a warning for ya to wish the evil eye away."

Bucky loved the guy with all his heart, but he wasn't sure what was stupider: The notion that a glass of water would help at all (or not freeze in the fucking cold they were facing these days), or that someone could 'wish away the evil eye' in the middle of the war.

If only.

ㅤㅤㅤ...

—didn't even try to hide it. I think the boys get a thrill from that. They respect me and follow my orders, which is more than I can ask for.

But for now, never mind them. I can't even fathom thinking about the words you wrote that got lost somewhere; crumpled under dust, debris, and nothing nice. Your words deserved better than that. How fuckin' primitive is it that we still gotta rely on papers to even hear from one another, hm? I think all the things you said at the Expo are so true it hurts, and that's a bit sad for me to think about. I always liked technology. You know that. Surely I thought at least some of the people who controlled it were better at optimizing everybody's life qualities, but, hey—you were right about that, too. I think evil lizards just took over long ago, and we never climbed up high enough to know it.

You asked me what I think it'll be the hardest part when I'm back, and I dreaded writing the answer to that.

Truth is—I'm terrified of you. Not as a person, sweetheart, but, the idea of you, d'you know? Nowadays I'm not sure when I'm makin much sense or not so I apologize if I did it again because of The thing is... What if I'm no good? What if my company gets an expiration date because I'm in touch with all of this shit, y'know?

Sometimes it feels like the smell of death and blood is ingrained in me. It's fuckin' disgusting, I know, and I'm sorry to even say it. I just wanna take so many showers and the mere idea of gettin' one is so far-fetched and ridiculous that one of these days I cried because of how hard I wanted it. Please don't think I'm a kid. Fuck what am I saying you'd never judge me for this shit. I'm sorry sweetheart I keep second-guessing things I haven't gotten much sleep. I promise I'll try today

Remember us waking up on Sunday morning?

That's the part of my Sunday I go to whenever I just wanna cry. I head to the bit where I woke up with you in my arms. Your naked body still laying against mine. So soft, baby. So right. The little sighs you make when you turn around always made me smile. You toss and turn like a hurricane all night long, but it's fine—I'll buy us a big bed when I'm back, so we can have that mornin' but even better. Can you picture that? 'Cause I do. I can't wait to say to you this one. Can't wait to whisper BURMA in your ear just so I can hear you laugh at our secret codes. Giggle and moan because I can't keep my mouth to myself when I'm around you.

I keep thinking about how hard you were sleeping. I know you only slept that hard because we were up all night. (That's the part of my Sunday I go back to whenever I need to feel some heat in my body again, or just to know that it's made for more than bad things. That it can be good. Soft. That it's touched someone with tenderness and been touched with love back.) The way you slept even as I kissed your legs, from your ankle all the way up to your inner thighs. How you only opened your eyes when I pulled your knees apart with my head.

I think about that precious morning, that part of my Sunday where everything was just perfect. Waking up to you was fucking perfect. Touching you lazily until your body woke up, getting to know your body with sleep still holding onto the last shreds of darkness in my brain, and the utter perfection of finding out pleasure even without the burning, scorching fire you leave as a trace whenever you touched me. I felt like we'd been married for ten years, that morning, and I could feast on my beautiful wife without a care in the world for what comes later... just because.

I loved spending hours on your body. I'll never thank you enough for trusting me with you the way you did it. Do it. Jesus Christ I can't even fathom not havin' you anymore. No past tense here. I love the sounds you make and how loud you are for me. I love how you let me please you, and tell me just how you want it. I miss that right now. The most comfortable I've ever been was buried deep inside of you as you sat on my lap, your arms wrapped tight around my neck and your lips on my ear telling me every filthy dream you had in my absence. That's my 'mind palace'. Tell no one, though. They think it's something much sweeter.

What are the parts of our golden Sunday you think about the most? Tell me. I wanna know what parts make your days, just as that morning makes mine. I know you hate when I keep babbling about the way I see you — and shyness suits you very well, no matter what Steve says — but I'm gonna do it for a while longer before we talk about the other thing.

(Speaking of your Blond half, can you please tell me where the fuck has he been? I'm drivin' myself mad convincing Steve didn't put himself in a stupid ass position again. I don't got enough morphine in here to withstand this level of worry, I swear to fuckin' god.)

ㅤㅤㅤ...

A lot of shit changes in only a few months, but one thing remains certain: his stubbornness.

He is Winnifred's son, after all.

When his superiors tell him about the mission in Azzano, Bucky shakes his head sharply. Inside his mind, he silently apologizes to his missus before lighting a damn tobacco. Then he argues with his superior.

"That ain't happenin', sir," he says. There's as much confidence in there as he can muster.

His Captain leans with one forearm on the table, and exhales every ounce of air in his chest. "And why not, Sargeant?"

They've been through the 'why' before. Bucky explained in the most cohesive and short way possible the reason why his mission would fucking suck — "you really need to learn how to sweet-talk your superiors, Jay; bad-mouthing them can only be done in your mind; it ain't their faults they think they're special. they're the bosses. as stupid as the rest of us, if not more, and still human, unfortunately. just butter them up" — he stops.

She's right, he thinks.

I often am, your voice replies.

After a deep breath, Bucky goes over it again.

Points at the maps hung in the guy's walls to see if visual aid can help his clear cognitive fucking issues, and drags his fingers through the landscape, running over the plan.

The holes. The improbabilities.

Bucky has this annoying, grating scratch that seems to be attached to his spine. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, bed, or every basic human need in general, but it's made him more cranky.

Less open to be cordial, but he tries.

Eventually, the Captain groans out loud, explaining, "Well, that does check out," as if Bucky would spend minutes talking nonsense in the middle of a war, "but—there isn't much I can do, Barnes. I'm trying my best here—"

We're all "trying our best."

"—and if I'm being honest with you," says the Captain. "I know that this is a hard thing I'm asking of you."

Bucky holds in the scoff. Keeps his eyes in check, and not photographing the back of his skull.

"It really is, sir."

So they compromise.

After over one hour and a half longer of discussing tactics that still contain as many holes as it can fit in an ant's colony, they reach a 'compromise'.

Their unit's 'special mission' is a go-to, and Bucky leaves the base office with that scratch making every muscle in his body hard. Tense.

He shivers, willing away that stupid feeling that hovers at the back of his neck.

When he gets back to his secluded location, the boys all welcome him with tired eyes. Morita hands him the bottle of whiskey and, before he does his duty and fills everybody in, he picks up a piece of paper and your last letter.

"Gonna write, Sarge?" Dum Dum asks.

With Bucky's nod, he switches the gun from the left to the right side and sends him an encouraging smile. "Tell the missus I said hi. I'll keep watch."

"Thanks, Morita."

He starts:

ㅤㅤㅤHi, sweetheart.

First of: I've got some news to tell ya that you're not gonna be fond of. (And oh—Morita says 'hi, missus'. I think he wants to have your babies now that you supplied him with Gudang. Just so ya know.) Now take a deep breath, a really long one—actually, go make yourself some tea.

ㅤㅤㅤ...

↳ my inbox 💌 ↲

135 notes · View notes

sunflowersoldat · 2 years

Text

The Ones Left Behind - Aftermath

Summary: Steve left. The man you thought loved you unconditionally left you for a woman he kissed once over a hundred years ago. Now you're left to pickup the pieces, but you aren't the only one he abandoned.

A/N: This technically takes place after my Series Man Out Of Time, but you don't have to read that series to understand this one.

Pairing: (past relationship) Steve x reader, Bucky x reader.

Series warnings: talks of PTSD, future SMUT, violence, language.

This Chapter warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption and unconscious self harm.

Word count: 2.2k

Master List

Man Out Of Time

Series Master List

Bucky Master List

You didn’t move from your spot on the floor as you stared at the door, the deep red wine stain leading down to the broken glass.

You wanted to hate him, but you couldn’t, and it burned, your heart forever branded by his presence in your life.

You dozed off again.

You woke to the sound of your phone notifications going crazy, you reached for it, silencing it before tossing it into your bag. You stood, grabbing the trash can, dragging it towards the door. After cleaning up the glass, you took a towel and cleaned up the wine and the vibrant stain it left behind.

You looked around your empty apartment, this certainly wasn’t your house on the ranch, you missed it dearly, missed Clyde and Fenris. The fresh outdoor air, and the future you had planned for you and Steve, your heart ached at the thought. You picked up the second bottle of wine, situating yourself in front of the window, you watched the sun begin to set over the city.

The door to your apartment unlocked, creaking open quietly, and softly clicking shut. You heard a bag drop onto the floor,

“Buck? I see you are putting your key to good use…” you lifted the bottle of wine, “Sorry I started without you… well almost finished without you too.” you laughed softly.

