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chewingcyanide · 4 months

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𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 | 𝐣. 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

₊⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — secrets are best kept buried, just like your tangled relationship with your best friend’s older brother.

₊⊹ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — unrequited love ( that heart wrenching shit ), cursing? weird mentions and descriptions of blood, cursing ( lots of it ), yelling / arguing ( LOTS of it ), heavy angst with a dash of laughter, kind of OMC x reader but not too much, jealousy, kinda possessiveness ( from jack… had to do it ), emotional distress and all that good stuff

₊⊹ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — jack hughes x f!reader , OMC x f!reader (briefly), best friend!luke hughes x f!reader

₊⊹ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — i’ve returned from a million year hiatus with this BIG BITCH and i’m sorry for it. may write a pt. 2 w a happy ending bc i’m a slut for them. anyway, enjoy! request if you’d like. love you guys.

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You had existed within the world of Jack Hughes since your freshman year of high school.

Existed. Not an integral part, nor a spoke on the wheel of many friends he already had. Truthfully, you were only acquainted with him because of his younger brother, Luke; your freshman biology lab partner, and eventual best friend. Years had passed since you first met Luke—no longer were you the wide-eyed fifteen-year-old crossing the threshold from child to near-adult. Now, you were an adult. Twenty, with two more years of college stretched out before you, seemingly everything had changed.

Well, except for the lead weight chained to your ankle—the fundamental and inexorable truth that you were still in love with Jack Hughes.

It started as most consuming things do: a small idea, watered by brief looks, a brush of heated fingertips against your hand, or arm, or waist—or anywhere, really. A head rush that sent you meters under waves of excitement and anticipation. Loving Jack was like having a fever that never broke; it persisted, a dull ache that squeezed your skull each time he was near. Even now, five years later, the flashing of blue eyes—never brimmed with what you knew was embarrassingly reflected in your own—was enough to make sweat bead at your palms.

It never grew into more than a hope, a wishful desire. But wishing seldom got anyone anywhere, and it surely hadn’t helped you. When the months turned warm and spring faded into summer, the overwhelming ache of freedom that came with warm weather and the end of the hockey season drew Luke and his brothers to Sanibel—a beach so wrought with memories of youth and foolish memories that the idea of going another year made dread settle like steel in your bones. They’d bought it after a vacation there a few years ago, and the rest was history.

But, of course, Luke—the youngest of three—never took no for an answer.

“You can’t miss this year,” he had insisted. The Devils had their hopes cut short once more—this time in an second round exit to Carolina. Ergo, the expected departure time had been bumped up significantly. Vancouver had missed the playoffs altogether.

You stood silent, tearing away skin from your nail-beds as Luke leaned against the kitchen counter. The cold metal of the fridge pressing into the bare strip of skin on your back was the only thing keeping you present in the conversation.

You hated how Luke did this—he’d take your silence over text as an invitation to barge his way into your apartment, destroying the barrier of safety and excuses a phone provided, and ask you face-to-face. And how could you say no? You never had before, and look where that got you. No closer to removing hooks branded with the name Jack from your heart.

“Luke…” you sighed, only dropping your hands when blood bubbled to the surface of your torn skin. Pain rippled down your fingertips, but you ignored it. The dread that quickened your pacing heart was too overwhelming a sensation. “I don’t know—maybe I should—”

“Skip out?” Luke rounded the kitchen counter and came to stand in front of you. “No way, Bells. You have to come. Otherwise I’ll be alone all summer.”

You could have scoffed if you cared more. Bells. That dumb nickname Jack had given you years ago—according to him, it was because you were such a silent walker, you required a bell to be heard. Aside from the embarrassment you got from being called a childhood nickname even now, it reminded you that your existence was always going to be tied to Jack. A piece of him carried with you, a cage keeping your heart from beating without him; the bright red ribbon tied around your wrist that screamed I Love Jack Hughes!

No matter what, it would always be him. You tried; God, did you try. Hearing stories of his hookups, the life of a single, superstar hockey player should have been enough to send your stupid childhood crush to its grave, but as if cursed by a necromancer, the mere mention of Jack brought it right back to life. It was a cruel cycle that just wouldn’t end. And you knew going to that damned beach house would only prolong the life of the indestructible feeling more.

Jack was tarnished jewelry, rubbing your skin green and raw and wrong, and yet—you could never seem to take it off, even when it made you look foolish.

Silence fell like thick fog. Luke’s eyes roved along your face, as if trying to read a book with the letters smudged. “C’mon, Bells. You have fun every year, and I don’t want to have a summer without you.”

“Jack and Quinn will be there,” you said, voice low. Pathetic anxiety swelled in your chest like the forecast of a hurricane. Even saying his name tightened your veins. “Trevor, Alex, and Cole, too—I don’t need to go, Luke. Won’t it be weird?”

An unamused look graced Luke’s face. “You go with us every year. Why would it be different now?”

You wanted to curse Luke for being so persistent. Part of you wished you could just scream that you loved his brother, but couldn’t. You never could. Loving Jack ensured you lost someone—Luke, who would never get over the thought of you potentially sleeping with Jack; and well, if that failed, you also fully lost Jack. Unrequited love confessions made fools of ghosts.

To Jack, you were a ghost. Haunting his life, disrupting some times, but never there long enough to be seen. And even if he did, he convinced himself you weren’t there, that you didn’t even exist. Maybe it were best if you moved on and let yourself rest. Ghosts haunt their murderers, but Jack hadn’t killed you, you’d killed yourself—hoping, wishing, praying he would take a moment to believe and see you. But he never did. So you floated through his life until the moment you were no longer confined by unfinished business.

And maybe that was what you needed. Closure, the severing of a tie that was only hurting you to hold on to. And maybe, closure would come this summer. To look on Jack and not feel your heart race, but settle into a quiet murmur, a healthy pace—to free yourself from the confines of this painful love and finally move on. Haunt the graveyard no longer; sitting by and hoping he would place flowers by the grave.

“Okay,” you said quietly, glancing down at your sweater. Crimson marks stained the white fabric. You’d accidentally wiped your fingers on the cloth. “You win.”

Maybe this would be the summer you let go of Jack Hughes.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

The cry of gulls and gentle breeze of salt-bitter air welcomed you back as the car breezed past the Welcome to Sanibel Island! sign. It felt like a taunt, as if you were passing into the circus, the main star of a show you never signed up for. With Sanibel came Jack, and the potential end to a love you’d clawed onto for dear life for the last half-decade. It felt strange, almost wrong, to imagine a world where Jack Hughes didn’t exist as the basis for all romantic interests. To hold someone’s hand and not compare the texture to his. To lose the anticipated blush that warmed your face each time he glanced at you. Because losing Jack was like losing a piece of yourself—all your life you’d associated love with him, and what would there be afterwards?

Sandy beaches rolled endless at the horizon, dotted with the figures of vacationers and locals alike. You glanced to Luke, his hand working the steering wheel as he drove the long-winded path to the beach house. Strands of your hair were roused by the invisible hand of the wind, no doubt knotting it, but you were too enraptured in what ifs and a potential future to much care.

“Are you excited?” Luke asked, looking to you. Elbow leaned against the doorframe, you managed to work your mouth into a smile. Even if it was twinged with apprehension.

“Of course. I love it here. I’m glad you guys were rich enough to buy it.”

Luke laughed.

And that was true. Summer here felt endless. Nights spent on the beach, the tickle of warmth from a stick-lit fire cradling you against the rush of cold blowing off the ocean. The bitter rush of alcohol that stung your veins. Hair made wet by the sea, drying beneath the warm fingertips of sunlight. Skin richening into a burn, soothed only by aloe vera and a cold shower. Laughter between friends and the restless nights talking. All of it was perfect. For you, summer was Jack. Brief and sweet, the thing you looked forward to seeing each year. But it never lasted long enough to truly feel, something you could never touch.

You wondered if you made it obvious. If Luke suspected, or Quinn; the eldest Hughes was always the most perceptive. Any time Jack said something that made your teeth clench with hurt, Quinn glanced at you. A reassuring smile. The extended hand in the dark. But if he knew, he never commented on it.

“Who’s already here?” you asked, eyes catching on the brightly colored houses lining the beach. Blue, pink, the odd green, melding together as the car breezed into the strip of land the beach house rested on.

You almost dreaded the answer. “Quinn and Jack,” Luke responded, voice a little distant—his eyes scanned for the house, too focused on his task to much care for the cringe you gave at the mention of Jack’s name.

You shouldn’t have been surprised, really. It was his house. Yet you found yourself hoping you’d at least beaten him here so you could mentally prepare for his arrival. As it were, you had about five minutes to do that.

Tires crunched against sand as Luke pulled into the driveway. Lead solidified in your bones until you felt as though you were going to sink straight into the earth. A deep breath expanded your chest, and you watched as Luke took out his phone—presumably to text that he’d arrived. Escaping the car, Luke stared at you expectantly. Your body pressed against the doorframe, eyes glanced out at the horizon. Smeared like a painting across the sky, a myriad of colors—oranges, pinks, yellows—foretold the coming of night. Maybe you could stay in here until everyone was asleep, to sneak past Jack and not have to—

The door to the passenger side opened, and there stood Luke, a hand on his hip. Making grabby hands like a toddler, he motioned for you to come. “What’s up with you, Bells? You’re so… quiet.”

You snorted. “That’s not news.”

“You know what I meant,” retorted Luke, grabbing your elbow with a gentle grip. “What’s got your head off to sea?”

Your brother! you wanted to scream, but found your tongue bolted to the bottom of your mouth. Offering instead a smile, you allowed Luke to help you out of the Jeep. Soft sand caught your feet, cushioning the drop. It felt strange to be back here again, but somehow, you knew it wouldn’t be the same. A rueful feeling ached your bones. This would maybe be the last time you’d ever come to the beach house. If your closure went as you intended… there would be no more summers in Sanibel. No more late beach nights. No more salt air creating a stick sheen on your skin. No more Jack Hughes.

“Just thinking about summer,” was all you said.

Like everything, its temporariness was what made it special.

Together, you and Luke began to unpack the bags from the trunk of the Jeep. “Any fun activities planned this summer?” you asked, hoping to alleviate the tension making your head pound.

Luke gave you a backwards glance as he practically leaned his whole body into the trunk. “New bar opened on the strip,” he told you. “I think we have to go.”

Your eyebrows crinkled. “We’re twenty, Luke. And this is a tourist town, they’re going to ID.”

Luke only smiled, clearly not thwarted by your pessimism. “Lucky then that you don’t have to worry. I’ve got it all figured out.”

You didn’t want to ask how, so instead you sighed, hauling your bag onto your shoulder. “Whatever. But I am not ending up in jail because you want to underage drink in public, Luke.”

There was no response to that. Slinking past you with elegance you thought his large frame incapable of, Luke began walking up the driveway and towards the beach house. It looked exactly the same as it had last summer—a gentle gray exterior, like the storm clouds that sometimes brewed over the sea, and a darker roof. White wood bordered the many windows, some with their own balconies. Rust spotted the metal of the garage, slowly encroaching from the outside. A simple wood fence enclosed the sides of the house, leading to the back where you knew a pool hid. Everything was exactly the same, yet so different. Last time you were here, it all felt so unknown, like the end of the summer would make or break the rest of your year. You’d hoped then that maybe Jack would notice, that it would finally be the year he looked at you as more than Luke’s best friend. You’d packed your cutest outfits, the bikinis your friends said would make any man double-take, yet nothing worked. It had been the same as every year before. Jack was nice, but indifferent. Friendly, but inattentive.

However, this year wasn’t like every other year. You didn’t come here with starry eyes and a child-like hope that Jack would pick you after years of oblivion. You came here to finally let go of him, to move on, to bury a love you’d kept on life support for years and years, in the hopes it would come back to life.

Feet making indents in the sand as you walked up the driveway, you saw Jack’s car—a silver Mercedes-Benz—parked a bit ahead. You hated the stutter in your step when you saw it, and you hated more the stoppage in your heart when you heard laughter rounding the side of the house. There was two voices, interwoven and nearly indistinguishable, but you’d know his laugh anywhere, know it blind. All the feelings you’d shoved aside in favor of an aloof disposition crawled their way out of shallow graves. A shaky breath, the fluttering of your eyes, and suddenly—there he was.

Trailing behind Quinn, soaked black swim shorts clinging to wide thighs, a bare chest coated in droplets of water, tousled hair styled by the unconscious hand of water. He smiled, maybe at something Quinn had said, you weren’t sure, and it all came back. How could you get closure when he incited such a deep, profound longing in your soul? When he tugged you towards him the the moon to the tide?

You’d stopped walking. When, you weren’t sure. Time became an endless thing as Jack’s eyes flickered to you. Those blue eyes shot through with something you weren’t sure how to describe, but he grinned—at you—and then he was walking towards you. All at once you wanted to lob a rock at Luke’s head for making you come, and then kill yourself for even thinking for one moment closure would be remotely possible when you still were in love with Jack.

His presence was all-consuming, like stepping to close to the fire. Fingers worn by years of use brushed your own when he took your luggage, carrying it with ease. Even older than you, Jack never lost that youthful sense of delight you’d seen on kids when they got a new toy. He’d always been the sun. For you, and for everyone around him.

You’d never deluded yourself into thinking you were the only one who loved Jack, or wanted him. But it didn’t stop you from wishing you were the one he’d choose.

“Bells,” Jack greeted, warmth oozing from his words, so much that you wanted to yell at him that he wasn’t being fair. How could he expect you not to want him? How, when he was so nice to you, yet so indifferent? “How was the trip?”

Blinking, you allowed him to gathering your luggage and begin walking back to the house. Water transferred from his body to your tote bag, but you found yourself not caring. He could ruin everything you’d brought and it wouldn’t matter. They’d at least be stained with his touch.

“Good,” you managed, trying to keep your feet even on the lumpy sand. Why they’d decided not to install an actual drive way would never make sense to you. “Not a lot of traffic. Luke didn’t kill us, so that’s a plus.”

Jack laughed. It rumbled through his chest and echoed like a victory trumpet in the air. “He’s a shit driver,” he said. “Shoulda convinced him to let you drive with me.”

Tar filled your lungs. Words failed you, and so stupidity, you said: “But you drove with Quinn.”

Jack quirked an eyebrow. Readjusted your bag on his shoulder. “Quinn’s a big boy. He can travel alone.”

Before you could stop yourself, the words flew out of your mouth, “So you think I’m a little girl?”

Jack paused. Glanced over at you. The meeting of two sets of eyes holding extremely different emotions. After a moment, he cut the tension with another laugh. “You are two years younger than me.”

“So is Luke, and last I checked, he was the tallest,” you retorted, offering up a chuckle yourself. You didn’t want to give more, to give in. You had to keep that wall, even if there was already so many holes in it.

With his free hand, Jack tussled your hair, wiggling your head around. You batted him off, feigning annoyance, when really, you wanted him to keep touching you. You could have groaned. God, you were pathetic.

Entering the beach house was like entering freedom. It was typically decorated, that seaside aesthetic Ellen had done herself the first year the boys bought the house. Fishing net and shells in jars, accompanied by hanging hammocks and white coral displays hadn’t moved, and you felt the air greet you, blowing in from the open back door that looked over the pool—and the beach. Salty air snaked up your airway, a welcome sting. A missed one. You weren’t sure if you’d miss Jack or the beach house more.

Luke disappeared with Quinn, the latter offering a gentle smile—perhaps a little pity twinged in. That left only you and Jack, standing in the wide mouth of the living room, the sunset sky bathing your skin in those candle-light oranges you so loved. Beside you, the gentle pat, pat, pat of water dripping off of Jack’s shorts was all that was heard. You took a moment more to enjoy the feeling of peace you got from being here, before Jack snapped you back to the current with a throat clear.

“Want me to bring your stuff to your room?” Your room. The one you’d claimed all those years ago. A room that—after this summer, perhaps—would bo longer be yours. You’d spent hours decorating it, little trinkets imposed with sentiment covering the room. The sea blue sheets. The balcony overlooking the ocean. All of it would be gone.