Bucky didn’t answer you; he was just silent. You could feel his eyes on you as you dropped your head.

“Is it done? D-did h-he…” your voice trailed off; tears began to fill your eyes. “Who am I kidding, of course he did…”

You stopped speaking as warm arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you from the ground, placing you onto the bar. Bucky turned you towards him slowly, your eyes met his… only they weren’t Bucky’s.

“S-Steve?!”

His ocean eyes were glued to yours, a soft smile on his lips as his head rested against yours, “Hey sweetheart…”

You couldn’t believe your eyes, he had left, you told him to. You reached up placing a hand on either side of his face, you studied him. He looked worn and tired, the silent tears streaming down your cheeks. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Steve settled himself between your legs, his hand coming up to caress your face, wiping the tears from your cheeks. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, “Princess… I could never leave you. After everything we have been through… I couldn’t do that to you.”

You squeezed him tightly, afraid if you didn’t, he would disappear from your grasp. Praying this wasn’t just a fever dream.

“But you said… What about Peggy?” your voice a soft whisper.

He pulled himself from your grasp, picking you up bridal style, walking towards the door. “Come on sweetheart, let’s go home.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he dangled the ranch house keys in front of your face, “You didn’t think I would actually let you sell that place, did you?”

You laughed lightly, “It was always meant for you… a place to have peace Steve…”

He pressed his forehead to yours as he picked up your bag slinging it over his shoulder, “It was meant for us Princess… Now let’s get home, we have a lot of time to make up for.”

He pressed a deep kiss to your lips before walking out the apartment door---

You startled awake, a hard surface against your back, your apartment pitch black, not even the lights from the city filtering in the windows like they normally did. Something wasn’t right.

Planting your hands on the ground, a sharp pain sliced through your hand, instantly recoiling, you felt the warmth of blood coating your hand. Reaching behind you, you felt your way up the wall, finding the light switch, flipping it on.

You were momentarily blinded by the sudden brightness, but as your eyes adjusted, a pit took anchor in your stomach. Your entire apartment was destroyed.

No.

Obliterated.

You clenched your fists at your sides as you looked to the windows, they were barricaded, covered with anything and everything you could find, not an ounce of light from outside filtered in. As for the rest of your apartment, well, it reminded you of Avenger’s Tower after the fight with Ultron’s bots. Shattered glass lay all over the floor, furniture and decorations littered the space, flipped on their sides, or upside-down.

You groaned as you carefully walked into the kitchen, running the warm water over your hand, reaching for the alcohol under the sink, you poured it over the gash in your palm. The stinging sensation causing your hand to tingle, after cleaning it, you reached for the first aid kit under the sink, rummaging through it to procure bandages. As you wrapped your hand, your fingers traced over the scars on your knuckles, a memory flickering in the back of your mind of a rainy night not too long ago. The feel of the tree bark tearing at your flesh, followed by a sad brunet’s bright blue eyes full of concern and rough fingertips softly tying your bandages.

You blinked, pulling yourself from the memory, gripping the counter tightly, you willed the memories to bury themselves back in the darkest pits of your consciousness. Taking a deep steadying breath, you released the counter, clearing your windows of their makeshift barricades, and setting your furniture up-right, lastly you picked up the glass, careful not to gouge yourself again.

You sighed, the apartment was still a disaster, but the rest could wait until morning, you stepped back into the kitchen, your empty bottle of wine mocking you on the counter. Scoffing, you grabbed it and the others, popping the tops off them, you turned the neck of the bottle downward in the sink. You watched as the deep red liquid sloshed down the drain. One by one each bottle emptied, you picked them up dropping them into the trash, if you continued to drink like this, you would need a new apartment. As the last bottle clattered into the trash, you flicked off the light, and a knock sounded through your apartment. Your head whipping to the door, padding towards it, you checked the time on the stove, 1:17am. Shaking your head, you cracked the door peeking out,

“Bucky? What’s goin on? Are you alright?”

You opened the door a little more to get a better look at him, he looked worse for wear, his still shoulder length hair disheveled, eyes dark and red rimmed, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he leaned against your door jamb. Your eyes furrowed, stepping back and opening the door so he could walk in, gesturing to the couch.

You and Bucky weren’t the closest, but when you were on the run with Steve, you had the chance to get to know him a little better in Wakanda, and in the few weeks you had after everyone came back from the second snap. You both cared for each other, you found solace, a kindred spirit of sorts. So, when he showed up on your doorstep, looking like he just came back from a war, you understood, he still fought wars in his mind, his memories still flooding back to him, haunting him.

You softly closed the door, bolting it, and walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, before walking into the living room to settle down on the couch next to him, handing him the glass. As he lifted it to his lips, you grabbed the freshly folded blanket on the back of the couch, wrapping the two of you in it,

“You wanna talk about it?” your voice barely a whisper.

All he could do was shake his head, his crystal eyes meeting yours briefly, the horrors they had witnessed, you could only imagine, but they held a sadness you knew all too well. You nodded in understanding, resting your head on his shoulder, letting your eyes flutter shut. After a few minutes, his head rested against yours, his breathing becoming even. You forced yourself awake; you were not sleeping on your couch tonight. Rising to your feet, you took Bucky’s hands in yours.

He hesitated for a moment before following you, as you entered your room, he began to protest, your name falling from his lips, the exhaustion and brokenness nearly palpable. You crawled onto your bed, rolling down the covers, before standing again, venturing to the dresser inside your closet. You grabbed a pair of men’s sweats from the bottom drawer, you stared at them for a long moment , but you swallowed the lump that threatened your throat, walking back out into the bedroom.

Bucky was still standing where you left him, shaking your head, you grabbed his hands, placing the sweats into them, you gestured to the bathroom,

“Get changed, you aren’t sleeping on my couch.” Your brows were raised, but your tone was solid, there wasn’t any room for rebuttal.

“Peach…”

You shook your head, “No, don’t ‘Peach’ me James Buchanan Barnes.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he disappeared into your bathroom, closing the door, you flicked the light in your room off, crawling into your bed, the soft yellow light peeking out from around the door, becoming a beacon as the door swung open. Bucky stepped out, sweats sitting low on his waist, the deep ‘V’ of his muscles trailing below the waistband. They were tighter on him than they had been on Steve; they hadn’t been baggy on him by any means, you just didn’t realize how much bigger Bucky was than him.

You rolled the covers back down so he could climb in, but he stopped just short of the bed, frozen in place looking down on you, “Peach, the couch is…”

“Shut up and lay down. I refuse to sleep on my couch when there is a perfectly good bed right here.”

“But…”

“And I am not leaving you by yourself. So, get comfortable.”

He swallowed, nodding as he placed his clothes in the chair by the door, he walked to the other side of the bed, you held the covers open as he slid in. The cold sheets are already absorbing his body heat, warming you down into your bones. You gave him a couple of minutes before turning over, back facing him, as you instinctually scooted closer, casually cuddling against him.

You dozed off, as his arm draped across your middle, securing you tightly against him, you smiled to yourself, as the two of you drifted off to sleep. He just needed to feel safe.

You awoke shortly after in panic, at Bucky’s strangled cries. You flipped over, searching the room, to find it empty, your eyes settled on Bucky, who was still asleep. His eyes still closed as he thrashed next to you, his labored breathing and sweat slicked his face and chest. A nightmare. You recognized the symptoms because you had to soothe Steve through them as well. You had lost count of how many times you had gently woken him from his hellish memories. You imagined Bucky’s were worse, having been tortured and forced to do unimaginable things for so long.

Your heart ached for him as you reached for his face, delicately caressing his cheek,

“Bucky?” you whispered softly.

You gave him a light shake with your other hand,

“Buck?!” you whispered again, panic seeping into your tone.

His eyes flew open as he bolted straight up in the bed, his chest heaving as his eyes settled on yours, but they didn’t see you, the panic and sheer agony in them made you want to wrap your arms around him. You brought yourself up, sitting next to him, you placed a hand on his chest,

“Hey. It’s okay, you are here, not there. You’re with me, focus on me.” You spoke softly, trying to soothe his nerves.

Slowly, so very slowly, he returned to himself, the recognition lighting in his eyes as the nightmare released its hold on him. He blinked hazily, his breathing slowing. You hated this part, the aftermath of what they had become, all the decisions they had to live with. The pain you could see in his eyes, mirrored the pain you had seen so many times before in Steve’s, all you wanted to do was help, but you didn’t know how.

You caressed his cheek softly, repeating,

“It’s okay. You are Bucky, you aren’t him. You aren’t him.”