You had to inhale to stave off the melancholia crawling up your throat like bile. “Yeah, thanks.”

It was hard not to look at Jack. He was always the center of attention—on the ice, off the ice; in his personal life, in the eye of the public. He just was. Never asked for it, always had it. Girls wanted him, boys wanted to be him. You imagined it got tedious after so many years, but at the same time, you wondered what it would be like to be that loved. So adored you could have anything and anyone. You found you’d trade it all for him, for Jack, if he simply asked. You knew he wouldn’t do the same. Why give up freedom for a small-town girl that his brother had dragged around for longer than he probably should?

Up the stairs, through a hallway, and there your room was. You tried to revel in it, in the finality of it all. Convinced you were never coming back here. That Jack would never carry your luggage for you again, making a mess of the floors just to help you out. Inside, you saw the bed was made just like how you left it. A small whale plush—affectionately named Hershey for the chocolate it had been holding when it was won at the arcade—was sat just before the pillows. You hadn’t left him there. Hershey was a cherish piece of history; Jack had won him for you, two years back. Whales were your favorite animal, a gentle giant, the crown of the sea. He knew it, and he had gotten him for you. Maybe that was what kept your hope alive, the little things, the moments where he was more than just an unreachable deity you prayed to repeatedly just for him to notice you.

You glanced over your shoulder as Jack placed your luggage down with a thud. He rubbed his hands together. “Found him downstairs,” he said, gesturing to Hershey, “figured I’d bring him home.”

Home. A word that made your gut turn. His home, but never yours.

“Oh, yeah,” you said lamely. “Wouldn’t want to lose Hershey. You tried so hard to win him.”

Jack scoffed. “I was playing against Trevor. I’d be embarrassed if I didn’t win.”

“Don’t talk about Trevor like that,” you teased with a smile. Finding yourself slipping back into the dynamic. You’d try to make him laugh, just to make him smile. Just to make him see you could make him happy.

Jack only rolled his eyes. You attempted to side-step him, only for your foot to catch his own. A hand immediately came to your rescue, steadying you. A hot flush pinkened your cheeks and slid down your spine. His breath fanned over your temple, a catalyst for every single one of your nerves fraying. You hated that he could do this to you, without trying, without caring, when you tried so hard to avoid falling back into him like a fool. It wasn’t fair—but when was love?

Jack pulled his hand away, the phantom of his fingers imprinted on your skin. Marked. Just like you’d always been. “Sorry,” you muttered, embarrassment eating at you.

His laugh was a reward. “It’s fine,” he responded. It was always fine with Jack. Never hard feelings. You didn’t think he had a aggressive bone in his body, even after years and years of playing physical hockey. “Even after all the years, you still can’t stay on your feet.”

A reference to your clumsiness. Which wasn’t clumsiness. It was just Jack. You never stumbled around anyone but him. “Yeah,” you bit out, probably harsher than intended. “Guess I haven’t changed.”

But you had. And you needed to find a way out of the hole that was Jack Hughes before you were buried alive.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Letting go of things has never been easy. Marked with scratches and tears, everything you’d ever relinquished never left the same. How could it, when you’d spent so much time loving it, cherishing it, only for it to be cruelly ripped from your grasp? Letting go had never been easy, because you’d never been ready to lose what was taken, because it was never ready to leave you either. That’s why it was so easy to reason with yourself about finally moving on from Jack Hughes.

It wasn’t mutually assured destruction. There would be no blowing out of stars and creation of supernovas when you finally put the love to rest. Because it was you. It was never him. He didn’t love you—hell, he didn’t even know you loved him. Perhaps there laid the foundation for burial, a tomb within the dunes, marked with a single shell. When the time came, no claw marks would mar Jack’s skin. He was never yours to mark.

Two weeks had since passed. Settling in had always been easy, but this time, it felt like a final meal before execution. A good thing before the inevitable end. Nights spent by the pool, the reflection of the water a perfect mirror of Jack’s eyes. Drinking and laughing and talking—a chosen family, but one you’d soon depart. You’d always have Luke, the last cord of the fraying rope, unbreakable and timeless. But never again would you tug on that rope, just to see the other end. To move on from Jack would be to forget him, as much as you could.

The summer sun blistered overhead, biting your skin until red bloomed. Splayed out on a beach towel, you opted to suntan while the boys enjoyed the water. You’d get in, eventually, preferably when Jack was not in. You didn’t want the distraction of his body to further make you doubt your ability to handle change. Back facing the sun, you remained entranced by the book in front of you, instead imagining your love life was as explosive and beautiful as the story written for you. When you went to flip the page, something hit your back—a ball, you guessed, from the feeling of impact—making your already sunburnt skin sting like hell.

“Shit,” you cursed, placing your book face down in order to stand. Glancing to the side you figured the ball bounced off to, there sat the culprit: a black-and-white soccer ball, covered in patches of sand.

You heard some shouting, and opted to be a good samaritan and grab it. As you bent down to pick up the sandy ball, another pair of hands invaded your vision and brushed your own. Rightening, you saw a tall man—your age, presumably—who immediately began spewing apologies of all kinds.

He had that youthful look to him, the same as Jack. Golden curls fell around his eyes, slightly sandy, a bit wet, but gleaming like rays of sunlight. Familiar eyes, the blue of the sky after a storm, peered at you with a mixture of concern and apology. He was beautiful, in an artful way—a hand-sculpted effigy, lain in the town square to be worshiped. You figured with age and maturity he presently lacked, he’d be all the more beautiful.

But he wasn’t Jack.

“I am—so sorry!” he spewed words like bullets, hoping one apology landed. You bit down a laugh at the desperation leaking into his voice. “I wasn’t watching where I was kicking. Sorta shanked it—scratch that, really shanked it. Are you okay—I meant to ask—”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off, sparing him. As endearing as his apology was, you could see red rising to his face—you knew what it felt like. “Although I don’t recommend you shoot for the Premier League.”

Upon realizing you weren’t angry, the boy relaxed. “Yeah, as if,” he laughed, tossing the balls back and forth between his hands. “You are okay, right?”

Your eyebrow quirked. “Unless you’re secretly the Hulk, I don’t think you kicking a ball at me could do any serious damage.” Your fingers grazed the spot the ball struck. “Might have a weird mark on my back, ‘s all.”

Goldie Locks, as you’d taken to calling in him your head, circled around you and bent at his knees. His fingertips grazed the small of your back, rattling your spine into a shiver. You heard a subdued sound—something between a giggle and a sharp exhale of air through his noise—and twisted to look down at him.

“It looks dumb, huh?” you said, trying to feel the patter marked on your back with your fingers.

Goldie Locks shook his head. “You wear it well.”

“I better, or I’ll give you a matching mark,” you teased. He stood up, imposing. “Really, though, I’m fine…”

He caught on swiftly. “Jackson. Or Jack.”

You could have cursed the Gods and Fate and her trifling ways. Of course the first cute guy you find has to be him, but not be him. The great irony of life, you supposed it was. Finally ready to move on, and your tugged right back to square one.

A tight smile made its way onto your face. “Jackson.”

Jackson opened his mouth to say something, but the voice of the man you quite literally could not escape interrupted him. “Bells? You okay?”

You thought briefly of faking fainting.

“I’m fine,” you responded, without looking at Jack. You couldn’t. But you wanted to. “He just hit me with a soccer ball and was apologizing.”

Jack imposed into your vision anyway. Jaw working, the rapid flex of his muscles that told he ran to you. Suddenly, the sweltering heat was no longer the cause for your sweating. “Hit you?” he repeated, glancing to Jackson with a raised brow.

Shoved into an unwanted spotlight, Jackson immediately backpedaled. “Accident. Didn’t mean to hit your girl.”

Your girl.

Those two simple words repeated like a scratched vinyl in your mind. Jack’s girl. His. It was something that would have made past you puff your chest. It made present you feel sick. Another pull towards him. Another lock trapping you inside of the room. In the past, you wouldn’t have said anything—wouldn’t have fought it. You’d have waited to see if Jack would deny it; he always did. Another nail in the coffin. How many were needed until you finally understood?

But you were now actively trying to fight the feeling seemingly hardwired into your blood. The instinct that told you to love Jack. “Oh, we’re not dating,” you told Jackson. Blue eyes flittered to you—was he surprised? For once you denied, distanced. Was he confused? “He’s my best friend’s older brother.”

You didn’t know why you added that part. It wasn’t necessary—Jackson didn’t care about your relationships to Jack past the words not dating. But here you were, petty pride swelling in your chest at finally getting to stick it to Jack. Finally being the denier instead of the denied.

“Oh,” Jackson quirked his brow. Glanced at Jack; he said nothing. “Is it okay if I have your number?”

That shocked you. And it clearly shocked Jack, as well. His shoulders tensed, eyes darting to you. Gauging your response. You would have said no before. Would have made some dumb excuse. If you accepted, you distanced yourself from Jack, showed indifference. Past you couldn’t have that.

Present you could.

“Sure,” you said.

This summer would be different.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a date. Michael Neely in eleventh grade, but that was in major part because he looked entirely too similar to Jack—didn’t act like him, however. Didn’t smile like the sun’s envy. He just wasn’t Jack. For as long as you could remember, no one had been. Isolating yourself for years because of the off chance Jack would finally admit it, as if he’d been pulling a big joke on you and had actually wanted you back. But he never did. And you couldn’t wait around forever hoping he would. He never asked you to.

You went through your hair with a brush one final time before deeming yourself presentable. A knit green tank-top paired with denim shorts, warm vanilla perfume—one you’d used since Jack had offered a compliment on the scent—and a smile that you hoped appeared genuine. For once you were excited, not thinking of Jack, measuring Jackson up to him. You let Jackson be himself, undeterred by the ghost of your unrequited love.

The downstairs of the beach house was alive with loud laughter and conversation—you hated you could still pick out Jack’s laugh, could imagine his face when he did; the gentle scrunch of his nose, the squint of his eyes. You wondered if it would ever go away, that sixth sense. If you’d ever be truly and unapologetically free.

Rounding the corner, you were met with the sight of the three brothers playing what looked to be Chel, their eyes fixated on the large TV in front of the couch they were splayed on. You debated slinking out of the house, silent as they’d always teased you for being, just to avoid the awkward conversation you knew would come from the knowledge you—Bells, infatuated devotee of Jack Hughes—were going on a date with a boy you’d known a week.

Fiddling with your fingers, you stood at the back of the couch. Not wanting to interrupt their game, you went to simply tap Luke on the shoulder, hoping he’d eventually pause it. He wasn’t the one to do it, however. Luke and Queen groaned in annoyance when the screen paused, glancing over to the only person who could have done it. Jack didn’t spare them a glance. His homely blue eyes were on you, eyebrows furrowed. Following his gaze, Luke and Quinn gave you a once-over.

“Hell are you going all dolled up like that, Bells?” Luke asked, flicking you on the wrist.

You didn’t really think you were dolled up. “I have a thing called a date, Luke.”

That incited the expected awkward silence. As if drawn by a unbeatable force, you found yourself glancing to Jack. White-knuckled, he gripped the controller with such force you were surprised it didn’t break on him entirely. You briefly wondered what his issue was before Quinn spoke.

“With who?” Surprise laced his question, and you hated it. Hated that he thought you were incapable of moving on from Jack—or maybe he didn’t think you incapable, just averse.

“That guy from the beach, right, Bells?” Luke piped up, turning his body on the couch to face you. “What was his name? Jack?”

You ground your jaw. “Jackson.”

Luke shrugged. “Same thing.”

It wasn’t. You really hoped it wasn’t.

You turned to leave, intent on scurrying out like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, when a voice called you back. Always calling you back, just when you tried to leave.

“Bells,” Jack spoke, voice drawled. You didn’t turn. “Where are you going?”

You blinked at him, dumbfounded. “On a date…?”

“Where?” You figured it could have been a growl if he were less careful. Luke and Quinn glanced at each other. You fought back a scream.

Why do you care? Why now? When I’m about to move on? I spent so much time waiting for you. I’m done.

You wanted to scream those words at him, but of course, like most confessions, they went unsaid.

“The cove,” you humored him, eyes flicking to your fingers. When had they started bleeding? The cove, of course, was as it sounded: a small chunk of land past the rock barrier at the beach, cornered in by mangroves and hidden away from sight, Jackson claimed it the perfect place for a seaside picnic. You weren’t one to argue.

When Jack made no effort to respond, you finally left. Jackson wasn’t even there yet, but you couldn’t stay inside anymore. Indecision and confusion were eating away at your gut, turning your mind into a war zone. You didn’t understand—couldn’t understand. Years spent in the shadow of Jack Hughes had taught you to fear the light, that if you even for a second let the rays touch you, came the consequence of losing the shade forever. And you’d tossed those fears aside, let yourself into the light, and that only made the dark come back in full force.

It wasn’t fair. Why weren’t you allowed to move on? To finally break the bonds that you yourself had made? Jack had never kept you near, and yet now he didn’t seem to want to let you go. Like a child unwilling to relinquish a toy just because it was theirs.

You tried not to dwell on it. Not when Jackson pulled up, his 4Runner breaking the noise of gulls calls and rumbling cars. Not when he led you out to the cove, picnic basket in hand, like an old-timey romance your mother used to watch. You tried, but just like everything concerning not thinking about Jack, miserably failed. Jackson was attentive, sweet, he did it all right. And as much as you hated yourself for thinking it, it was true: he wasn’t Jack.

“Are you a local?” Jackson asked you. Your mouth closed around a strawberry, staining your fingertips red—better than blood, you supposed.

The tide lapped gently at the sand before your feet, spanning out from beneath the quilt laid beneath you and Jackson. Always coming close, but never quite enough to wet your feet. Gnarled roots of mangrove trees split the sand, boxing the little cove in. You remembered coming here with Jack once, when he was trying to make up for throwing you in the pool with your phone in your back pocket. He hadn’t set up a picnic, only sat beside you in the sand and offered you Hershey. A silent apology. One you never forgot.

Trying to build over that memory was like trying to filter the salt out of the sea. There was too much to ever fully get rid of it.

A breeze tickled your legs. Sand parted between your toes. Everything felt normal; normal, you realized, wasn’t always right.

“No,” you responded after some time, tossing the strawberry head to the sea. “I come here every year with my best friend, his brothers, and their friends.”

Jackson nodded. “The guy from the beach, the one I thought you were dating—” You fought the urge to cringe, “—that was Jack Hughes, right?”

Always the icon. Beloved, beautiful Jack Hughes.

You glanced at Jackson. He smiled. “Yeah, I’ve known him for years. His brother is my best friend.”

“Yeah, I remember you saying that,” he laughed, a whimsical sound. Off-key; pitched too high. You didn’t think you’d be able to differentiate it in a room of others. “How’d that even happen?”

You grinned. Memories of freshman year. Restless nights spent studying in Luke’s room. False trips to the bathroom just for a chance at a glance of his brother. “Luke and I met in our freshman year biology class. He absolutely sucked. Had to tutor the poor kid so he wouldn’t fail.”

Jackson shook his head, the mess of golden curls crowning him danced with the movement. Raising a finger, he wagged it at you as if apprehending a naughty dog. “Hold on now. Biology is damn hard, cut him some slack.”

You giggled. Almost cringed. You felt like a schoolgirl again, trying to slow time as a cute boy walked past. “Maybe if you’re a loser.”

More time passed, the sun’s rays dulled to a warm orange instead of a blinding yellow. The sea calmed. Unseen birds chirped and sung their tunes, never to be understood. Jackson asked questions, answered some. He indulged, dug deep, hoping for treasure. It was strange, to fix your hair and bat your lashes in the hopes of impressing a boy who wasn’t Jack Hughes. Stranger yet you were enjoying Jackson, even fantasizing about a second date. The cold fingers of the wind rose gooseflesh in its wake; your arms rose to combat it, folding against your body in hopes to retain heat. Jackson peered over.