His eyes closed slowly, as he leaned toward you, his head resting against yours, you closed your eyes, your hand moving to the back of his neck to trace soothing circles as you waited for him to fully calm down.

“I’m sorry, Peach. I didn’t mean to… I can’t…”

You brought your hand to his cheek again, his eyes meeting yours, you shook your head softly, “You don’t have anything to apologize for Bucky. I understand, it isn’t your fault…”

“They don’t stop Peach, they don’t--” he sighed as you eased the two of you back into the covers, laying his head near your chest, you curled around him. Shushing him quietly as your hand carded through his soft long locks. His eyes drifted closed as you whispered reassurances to him, your own eyes sliding shut.

@daiseychaindisaster @tianamontag @betareader7 @texan-tazzy @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza

148 notes · View notes

theforgottenmcrmy · 2 years

Text

Not All Bets

Pairing: Riff X OC Jet Girl

Warnings: Explicit Language, References to Violence, Non-Explicit Sexual References, Non-Explicit Recreational Drug Use References, Underage Tobacco Consumption.

Summary: After all, risk taking and rising to challenges comprised large components of their individual personalities. Their respective upbringings had taught them each to be daring and relentless in their own ways. And when one found another in life who also had a predisposition to partaking in games of chance, proposing and engaging in some amiable bets became a natural way to evolve their friendship, and eventually, relationship.

Word Count: 10,000 ish. Y’all, this one really got away from me.

DISCLAIMER

Please note that this oneshot is directly related to the fic After All. The masterlist of said fic can be found here. Reading After All before reading this oneshot is not necessary, but doing so will provide a lot of background context for Riff and the OC.

Request from Anonymous (1): “Could you maybe do a oneshot on how did Roxie and Riff's first actual kiss (the pre- After All relationship) happen? (Also, I noticed that the title "after all" is in most of the chapter summary description and I just wanted to say that that was very clever)”

Request from Anonymous (2): ““Hello! Saw that you were doing oneshots and HCs, so I was wondering if you could write about Roxie and Riff meeting, or when they started dating, I’ve always wonder how their relationship began! Thanks and btw I’m obsessed with the history and your writing!!”

A/N : Hi everyone! 😊 Here’s another oneshot for you that will hopefully make the wait for the next part worth it. I hadn’t intended on this one being so long, but like I mentioned above, it got away from me. Writing awkward, young 15ish Tony, Riff, and Roxie was way more fun than I anticipated it to be. I’m planning on posting Part 20 of After All next Wednesday, 5/11. I’ve got it outlined, but have yet to actually start writing it, so... I know what I’ll be doing in my free time over the next week.😅

If you would like to submit a oneshot request, or if you just have questions/comments, please feel free to reach out.😊 My ask box is always open, and I love hearing from/chatting with you guys!

As always, thank you taking time out of your day to read my little works. I hope you all have a good rest of the week!😊💙

Gambling was supposed to have been a vice, but when it came to gambling with and on Roxie, it didn’t always feel like one to Riff.

Although, Riff had to admit that literal gambling in and of itself had rarely ever led to a positive outcome for either of them. Visits to secret gambling houses, pockets that were already sparse becoming even more empty, sentences in the county jail, and more than one run in with a member of the local mob were just a few of the problems they’d faced over the years as a result of their mutually enjoyed but illegal pastime.

However, many turning points in their relationship revolved around gambling’s more socially acceptable counterpart: betting.

Strangers may have frowned upon the notion, but it hardly came as a surprise to anyone who truly knew them. After all, risk taking and rising to challenges comprised large components of their individual personalities. Their respective upbringings had taught them each to be daring and relentless in their own ways. And when one found another in life who also had a predisposition to partaking in games of chance, proposing and engaging in some amiable bets became a natural way to evolve their friendship, and eventually, relationship.

And it was those moments Riff would recall fondly to himself when times were particularly tough. Whenever they were arguing, and especially after Riff decided to call things off with Roxie in the winter of 1955, Riff would allow himself to take a trip down memory lane and recall several instances where betting, along with a gentle kick from fate that nudged them in the right direction, played a pivotal role in them ending up together.

Though Riff supposed there were more, there were three specific bets he’d made with Roxie over the years that stuck out in his memory.

————————————————————————————

“Please?”

“No.”

“Tony?”

“... Sorry, Roxie. I gotta go with Riff on this one.”

Roxie crossed her arms and sighed frustratedly. Though she was clearly passionate about her stance, neither Riff nor Tony were likely to budge on theirs.

Riff eyed Tony suspiciously. Riff was certain he hadn’t let it slip to her what their plans for the upcoming weekend were. And since he and Tony were the only ones who knew about said plans, that only left one culprit who would have mentioned it to Roxie- accidentally or otherwise.

Riff had gotten an invite from an inside member, who also happened to be his go-to pot dealer for the past year, to a pop-up gambling house. Though it was an alluring offer, he wasn’t stupid. He was young, and even though he knew his way around a poker table, he also knew that he was extremely likely to be targeted by hustlers. And that would only happen if he would be able to schmooze his way inside.

Naturally, Riff recruited Tony to accompany him. Riff trusted Tony with his life, they were both always in need of cash, and Tony’s sheer size would at least deter some people from messing with them.

And now, Roxie had somehow gotten word of their plans. She had just cornered them just after the final school bell rang. Riff and Tony had barely made it through the front door of the school when they heard their names being called down the hallway.

As she attempted in vain to convince them to see her side, the three of them began the trek to their respective homes.

Roxie walking home with Tony and Riff wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, but lately, she had been walking home with Velma more often than not. And that particular day, and given the specific circumstances, neither of the boys were super stoked that she was walking alongside them.

Though Tony was usually more patient with her, Riff hadn’t been able to tolerate Roxie’s presence much at all over the past few weeks. She seemed to always have an answer for everything, and she never hesitated to call Riff out when she thought she knew better than him. And while she did all of this, Roxie was almost always smiling, as if the shitty neighborhood they were tethered to contained anything or anyone worth smiling at.

To be fair, Riff supposed none of that wasn’t exactly new behavior for Roxie. The pair hadn’t always gotten along over the past five years, but they'd at least been entangled in what some would call a friendship.

It all left Riff figuratively scratching his head about why Roxie’s behavior now left him feeling irritated with no end in sight.

“Fine, don’t let me go with you. But you’re making a mistake,” Roxie declared.

Even though Riff couldn’t pinpoint exactly when Roxie had started to get on his nerves so much, he knew it with the utmost certainty whenever she opened her mouth that it was real.

Riff laughed to himself connivingly as he braced himself for Roxie’s explanation. This’ll be good.

“Oh, yeah?” Tony challenged her with a smirk. “Why’s that?”

“I know how to play poker.”

Riff and Tony looked at each other with neutral expressions for the briefest of moments, before both of them erupted into a fit of laughter.

Roxie frowned at their behavior. “Why are you laughing? I do!”

Riff threw his head back while Tony made a scene of gripping his side as the pair laughed even harder.

“Listen, Roxie,” Tony began after a few good moments of laughter, wiping an invisible tear from his eye as he calmed down, “that’s a good one.”

“But I really know how to play,” Roxie insisted, obviously not finding their amusement at her expense funny.

“Please,” Riff snickered, waving a dismissing hand in her direction. “This much laughter ain’t good for me, Roxie. It’s startin’ to hurt.”

Roxie narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll give you something else that hurts to focus on instead.”

Riff’s laughter ceased abruptly at her threat. “The answer’s still no.”

“What if I can prove to you that I know how to play?” Roxie proposed. “Would you let me go with you then?”

Riff looked at Tony questioningly.

If, and that was a big if, Roxie knew how to play poker, she could be potentially an asset on their upcoming excursion to the gambling house. Riff already knew how to play poker- he’d known for years- and he’d taught Tony a few years back. But, having a third person to keep an eye out for them certainly wouldn’t hurt.

However, if Roxie tagged along, they were bound to have even more strangers’ eyes on them. Two young guys like Riff and Tony being in a place like a gambling house was questionable, sure… but Riff, Tony, and a young girl like Roxie? Pft, they’d be lucky if they weren’t pegged as possible narcs the very moment they stepped in the door. Not to mention the fact that Riff would likely be concerned about her wellbeing the whole night. Him and Tony could hold their own in a fight or other confrontation if need be, but as for Roxie? She was likely to be a liability.

Hell, if she’s gonna be this stubborn ‘bout it…

Tony merely shrugged in response to Roxie’s question, so Riff decided for the both of them.

“Ya know what? Fine. If you can prove ya know how to play, we’ll consider lettin’ ya tag along.”