“Cold?” he asked, presumptuous and forward and hoping; one arm already out of his cardigan.

You nodded, murmuring a thanks as Jackson draped his sweater over your shoulders. At once the smell of salt and secondhand smoke snaked up your nose, invaded your airways. It was so different from the warm amber you imagined your skin would faintly smell of if Jack made you his—he smelled like heartbreak and sleepless nights and longing, something you feared was permanently smeared on your flesh. You found yourself heating at the scent, blushing, a slight twinge of excitement at the thought of being claimed by another boy. Foolishly, maybe, you thought it could purge Jack from you, draw over the marks he’d made all over your flesh.

You’d had boys like you before, liked them back—felt the head rush that accompanied youthful yearning. None had ever compared to Jack. Like a stain on your favorite shirt, he’d never come out of your heart, a scar that pulsed every so often, a reminder that he was still there. That he’d never go away. You realized now, looking at Jackson—the soft lines that sprouted next to his eyes when he smiled, a mess of curly blond hair that seemed to fall perfectly in front of his eyes, catered specifically to his beauty—that the memories of wounds weren’t always bad. They weren’t just reminders that you’d been hurt, but that you survived.

Before your mind could conjure any wishful images of you and Jackson, he spoke, “Tomorrow night, there’s a beach bonfire.” His finger extended, curled a stray piece of hair out of your eyes. “Something the locals do every year to kick off summer.”

You smiled—genuinely smiled, not just a flash of teeth forced in order to hide a grimace. Not the smiles you got so used to giving Jack. “And you’re telling me this because…”

Banter. He could tell you knew where he was getting, yet wanted him to spell it out anyway. “Go with me? I think you’d enjoy it,” he said, voice gentle over the lap of waves against the shore. You could almost feel the world hold its breath, awaiting your answer. Would you cling to a hope and dream, or go with what was sitting in front of you? “Plus, having a pretty girl with a perfect personality on my arm wouldn’t hurt too bad.”

“Hmm…” You faked contemplation, tapping your chin. When Jackson flicked your forehead, you scoffed, batting at his hand. “Well now I’m reconsidering my answer, ass.”

Warm fingers wrapped around your wrist, caught it midair, a fish hooked on a line. Feverish, a heat you’d only associated with one person your whole life rose to your head as Jackson’s eyes met yours. Not blue, green. Your mind didn’t even attempt to paint over them, to erase his color, to make him him. Lips wet by eager tongues, a mutual desire. When had you last even considered another man romantically, sexually?

The answer was: not since Jack Hughes barged his way into your life and trapped your heart behind a wall, tossing away the key.

Before anything could be realized, before you could experience your first kiss in what felt like forever, a dull vibrating ripped the moment to shreds. Annoyance flashed in your heart, and a part of you told you to ignore it—but you couldn’t. What if something had gone wrong? Apologetically, you tore your eyes away from Jackson and dug your phone out of your back pocket.

The name flashing on the screen had your heart clenching.

Jack.

“Yes?” Confused, clipped. Why was Jack calling you?

“Oh, uh, hey,” came Jack’s voice—you frowned at his tone. He sounded as if he didn’t even know why he was calling. “I was just… calling to see when you’d be home tonight.”

A scream bubbled in your throat. This is why he was calling you? “This could have been a text.”

Jack laughed dryly. “Guess so. Figured you wouldn’t have seen it.”

You didn’t want to admit he was right. “It’s what…” You took your phone away from your face to look at the time. 8:43. “8:43? I’m not sure, Jack. We’re still at the cove.”

Shuffling on the other end. Your eyes darted to Jackson; he seemed intrigued at who was calling you. “Right, well… Luke wanted to know, so…”

You frowned. “Then why didn’t Luke call me?”

“Playing Chel,” was all you got in response.

Pettiness whirled in your chest like a maelstrom. For once you had the upper hand; cards hidden against your chest, not splayed out for all to see. Maybe with the right move, Jack would fold after so many years of winning. It was childish, you knew that, but the child in you who’d hoped and hoped and hoped only to get turned down every single time awoke—wanted Jack to feel the burn she’d felt when he’d sunk his hooks into her heart.

“I may not come home tonight,” you told him, relished in the pause. Jackson’s eyes flickered to you, curious.

“What?” Jack asked, voice darkened with knowing and other terrible emotions. “What do you mean?”

He knew very well what you meant.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You resisted the urge to recoil at the scorching flame simmering in Jack’s tone; he rarely ever spoke to anyone like that, least of all you. “You met him this week, Bells. If you aren’t home by 10:30 I’m coming to find you.”

Rage flared. You weren’t sure why. Maybe because you could pretend like he cared. As if he had any right to tell you when you had to be home. “So what? Now I have a curfew?” You didn’t want Jackson to overhear the spat, but it’s clear he was watching, listening, picking apart the conversation. “Forgot the part where you were my mother, Jack.”

“You’re staying in my house,” he retorted sharply. “10:30. I’m not kidding.”

After that, the line went dead.

Fire lashed in your veins, threatening to burn your being to ash. How dare he? Just as you inched out of the cage, he tries to drag you back in. Why did he care now? Why couldn’t he have before?

Why?

Tears taunted you. Tried to slip past your eyes. You had given so many tears to Jack, expected him to bottle them and place them on a shelf, a reminder to never hurt you again. He never did. The moon’s rays were a solace, an extended comfort from who knew loneliness better than anything. Soft fingers touched your arm, didn’t push—only rested there, a reminder of consolation.

“He’s like an older brother, huh?” Jackson tried to alleviate your melancholy, revive your playful spirit like a necromancer.

It only made you sadder. If only Jack were like an older brother, if only your heart hadn’t chosen him to beat for.

“Yeah,” you chuckled dryly. “Let’s be glad he won’t be there tomorrow.”

A bright grin tugged on Jackson’s lips. “So you’re coming?”

You smiled.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

10:15.

The bright light of your phone screen cut through the darkness as you walked up the sandy driveway to the beach house. The departing rumble of Jackson’s 4Runner interrupted the ballad sung by the cicadas and crickets, a sound that followed you all the way to the front door. Sliding your sunflower-adorned key out of your pocket, you fiddled with the lock before finally managing your way into the house. The biting cold of the summer night was promptly chased away by the inviting warmth, but you found yourself unwilling to remove Jackson’s green cardigan. Plastic buttons twirled between your fingers, a few stitches unraveled. Well-worn, loved—smelled like summer nights and escape. You smiled to yourself.

The hum of the TV, along with its vibrant glow startled you as you crossed into the living room area. Despite the somewhat early time, you hadn’t expected anyone to be awake. But there Luke was, curled up on the couch, watching Grease. You could have laughed if you weren’t more aware; Luke had always had a major small crush on Sandy, his guilty pleasure movie, one that came with summer nights and hours talking into the AM. Rounding the foot of the couch, you plopped down next to Luke, startling him out of what appeared to be oncoming sleep.

“Back already?” he asked groggily, clearing the gravel out of his throat. He straightened, blinked a few times. “I take it you didn’t get laid.”

You glared at Luke, silently cursed his teenage-boyishness. “Not everyone fucks on the first date, dick,” you retorted, smiling. “Someone here gave me a curfew. Said he’d come looking for me if I didn’t come back in time; I wasn’t too keen on testing him.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Cockblock,” he muttered. “Which of them was it? Quinn? He seems like the type.”

“The other one,” you corrected, earning a confused look from Luke. “Exactly! That’s what I thought. Also, did you ask Jack to ask me when I’d be home?”

“No,” Luke drawled, raising an eyebrow. “Why would I?”

That son of a bitch.

Was he just dead set on denying you happiness? Why couldn’t he just admit to caring even a little about you? Why dress up good deeds as the requests of others? Nothing about Jack made sense; it never had. You supposed that was part of the appeal, the mystery of it all. A puzzle gathering dust on the shelf, tried and forgotten for its difficulty. You’d always had a knack for choosing the hardest games.

You waved Luke off, not wanting to hear his conspiracies tonight. Maybe tomorrow, when you didn’t have the weight of a thousand unanswered questions close to caving in your chest. “Nothing,” you said. “Are Quinn and Jack awake?”

Luke eyed you. He saw through you—always had. Yet, for the sake of your dwindling sanity, chose silence. “Quinn isn’t, no,” he told you. “Went to bed like an hour ago.”

“Old man,” you commented, earning a laugh. “And Jack?”

Luke’s eyes flickered to the door leading to the back porch. A warm orange glow was visible through the drawn curtains. “He’s in the pool, I think.”

You nodded. Came to a resolution in your withering heart. “Right,” you murmured, standing. Before departing, you pressed a kiss to Luke’s cheek. “Night, Luke. Go up to your room, if you fall asleep here, I won’t be able to carry you to your bed.”

Luke rolled his eyes, nudged your leg with his knee. “How unfortunate.” Then, he stood, and disappeared up the stairs.

Dread swarmed in your stomach like a tornado, wrecking every defense you’d built up these past weeks to keep out a certain boy. You feared damage control wouldn’t be enough this time, that you couldn’t rebuild if Jack shut you down now. But you had to confront him, had to at least tell him to stop controlling you if nothing else. This summer was meant to be your closure, the final chapter in a book you never thought would end. It felt more like the procession to the grave, not the closing of a door.

What if losing your love for Jack lost you him?

The back door swung open with a squeal, piercing the once thick silence. With your presence swiftly outed, you forewent attempting discreetness, and eased out onto the pool deck. Fingers of frost grabbed for your exposed skin, only combated by Jackson’s cardigan. Bones rattling, you wondered why on earth Jack was going for a swim right now of all times.

You heard the lapping of water, roused by movement, before you saw him. The fluorescent underwater lightning cut through the darkness and reflected on your face, a myriad of whites and blues that was distinctly Jack. When you came to the pools edge, your eyes focused on him—clad in nothing but a pair of blue swim shorts—floating ok his back, eyes closed, as if imagining himself in a different place. You almost felt sorry to ruin the fabrication of his mind. Remembering your anger, you pushed aside the feeling. Why should he be given peace when he’d never given you any?

Before you could even open your mouth, his eyes opened, as if sensing you. He adjusted, treading water, as you merely assessed each other. Waiting. Who would draw first? You. It had always been you.

“I’m home now,” you bit out, your leash gone; Jackson wasn’t here to judge you. “Happy?”

Water lapped at Jack’s collarbones. You almost envied it for being able to touch him so freely. His eyes darted around you, then stopped on the cardigan. Forest green, like Jackson’s eyes. You knew he knew; you hadn’t been wearing it when you left.

“Cute,” he commented, sarcastic and dripping with cruelty you’d never heard from him before. He parted the water with ease, as if he expected everything to bend to his will.

Jack stopped where you stood at the edge. You looked down on him for once, a prick of pride stinging you as for once you had the high ground. For once, he wasn’t able to confine you with his overwhelming presence and being. Fingers curled around the edge of the pool, his hair dripping tears of chlorine-tainted water down his face, Jack merely watched you, waiting a scolding, the tantrum of a child who had what she wanted torn away.

You thought if unfair someone could be so beautiful, especially when he could never be yours.

“What is your issue?” you snapped finally, folding your arms, protecting your glass heart from his insults he’d fire like arrows. “I asked Luke, he said he never asked you what time I’d be home. Was it fun for you? To ruin my date?”

Jack scoffed. Arms corded with muscle flexed, rose from the water; a heave and he was on his feet in front of you, your leverage lost. Water bled off his body like a torrent, soaking your shoes. Droplets flicked on Jackson’s cardigan, the water staining through. You stepped back instinctively, throat tight. You hated how, even now, he had an effect on you.

“Ruin?” he echoed, eyebrows creased. “Don’t be dramatic. It wasn’t like you were planing on staying out with him past 10:30. I was doing you a favor, giving you an out.”

Classic Jack; thinking he knew better than everyone else. “You weren’t, actually,” you hissed. “I didn’t need an out, Jack; I was enjoying myself. So much so I’m going out with him again tomorrow night.”

That was unnecessary to say, you knew. A bite only given to wound him, to prove you were capable of rising from your knees and tearing down the shrine you’d devoted to him for years. Because if Jack Hughes was no longer your sun, you didn’t need to revolve around him—shine only when he was near. Pathetic and driven by childish need to probe yourself, you wanted Jack to hurt—even if you knew he never would, that he couldn’t care less about who you loved and who you were with.

You just wished that he did.

A flicker of confusion. A frown, and then, “What?”

“Jackson invited me to the beginning of summer beach bonfire,” you told him, watching Jack’s jaw tense. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t—he’d always been so encapsulating. “It’s tomorrow night.”

His presence invaded every defense you’d placed up. Chin tipped to look at him, you felt suddenly claustrophobic, as if boxed in—everywhere you looked was him. Deep breaths made each muscle of his chest flex and tense, well-sculpted from years of punishing activity. You hated the flush that almost burned your face. You hated the thunder of your pulse that drowned out any noise but your racing heart. You hated the effect he had on you.

“You aren’t going,” he said simply, as if he had any say.

You frowned. “Yes, I am.”

Jack’s lip wrinkled. Condescension dripped from his voice. “No, you aren’t.”

You could have strangled him. You really could have. “You aren’t my father, Jack. You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m going.”

He smiled at you. Smiled like he thought you opposition was funny. “You met this guy this week, Bells,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Not only that, you have no idea who’s going to be at this bonfire. What if something goes wrong? You think Golden Boy is going to play the white knight?”

Ignoring what Jack had called Jackson, you turned to leave. You were absolutely not having this argument with him. Not when it was ultimately your decision and your life. Before you could even make it a step, a wet hand clamped around your arm, fingers closing around you like a vice—Jack spun you, unsteadying you. In an effort to save yourself a trip straight down, you threw up your hands, connecting palms with the rigid plane of Jack’s chest. Heat rose to your face, a feverish high sinking the logic of your brain. All of a sudden, you were sixteen again hoping Jack would come out of his room while you were in the hallway.

Breath deepened, you searched for an out—a way to defend yourself. The sword lying at your palms was cheap, but effective, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

But you did know better. And you knew he wasn’t; you just wished he was.

Jack smiled. Predatory. “Of Jackson?” Fingers loosened—you took the chance to escape, pulling yourself free of Jack’s hold. “If you’re going to try and make me jealous, maybe do it with someone who doesn’t have my fucking name.”

He breezed past you, disappearing inside like a shadow.

You looked down. Eyes grazing the cardigan. A wet handprint stained the arm. Jack’s handprint.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Smoke thickened the air into a husky, palpable haze. Dozens of conversations overlapped into one massive dissonance, drowning out the harsh crash of waves upon the shoreline. Bathed in an amber glow provided by a massive fire housed upon a hearth of triangularly-laid sticks, the beach was alive with drinking and laughing and dancing. Sand cushioned your feet, sandals dangling in your hands. Jackson haunted your side, keeping close. He led you in deeper, parting throngs of people like the Red Sea. Greeting a few of them, introducing you.

Excitement turned your blood hot. Rebellion made it all the sweeter. Despite Jack’s vehement opposition against your coming here, you’d done it anyway. When the boys had decided to get a few drinks at the new bar that opened up, you feigned sun sickness as a result of a day at the beach. Whether or not they believed you didn’t matter much—they’d left, which allowed you the chance to be here.

All you had to do was be home before them, which shouldn’t have been difficult. They’d be home in the early hours of the morning.

Mingling with Jackson was simple enough—people didn’t much care who you were. Just that you existed. Beers were handed to you, drank quickly. You wanted to have fun, to let yourself exist without the shackle that was Jack Hughes dragging you back from any romantic venture. A heated hand slipped in your own; Jackson smiled at you. Stomach knotted in a ball, you downed the rest of your White Claw and grinned back.

“You feelin’ okay?” he asked, bending down to better carry his voice to you. The proximity of his face warmed your chest.

“Mhm,” you hummed, relishing in the head rush. Being drunk wasn’t something you did often, what with being underage. There were parts you hated, parts you sought. Like the current buzz of warmth that whispered false confidence through your bloodstream.

The confidence that made you lead Jackson to the water’s edge, hidden from the glow of the fire, shadows outlined by the light of the moon. Rosy-cheeked, you tossed your arms around Jackson’s neck and peered up at him. Although his countenance was lost in the darkness, you could make out blown pupils overtaking his eyes, parted lips lightly doused in alcohol. Water lapped at your feet, danced around your ankles. You didn’t care. Everything in your mind was screaming at you to just do it—kiss him and get it over with, get over with Jack.

Jack.

You hated that even in a moment like this, your mind went to Jack.

It was then—arms tossed around Jackson’s neck, the waves kissing your bare legs—that you realized you’d never let go of Jack. You couldn’t. He was too well in your heart, the patchwork of two souls. If you could, you would turn tail and run, find happiness on the road of abandonment. You wouldn’t have to worry about being alone, isolated simply because people found a piece of your life more interesting than the whole. You wouldn’t have to rebuild your shattered heart when another summer passed by without Jack loving you. You wouldn’t need to remind your heart not to give in to his toothy smile and infectious laugh.

But then, you wouldn’t have Jack. His smile, the devil’s disguise, a shot of oxytocin to the system. Touching of skin, unintentional yet entirely wanted, setting ablaze the wildfire that burned down your castle of wood. Nights spent by the pool, his face illuminated by the glow of underwater lights. The way he made your heart break and mend all at once, the high of a drug that you could never quit. Every time, you relapsed, reminded yourself why you loved Jack—why he was your favorite love, your only one. He didn’t want you for anything, he didn’t even want you.

And maybe it was that; the hypothetical, the possibility. The construct you’d built inside your head, trying to fit into the narrative every summer, but never getting the part.

“Jackson?”

He looked down at you. Green, not blue. Never blue. “Yeah?”

“I don’t think—”

All at once, your arms were falling, cradling empty space as Jackson was ripped away from your touch. A splash of water sent droplets launching into your skin and clothes. You shrieked, stumbled, looked for the culprit. And of course—there Jack stood, huffing, as if he’d run to you. You could barely make out his face, but you didn’t need to; you’d know him blind, by touch alone. Your eyes went down to Jackson, body engulfed in the shallow water. You pieced it together, came into the frantic understanding that Jack had pushed Jackson.

Immediately, you went to help Jackson, only to be tugged back by your elbow. “Jack! What the hell?”

He didn’t grace you with an answer—didn’t even look at you, actually. Those stormy blue eyes were on Jackson, murderous and heated. He shoved you behind him. “What are you doing, huh?” he barked. “Did you know you were giving a minor alcohol? She’s twenty, you fucking idiot!”

Tears of frustration turned your eyes wet, and air became scarce. You wanted to do something, but what could you even do? Jack was accustomed to ignoring you. Stares nipped at the back of your head. Conversation dulled into a lapse.

“Jack, enough,” you begged, the sheer desperation in your voice normally something you’d hate—you couldn’t be bothered to care now. “Please. I’m fine. It wasn’t Jackson’s fault. He didn’t do anything.”

“Stop,” Jack interrupted, eyes flashing to you, a warning. “I told you not to come. Stay out of this, Bells.”

“I had no idea, dude, I swear!” Jackson responded, pulling himself up from the water. Soaked head-to-toe, and dully embarrassed. “She did it herself, I didn’t offer her anything!”

It soured your mouth he was trying to shift the blame to you, even if he was being honest. Your eyes flicked to Jack, and all at once you were reminded why you chose to love him.

His hair was tousled, worked one too many times by frustrated fingers. Eyes wild and concerned, so raw that you could’ve convinced yourself he was that cut by your situation. You knew it wasn’t you; he was just a good person, an empathetic one. But still, you liked to imagine. You’d spent your life imagining what it would be like for him to love you.

“Jack, please, just—”

“Don’t you dare blame her,” Jack’s voice was strangled, as if barely bypassing a wall of fury. “What the fuck do you think this is? The blame game? I don’t care who gave her the alcohol. You brought her here.”

“Please, Jack, let’s just go,” you pleaded, voice tight—embarrassment crawled up your spine like the cold. Everyone was looking, observing the screaming match you’d unfortunately found yourself a part of. “People are looking.”

“I don’t give a shit,” he hissed, advancing on Jackson. Chest-to-chest. A size up; one you hoped wouldn’t result in traded blows. You’d never seen Jack so angry, so wrought with violence. He’d always been docile—kind.

“Why do you care?” Jackson finally snapped, shoving Jack backwards. You tried to intercede, only to be shut down. “She said she wasn’t your girlfriend. Stop acting like a jealous dick.”

Jack laughed. He turned around, facing you as he spoke. “She may not be mine,” he conceded, “but she sure as hell will never be yours.”

Everything was happening to quickly. Your mind struggled to process the entire interaction, how quickly it had all gone sour. Before you could question Jack, scold him, consider the root of his rage, you were being lifted by the middle, and promptly tossed over Jack’s shoulder.

Air fled your lungs, your head pulsed—both from the swift movement and your consumption of what was likely too much alcohol. Jack’s hand stayed on you, keeping you steady as he carried you through the crowd, cutting through blots of people who all looked just as confused as you felt. Anger sparked then, fanned by embarrassment and anger and frustration.

Slamming your fists into Jack’s well-muscled back, you spewed profanities at him. “Put me down, asshole!” He didn’t. Kept walking, over the boardwalk and into the parking lot. Jackson’s 4Runner taunted you. “Jack, let me go! Jack!”

And he did. Your feet felt unfamiliar as he placed you down with little preempt. He steadied you before you could fall, kept a hand on your arm even after. Your heart felt pulled in a million directions, throat filling up with sand—fossilizing in your own skin, mortification sawing pieces off of your soul. Jack looked furious, pacing in front of you. His silver Mercedes gleamed in the moonlight.

“Bells—” He cut himself off. His throat bobbed, ran a hand through his already messed hair. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Your teeth bared. “Me? And what about you, barging into my night and accusing my date of being a criminal? The fuck is wrong with you, Jack?”

Jack laughed. Mocking, mean. You half-wanted to punch him, felt the itch in your fingers. “Oh, forgive me for trying to help you,” he hissed. “What if cops had busted the bonfire, huh? If they’d got you? Do I have to remind you that you’re twenty, Bells? That’s a felony.”

He was right, and you hated it. “But did you have to do all that? Jackson didn’t even give me the alcohol, why did you push him into the water?”

“I already said I don’t care who gave it to you,” Jack grunted, closing in on you. A step back, and you felt your back press into the cold metal of his car. “He was with you. He let you drink.”

You rolled your eyes, tried to muster up a semblance of control. “He doesn’t know my age, Jack.”

“Then he’s a fucking idiot.”

Scoffing, you shoved him away from you. “Oh, is he? Or were we just on a second date, one that you completely ruined! He’s never going to speak to me again, Jack, so thank you for that!”

Faintly, you wondered how you went from adoring Jack to despising him. Maybe it was always meant to be like this. There was a fine line between love and hate.

Eyes flashing, Jack rounded on you. “A second date you shouldn’t have been on,” he snapped. “I told you not to go.”

“New flash: you’re not my keeper,” you said, feeling the anger wane into something worse—fatigue. You didn’t want to fight. Fighting with Jack felt like fighting a part of yourself. “How’d you even find me? You guys were at the bar.”

Jack paused; he noticed your deflated shoulders, sullen face. “SnapMap,” is what he said. He didn’t expand, and you didn’t ask him to.

Silence felt like the worse fog—thick and impenetrable, falling over you like a suffocating blanket. You didn’t know what to say. What could you even say? Jack would never tell you why he was so upset, you didn’t want to ask—didn’t want to hear another made up story he’d spew just to tear apart the hope in your heart.

It hit you then that maybe Jack did love you—or care about you in some capacity, but he’d never admit it. Dancing in circles, a choreography that never ended, you’d never know what Jack truly wanted; didn’t know if he even did. Probably figured you’d screw it up, would ruin a friendship—his and yours, yours and Luke’s. It was a losing battle either way. Every word he uttered cut to the bone, because it was meant to. When the shift started, you didn’t know. Maybe when he realized you were not always going to kneel at his alter, when you tried to escape.

Maybe then he understood, and still avoided—lied, all to protect himself and his brother. He knew, you knew. One wanted, the other avoided. None of it ended well. Heaven was breakable, and he couldn’t dare threaten his own peace. Not even to have you.

You knew then where you stood.

“Why?”

He shook his head, chewed on his lip. “Don’t.”

“Please, Jack,” you whispered. “You owe me an explanation.”

Did he not believe in love? Had a girl hurt him? Was it really Luke, or something else? Why wouldn’t he just try?

“Bells, don’t.”

Your hand reached out. Hoping, praying—it brushed his shirt-clad chest. He didn’t move back, finally looked at you. “You owe it to me, at least. I’ll drop it, I’ll never ask again.”

“We’d just… we’d screw it up,” he managed out, the blue of his eyes richening into a navy. His eyes darted around your face. “I can’t…”

What did it matter anymore? Everything was being bared. All of it. Your fear disappeared into dust; the yearning for a conclusion to this twisted knot of a love died. Just like it always did with Jack—you’d want him, try to forget him, and fail. A never ending loop. But before there had been no chance, now—now you weren’t sure.

“Can’t what?”

Jack didn’t respond. He dug into his pocket. Grabbed his key. “Get in the car.”

The stark change of situation caught you cold. “What—?” You shook your head. You weren’t going to lose this opportunity. “Jack, no. Talk to me. Please.”

“Get in the fucking car.”

You didn’t budge for a moment, then finally, “Okay.”

The drive was silent, thick with awkwardness. What could you say? You’d been so close to coming clean, to finally—after five years—admitting everything. It seemed like Jack had too, but something stopped him. Something always stopped him. You wished you could pick his brain, lay it all out to see the moment he’d stopped seeing you as a ghost, as Luke’s high school best friend. All because you’d tried to move on, because you’d hoped for happiness beyond his black hole persona. But of course, he always managed to drag you back in.

“It’s not fair,” you muttered aloud, semi-an accident. Jack’s eyes snapped to you, the dark road rolling out in front of you.

He worked his jaw. Adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “What isn’t?”

“You,” you grunted, looking out the window. “I try to be happy, move on. You’ve never wanted me before, I didn’t think it would matter. But when I try, you turn it into World War III.”

Jack didn’t say anything. Barely even moved. You wanted to scream, to leap out of the car, if only to see if he’d care enough to come back for you.

“Why now, Jack? Why not before?” you whimpered. Alcohol made you pathetic, even more so than usual. “What changed?”

“Bells,” he warned, nostrils flaring.

“No,” you protested, swiveling your body his way. “I deserve an answer, Jack. Please.”

Silence still.

“Stop the car.”

Jack looked at you. Up and down, before his focus returned to the road. “No. Stop having a tantrum.”

That nearly sent you into a murderous rage. “Stop the car or I’m jumping out.”

Jack scoffed. “You’re not going to jump out of a moving car.”

You clicked off the lock. Fingers tested the handle. When you tore the door open, the alarm blared; wind whipped your arm as you gripped the door, the darkened road greeting your eyes. Thankfully, no one else was out this late. Jack grabbed you with his free hand, slammed on the breaks and veered off onto the side of the road, just beyond the dunes. Beachgrass surrounded the car, the distant buzz of crickets the only thing you could hear as Jack cursed at you. Unbuckling his seatbelt and slamming the door shut, Jack glared at you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped. You felt something akin to pride; he finally had a reaction to something. Cared enough to stop you.

“You won’t answer me,” you said, eyes darting around his face. The emergency interior lights of the car blinked into existence, lighting up your bodies. Jack’s face was flushed, eyes wild. “Please, just—”

“Fuck, stop saying that,” came Jack’s strangled plead, his head dropping.

You blinked at him. Confusion welled like a storm in your eyes. “What? Please?”

Silence. Jack’s head raised lazily, he looked distressed, mouth parted ever so slightly. A hand ran through his hair, mussed it more. “Fuck,” he cursed, low and gravely. “Luke is going to kill me.”

What was he on about? He looked like he was struggling, his hand gripping the steering wheel which such force his knuckles blanched. “What?”

“You’re his best friend,” Jack said. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “If I… Bells, please…”

You had no idea what to do. What to say. “Jack, what do you mean? You aren’t making any sense.”

“I want to fuck you,” he bit out, leveling you with a furious look, as if he hated himself for that very fact. “But I can’t. If Luke found out, he’d hate you, or me, or us both. I can’t risk that, Bells, I can’t.”

He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you. The very fact that he wanted to sleep with you sent you into a dizzy spell; normally, you would’ve wept with happiness at the sheer fact that Jack Hughes wanted you, in any capacity, but all you felt now was a resounding emptiness. He wanted to fuck you, to have you carnally, without anything attached. You loved him; not because he could give you brief pleasure, but because you knew how many freckles were on his back, how he drove with his left hand predominantly, how he quoted Camus but never actually read him.

It occurred to you then that this summer was different. Not because you were getting closure, or because Jack Hughes finally loved you back, but because you finally understood that the devotion you’d put in him for years should have been put in yourself.

You looked at Jack, and for once, didn’t feel that biting desire to touch him, to be wanted by him; now you knew you were, but for what? For once night, just to fade into obscurity? Either you had Jack entirely or not at all. You couldn’t tease yourself with a taste only to never be given the full experience. You didn’t think you’d survive the memory of it.

“I love you,” you said. Watched his reaction. The confession felt like the greatest heartbreak and the biggest relief.

He said nothing back.

And you weren’t heartbroken that he didn’t. You were relieved. Free.

#jack hughes #nj devils #nhl smut #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey smut #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey

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cuffmeinblack · 5 months

Text

Memory Lane

Sebastian Sallow x f!reader

Tags: explicit | sex | blowjobs

2.5k words

Summary: Whilst attempting to find Sebastian, instead you stumble upon his memories. Events take an unexpected turn when he finds you.

ao3 link

A/n: Is this even possible? Who knows. I had a vague idea of 'pensieve porn' whilst falling asleep last night and decided to follow through. I'm meant to be on hiatus, whoops. *Throws this out and runs away*.

You'd not frequented the Undercroft in quite some time, finding the place held too many memories you'd rather forget. It had been a source of comfort once, but after so much turmoil two years ago you preferred to find your solitude in the room of requirement. In fact, only Sebastian still used the cold, vaulted room buried underneath the castle—as far as you could surmise, mostly for target practice. Your boyfriend wasn't often found alone these days, but even he needed time alone when not busy devouring your body. Ominis simply retreated to one of his many napping spots when the world became too much to bear.

It was with some trepidation that you approached the cabinet with the clock face now. Silly as it was, after all you'd been through, to allow a room to elicit such uncomfortable feelings. But you needed to find your boyfriend, who had disappeared several hours ago in a huff. The argument was nothing new, but you knew you'd pushed too far. Bringing up his worst mistake had crossed the line and you knew it, so here you were, on your knees and grovelling for forgiveness. With a tap of your wand, the clock face began to click and whirr, the door swinging open to allow you access to the pitch black passageway.

Silence enveloped you as you began the descent, heartbeat picking up slightly the more steps you travelled. The dim firelight of the Undercroft was visible now, the grate all that separated you. Still, it was silent. Perhaps he wasn't here; perhaps you should have retreated then. Curiosity pulled you further, past the grate which scraped shut behind you and clattered to the floor. Just as cold as you remembered, the only humanity provided by the sofa strewn with books and battered training dummies. You smiled despite yourself, smelling the lingering scent of fire and musk you associated with Sebastian.