Roxie beamed, as though that was exactly what wanted to hear. At her reaction Riff found himself questioning whether giving her an inch was the best move.

“Great,” Roxie enthused, clapping her hands together once. “How can I prove I know how to play?”

“Ya gotta play Riff in a few hands,” Tony said immediately, knowing that Riff was the stronger player of the two.

“Perfect,” Roxie agreed. She took a look around the block as they walked. “My aunt’s apartment is closest to here, and I’ve got a deck of cards… how about we go there?”

“Lead the way.”

Riff and Tony followed Roxie to her aunt’s apartment in silence for the rest of the way. Riff had no way of knowing what Tony’s thoughts were in those few minutes, but all Riff could think about was how satisfying it would be to beat Roxie at poker and prove that her little tale of hers was just that- a tale.

There was absolutely no way Roxie actually knew how to play the game. What had his father always said?

‘Poker’s a man’s game.’

Roxie pointed to a building up the street. “It’s this building right here.”

The two boys followed her inside the building and up the stairs until they reached the fourth floor. Roxie dug around in her school bag momentarily before withdrawing some keys. She unlocked the door, and gestured to them both to follow her inside.

Riff and Tony entered the apartment slowly, neither of them exactly sure what to expect.

“My aunt’s at work,” Roxie said from behind them, as if reading their minds and sensing their hesitancy. After closing and locking the door, Roxie walked past them, set her school bag down on the nearby couch, and disappeared into one of the two bedrooms.

Tony put his hands in his pockets and took a few steps further into the room.

Riff took the opportunity to glance around the room. After only a few seconds of looking around, it was clear that just two girls, and only two girls lived in the apartment. Although it was small, and a bit dated- like everything else in the neighborhood- it was still neat and tidy. Not a single dish was in the sink, and Riff knew that if he ran his fingers along any of the furniture, he wasn’t likely to find a single spec of dust on his fingers.

Roxie returned to the room with a deck of cards in her hands. She stopped and tilted her head in the direction of the kitchen. “Shall we?”

Riff nodded in response, and then he and Tony followed her into the kitchen area. Roxie placed the deck of cards upon the table and took a seat in one of the two chairs. She looked up at Riff, and then purposefully gestured towards the seat across the table from her.

“Let’s get this over with,” Riff said dramatically, although he took his seat quickly. As he settled into his seat, he looked up, and met Roxie’s challenging stare. Unfazed, Riff picked up the deck of cards, and blindly held them out in Tony’s general direction. “Tony, be a pal and check the cards, won’t ya?”

“Do you really think they’re fake?” Roxie asked with a half-smile and an amused twinkle in her eye.as Tony began to skim through the cards.

“Just wanna make sure.”

“Smart,” Roxie conceded, which surprised Riff. For how quick she usually was to call him out whenever she deemed him wrong about something, it was refreshing for her to admit that he was actually right for once.

Despite his surprise, Riff didn’t skip a beat. “Believe it or not, I have my moments.”

Roxie opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by Tony placing the cards back onto the table. “They’re legit,” he confirmed.

“Let’s do best two out of three hands” Roxie suggested, dropping the previous subject. “If I win, you two will let me go with you to the gambling house on Saturday.”

“Best three out of five hands,” Riff countered. He was confident in his own ability to play the game, but just in case Roxie had a trick or two up her sleeve, he wanted to give himself a comfy cushion by which to secure his win.

“Fine,” Roxie agreed readily, unbothered. “Would you deal the cards, Tony?”

The stare down between Riff and Roxie promptly resumed. Tension filled the air around them as the only sound that could be heard for several moments was the small whooshing of the cards as Tony dealt them upon the table.

Riff’s first hand was crappy, but he couldn’t have helped that. Of course Roxie had won it.

“Beginner’s luck,” he chalked it up to. Tony nodded in agreement.

“I’ve actually known how to play for years,” Roxie informed him, “But if that’s your form of compliment, I’ll take it.”

Riff bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything further while Tony dealt the cards for the second hand.

Riff had a decent hand the second time around. But, to Roxie’s credit- and he really hated admitting it- he couldn’t get a read on how good she thought her own hand was. Instead, Riff settled with trying to get her to fold. Unfortunately, she simply wouldn’t budge.

Eventually, Riff went all in, but Roxie’s hand ended up being better than his own yet again.

Roxie tried to hide her smile as she processed her first two victories. Riff didn’t know why she bothered to hide it- he certainly wouldn’t be if he had been in her shoes. She had a hell of an advantage.

Roxie had won the first two hands. If she won the next one, she’d take the whole cake, and Riff wouldn’t be able to make a comeback.

“Come on, Buddy Boy,” Tony encouraged, though his reassuring words were tainted by slight nervousness Riff detected in his voice. “Ya fallin’ apart or somethin’?”

Riff shot him a stern look, immediately silencing him.

Tony took the hint and dealt the third hand.

After Tony finished disbursing the cards, Riff looked at what he’d been given. As soon as he saw the several groups of matching suits and numbers, he knew the universe had simply been testing him up until that point. He must have had to put up with Roxie’s insufferableness for the first two hands so that he could be given the third, damning, nail-in-the-coffin type hand he now had in his possession. The universe had a funny way of working sometimes.

The two went through the motions of debating whether the other would fold.

“Alright, you two,” Tony announced, “Let’s see what ya got.”

“I am so, so sorry about this, Roxie,” Riff swore, though in actuality, he was anything but. He couldn’t let her win that easily. Riff placed his cards down on the table face up with a sly smile, presenting them to Roxie and Tony with great ado. “Full house.”

Roxie’s eyes fell to his cards. She noted them, and nodded once. “It’s a good hand.”

What the-

Riff’s eyes narrowed. That was about the furthest thing from her reaction than anything he could’ve possibly guessed. Annoyance seeped back into Riff as the corners of Roxie’s mouth upturned slowly.

She placed her cards down on the table, face up.

Four of a kind.

Riff cursed under his breath.

“Wow,” Tony said plainly, stunned. “Would ya look at that?”

Riff nibbled on his thumb and bounced his right foot out of irritation to distract himself and to ensure he wouldn’t say something out of anger in the moment that he would later regret.

“So, you’ll let me go?” Roxie asked hopefully.

There’s that damn smile again.

Tony was smiling, too.

Despite that he had obviously been in agreement with Riff not even half an hour beforehand, Tony didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the larger implications of Roxie’s victory. In addition to making sure they didn’t get hustled, or got arrested, both he and Tony would now be responsible for chaperoning Roxie on their trip to the gambling house. Tony being flippant of that fact only fueled Riff’s annoyance more.

“A deal’s a deal,” Tony confirmed. He looked to Riff expectantly “Right, Riff?”

What else could Riff do at that moment? He didn’t like the results of the bet at all, but with Tony and Roxie staring at him, he was forced to accept his loss with a defeated sigh.

“Ya better be able to pull your weight, Roxanne.”

…

Riff lost that bet, but, God as his witness, he’d win the next one.

Even if it was only to see the look on Roxie’s face when he did so.

————————————————————————————

“Look at him go.”

Roxie and Riff were sitting in one of the booths at Doc’s, watching the scene before them unfold with great interest.

Across the store, Tony was leaning against the counter and trying to schmooze up some pretty blonde girl.

Graziella was the girl’s name. She was pretty, and from what Riff could tell, she seemed like a pleasant enough girl. A fun one, definitely.

Tony had first met her a few weeks back. As he recounted to Riff, Graziella had been in the neighborhood with her older cousin one weekend. The cousin had been visiting a boyfriend at the time, and Graziella must have decided to tag along. It had been a hot day, and naturally, the trio decided to swing by Doc’s for a cold Coke. Funny enough, Tony had had the same idea that day, and when he and Graziella both headed for the small fridge in the corner of Doc’s that contained Coke at the exact same moment, the rest of it was history.

Since that fateful day, Tony had made himself a presence in Doc’s each and every weekend like it was his job. Riff wasn’t sure how Valentina felt about that… but if it annoyed her, the better.

Tony had been nothing but hopeful, and he grabbed at any chance he could to see Graziella again. Sadly, he hadn’t been lucky the past few weekends, so Riff and Roxie decided to tag along for some moral support. Graziella had been all Tony had been able to talk about for weeks, and Riff and Roxie couldn’t resist the urge to possibly see the girl of Tony’s fascination with their own eyes.

Tony’s luck finally turned around when Graziella entered Doc’s that Saturday afternoon. This time, she was without the escort of her older cousin and said cousin’s boyfriend. The absence of the chaperones empowered Tony to try something truly bold, even for him. As soon as she entered the store, Tony greeted her with a smile and wave, as if she had been an old friend. Graziella greeted him back, and walked over to the counter. Tony shuffled out of the booth, where he had been sitting with Riff and Roxie, and followed Graziella across the store like a love-sick puppy dog.