Your feet took you further into the room, gaze drifting over the disarray until it landed on the pensieve that had remained untouched since appearing years ago. Surrounded by the triptych, the stone basin stood not inert, but swirling with pearlescent ripples—a memory. Surely, this wasn't that same memory you'd bottled and stored; the revelation of Isadora's motives? Standing over the pensieve, you squinted at the contents, noticing the slight gold glint to the memory; it looked different, somehow. Something told you that this particular memory didn't belong to Miss Morganach.

Leave.

You told yourself to walk away, yet you found yourself leaning over the basin, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. That flicker of curiosity stoked into a roaring fire the longer you stared at the contents. Into the pensieve you delved, allowing the rush of cold to envelop you, sending you hurtling into the memory with a force that made your head spin. Your feet appeared to hit solid ground, an illusion that nonetheless felt real. Staggering a little to right yourself, the scene in front of you was nothing you'd ever expected, nor were the sounds that filled your ears.

You recognised Sebastian at once by the back of his fluffy brunet mane, his freckled back, that delectable arse. He was completely naked, legs spread and bent slightly over a figure you couldn't quite make out. Your heart twisted in fear until you took a step to the side to reveal…yourself, splayed on a bed you recognised as Sebastian's, back arched and writhing with pleasure. The cacophony of pleasurable moans you'd heard had been your own, mixed with those of your boyfriend's. Judging by the state of you both, you were quite far into this particular session.

“Sebastian…oh, fuck!”

Perhaps it should have made you recoil in embarrassment to hear yourself coming undone in the depths of this memory, yet it took your breath away and reared a hunger deep inside you. You felt like an imposter; a ridiculous thought, maybe; but this was Sebastian's recollection, and you were here uninvited. But you couldn't tear your eyes away as he pounded into your flushed and limp body, legs thrown over his shoulders and close to tears. You recognised this particular memory as one that had occurred a month previous—you’d spent the day teasing Sebastian to near insanity and this has been the product. It had been an unforgettable night.

“Don't think you can get away with that again,” he growled, his powerful thrusts shunting you up the bed.

You gasped in tandem with memory-you, instinctively reaching out a hand for Sebastian's glistening skin. You phased right through him, and the disappointment was palpable. No matter, the view was enough to hold your attention. You could tell your mirage was close by the way your face contorted and legs shook uncontrollably. As your eyes fell on Sebastian's cock impaling you, the skin between you already slick with combined arousal, you felt yourself ache with a very real need. Sebastian fucked you harder, faster, pushing you over the edge and continuing his pace with unrelenting force. A smirk crept across his face you'd not noticed in the moment of your orgasm, a smug and self-satisfied smile that made you want to either slap him or jump his bones.

To your dismay, the memory evaporated before you could see the conclusion. Surely that hadn't been the end? As you recalled, there were hours left of that particular night. No, the forceful ripping from the scene and tug at your collar had you gasping for breath, re-emerging back in the Undercroft with a stumble.

“Enjoying yourself?”

The smooth, silken voice brushed your ear and a familiar warmth enveloped your back. Your collar still pulled uncomfortably around your windpipe.

“You…you kept the memories here?” you gasped.

Sebastian's hands slithered around your waist, pressing a kiss to your nape.

“I like to peruse them every once in a while. That one's my particular favourite.”

“Me too. I'd never thought of watching such things in a pensieve.”

Sebastian finally spun you around, trapping you between his firm body and the cold stone of the pensieve which dug into your behind. The memory still swirled beneath your fingertips as you gripped the side of the basin. Your boyfriend had that irresistible glint in his eyes that somehow darkened the chocolate brown irises, pulling you in, powerless to stop the attraction. Just as you'd fallen into the swirling pensieve, you could have delved into those eyes, drawn to their depth and promises of love, comfort and indescribable pleasure. Sebastian gripped you tightly, possessively, tilting your chin to keep you looking before capturing your waiting lips in a passionate kiss.

Through shortened breaths, you responded eagerly as your hands found his soft hair, so ripe for tugging. A low rumble grew in his chest, his hands wandering, tugging at your uniform to rid you of these wretched clothes.

“Clearly you enjoyed it,” he chuckled. “Look at you…all flushed. I'll bet you're soaking wet for me already.”

His fingers grazed your neck as he perused the rising pink blush. He was right, of course; watching him defile you like that in such clarity had wound you so tightly that your cunt pulsed and ached for his touch. Your head fell sideways and eyelids drooped, and you saw the flicker of a smirk in your periphery; the same such smile that had tugged at his lips when he'd had you coming apart underneath him.

“Seb…”

“Shall we make a new memory?” he whispered in your ear.

You shuddered, from the slither of warm breath down your neck and the tantalising prospect put forth. He didn't wait for a reply; the question had been rhetorical. Of course you'd say yes, your body already malleable like putty in his hands. He undressed you first with his eyes and then with his hands, sliding the cotton from your shoulders before attacking your bare skin with his mouth. The chill of the Undercroft couldn't compete with the warmth of his lips, his tongue. Still your skin prickled underneath him, nipples peaking as he made quick work of your remaining garments. The ribbon of your stay had fallen away with the merest suggestion.

He'd barely touched you, and you suspected magic at play.

“Are you going to take me over the pensieve?” you asked jokingly.

“I wonder,” he hummed. “Would you like to watch the memory again whilst I fuck you? Consider it an experiment.”

Oh, he was deadly serious. He pulled open the buttons on his trousers and pushed the fabric down to his thighs proudly letting his girthy cock spring free.

“Tell me how much you want it, darling.”

“So much…”

With a whimper, you dropped to your knees which froze against the cold stone and sent shivers up your entire body. Only the warmth of your arousal kept you from shaking uncontrollably, the heat of overwhelming lust that coursed through your veins. From this vantage point you could appreciate his impressive cock nestled in coarse, dark hair. The vein that protruded from the underside throbbed under your thumb as you took him in your hand, licking the swollen tip with a wanton moan.

“Mmmh- fuck, such a greedy girl…”

The heady smell you’d encountered upon entering the room assaulted your nostrils, mixed with the scent of his arousal. It made your head spin as much as his taste, and you took him in your mouth with yet more unrestrained sounds of pleasure that echoed in the vaulted room. Sebastian threaded his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp in rhythm to the movements of your head as you sucked him as if you’d been starved. You pressed your throbbing clit against the heel of your foot as you worked him, shifting a little to ease the ache.

“If you can bear to stop sucking my cock I’d…like to fuck you senseless now…ah!”

Sebastian groaned as you forced him deep into your throat, holding him there just long enough for him to fall forward against the pensieve behind you. Once satisfied he was reeling with pleasure, you pulled away, popping off of his cock with a farewell lazy flick of your tongue.

“Merlin’s bloody balls. Bend over. Now.”

His voice was husky and he peered down at you with an almost crazed expression, his eyes wild and teeth bared. Predatory. You knew just how to tempt him, and he you.

“Enjoying yourself?” you teased, echoing his earlier question as you stood up.

Sebastian spun you around with a hard smack to your behind that made you giggle. That laugh was stifled when he pushed and pulled you into position, your elbows crashing into the stone rim of the basin.

“I’ll be enjoying myself a lot more when I’m deep inside that pretty little cunt,” he muttered.

“Fucking hell, Seb…”

His cock rocked impatiently against your behind, fingers gliding through the slick that coated your folds until he found your entrance. You cried out as his fingers pushed inside you, gripping the pensieve tight as you gazed into the swirling waters.

“Time to take a trip down memory lane, hm?”

With a final look back at him, ingraining his face to your own memory, you plunged into his. Once again you were pulled in once your face hit the cold barrier, landing on your feet in the illusion of his bedroom. You were met by his hunched figure, and a step revealed yourself, panting and submissive beneath him. Still a passive bystander, you watched his hands palming your breasts, yet you still felt all of which happened to your body outside of the memory. You felt the pulsing and stroking of his fingers, and the retreat of them which made you gasp.

The memory of Sebastian paid your very real moans no mind, unable to respond and thoroughly absorbed by those made by the version below him. His freckled hand moved from her breasts to her neck, squeezing as his hips gathered pace. You were mesmerised and thrumming with excitement, until suddenly you’d collapsed against the bed in ecstasy. The very real Sebastian pushed his cock inside you, filling you to the brim. Your walls fluttered and you whimpered as you felt him move, caressing every nerve ending you possessed deep inside you.

The figures before you became secondary to your pleasure, but still you watched, especially enraptured by Sebastian’s dishevelled appearance and the wet slapping of skin. Your flesh pinched and bruised around your hips as his fingers held you in place above the pensieve, the coiling tension in your abdomen mounting with every thrust. Unable to stay upright, you slumped onto the mattress at the opposite end of the bed to where your memory was being pounded.

It felt as if every roll of Sebastian’s hips coincided with that of the other’s. Your brain was mush, body writhing with the endless assault to your body and the deeply erotic display in your vision.

“Sebastian…oh, fuck…”

He couldn’t hear you, but it didn’t matter, everything you did was driven by instinct now; the grab of your breast and the arch of your back; the desperate, begging eyes you made at the memory in front of you. The pleasure was so much, too much, your breath stuttering and a tear leaking from your eye. You were sure you could pull yourself out of the memory with a thought, but why would you want to do so when you were floating amongst the clouds?

“Harder…harder…”

He seemed to sense your plea in the real world, or perhaps it was how your pussy clenched around him, anticipating your climax. He fucked you with enough force to make your eyes roll back into your head, blurring your vision as you tried to keep them on the couple in front of you. Though bleary, you swore you saw this Sebastian peer up at you through his eyelashes to meet your gaze. That’s when you felt yourself tip over the edge into oblivion. Your orgasm exploded so hard you felt your breath leave your lungs, or perhaps it was the chill from being mercilessly dragged out of the memory and back into the freezing cold Undercroft. But soon, as your body writhed with pleasure under the crashing waves of your orgasm, you were encased in the warmth of Sebastian’s body as he held you, his cock pulsing as he released his load inside you.

“Seb…oh Gods, I love you…”

Sebastian chuckled and kissed your sweat-laced cheek, squeezing your chest tightly as he breathed heavily against your skin. Your muscles relaxed in his embrace as the waves ebbed, until you both stood in the room, dazed and happy.

“I love you, too. How was it?”

“Interesting. Amazing. I missed you, though. Does that make sense?” you said with a breathless chuckle.

“Maybe I’ll have to experience it for myself.”

“You work out the logistics, and I’ll be happy to show you.”

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow fanfiction

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lincolndjarin · 2 months

Text

Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 5

chapter five : i'll decide where to go from here

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : happy last chapter of oh honey!!!! took a while to get out bc i was briefly on hiatus and then was in a slump (whoops) but here it is. this is another case of me writing an ending before the story so this has been the intended ending since i started and i hope you all like it as much as i do

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 6.4k

summary : a look into the past and present of life in honey, west virginia

warnings, etc. : language, allusions to sex, angst & fluff, complicated relationships and people who are trying to handle them, an obscene amount of flashbacks, reader has hair and is carried by Joel, several timelines in no particular order.

“C’mere, bunny.” His stubble brushes against the back of your neck, his mouth is warm as you feel a kiss placed against your spine.

“Mmm, what’s on the agenda for today?” You hum, pushing back against him a bit, the camper’s freezing in the winter, your heater broke a week ago and the parts Joel ordered to fix it won’t be in for a week. So you’re stuck with a little space heater you’d bought at the hardware store.

“I was thinkin’ we’d just do this for a while.” His arms tighten around your waist and stomach with a sigh. “We could just stay in today, order food, watch a movie on your laptop.” He yawns before nestling close against you.

“It’s too cold to stay here, it’s supposed to snow all weekend, it’s only gonna get worse. Maria even closed the home early yesterday” You groan, rolling over in his arms to press your face into his neck. The tips of your nose and ears are freezing, the two of you are under all the blankets you own, bundled up, when you peer out the window you can see the snow falling and settling on the trees.

Joel mumbles into your hair, deeply inhaling. “Why don’t you pack a bag and we can head back to the house then. You can stay until Monday and can fix the heat while you’re at work.”

“I hate staying at your place, all of my shit is here.” You spend most weekends at Joel’s, it’s easiest that way, but packing up all of your things and bringing them back and forth is getting tiring.

“Just bring it with you.”

“I think you underestimate how much stuff I need for four days.” You’re already giving yourself a headache trying to make a mental list of everything you’ll need.

“Why don’t you just move in.” He mumbles with another yawn. “It would make it easier for both of us if all your stuff was there.” It isn’t until he realizes that you’re frozen in place that he opens his eyes. “Or not, just a thought.”

You stammer an excuse, hoping to alleviate the tension that’s suddenly lingering between you. “I just- I don’t know if we’re there yet.”

“I didn’t mean to rush you, just thought I’d offer.” He shrugs before pulling you close again.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper into his chest.

“Don’t be. You’re right, it’s too soon for that.”

You’ve been together for a year now, you almost never sleep apart, if anything you should have moved in six months ago.

What’s stopping you?

You’ve been distancing yourself from any concrete commitments for sometime now and even if he never says it you know it bothers him. When do you stop punishing him for something you claim you’ve forgiven him for? He doesn’t hurt people as often anymore, at least he’s trying harder not to. But it’s getting hard for the both of you to keep up this system of locking yourselves in his room for a week every month.

Sometimes your cycle syncs with Maria and Sarah has to drive in from out of town to watch Ellie, it’s just generally become harder to manage.

But you can’t leave him when he’s like that.

On the rare occasion that you’re too exhausted to stay awake and entertain him he’ll end up in the woods and a massacred corpse ends up on your table when you return to work.

Everytime you think you’ve found forgiveness and acceptance you’re reminded of the fact that you love a monster. A selfish choice that you make every day. And everytime you tell him you can’t live with the guilt he gives you the same option.

Kill him.

You’re sure he doesn’t mean to make it sound so grim, each of you have complicated relationships with death. You just don’t think you’ll be able to live without him, and it’s not like he expects you to kill him yourself, he always tells you he’ll handle it with Tommy but you always shoot the idea down and you’re back to square one.

“I just need a little more time, I promise this isn’t forever.” You mumble as you sit up.

“I’d do anything for you, anything at all. Just tell me what to do.”

You don’t doubt that. But he still doesn’t give you what you actually want, all you ask of him is options that don’t involve him, or any more innocent people, on your cadaver cart.

The bed is empty when you wake up.

You knew it would be when you went to bed alone last night but a part of you, after all this time, still feels incomplete when the sheets beside you are cold. The creaking under the floorboards is the only noise in the house.

Your alarm clock reads 6:58 a.m. and you know it’s only a matter of minutes before you need to be up so you throw the blankets aside, stretch your arms above your head, and stand. Right on cue you hear the familiar stomping down the hall before your door swings open, Ellie rubs her eyes before scurrying over to you. Her hair’s in disarray, having fallen out of the braid you put it in last night, you scoop her up into your arms, trying to smooth the mess down.

“Good morning, little monster.” You mumble, kissing her cheek before carrying her down the hall and into the kitchen. You can’t help but wonder how much longer she’ll be small enough to hold like this. She’s already almost too heavy for you to lift for this long, and the living room and kitchen are still decorated with banners and deflating balloons from her sixth birthday party yesterday.

Kids birthdays, elementary school, home owning?

Even after a couple years it’s still a little dizzying that this is your life now. You set her down at the table, retrieving the generic sugary cereal you’ve grown fond of from the cabinet along with bowls, spoons, and milk, setting them down on the table in front of her.

“Can I feed the sheep before we go?” She says before reaching for her spoon, you nod.

“If you brush your teeth without giving me a hard time.” You fill your bowls, you have to remind her to slow down a few times as she shovels cereal into her mouth, eager to go out to the barn. You’re only halfway through your bowl when she runs off in the direction of her room.

You hear the telltale sounds of her pushing her step stool across the tile of the bathroom as she rummages through the cabinet. As you finish up your own food and tidy up you make a mental list of everything you need to do today.

Get Ellie ready for school.

Tend to the sheep.

Drive Ellie to school.

You take your phone out of your sweatpants pocket, 7:16, and text Maria to make sure they’re still good to take her this weekend. Ellie hums as she brushes her teeth when you peer into the bathroom before making your way into your own room, changing quickly, you’ve got about an hour before you need to leave.

Drive Ellie to daycare.

Grocery shopping.

Oil change.

Making lists helps. You like knowing what you’re going to do and when you’re going to do it, you’ve had enough surprises in your life, you don’t like when the routine changes. Without your routine you’d lose yourself entirely. Ellie helps, she likes structure as much as you do, you stand behind her in the bathroom now watching her finish up and making sure she did a good job. The sparkling stone on the counter catches your eye, a reminder that you’re constantly forgetting your ring. It’s a bit much for your taste but it’s a family heirloom and Joel insisted. Sliding it onto your finger as Ellie hands it to you.

Check on Ellie.

Clean the house.

Make dinner.

Before she can run back to her room you gently pull her back by the collar of her shirt, grabbing a hair tie off the counter you tie her hair in a ponytail before letting her go get dressed. By the time she’s ready you’ve got your jacket on, holding Ellie’s coat out for her to stick her arms through the sleeves. She already has a toothy grin plastered on her face as you both step out of the sliding doors leading to the backyard. You take her hand, knowing she’ll run ahead if given the chance, you know better than to let her out of her sight.

Dangerous things live in the woods of Honey.

She’s pulling you along through the short path between the trees leading to the barn with a fence surrounding it. Once you’re in the clearing you let her run ahead, once you’re able to see everything around you. The air is icy and damp as you follow after her, opening the gate as she slips under the fence. The sun is just starting to break through the trees, it’s still too cold for the sheep to be out, there isn’t much exposed grass for them to eat anyway. You’ve been keeping them in the barn most days unless it warms up, today isn’t one of those days. With a high pitched giggle Ellie rushes inside, you hear the familiar sounds of bleating as she greets all of them by name.

You watch in momentary silence as you make your own way into the barn, enjoying her little smile that warms up the freezing barn.

“Did you turn in your project yesterday?” You sit on a hay bale, watching her run amongst the sheep before turning to you, nose red from the chill. You hadn’t gotten to ask her about it since you’d been so busy with her party, it wasn’t really a “project.” Just a little assignment for the kids in her class, to draw something important to them.

Of course Ellie had wanted to draw her father, something you were happy to help with until she held the crayon in her fist and began to draw the sharp angles and pointed claws that you realized she couldn’t show it off to her class. You let her finish the drawing. It’s remarkable really, how someone so small and vulnerable can portray such a frightening creature without fear.

She loves him, that’s why.

You love him too but that doesn’t mean he didn’t terrify you. No amount of strange magical connection was going to change the fact that he scared you. The difference of course is that Ellie doesn’t know what he’s done. You had encouraged her to draw a background, concealing the mass of flesh and teeth in darkness and trees until only the two of you knew what hid behind the blue and green. Together you decided that it was a drawing of her favorite place. The national forest on the edge of town.

“Good, Riley guessed what it was though.” She says as she pats one of the lambs gently on the back.

“She guessed it was the Manangahela National Forest?” You give her a skeptical smile as she fills a bucket with feed before emptying it into the trough.

“Monongahela.” She corrects you proudly.

After all this time, you still never get it right.

“Smart ass.” You grumble under your breath as she carefully lifts the hose, filling the water buckets.

“Ass.” She says with a grin.

“Don’t say that.” You point at her sternly, stifling a laugh.

With a small huff she turns the hose off and rushes over to sit beside you and watch them.

“She said the forest was my favorite so it was easy.” She mumbles, briefly captivated by the sheep.

“She’s a good friend for knowing that.” You like Riley, you’ve watched the two girls play together several times before, she’s a good influence on Ellie as far as you can tell.

“Mhmm.” She hums, the silence returning between the two of you as you both watch the sheep.

You don’t tell her that you’re going to butcher one of them tonight.

You know that she can handle it. At this point in her life she can handle much more than any other six year old you’ve ever met but you just aren’t ready for that sort of thing yet. You haven’t been a parent long enough to know the proper way to go about that sort of thing.

“Time for school, kiddo.” You stand up abruptly and take her hand again, watching as she yells back to the sheep, saying goodbye to each and everyone of them.

The truck sits idly in the driveway but you ignore it, opening the door of your own car, Ellie throws her backpack in before climbing in herself. It was the first thing you’d bought with Darlene’s money. (The second thing you did was help Sarah with her student loans and put aside some for Ellie.) You hated driving the truck, it was too big and too loud, this just felt safer for driving Ellie around. Once she’s buckled into her seat you make your way over to the driver's side. The radio plays some rock song that immediately has her squealing in the backseat, with a grin you turn it up as you pull out of the driveway.

“Is she my mom now?”

You had been walking past Ellie’s room after your shower, wearing one of Joel’s flannels with the towel wrapped around your hair when her voice froze you in place, her bedroom door cracked open.

“That’s not exactly how that works, kiddo.” His voice has a nervous lilt to it you don’t often hear from him.

“Then why is she always here?” She sits up a bit and you hold your breath as Joel’s brow furrows.

“Is that a problem?” God you hope not.

“No, I like her.” The tension in his face relaxes with your own.

“I’m glad you do. I like her too.”

“So when will she become my mom?” Her persistence on the issue makes you feel as awkward as he currently looks.

“She’ll become your mom if she wants that. But that probably won’t happen until we’re married, and I don’t know if she wants that yet either.” There’s a beat of silence, you’re heart skipping a beat at the earnestness of the conversation. The silence is quickly interrupted by the little one screaming your name as you rush back to the bathroom, opening and shutting the door to try and make it seem like you hadn’t been listening.

“Yes, little monster?” You make a real show of stepping loudly down the hall as you push the door open. You’re greeted by the sight of Ellie trying to wriggle out of a rather flustered Joel’s arms, face red and flushed as he tries to shove her under her blankets.

“She’s just messin’ around.” He grumbles before throwing a pillow at the giggling mess.

Her voice calling your name from the backseat snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What’s up?” You turn the music down as you glance at her in the rearview mirror.

“Can Riley come over today after school if her mom says it’s okay?”

“You’re going to Uncle Tommy’s tonight, love. I’ll text her mom and see if she’s okay with picking her up from there if he gets you guys after school. Does that sound okay?” She nods happily when you look in the mirror before going back to singing along with the radio. When you pull up to the parent drop off you get out of the car to unbuckle her, kneeling down in front of her as she pulls her backpack straps over shoulders.

“Can we have a birthday party with Dad when he gets back?” She tilts her head to the side as she asks, you lean forward and kiss her on the cheek before pulling her into a hug.

“Absolutely we can.” You give her a soft smile before her attention is diverted towards a group of her friends. “Be good today, I love you.”

“Love you, bye!” She leans in to give you a kiss on your own cheek before rushing off, you watch her go, waiting until she’s in the building before getting back in the car. You send a quick text to Riley’s mom and Maria, scheduling plans for the girls before putting the car in drive as you head off towards a neighboring town. Honey has a grocery store but on days like this where you have so much free time you like to go to the nicer ones out of town.

You turn the radio off now that it’s just you, cranking the heat to keep warm as you drive in silence.

“We should get married.” You had brought the idea up, much to his surprise. About a year ago, as you were setting up for Ellie’s fifth birthday party, a year after you’d finally moved in.

“Are you serious?” He had been laying on his back, under the camper, working on the more technical aspects of the project. In his shock he’d rolled himself back out to stare at you.

Why wouldn’t you be? Sure, it took a lot of effort on his part but you finally feel like you’ve stopped holding everything against him. You had hoped that he knew that by now.

“Why not? Everyone already thinks we are, everyone at Ellie’s school calls her my daughter, Tommy’s been teasing me about it for ages-” He pulls himself to his feet, quickly putting his hands on your shoulders.

“Bunny, slow down.” He’s getting flustered, you swear his drawl is thicker when he gets like this.

“You’re the one who always says I take things too slow.” You frown, turning back to the flowers you’d been planting in the boxes under the window but he turns you back around to face him.

“You mean it?” His voice is a whisper and you quickly realize how much this means to him.

“Of course, I mean, we’re going to spend our lives together anyway, why wait.” You give him a reassuring smile as you tilt your head to kiss his cheek, briefly letting yourself indulge in the taste of his skin before pulling back. “As much as I’d love to talk about this more, we should get back to work if we want to finish this before she’s home.”

He doesn’t say anything else about it as he goes back to running the electrical under the camper and you can’t help but wonder if you crossed a line. Thankfully you’re on a time crunch to finish this and your mind is kept busy.

The two of you work in silence, almost synchronized as you move from task to task. He brings the cinder blocks out and lines the camper, creating a semi-permanent foundation as you string fairy lights along the outside and finish up planting flowers around the entire thing. Joel attaches the small porch he and Tommy made a few weeks ago that you had painted as you step inside. It’s unrecognizable after all the work the two of you put into it. The ceiling now painted a dark blue, glow in the dark paint dotted along the entire thing, when the sun goes down she’ll be able to see the stars from inside the camper. You painted the walls and changed out the curtains and sheets more to Ellie’s tastes. She’d always loved it here, when Joel was actually busy with work trips she’d stay with you in the camper. Even nowadays with you living with her and Joel she still often asks if she can play in the camper.

Just as you’re finishing up Joel steps inside as well, testing all of the faucets while wiping a bit of sweat from his brow.

“Think she’ll like it?” You ask, your fingers nervously twitch as you roll the hem of your shirt between them, he laughs as he leans back against the counter.

“She’s gonna love it, s’better than any gift I’ve ever gotten her.” You can’t help but smile as he holds his arms out towards you, you quickly step into them, leaning against his chest and taking a deep breath.

You open your mouth to speak, wanting to address your proposition from earlier quickly so it doesn’t hang in the air for too long but you hear the familiar rumble of Tommy’s truck pulling into the driveway and the two of you quickly rush out of the camper and down the steps. You straighten the bow on the door and quickly lock it. You hear Ellie’s laughter as she runs around the side of the house, Tommy and Maria walking up behind her.

She’s excited to see both of you, a paper crown announcing her birthday adorns her head as she runs up to hug her father. The second she sees the camper though she darts right past him.

“Why’s this here?” She yells excitedly, she knows exactly why it’s here instead of sitting stagnant on the piece of property you sold just a few days ago. You smile at Joel, nodding towards her as he leans down to pick her up.

“She got you a little birthday present, since you’ve been so nice to her and let her come live with us.” He points at you as she immediately starts squirming out of his grasp, tossing her backpack aside as she runs up the little porch steps. She turns around to look at you with a huge smile on her face.

“Are you fucking serious?” She screams. You can’t help it as a laugh slips out of you, thankfully Tommy can’t hold it together either as Joel immediately breaks into a lecture you nudge his shoulder as you hand her the key.

“It’s her birthday, she’s allowed to say it on her birthday.” You murmur through your continued laughter. She wraps her arms around your legs, hugging you tightly before turning around and unlocking the door. “Happy birthday, Ellie.”

She had loved her party, thankfully. And she loved her new playhouse much to your relief.

You and Joel laid on opposite sides of her as her little snores filled the camper, she had wanted a campout as a birthday treat and you were both more than willing to oblige. You’re staring up at the faintly glowing stars painted on the ceiling when he sets the box down next to you. You grab it, wanting to ask him more but not wanting to wake Ellie up you open it.

And you’re met with a ridiculously gorgeous ring.

Clearly an heirloom but he’s recently had it polished, one large diamond framed by two smaller ones on either side of it. Your eyes are wide as you stare down at it, shimmering in the moon light before sharply turning your head to the man with a dopey smile lying across from you.

“Been carrying that around for a while now, if I’d known you were ready I would’a asked sooner.” His voice is low as Ellie stirs a bit and you both freeze as she rolls over closer to her father.

Neither one of you speaks again, but the look on your face as you put the ring on was answer enough.

The beeping brings you back to reality as you scan every item in the self checkout lane.

You’re only feeding yourself while Ellie’s with Maria and Tommy, so you keep it simple. Another box of cereal, milk, an apple, a loaf of bread and deli meats. You’re pretty sure you have enough cheese and other essentials to get you through the rest of the weekend. On your way up to the checkout counter you grab a bag of dark roast coffee beans and a box of tampons.

You’re out of both.

You know you live in memories too often, especially without Joel to keep you in reality. You find him in the past when he isn’t beside you because something needs to fill the aching void that yearns for his smell, his taste, and his touch. And echoes of Joel are almost as good as the real thing. There’s a funny comfort you find in memories. Even unhappy ones. There’s no surprises in memories, you know what’s going to happen and you know you survived it.

Even the bad memories bring you comfort when he isn’t around to do it himself.

You pay quickly, loading everything into the cooler in the car as you head off in the direction of your mechanic. When you park you’re told it’ll take about fifteen minutes, nodding as you sit in the waiting room, where your mind inevitably wanders to one of the worst memories in the hours following your meeting in the Applebees that has since closed.

You didn’t pay attention to the road.

Instead you stared at your hands in your lap as he drove, not bothering with the radio, the two of you stewing in your silence as he pulled into the driveway. You didn’t even unbuckle your seatbelt, he had come around the truck and done that for you, pulling you into his arms and carrying you bridal style up the porch steps and into the house, only stopping to kick the door shut before bringing you to his room, clicking on the lamp he hadn’t bothered to remove, and setting you on the mattress.

He lays down beside you, taking your face in his hands but you immediately recoil, pushing him away.

“What do I have to do to earn your forgiveness? To show you I’m sorry? Cause I don’t see a point to any of this if it’s never going to happen, it’ll be better for both of us if we know where we stand.” He’s right, unfortunately. Neither one of you deserves to waste the other's time if this is going to mean nothing.

If you can’t forgive him.

“Can you at least let me love you? Do you think you can manage that?” His voice is dangerously close to cracking and you have to pray that he doesn’t break. If he can’t hold it together you know you won’t be able to either. “Neither one of us wants to deal with this but we don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t know.” You mumble, you really don’t know so why answer with anything else?

“I don’t even need a concrete answer, bunny. I just need to know if someday you’re going to be able to forgive me. I can’t live a life where you keep me at arms length.”

You hadn’t responded. Just slid closer to him.

And you let him hold you until you fell asleep, hoping that would be enough.

Your phone buzzing is what snaps you out of your empty thoughts this time. When you open the notification you’re met with a message from Maria, a photo of Tommy sleeping in the recliner, Ellie sitting in his lap, and Riley sitting on the arm of the chair, watching whatever movie they put on the T.V.

[ Made it back from school. Watching Treasure Planet. ]

[ love it ] [ thanks again for taking them ]

The mechanic returns shortly after, handing you your keys and telling you you’re good to go. The hour drive back isn’t terrible, you opt to listen to music on the way back. It’s quiet when you return home. Putting away the groceries and making yourself a sandwich as you look around the cluttering remnants of the party yesterday, the only sounds are your chewing and the soft creaking and scratching from under the floorboards.

Joel has so much pride for your home. He would hate it if he knew how dirty it was currently, the thought alone has you reaching for an empty trash bag once you’re finished eating.

You turn all the lights on as the sun starts to set, how much time did you spend daydreaming today? You try not to think too hard about it as you start cleaning up the plastic cups and paper plates that litter every surface of the living room, popping deflating balloons and sweeping up discarded streamers and confetti. There’s a feeling of solace that comes with cleaning the house, making it feel like home once more.

This isn’t just Joel’s house now, it’s yours as well, even if you thought this would never be the case.

“I know that you shot down the idea last time but I want to show you something.”

“Joel, I just don’t think…” Your voice trails off as you stare at the key ring he’s holding out towards you. If you can’t guarantee that he won’t hurt people you can’t share a home with him, it’s stupid and it makes you feel childish but you can’t come home to him knowing people are still dying, even if you can’t stay away from him.