“I don’t think she’s going to say yes,” Roxie stated, though she seemed to take no pleasure in her opinion.

Riff set his bottle of Coke down onto the table and tore his eyes away from Tony and Graziella. He turned to face Roxie with raised eyebrows. “Ya don’t think so?”

Roxie shrugged. “She’s not from around here.”

Though Tony was his oldest and bestest pal, Riff wouldn’t deny that perhaps the girl was a little bit out of his league. She clearly wasn’t from the neighborhood, and Riff could tell from the clothes she wore and the jewelry that adorned her neck and dangled from her ears that wherever she came from, her family was well off.

Roxie’s question was unspoken, but Riff heard it anyway: What would a girl like that want with a guy like Tony?

Perhaps Roxie had a point. But if Roxie wasn’t going to be the cheering section that Tony needed, Riff would. Plus, Riff would be damned if he told Roxie he actually agreed with her on something.

“I think she’ll say yes,” Riff disagreed calmly, though intentionally. He took another glance over his shoulder at the pair across the room. “She’s buyin’ what he’s sellin’.”

Roxie’s brows furrowed. “How do ya know?”

Riff smirked, and took another drink of Coke. “Ya just know. I mean, look at the way she’s standin’.”

Roxie leaned to the side slowly, so as to not to draw attention to herself, and looked around Riff’s head. Riff remained facing forward, watching her intriguingly as she analyzed the pair conversing behind him.

“What do you mean, ‘by the way she’s standing’?” Roxie questioned.

“She’s leanin’ towards him,” Riff clarified. “She’s practically eatin’ outta his hand.”

“... Maybe she is,” Roxie acknowledged. She frowned slightly and settled back into her seat. “So what? That doesn’t mean anything.”

Riff sighed, and began wondering to himself whether he really needed to explain his logic to her, or if Roxie was just testing his patience by feigning ignorance on the subject. “That’s how all ya girls act when you’re smitten with a fella.”

Roxie scoffed in disbelief. “We do not.”

Riff hummed, taking slight pleasure in the fact that she seemed to be getting frustrated. “Maybe not all of ya... But you do.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, Roxie. Lawrence Anderson?”

“What about him?”

“I seen the way ya get when ya talk to him.”

“You have not.”

“I just saw ya the other day- just one little gust of wind, and ya practically would’ve been in his arms!” Riff said, standing his ground. Then, in a sickeningly teasing tone, he added, “Admit it; you’re absolutely smitten with him.”

Riff could recall the scene in his mind perfectly. Earlier that week, on a day he’d actually gone to school, he passed Roxie in the hallway when he was headed to meet Tony for lunch in the cafeteria. Riff would’ve actually said hi to her, but Roxie was too busy talking to the Lawrence fella. Whatever he had to say, which Riff couldn’t imagine was very much, Roxie seemed highly intrigued by it. She had pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned forward as she listened to him intently.

In fact, Roxie leaning towards Lawrence was almost exactly the same way Graziella was leaning towards Tony at that moment.

Roxie seemed highly displeased by Riff’s insinuation. If the glare wasn’t obvious enough, her fingers, which were starting to turn white, capturing her bottle of Coke in a death grip would have been more than sufficient of a hint.

“I am not smitten with Lawrence Anderson,” Roxie said in a low voice.

If Riff thought that there was even the smallest chance that she would lunge out at him, he might have been scared by her warning tone and the fuming look in her eyes. But he felt pretty confident that Roxie would never lay a finger on him, and Riff was having way too much fun riling her up.

“That’s not what your leanin’ said,” Riff replied with a smirk and nonchalant shrug.

Roxie glared at him for a few more seconds before breaking eye contact and letting out an angry huff of air. “Let’s get back to the issue at hand, okay? As nice as she seems, there is no way that girl is going to say yes to going to the dance with Tony.”

Riff had heard plenty about the upcoming dance.

Riff had been asked to the dance by Maggie Sanders, a senior at their school. Riff could tell by the way she’d talked to him that she was a bit smitten with him herself. They’d even gone together to the last dance. They had a nice time… and if Riff was one to kiss and tell, which he usually wasn’t, they may have indulged in a little bit of fun after... but nothing too scandalous, of course.

It wasn’t like Riff didn’t want to go to the upcoming dance with Maggie, but he had yet to give her an answer. He wanted to keep his options open.

The school put on a lot of dances, and they weren’t always limited to the high school students, either. Some of them were open to the public, just like the next one was. Graziella would be free to go with Tony, if she so desired.

Riff took another look over his shoulder at the referenced pair. As he suspected, Graziella was still leaning towards Tony, hanging on to his every word. Meanwhile, though Riff couldn’t see his face, Tony seemed cool, calm, and collected as he leaned against the counter in a relaxed stance.

Got this one in the bag.

“Tell ya what,” Riff said as he turned back around. “You don’t think she’ll say yes. I think she will. What do ya say ‘bout makin’ this interestin’?”

Roxie caught on to his subtle suggestion almost immediately, like Riff suspected she would. As she processed his words, she smiled for the first time in a few minutes. “I’d say that’s the best idea you’ve had in a while.”

Riff rolled his eyes at her back-handed compliment.

“What are the terms?” Roxie inquired.

Riff pursed his lips as he racked his brain for something enticing enough that would convince Roxie to agree to the bet. He glanced at the bottle of Coke that her fingers were still tightly wrapped around, and suddenly, it hit him.

“If this girl tells Tony to hit the road,” Riff proposed, “then I’ll buy ya a Coke whenever ya want for the next month.”

Roxie’s eyes widened in surprise at his offer. “Are you sure you’d be able to swing that?”

Riff probably wouldn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. He’d find a way to keep his word if he lost, despite the financial implications. However, Riff had no intention of actually losing.

“That’s for me to worry ‘bout.”

Roxie still didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she dropped the subject. “And, if by some miracle this girl tells Tony she’ll go to the dance with him, what do you want?”

Riff was willing to take the win just for the sake of winning itself. He hadn’t thought far ahead enough to decide what else he wanted out of it. Besides the satisfaction of winning, what else did he actually want or need?

… Maybe to get even?

Roxie had ended up tagging along to the gambling house a few weeks back, and even though by the end of the night she had played a significant role in winning them all a little bit of cash, Riff could hardly relax the entire time. He kept looking over his shoulder, trying to pinpoint anyone who even looked at her in a questionable way. And, in all honesty, since they were a bunch of kids among adults, many people had looked oddly their way. Riff had been on edge the entire night. It was hardly the fun, albeit risky outing he had envisioned for the evening.

… Maybe it would be pouring salt in the wound after he won their bet, but Riff didn’t really care. Maggie Sanders would forgive him; Riff had just discovered another option that seemed far too entertaining to pass up.

“If I win, you have to go to the dance with me.“

In an instinctual reaction, Roxie’s jaw dropped. She shook her head once and recovered her composure. “I can’t go to the dance with you, Riff.”

“Why not?” Riff challenged playfully. “Got another date lined up?”

“No-”

“Lawrence didn’t ask ya the other day?”

Roxie deadpanned. “No. He didn’t ask me, and I don’t have another date.”

Her tone was firm, but was that disappointment Riff sensed in her tone as well? … The double take made Riff dare to wonder if Roxie had wanted Lawrence to ask her to the day Riff had seen them talking in the hallway… and if that was true, that bothered him.

On one hand, what business did Riff have with Roxie’s personal affairs? She was just a friend, and a bit of an annoying one at that. He certainly had no grounds on which to advise her on who she should and shouldn’t date. She’d only laugh at him and tell him to take his unwanted opinions elsewhere.

…

But on the other hand, how could Lawrence not have asked her to the dance? Riff had seen glimpses of Roxie at the last dance they all attended- he knew she could hold her own on the dance floor. And, if he had to admit it… Roxie had looked nice, too, and was no stick in the mud either. Despite the fact that they were qualities that seemed to annoy Riff on a near daily basis as of late, Roxie’s determination, resourcefulness, and willingness to not only speak her mind but put someone in their place would keep any guy on his toes. She’d be far from a boring date.

“I’m surprised you’re even going to the dance,” Roxie admitted. “You know, with everything going on.”

Riff knew exactly what Roxie was referring to. “Everything going on” meant the increasing heat between the Jets and the Bishops.

The Jets, which consisted of Riff, Tony, and a few of their closest pals, were relatively new in concept, but the crew was already beginning to feel like a band of brothers. They were quite an eccentric group of guys- Riff, Tony, Ice, Action, Diesel, and Gee-Tar, but they got by. They all had each other’s back, and everyone- including the Bishops- knew it.