“Just give me a chance to show you.” He puts the keys back into his pocket before taking your hand. Walking you down the hall towards his room, he stops briefly to check in on Ellie, still tucked into her own bed as you peer into her room before he closes her door quietly. “I don’t want you to think that a life with me is going to be only horrors, and I know that a part of you has already resigned yourself to such a thing but you don’t deserve that.” You’re about to interrupt him, tell him that’s not true despite the ache in your chest that tells you he’s right but he’s opening his own bedroom door and you’re too busy staring slack jawed inside.

It’s unrecognizable from the monster cage he’d created for himself.

Instead of resting bare and on the floor, the mattress has sheets and now rests on a low to the ground metal frame. The photos that were once taped to the wall are now in frames or pinned to a bulletin board he hung up.

He put a rug down that covers any claw marks on the floor and he’s done his best to hang up photos and paintings over the scratches on the walls. There’s even furniture now, a nightstand on either side of the bed with a matching dresser, lamps scattered around the room make the space feel warm and lived in.

“You- you did all this?”

“If you live with me I don’t want you to have to sleep in some sort of creepy homemade dungeon, you deserve an actual bedroom.” He whispers as you look at the paintings on the wall, all of them are Alice in Wonderland themed. “I borrowed those from Sarah’s room, we can change them out when- if you move in.” He quickly mumbles as you look up at a painting of Alice staring into a lake, her own image being reflected back up at her.

“It’s lovely, it’s perfect Joel.” You turn back to him as he rubs the back of his neck bashfully.

“This ain’t it, there's a few more surprises for you.” The shocked look remains on your face as he takes your hand once more, bringing you back into the kitchen and out the sliding glass door.

You had run outside without shoes on and took down the banner hanging on the camper before rushing back in and tossing it in the trash bag. When you look at the clock it’s just a couple minutes from 7:00 p.m. You bring the bag out to the porch before washing your hands.

You don’t bother taking a shower as you change into your pajamas, setting your ring on your nightstand, not wanting to risk damaging it as you pull up a pair of sweats you don’t care about being ruined and an old shirt you wore when you painted the bathroom a month ago. Grabbing the apple off the counter you shove it into your sweatpants pocket. Shooting Maria one last text and turning your phone on do not disturb, you tell her to say goodnight to Ellie for you before slipping your sneakers on and heading out the back door once more.

You don’t like going to the barn alone, and you should have put on a proper jacket, without the sun to warm you, your skin prickles with goosebumps. The dark doesn’t frighten you very much anymore, and it’s easy to follow the familiar path even in the dark. Your phone flashlight illuminates the ground in front of you as you walk, you’re trying to remember if there is a specific sheep Ellie isn’t attached to.

Most of the flock is sleeping save for a few stragglers, you decide not to overthink it, grabbing a lead and putting it over the head of the first sheep that’s brave enough to greet you. The unlucky winner is one of the older sheep, making its way over to you the second you open the gate. You reward her bravery with the apple in your pocket, the only sounds in the quiet night are those of chewing as you walk her back towards the house.

You swung your intertwined hands between the two of you as you walked through the trees behind his house. He must have worked startlingly fast to do that for you, no ones ever put in that sort of effort for you before.

The sun is just starting to set behind you as he takes a step back and covers your eyes.

“Hey-” You start to object with a giggle as he continues walking you forward.

“Oh hush, let this be a surprise.” He chuckles as he leads you further down the path before stopping abruptly and lifting his hands. “Surprise.” He whispers, taking a step back.

“Woah.” You exhale in shock as you stare at the barn in front of you. A white fence surrounding it.

It’s beautiful.

“Tommy and I grew up on a farm, we can raise whatever you want, pigs, sheep, chickens, anything you want.” He mumbles as he wraps his arms around you from behind, kissing your cheek.

“I love that idea, but can I ask why?” You let out a nervous laugh as you turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

“That’s actually a part of your last surprise.”

“Another?” Your voice pitches up, he built you a fucking barn, what else could he have done for you?

“I want you to know how serious I am about you moving in, I don’t want you to have any doubt.” He mumbles against your temple, inhaling deeply before pulling away and taking your hand one more time. “Come on.” He pulls you back towards the house as the sun sets for good, you walk in the darkness until he brings you to the basement entrance and pulls out the keys he’d offered you.

Several locks adorn the basement entrance, you sift through your key ring until you find each lock's respective key, letting them drop into the grass as you remove each one. When you swing the heavy metal doors open you’re met with the welcoming warmth that comes from below. Several lamps and space heaters create a warm glow that beckons you down the steps. Almost immediately the sheep pulls away, bleating fearfully. Animals are far more intelligent than anyone gives them credit for, they know when something is wrong.

You pull her down with you then reach up and let the doors slam down, sealing the poor thing in its tomb with you.

You drop the lead once the doors are closed, there’s no point in leading the lamb any closer to the inevitable slaughter.

“I have loved you since I first saw you in that bar. I have loved you every moment since, you could be cruel and terrible and I’d love you still and I’d probably deserve it. But you aren’t. You’re smart, and you care about everything, and you love everyone even if they aren’t worthy of it.” His hands caress your face as he whispers into the night air. “And you feel so much guilt for the things I do even though you shouldn’t. You can forgive me for all that I’ve done but it won’t change the fact that I’m still doing terrible things. I’ve done terrible things for so long that I didn’t really consider any other options, but you deserve other options.”

He pulls open the basement doors once all the locks are undone, and offers his hand to you.

“I want to show you that I can change, that I would do anything you need me to do, be anything you need me to be.”

It’s your choice, take it or leave, he won’t hold it against you if you crack and can’t handle it anymore. But you need him to keep yourself together in the first place so you take his calloused hand in yours and let him lead you down into the darkness.

The smell of vanilla and pine is dense down here.

As you descend further down the steps you see the familiar set up, a few lamps and lanterns are scattered throughout the darkness as well as a couple space heaters that are only there for your benefit. A mattress you insist on putting sheets on is pushed against one of the scratched up walls, the blankets and pillows scattered about the space, you walk over to the mess, picking up the scattered quilts as you throw everything back down on the mattress. You can feel the movement behind you, the scratching against the cement as you lay down, even with the heaters it’s cold. Thankfully you know you’ll be warm enough soon.

The panicked baa’s of the sheep are swiftly silenced, replaced with the wet tearing sound that once would have filled you with dread. It’s a bit morbid how comforting you now find them, you roll over as you pull another blanket up over yourself, watching the iron chains drag across the floor as the unseen figure pulls them in different directions.

You can see movement dancing on the edges of the lamp light, the smell of blood is almost as prominent now as the suffocating sweetness. A smile begins to tease the corners of your mouth as you hear him moving closer, the familiar, gravely voice that calls out from the dark recesses of the basement fills your ears like warm honey.

“C’mere, bunny.”

a/n : that's a wrap on oh honey folks, once again im sorry i made yall wait so long, i hope it was worth it <3

i no longer have a tag list but for fic updates follow @lincolndjarinnotifs !!

#lincolndjarin #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou hbo #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #monster fucker #monster lover #monster romance #oh honey #fic : oh honey

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catiuskaa · 3 months

Text

i don’t like my mind.

part of the “now playing: mitski!” series

SUMMARY: there was nothing you could’ve said to him to keep hyunjin away from his thoughts. Not on the night of March 20, 2021.

WC: 0.675k

CW: mentions of vomiting, it’s really short but angsty, hyunjin’s hiatus in 2021 is the main plot. (as an oddinary era stay, i can’t grasp how it must’ve felt, so i’m sorry for bringing old memories back. </3)

A/N: ok, shit. as an empath, this was hard to write. talk about a challenge… uf. I’m sorry. please go check out my other works, i am not this depressing in default i swear 😭🫶

[◼️☆🎂☆◼️]

Hyunjin shivered, as he stared blankly at his phone.

The date glowed back, as if mocking him.

“19:54, March 20, 2021.”

It should’ve been a fairly normal late evening for him. But it couldn’t.

Normal had never been a word that he’d use often, but considering his usual routine, no one would’ve called that ‘normal.’

Except that it wasn’t going to be his routine anymore. He sighed.

His room felt colder than usual. He felt colder than usual.

Hyunjin nuzzled the blanket over his nose, and cocooned himself further under it.

He stared at the window, the curtains swaying from the wind that came from outside, but he didn’t mind it. He knew that he was cold because the window was open, but deep inside, he knew that closing it wouldn’t fix his coldness. Or how he felt and empty feeling inside of him, as if it was stuck to his heart.

The blanket wasn’t helping. He kicked it off with a grunt.

Then, his phone chimed. It had been chiming the past five minutes. Maybe ten.

< princess: hyunjin, please

His heart swelled in his chest.

< princess: talk to me, jinnie

< princess: I need to know you’re fine.

He only managed to chuckle dryly, a laugh full of acid, almost poisonus, and that sick feeling scattered all through his body.

...fine?

How could he be fine, knowing that most likely, his life was never going to be the same? How could he be fine, thinking that it could be possible that he really had wasted all of those years for nothing?

He closed his eyes.

Several people had texted him ‘happy birthday,’ but none of them new what it was going to be like.

Painful.

It was like daggers that threatened to puncture his heart and leave him bleeding on the floor, the only culprit being himself and whoever thought it was a good idea to leave him alone in his room, with his thoughts as his only company.

He frowned, and dizzily stood up from his bed, his body hurting from all the stress he had been putting himself to. In his mind, he had to be doing something. He wanted to do something. He didn’t want to keep waiting for the fuss to leave him. He wanted to keep dancing. To keep singing.

He needed to keep living.

The sight of his desk table gave him nausea. He grimmaced at it, his eyes swelling up with tears again.

Cake.

The one Jeongin and Felix had bringed hours ago. The one that they reluctantly admitted that they weren’t supposed to eat because of their restricted diets. The one that they had to leave there just the two of them because the rest of the members had so many things to do that they couldn’t manage to pass by.

The one he hadn’t dared to touch, afraid that it wouldn’t go pass the lump on his throat.

It stared at him. The whole cake. It made a nasty shiver trail up his spine, a sudden need to throw up that made him even more sick.

A stray tear fell down his cheek.

He took the cake with a sudden softness that almost surprised him.

His phone kept buzzing, forgotten, on his bed.

< princess: i’m sure the company will let you come back with them soon

< princess: hyunjin, please

< princess: call me when you see this

< princess: please, hyun, don’t do anything stupid.

< princess: I love you.

But not even your kind words could go through Hyunjin’s mind.

He approached the window and looked down from the fifth floor, finding a trash container next to the building in front.

With a groan, he stared at the cake, at the message over it.

“Happy birthday!”

He sniffed, quickly cleaning his tears up with one hand, as both of them trembled, the other still holding the cake.

And he threw it to the container, watching it crash against its lid despite the plastic cover.

He didn’t want to have a happy birthday.

He wanted his life back.

[◼️☆🎂☆◼️]

~Kats, who is so sorry for this, and who admires all of the stays who had to go through hyun’s hiatus.

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staywhore · 4 months

Text

countdown to midnight

felix x reader

word count: 2009

genre: smut with a hint of angst?! (my first attempt so be nice)

warnings: friends to lovers, hot hot hot takeout sesh, biting, slight angst if you can call it that.

an: sorry there's not a lot here! this is part one of two so look forward to the next update to see what happens (eye emoji) I hope everyone had an amazing new year! I love you all, thank you so much for supporting me this past year despite my hiatus.

taglist: @mingigoo @ravenjoongie @wickeddarkness-place @whatudowhennooneseesyou @teezers99 @mirror-juliet

new years confession part one click here for part two

You ducked fast as a mis-shapen ball of snow is hurled towards your head. A pang of adrenalin strikes right through your heart despite the fact that there now is a small smile pulling at the corner of your mouth. You clutch the ball of snow in your beige mitten and prepare to throw it back at your attacker. Risking a quick look you see that he has his back turned to you and you take your chance to make your move. You quickly stand and throw the snowball with as much force as you can muster to ensure it makes its mark. Watching as the non lethal projectile flies across the imagined battlefield, you see as it connects with the neck of your blonde attacker. His head moves forward with impact, causing him to look as though he’s bowing.

He turns to you with a shocked look on your face. The laughter fills your mind until you can’t help but fold as it erupts from you. With tears now in your eyes and the look on his face on loop in your mind, you don’t notice that the man is now running towards you. You look up right before he makes contact with you. His arms wrapping around your waist lifting you up slightly before you feel yourself falling backwards. You can’t help but let out a little scream at the feeling of falling. He tackles you into a pile of snow that previously was your attempt at a snowman before the snowball fight ensued.

“How does it feel to lose to a girl?” You say a little out of breath from the adrenalin still pumping rapidly throughout your body. You can’t help but smile as you look up and see a matching grin paired with that oh-so-familiar sparkle of mischief in his deep brown eyes. The former flicks back and forth a few times from your eyes to your mouth. He just lets out a short throaty laugh as a response.

“Are you going to let me get up?” You say, starting to feel the weight of his stare. His hand reaches out and he brushes some snowflakes that are collecting on your eyelashes.

Felix has been your friend for three years now. You’ve stayed friends through drunken calls, colds, and breakups. Of course you’ve noticed his impeccable beauty. His deep brown eyes that glow in the sunlight giving the illusion of having dark chocolate for irises. The freckles that are splattered across his nose, cheeks, and a few on his forehead; it’s as if an artist took his brush and placed each one specifically. His full pink lips that you have only ever seen turned down in frustration or anger a handful of times. He is the image of beauty to you. Yet in these past two, nearly three, years you never let your feelings manifest into anything stronger. You’ve seen the girls he has dated, you look nothing like them. So you keep your love for him platonic, and lock up anything less deep within your heart.

His gentle touch threatens to bring your bubbling feelings to the surface. The soft material of his gloved fingers moved from your closed eyes onto your cheeks, that are no longer flushed because of the cold. Sometimes you think he’s looking at you as more than a friend, but the thought leaves you quickly. Despite what happened a year ago.

“I’m quite comfortable actually.” The corner of his lips turn up in challenge to your question.

It was New Years Eve, everyone was drinking and having a good time playing games and sharing stories. Felix had not left you alone for the entirety of the evening, not that that was unusual. Usually you stick to each other’s side, but something was different. If you stepped out of arm's reach of him you could feel his stare following you throughout the apartment. Eventually you decided to ask what the fuck is up.

You pulled him off to one of the two bathrooms in yours and your friends shared apartment. It just happened to be the smaller of the two, just enough room for a sink, toilet, and a small shower encased by frosted glass. Not totally realizing that we are now nearly chest to chest as you look up to him to confront him.

“What’s wrong with you tonight?” You say a little too loud, noting to lower your volume from now on.

“Nothing’s wrong y/n.” He says without looking at you. Seemingly focused on a very interesting spot on the wall no doubt.

“Bull shit Felix.” Attempting to cross your arms at your chest, but can’t successfully without touching him. It feels weird to touch him tonight. You can’t figure out why. “You have been acting strange all evening.” You settle with placing your hands on your hips.

After a few beats of silence Felix finally looks at you. He seems to be searching for something in your face. His chocolate eyes flicking to the different parts of your face. An unspoken emotion hanging in the air between the two of us. Maybe it’s the seclusion, or maybe it’s the drinks finally working their way into your system, but tonight he looks different. Your eyes dared a look at his lips, quickly looking back up to his eyes. His pupils dilated.

“Felix..” Now he looked at your lips as you spoke, but he wasn’t quick to look away like you were. He leaned forward causing you to step back hitting the wall. “What is wr-” He cuts you off with a finger shushing your lips.

“Y/n, I know you feel it two.” You could feel yourself pale.

“I don’t know what you are talking about Felix.”

“I know this is sudden y/n, maybe it’s the alcohol or the fact that it’s new years eve, but I want to kiss you tonight.. I want you and I don’t wanna hide it anymore.” His hands found their way to your face, tilting it back slightly. Your mouth was suddenly dry and eyes wide at the confession.