The Bishops seemed to pop up out of nowhere over the summer. As soon as they got settled into the neighborhood, they’d proclaimed the streets as theirs. They started messing around with some local businesses, and causing some other general mischief. Though they had proclaimed their antics as pranks, to put it frankly, they were barking up the wrong tree.

And of course, the Jets weren’t willing to have any of it. It was their neighborhood, and no one else was going to simply move in and tell them otherwise. The neighborhood was their home. Since many of them had less than stellar upbringings, the literal neighborhood itself was just about the only thing they had left.

Hence, a growing history of skirmishes and fights in alleyways between the Bishops and the Jets had begun.

Even as recently as last week, Riff had gotten into it with the leader of the Bishops, despite the fact that he had yet to learn the guy’s name. It hadn’t exactly been Riff’s fault... Their leader must’ve lived near Riff’s uncle's auto shop, and the two passed each other on the sidewalk more often than Riff cared to admit. The guy had been eyeing Riff challengingly for the past month, and last week it had escalated into verbal taunts. When Riff got into his face and demanded he repeated his hateful words, things escalated quickly.

Another Bishop or two showed up out of nowhere, and quickly joined their leader in attempting to pummel Riff. Thankfully, Tony showed up and saved his neck before any of them could get any decent hits in.

Later, once it became apparent what had happened, Roxie berated him for his hot-headedness. But despite her apparent disapproval, she still looked him over briefly to make sure he was truly alright.

But the upcoming dance would offer a nice distraction and a way to de-stress from “everything going on” with the Bishops, and Riff found himself actually looking forward to it.

“A girl actually asked me to go with her,” Riff told Roxie matter of factly.

Roxie looked surprised. “And you’d rather go with me instead?”

… Maybe not so much that, but Riff couldn’t deny the idea of getting on Roxie’s nerves for an entire evening sounded like a fun way to pass the time. Plus, it would be more than an adequate payback for what he had been through for their night at the gambling house. And Riff got to fit in a little dancing here and there, it would be win-win-in in his book. Besides, if Lawrence wasn’t going to ask Roxie to the dance and show her a good time, Riff knew beyond a doubt that he was more than capable of doing so.

“Do ya agree to the terms of the bet, or not?” Riff asked, leaving her question unanswered. “… Nevermind, it’s fine. I can see it on your face- you’re gonna chicken out.. Acceptin’ defeat ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of, Roxie.”

Of course, Roxie took the bait. Her brows furrowed and her lips pursed in a thin line. “I’m not going to chicken out. You’re on.”

The two lightly clinked their Coke bottles together in lieu of shaking hands in their own way of agreement.

The next few minutes passed slowly as Riff wondered whether he was about to be even more hard-strapped for cash than usual, or if he was going to have the pleasure of seeing Roxie’s aunt’s disapproving face when he dropped by the apartment to pick her up for the dance. The woman already had something out for Riff, and the two of them were just friends. What would she think if they actually went to a dance together?

Riff wasn’t sure, but he really, really wanted to find out.

“I’ll see you around,” Graziella said then, breaking Riff from his thoughts.

Riff and Roxie sat up to attention and watched as Graziella walked by Tony and headed towards the front door of Doc’s. As she passed by their table, she shot the pair a small smile.

Once she was out the door, their heads snapped back over to Tony, who was approaching them.

“Well, what happened?” Roxie inquired quickly.

“Spill it, pal,” Riff added, “Did she say she’d go with ya?”

Tony attempted to put on a poker face, trying to capitalize on his friend’s obvious interest in his predicament. However, his facade didn’t last for too long.

He smiled, and Riff instantly knew that victory was his.

“Let’s just say I ain’t goin’ stag to the dance,” Tony said.

Riff didn’t look at Roxie, but he could sense her disappointment from across the table without having to do so. Instead, he rose from his seat and clapped a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“Good for you, Buddy Boy,” Riff praised genuinely. “Me and Roxie here will see you two there.”

Tony looked between the two of them in bewilderment. “Really?”

Riff nodded with a bright smile and Roxie covered her face with her hands.

“Serious as a heart attack,” Riff said. He looked back at Roxie with a smirk. “We’ll all have a great evenin’, won’t we, Roxie?”

Roxie dropped her hands from her face and sighed. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll have a splendid time…”

Though she sounded decently annoyed, the small smile playing on her lips betrayed her words.

…

Riff won that bet. Though he was satisfied with the victory, he wasn’t above being a gracious winner and making sure Roxie didn’t have too terrible of a time at the dance.

She probably wasn’t going to make that task easy for him, though.

————————————————————————————

Riff couldn’t believe it.

He was having true, honest to God fun with Roxie at the dance.

Fun. With Roxie.

… Do I got a fever or somethin’?

One could never be too sure. They’d been dancing up a storm, and had already visited the punch table twice to quench their thirst and attempt to cool down. It was quite possible that the heat was really starting to get to Riff.

However, the longer the night went on, the more that Riff began to believe that perhaps that wasn’t the case.

“Ready to get back out there?”

Roxie’s question pulled Riff from his thoughts.

Riff sat down his empty glass on the table behind him and immediately offered her an arm chivalrous arm to escort her back onto the dance floor.

Throughout the night, Tony and Graziella had never been too far away from them. In fact, Riff and Roxie had accidentally bumped into them a couple of times while dancing. They seemed extremely keen on each other, and from Riff’s point of view, they were getting along well… really well. Riff felt fairly confident that he would be seeing Graziella again.

Riff felt happy for Tony, but he was quickly learning, much to his surprise, that his date wasn’t too shabby either.

Roxie was able to keep up with him the entire evening, in both dancing and talking. Riff would twirl her one moment, and in the next she’d quip back something smart in response to a snide comment he’d made.

“Is he watching?” Roxie asked Riff quietly once the pair had begun dancing to the band’s lively song once again.

As Riff spun around in time to the music, his eyes scanned the periphery to the “he” Roxie was referring to.

“He”- Lawrence Anderson- was standing off to the side of the dance floor with his hands awkwardly shoved into the front pockets of his pants. His date, a girl Riff recognized from around school but did not know, sat on the bleachers nearby. Her elbow was propped up on her knee, and she rested her hand on her palm. She was clearly bored, despite all the flashy decorations and lively music. Lawrence, on the other hand, kept looking at Riff and Roxie with undeniable envy painted plainly across his face.

Riff could hardly blame the guy. In his most definitely un-biased opinion, Lawrence Anderson had made a huge mistake by not asking Roxie to the dance.

Her hair was starting to fall a bit, and there was a small sheen of perspiration over her face, but Roxie still looked stunning. Her royal blue dress made her stand out among the rest of the girls. She wasn’t the most graceful dancer, but she knew her right foot from her left, and the sparkling smile she wore on her face throughout would distract anyone watching from detecting any missteps. Even if Riff hadn’t immediately searched for her whenever they got separated for more than a few seconds throughout the night, he doubted he would’ve been able to keep his eyes off of her.

He could tell that a few of the other guys at the dance were thinking along the same lines. Every time they had taken a break to grab some punch, Riff could practically feel their anxious energy nearby, just itching for the chance to sneak in while Riff was distracted and ask Roxie if they could steal a dance with her. One guy had even been so bold as to ask her directly, but Roxie had come up with some excuse about powdering her nose. Once he had walked away, Roxie had turned to Riff expectantly and asked him whether he was ready to go out on to the dance floor again.

At least Riff hadn’t hogged her for the entire evening. He had happily stepped aside when Roxie decided to share a quick dance with Tony, and then Diesel. Graziella and Velma had been fine partners for a song or two.

Since Roxie had been willing to swap partners with certain people, but not others, and had yet to ask him, it seemed that Lawrence Anderson fell further into the clutches of the green-eyed monster.

“He is,” Riff confirmed, unable to keep himself from smirking at Lawrence’s jealousy.

Snooze, ya loose, pal.

Roxie laughed once, but whether it was from the speed with which Riff suddenly twirled her, or from Riff’s confirmation of her suspicions, he was unsure.

“I hope he eats his heart out,” Roxie replied half-seriously as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

Me too.

Riff smiled conspiratorially as he lifted her off the ground. As he gently set her back down on the wooden floor, he chuckled, mostly to himself. “Watch out, Roxie- them ain’t words for a proper young lady.”

“Please,” Roxie scoffed. “I’m far from a proper young lady, and I doubt you’d want to be seen with one.”

Riff wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by his words, and as such, he didn’t know how to respond. Instead, he changed the subject. “Ya know, I kinda like this side of Roxie.”

Roxie rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitching suggested she wasn’t truly offended. “The vindictive one?”

“No- the feisty one.”

Roxie paused and dropped her hands from Riff’s as the song ended. She looked at him with an odd twinkle in her eye that Riff couldn’t quite pinpoint.

…

Had he been reading her thoughts and actions throughout the entire evening incorrectly? Though it was clear to Riff that he had been having a blast, perhaps Roxie had not been having nearly as much fun as him.

The beginning notes of a much slower song fluttered through the air. Riff looked away from Roxie and began to walk off the dance floor.

“Where are you going?” she called after him.

Riff froze in his tracks immediately, and turned to look at her with a sheepish look. “Thought ya might wanna take another break, since this song is… ya know.” His hands gestured to the air around them for emphasis.

Roxie looked at him oddly for a moment, before she smiled softly. “I don’t mind… if you don’t either, of course.”

“Who, me? Nah,” Riff replied quickly, trying to be as cool as a cucumber. Or, perhaps, at least as cool as Ice would have been in his shoes.

He walked back up to her, and forced himself not to pay any mind to the awkward moment that ensued as the pair silently tried to gauge what stance the other was comfortable with. Eventually, they wordlessly decided to take one hand in the others, with Roxie’s spare hand on Riff’s shoulder, and his spare hand on her waist.

The sweet, steady tune of the song coming from the band continued to weave through the air around the couples on the dance floor.

Riff tried to focus on the beat as he and Roxie gently swayed along. Roxie seemed a bit stiffer in her movements than she had been the entire night so far, which suggested to Riff that she was feeling at least a little bit awkward as well.

Suddenly, Roxie yawned.

Any and all uncomfortable tension was shattered immediately, and Riff barked out a laugh. A few couples nearby them gave them dirty looks, but neither paid them any mind.

“Sorry,” Roxie mumbled, her face growing slightly red. “I didn’t realize how tired I am.”

“It’s fine,” Riff assured her quickly and honestly.

Still, Roxie’s face was red. She leaned closer to him, and hid her face in his dress shirt and jacket.

Riff was initially taken aback by her action. He froze, and looked down at the top of her head. However, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t necessarily mind her forwardness. He relaxed, and moved his free hand from her waist to the small of the back, silently communicating that he did not find her gesture invasive.

Riff spotted Tony and Graziella out of the corner of his eye. He dared to look across the room, several yards away to meet Tony’s inquisitive gaze.

Tony and Graziella were swaying just as close, if not closer, than Riff and Roxie were at that moment. They seemed comfortable in each other’s presence. If Riff wasn’t feeling slightly in shock of the turn of events he had been experiencing with Roxie that evening, he most definitely would’ve teased Tony for getting mighty friendly with Graziella.

But since Tony was the one who was feeling relatively at ease, he beat Riff to the punch. He gave Riff a knowing smirk as his eyes flicked between him and Roxie.

Riff would’ve flipped him off good-heartedly, but he chose to let Tony’s non-verbal teasing slide. He leaned forward, and lightly rested his chin upon Roxie’s head, mindful to not actually let her bare any of the weight.

Once the dance had ended, and the gym began to clear out, Tony and Graziella bid them both a goodnight, before heading off to who knew where. But, if Riff had to guess, Tony’s apartment wouldn’t have been that far out of the realm of possibility.

Once the lovey-dovey couple was out of sight, Riff and Roxie turned to one another. The pair quickly and mutually decided that neither of them were quite ready to return to their respective homes.

Hand in hand, the pair made their way down the street lamp lit sidewalks until the abandoned pier came into view.

Tony had discovered the tear in the fence that surrounded the abandoned pier a few months back, and had since shown it to Riff, and then to Roxie. It was the first time that either of them had come to the condemned place without Tony, but if Riff had to guess, Tony wouldn’t be too upset with them in light of the circumstances.

Riff watched Roxie carefully as they stepped onto the old wooden planks. He readied himself to jump to action at a moment’s notice as he watched her take light, slow steps across the decaying wood. “Take it easy, now.”

Roxie snickered, turned, and looked down at Riff’s feet. “I could say the same for you.”

Riff looked down at his feet as well, and immediately spotted a large hole across several planks of wood right in front of him, just inches from his shoes. In his concern for Roxie, he’d almost walked right into it. Riff doubted he would’ve fallen into the water below- more than likely, he would’ve scraped up his legs a bit, but ultimately caught himself- but his near blunder was still one worth noting.

Riff sidestepped around the hole and took a few long strides to keep in pace with Roxie, who was making her way towards the edge of the pier. The closer she grew to the edge, the more anxious Riff became. Fortunately, before she reached the drop off, Roxie turned, and hopped up onto a nearby large crate to take a seat. Her legs swung lightly in the air as she patted the space on the crate beside her and beamed over at Riff invitingly.

Riff didn’t have to be told twice. He walked over, climbed up, and sat down slowly and carefully beside her. It was quiet for a few moments, and Riff looked down at his shoes as he pondered whether to say anything at all, or let the silence fester between them.

By the time he looked back up at Roxie, Riff realized she was no longer looking at him. Instead, her head was turned, and she was looking out over the water beside them. Riff could only catch a sliver of her face from his current angle, but what he could see was illuminated by the moon overhead.

Riff reached into his pockets to withdraw his box of cigarettes and lighter he’d grabbed on a hunch earlier that evening, right before he left his uncle’s apartment. In all honesty, Riff had grabbed the items in anticipation of having a stressful evening, and he had wanted a legitimate excuse to give himself a little break from Roxie if need be. But now, he was starting to feel relaxed for the first time in a few hours. And instead of needing a cigarette to calm his nerves, he simply wanted one to help keep him at ease and soothe his rapidly beating heart.

As the cigarette was lit, Roxie turned to him.

“What’re you doing?”

Even though Riff had yet to take a drag of the cigarette, he held it out to her. “Want a drag?”

Riff suspected that Roxie had never smoked before. Though she had been around him and Tony when they’d been smoking before, she had never partaken in the activity herself. And now, looking at Roxie’s uncertain eyes, Riff knew that his suspicions were confirmed.

In a move that surprised him, Roxie shrugged and took the cigarette from his hand gently.

Riff watched her amusedly as she looked at the cigarette, as if contemplating what to do with it, or whether to do anything with it at all. Finally, she put the cigarette to her lips hesitantly, before attempting to take a slow drag.

She grimaced, pulled the stick from between her lips, and launched herself into a coughing fit.

Despite the very small inkling of concern he had for her in that moment, Riff let out a few hearty laughs. His well-practiced hands lightly took the cigarette from her inexperienced ones so that no ash would inadvertently fall onto her dress.

He continued to hold the cigarette between his fingers as he watched her coughing fit sizzle out and eventually cease. “Ya good?” he asked, only half-jokingly.

Roxie nodded, but her eyes still looked a bit strained and watery. “How the hell do you and Tony smoke those things?” she asked incredulously, her voice still a bit hoarse.

“Ya get used to it,” Riff mumbled, shrugging nonchalantly as he finally put the cigarette to his lips and took a drag.

“Maybe that’s it… or maybe you and Tony are already so full of smoke, it doesn’t bother either of you.”

Riff smirked and watched her out of the corner of his eyes as he exhaled smoke.

“Can I tell you something?”

Riff flicked away some ash. “Shoot.”

“I’m glad I lost that bet.”

Riff’s head rolled from one shoulder to the other as he looked over at her. His eyes scanned her face, desperately searching for some sort of indication that she was joking or that her words were anything less than genuine.

He found nothing that indicated as such.

“Ya tellin’ me ya actually enjoyed goin’ to the dance with a Riff-raff like me?” Riff asked jokingly. “What’s your aunt gonna think when ya tell her ya didn’t have a terrible time?”

“I don’t care what she thinks,” Roxie snapped. She cleared her throat, and continued, much more quietly. “Sometimes I think she’d be happy locking me up in my room and never letting me leave again.”

Riff didn’t doubt that. Her aunt had never been fond of him, or Tony. Hell, from what Roxie had told him, the woman apparently didn’t even like Velma that much, and Velma was just about one of the nicest girls from the neighborhood. The mental image of her aunt’s concerned and almost disgusted look as she opened the door when he swung by the apartment to pick up Roxie earlier that evening would stick with Riff for quite a while.

The West Side wasn’t a playground by any means, but they were all getting to the age where being kept inside the house all day would be hindering their social skills, not to mention detrimental to any sort of social life they might hope to have. For Riff, Tony, and the rest of the Jets, that was hardly a concern. There was no one who could force them to stay inside against their will, and if there was, they weren’t worth listening to. But for Roxie, and for Velma, who still had involved parental figures in their lives, it could start to become a serious problem.

“I hope you didn’t take her comments about your jacket too seriously,” Roxie added after a few moments of quiet. “... I think you look really nice.”

Riff hadn’t let her aunt’s rude words bother him at all. In fact, he had forgotten that she had uttered such a thing that was meant to make him feel inferior until Roxie had brought it up. Riff was far more interested in Roxie’s compliment than he ever would be in her aunt’s insult.

“Thanks,” he replied, fighting through the awkwardness that was beginning to cloud over him. “... You look stunnin’ yourself.”

Riff quickly took another drag of his cigarette to give himself something else to focus on other than Roxie after his rushed admittance.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could’ve sworn he saw Roxie smile.

A comfortable silence fell over the pair as Riff continued to smoke his cigarette. In the silence, Riff’s thoughts had a mind of their own, and they dared to wonder…

How on earth could this be the same girl who had a habit of making him feel like hypothetically smacking his head against a wall?

Roxie had been getting on his nerves in general for several weeks now. But in the context of that evening, when Riff was actually open to the idea, he was beginning to find the qualities about her that had once used to infuriate him now made her all the more endearing to him.

He had yet to admit it, but her poker skills had impressed him. He’d been genuinely concerned for her wellbeing throughout their evening at the gambling house. And that night at the dance, he felt happy sharing in her the joy upon realizing that Lawrence Anderson had truly missed out on a great date, not to mention some one on one time with one of the best girls to ever come out of the West Side.

Somehow, someway, and definitely without Riff’s knowledge, Roxie had gone and found a way to get under Riff’s skin. That much he knew for certain, and it simply was not up for debate.

Riff wasn’t sure quite what that meant for him, or for the state of his friendship- relationship?- with Roxie, but he was willing to find out. Roxie was a challenge, and Riff had never been one to shy away from challenges.

Riff finished his cigarette, extinguished it, and flicked it away. He hopped down from the crate unceremoniously and turned back around to face Roxie. “It’s startin’ to get late…We oughta get goin’ before your aunt hunts us down.”

Roxie nodded, and glanced down at the floor of the pier below. It hadn’t been too far of a drop for Riff, but for Roxie, who was wearing heels, it very well may have been another story.

Riff noticed her reluctance, and slowly extended his hands out to her. “Come on- I’ll help ya down.”

Though she initially showed even more hesitance to his request, eventually Roxie placed two hands on his shoulders, and scooted closer to the edge of the crate. On the count of three, she hopped down, and with Riff’s hands on her waist, he caught her and gently placed her down onto the wooden floor.

Even though she was safely on her own two feet, Roxie’s hands remained on Riff’s shoulders.

“Ya alright?” Riff asked her, dropping his hands from her waist as he glanced her up and down and checked for any signs of injury.

Maybe I didn’t set her down as lightly as I thought…

Roxie merely nodded again, and her hands remained where they were. Riff looked back up at her face curiously, and was met with her piercing gaze. There was a look on her face that he couldn’t quite place, but the seriousness of whatever was on her mind captivated Riff nonetheless. Without realizing it, he leaned towards her as he waited for her next words.

“Wanna make a bet?”

“Absolutely,” Riff breathed, not missing a beat.

“I want to try something,” Roxie confessed, suddenly timid. “If you’re alright with what it is, you have to admit it.”

Riff blinked, not having a single clue about what Roxie was talking about. Still he nodded, clinging on to every single word she said, much like Graziella had done to Tony.

Oh, how the tables have turned…

“If you’re not alright with it, I’ll never do it or bring it up again.”

Despite being no clearer on what Roxie was planning to do in just a few seconds, Riff whispered, “Deal.”

The pair looked deep into each other’s eyes until Roxie’s trailed down to his lips. A wave of realization crashed over Riff as he realized what she was about to do as it was happening.

He remained still as Roxie stood up on her toes, and by using her hands that were still on his shoulders as a means of support, pressed a shy, light kiss to his lips. Her movements were slow and hesitant as she tested the waters. She was so gentle, it was almost as though she was afraid that any sudden or harsh movements would break him.

Instinctively, Riff’s eyes closed as he lost himself in the moment.

… Holy-

It wasn’t Riff’s first kiss, but the feeling that overcame him had him wishing that it was. It certainly felt like it.

Roxie pulled away, rolled back onto her heels a moment later - too soon- and looked at him apprehensively. She bit her lip before she asked, “... Was that okay?”

Though it wasn’t his, if Riff had to guess, it had been Roxie’s first kiss. And she had been the one to initiate it! It baffled him that this girl, who he could’ve sworn he knew all there was to be known about her, still found ways to completely throw him for a loop. Almost as much as it baffled him that she had wanted to kiss him. Him- of all people!

Though he was in a state of shock, Riff had enough milliseconds of clarity to know that there was no going back from that point… at least not for him. Even if Riff had told Roxie that he hadn’t been alright with her forwardness- which would’ve been a blatant lie- he knew he wouldn’t be able to forget the feeling of her lips on his. He didn’t want to forget it.

Her kiss changed everything. It put all of the mixed feelings that he’d been having about her over the past few weeks into an incredibly enlightened perspective. Suddenly, it all made sense- why Roxie’s behavior, which really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, had been bothering him so much as of late.

Riff wasn’t used to having or wanting to have the patience to see girls who were able to go toe-to-toe, eye-to-eye with him in anything other than a platonic light.

… He hadn’t anticipated himself seeing Roxie in anything other than a platonic light.

But the feelings he felt brewing inside him at the thought of her, at the thought of them in that moment as they stood on the pier, alone, underneath the moonlight and the stars, so close that their noses nearly touched, were anything but platonic.

…

It was almost funny, in an ironic way- the answer to his source of frustration had been right there, in front of his face all along.

He’d met his match.

Throughout Riff’s epiphanic musings, he had neglected to acknowledge Roxie, who remained frozen in place, watching him with bated breath and constantly shifting, anxious eyes.

Misreading his lack of response as rejection, Roxie took her hands off his shoulders and turned away.

“Wait,” Riff whispered in a hushed tone, mentally kicking himself for not reacting soon.

Thankfully, Roxie stopped, although she slowly lifted her head to give him a look that made it clear to Riff that she had not ruled out possible rejection on his part. She looked downright fearful as she nervously waited for him to continue.

Unsure how else to convince Roxie that she had not crossed a line, Riff leaned down and kissed her again without a second thought.

This time, their kiss lasted longer as the two became entranced in one another. The pair only pulled away when the need for air outweighed their increasing desire to continue.

Riff looked down at Roxie, and gave her a giddy smile so wide that his cheeks protested at the unfamiliar expression. The kisses were a little awkward, and maybe even a little bit messy, but they’d left Riff breathless regardless. And, judging by Roxie’s wide eyes and slightly heaving chest, Roxie felt the same.

“That was more than okay,” Riff promised her, still a little winded. Once he could tell she was receptive and welcoming to his actions, he placed his hands on her waist once again for further emphasis of his point.

Filled with a new surge of confidence from his reassurance, Roxie smiled radiantly, and reached up over his shoulders to intertwine her fingers behind his head. Her fingers were cold on the back of his neck, but they offered a pleasant contrast to the heat quickly rising upon Riff’s face.

He silently thanked whoever was watching up above that it was dark out, and that Roxie wouldn’t see. However, had there been any light, Riff would’ve been surprised to learn that Roxie’s face was growing just as red as his own.

He slowly pulled her closer to him, and they kissed again, fueled by the excitement that seemed to accompany any new, young romantic pursuits.

They were equally determined to make the most of the quiet moments between them that followed, before reality came crashing down upon them and they each had to return home.

…

Technically, Riff lost the bet with Roxie that night. But, when all was said and done, he learned an important life lesson instead.

Not all bets were worth winning.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think. If you would like to be added to the taglist, just reach out.😊

Masterlist

Taglist: @whisperofsong @disguisedbassethound @lingerasthesmokeoncedid @westsidelegendary @sallymakesstuff @youngteenagehearts @wombtotombx @loverisi @wnygirl2012 @b-bella9 @princessmiaelicia @childesbbyy @amberash05 @robin-jackkelly @eatslothsat @mikefaistgf @acciosiriusblack @jaemsslut4 @makaelahdelvalle @mixed-theater-faisty-tings @girlygirl-20 @that1fanficwriter

#west side story #west side story 2021 #wss #wss 2021 #west side story fanfiction #west side story fanfic #west side story riff #riff west side story #wss riff #riff fanfiction #riff fanfic #riff imagine #oneshot #one shot #oc jet #west side story riff x oc #fluff #mike faist

47 notes · View notes