“But.. I- I didn’t think I was your type?” You barely manage to get your words out.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life y/n.” Past the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears you can hear your friends call for you.

“It’s nearly midnight.” Your response to his second confession.

“I know y/n.” He continues to stare down at you. Trapping you against the cool wall and his hard body. “I’d like to kiss you if you’ll let me.”

Mind racing. You swear he could hear your heart beating. Your eyes roamed over his face, looking for any sign of deception. You could hear your friends starting their count down into the new year.

"10"

"9"

"8"

"7"

"6"

"5"

"4"

"3"

“Kiss me felix.” His lips crashed onto yours as your friends finished counting down, and cheered as they rang the new year in. Hands found their way into your hair, pulling slightly, causing you to gasp. He took his chance to kiss you deeper. Felix consumed you wholly. His tongue explored your mouth as he continued to deepen the kiss. His hands roaming further down your body. They moved from your hair to your neck, then shoulders, and smoothed down your back softly causing you to shiver. Your own found their way to his shaggy blonde hair.

Finally snapping from your stupor you tug at his locks softly. He moans into your mouth, sending a bolt of arousal directly to your core. So you pull harder. This time he growls as his grip on your ass tightens. He spins the two of you around so your back is now to the sink, lifting you, you now are sitting on the lip of the sink; wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. His hand slid from your ass to your waist, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. A silent request for permission, you respond by taking your nails to his broad shoulders and running them along his clothed skin. Cool fingertips slid up your skin sending goosebumps to your arms. The further north his hands went, the deeper your nails dug into his shoulders.

He breaks away from the kiss to look into your eyes. His own half lidded with arousal looking at your lips that are no doubt plumped and a deeper shade of pink from the kiss. He lets out a deep breath before he leans in to kiss you gently. Staring at your lips then going to your nose and forehead. Moving to your neck where he places pepperings of kisses that once again cause you to shiver. All while his fingers are running along your rib cage, and just under the fabric of your bra. As his hands move up taking the silky material of your shirt with him he bites your earlobe.

Pulling your shirt over your head he leans back slightly to take a full look at you. Chest heaving and knuckles gone white from the grip you have on the sink. One hand goes to your neck to pull you back into a deep kiss. His lips run down your neck this time he’s not so gentle. He leaves bite marks in his wake. Each time he sucks your skin you let out a little moan, and the next time he sucks a little harder. He does the same thing to your chest. Teasing you as he plays with the edge of our bra, not quite going underneath the fabric.

“Please Felix.” You say breathlessly. He obeys and reaches behind to unhook your bra. The feel of it sliding against your skin only heightens your arousal. Without hesitation he takes one of your nipples into your mouth and sucks it. It was a struggle to not scream at the sensation.

“F-felix.. Fuck.” You moan as he releases the first with a pop and moves to the second. Your hands find their way to his head once more, tugging as he moans around your breast. Your abs begin to burn trying to keep you balanced on the ledge. Releasing the second with a pop he looks up at you, this time with fire in his eyes.

“Y/n…” Right before he can say anything else the handle to the door jiggles, shortly followed by a pounding fist.

“Hey open up! I gotta piss.” Someone who sounds an awful lot like a drunken changbin shouts from the other side of the door. Heat instantly rushes to your face as you push Felix off of you and quickly try to make yourself decent.

“Be right out.” You stammer, frantically searching for your shirt. Seriously, where did that thing go in such a small space! Only stopping when Felix's hands cup your face once more, causing you to look up at him. He looked like he had a lot to say, but he leaned in to kiss you. Flinching back not wanting to seem any more suspicious than you probably already have to the party, you regretted it immediately. The hurt that flashed across his beautiful features stung you.

“Felix.. I didn’t-” He turned away from you picking up your shirt and handed it to you, his silence was deadly. He waited until you readied yourself, tucking you behind him while he opened the door.

Feeling awkward and embarrassed you hid out in your room until the last of your party guests left, feigning a headache. Curled up in your bed scrolling through your phone, when Felix’s name pops onto your screen.

[sorry for tonight y/n] Another ding sounds

[maybe we should just stay friends, go back to the way things were before tonight] it’s almost as if a knife went straight through your heart. With tears in your eyes you begin to reply, but you can’t find any words so you just turn your phone over and quietly cry yourself to sleep.

#skz #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #felix x reader #felix smut #staywhore

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zafirosreverie · 6 months

Text

Change the future part 3

part 1

a/n: Still on hiatus, just wanted to post something on the triplets' birthday

a/n2: I don’t even know what ship is this about anymore

__________________________

"At some point you're going to have to talk to her about this"

"But that won’t be today, Pepa"

Julieta said as she continued to cook, deliberately ignoring the way her pulse raced and her nerves stood on edge. She didn't even need to turn around to know that her sister was rolling her eyes as she leaned against the door frame. She knew the redhead was right, but she didn't have the will or the courage to face this thing she had been running from for weeks and only one thought lived rent free in her mind.

Y/N’s back.

Her head was spinning just remembering the moment she saw you again. You were thinner, you had more gray hair, and a couple of new wrinkles around your eyes, but you were still her Y/N, warm, simple, and unbelievably beautiful.

She didn't like to admit that she probably would have thrown herself into your arms without thinking if it weren't for Isabela, who had been faster than her. Things hadn’t been easy for her and her two remaining daughters, so the moment they saw you appear over the hill, the three of them had run out of the house not caring that the rest of the family looked at them in confusion.

Isabela didn't even bother to slow her run before she crashed into the open arms you offered her and your joyous laughter made her stomach feel weird, as if thousands of butterflies woke up inside her. You had shared many things in your letters during all those years, and for that time, Julieta allowed herself to think that it was enough, but the universe showed her how wrong she was when, having you in front of her once more, her heart seemed to cry happy tears, as if a piece of her had finally come back to complete her puzzle.

She didn't have time to think about it though, not when her precious Mirabel, now so big and beautiful, lunged at her, hiding her face in her neck, crying and telling her how much she had missed her. It took her brain a moment to recognize that the young woman in her arms was, in fact, her youngest daughter, her baby, but once that settled in her mind, it was like all the weight of the world was finally lifted from her shoulders.

"You're so beautiful, mija" she whispered, not even bothering to stop the tears that ran down her cheeks.

Mirabel had smiled waterily at her, whispering a soft thank you and saying again how much she had missed her. The girl dulled in her mother’s scent for a while, just trying to find the comfort she needed when she left so many years ago, and sighed happily before gasping and pulling away from her to run to the person behind her.

"Tía Pepa!!"

The brunette barely had a few seconds to laugh at the way her daughter was scooped up by the redhead before she herself was tackled by two familiarly strange and warm bodies.

"Tía Juli, look! I'm almost as tall as you!"

"Tía, tía, tía, I already know how to cook! And look! I cut my hair!"

"We brought you presents!"

"But mine are better because I love you more"

"Not true! I love her more!"

"No, I love her more!"

Julieta only managed to laugh softly while Joaquín and María clung to each of her arms and fought for her attention; they had five years of conversations to catch up with her after all. It really felt like time hadn't passed, even though your children were no longer the little babies she saw leaving that night. And then there was you.

You, who had smiled at her with complicity from your own tangle of hugs with Luisa and Isabela, you, who had been her rock, her pillar, and her cane even when you were so far away. You, who were stirring her entire being with your mere presence. You, who had approached her, hugged her when your children still held her arms hostage. You, who had whispered in her ear that little confession that haunted her dreams.

"I was dying to see you again, Eta...I missed you so much"

At that time, she had simply wriggled out of your children's grasp and returned the gesture, trying not to get lost on your warmth (even if she really wanted to cry), having you there was a huge relief, and all the stress and anxiety that had been eating at her insides for years was finally beginning to dissipate, her usually tormented mind was quickly being filled with a single thought: you were here.

"I missed you too" she managed to say, looking into your eyes with a small smile

"Yes, yes, will you get out of here please? There are people who also want to greet Y/N”

Julieta blinked a bit as her sister pulled her away from you and she didn't miss the way you looked at her half amused and half confused before returning Pepa's tight hug. She couldn't blame you, her sister had never been as close to you as she was, but she supposed that after everything that had happened since you left, the redhead's conception of you had changed. Well, at least you knew you had both of your sisters-in-law on your side.

“It's good to see you again, Pepa” you said as you separated “You haven't aged a bit…you don't even have gray hair! I need to know your secret"

"Oh, Y/N" she laughed "it's good to have you back"

"Her secret is to annoy me so that I’m the one getting gray hair and not her'' Julieta joked, crossing her arms.

You looked between the sisters while Pepa rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at the brunette, a gesture that the older triplet returned. Your mind struggled to catch up on it all, because you really couldn't remember the last time you'd seen them tease each other so openly, it was pretty cute.

The rest of the meeting was pretty adorable too. Joaquín and María used Félix as a climbing pole, while the man just laughed, Luisa and Isabela told you as much as they could, asking you questions while you tried to pay attention to both of them. Julieta thought that her daughter would ask about Agustín, or that she would be upset with her for their divorce, but Mirabel was quick to give her a hug and assure her that she didn't blame her or cared about him.

The brunette didn't have to wonder much where her youngest daughter was learning to handle the situation, because at that moment you intervened, gently squeezing the girl's shoulder.

"He couldn't bear to lose a daughter so he abandoned the other two? Math ain mathin" you said.

Julieta had just smiled gratefully at you as you winked at her, and for a moment everything felt good, like things were really starting to go back to normal, the way they should be. And then…then you saw Bruno.

The moment your eyes locked on the man hiding behind his mother would never leave her mind. Your eyes, which had been filled with warmth and kindness to everyone, turned cold and filled with a deep sadness that you desperately tried to disguise as disgust. And yet, she couldn't even pretend that she felt bad for her brother.

"Y/N" the man greeted awkwardly, forcing a guilty smile "...you look good."

"Bruno" you answered dryly

The air was charged with an intense tension that everyone could feel in their bones, as if it could be cut with a knife, or as if one wrong move could shatter such a surreal scene into a thousand pieces.

"It's good to see you again"

"I wish I could say the same"

Julieta felt in her own chest the dagger that you were burying on Bruno, who at least had the decency to look at the ground with remorse, but she knew you better.

It wasn't that you wanted to be cruel to the man you had loved more than life, but precisely that love you had for him had hurt you too much, it had destroyed you and it had hurt your children too. You were only trying to protect the hearts you had worked so hard to repair.

"What are you doing here?" Alma asked, looking at you with hate

"I came to see my family" you answered with the most neutral voice you could, but your hands were shaking

"This is no longer your family"

"Mom-" the older triplet tried to intervene.

"You shut up!" The older woman yelled, making everyone jump "Wasn't it enough for you to help this damn woman break the family?! Now you welcome her back with open arms?! After she stole my grandchildren?! Your own daughter?!"

"I didn't steal anyone! They are my children" you defended yourself.

You really didn't want to cause a scene, especially with all the children present, and because more than once you had to comfort Mirabel after waking up to the recurring nightmare involving her grandmother yelling at her. But that woman drove you mad with extreme ease.

"They would have been better here!" Alma replied "Away from your wicked hands. They belonged here, they wanted to stay here!"

"That's not true! My children wanted to go with me!"

"You had no right! They are Bruno's children!"

"He abandoned them!" Julieta yelled, making everyone look at her.

She could feel her heart racing, blood pooling in her cheeks, and a single look at her brother told her that she had finished erasing the faint ghost of what had once been her relationship with him, but she didn't care.

She couldn't care, not when she could see out of the corner of her eye how Mirabel was hiding behind you, how Isabela tried her best to appear calm but her hands moved as if she could still command an army of plants to defend her sisters.

Not when she could see Pepa and Felix trying to create a weak barrier with their bodies between their children and Alma, when Dolores hugged Camilo as if he was a little child in the hope that no one would hurt her brother again.

And especially not when she could feel your own fear, sadness, and despair as Joaquín and María clung to her own sides, suddenly terrified of who had once been a loving grandmother to them. Everything was wrong, everything was damaged beyond repair, there was nothing left for her to break, but she still had a family, a broken one, but a family nonetheless and she had to protect them, no matter from whom.

"How dare you talk about your brother like that?" Alma whispered dangerously "how dare you when you allowed your daughter to be kidnapped?!" that seemed to wake you up.

"Bruno left without saying anything, without caring about us, Julieta just protected us, all of us" you said, placing a hand on your sister-in-law's shoulder.

You didn't know if it was a bad choice of words or action, perhaps both, but you could see the moment when your mother-in-law's eyes flashed with an intense fire fueled by hatred and resentment. You barely managed to see her hand in the air and by intuition you closed your eyes, waiting for the blow.

"Don't you ever dare-"

But it never came.

"IT'S ENOUGH!"

You opened your eyes to see Julieta holding Alma's hand firmly, preventing it from getting to you. Julieta, the golden daughter of the Madrigal family, the sweetest and most loving woman you'd ever meet, defying the woman who once commanded respect with her mere presence. Although, was it really respect? Or was it fear? You thought that, deep down, it was the latter.

It really was a surreal scene, as if everything was frozen around you. But a voice in the back of your mind told you that it shouldn't surprise you so much, after all, this was also the woman who had made one of the most difficult decisions of her life in order to protect her daughter, the one who had broken blood ties in order to keep the rest of her family safe, the one who, no matter how much it hurt her to be separated from her brother and mother, still got up every day for the others’ sake.

No, it definitely shouldn't surprise you that if anyone had the strength to face Alma and everything that entailed, it was precisely the one who was once the brightest star in the family constellation.

Julieta Madrigal was many things, beautiful, brave, strong, maternal, affectionate and loyal, but she also hid a wolf inside her, one that was already fed up with seeing how her pack was threatened. She was ready to get the fangs out, and you were beginning to see why the rest had trusted her to be the head of the family.

"You insolent-"

"I SAID THAT’S ENOUGH!" the brunette growled, still holding her mother's hand "I've been patient with you, mother, but not anymore."

You could hear a couple of gasps behind you, and you weren't too surprised when Pepa approached you like a scared little girl while Mirabel hugged her. If you didn't know that the miracle was gone, you would think that the icy wind that enveloped you was your sister-in-law’s fault.

"Let go, Julieta-"

"I'm not going to let you talk like that to Y/N" she replied, you could see that she was squeezing the older woman's hand tightly, and from Alma's expression, it was obvious that it hurt, but it seemed like no one could move as you witnessed "the next time you raise your hand to her, me, or anyone in this family, it will be the last time you have a family"

That was a sentence that you yourself could feel in your bones. There was absolutely no trace of compassion or kindness in the older triplet's voice, nor did it leave any doubt that she would keep her word. It was a perfect ultimatum, one that even Alma seemed to understand, because she didn't utter a word as her daughter released her and walked back to the house.

The rest of you looked at each other for a few seconds before Pepa, with Mirabel still in her arms, went after her sister, causing the rest to follow her, including your children, who passed by Bruno without even looking at him, and ran to reach the hands of their favorite aunt. Your mother-in-law just muttered something about going with the Guzmáns and she walked away, disappearing into the night.

Only you and Bruno were left, both looking at each other with surprise, doubt and a little fear. Your eyes seemed to ask a thousand questions but neither of you understood what they were. In the end, you simply sighed and lightly hugged the man who, you must have reminded yourself, was still your husband.

"This wasn't how I expected tonight to go" you confessed lightly.

"It was something that was destined to happen" he whispered "if this didn't explode before it was only because Juli always had the patience of a saint... but I guess everything has a limit"

"I'm so sorry" you said to yourself, guilt beginning to rise in you "if I hadn't-"

"Don't, it wasn't because of you" he smiled a little "...things have been tense between them since before I even met you."

"Really?" you frowned "but...it seemed like she was the favorite daughter"

"She was the closest to the perfect doll mom had in mind" he corrected you "And it only got worse when we turned 5"

"When you got the gifts?"

"Yes" he sighed and looked at his hands "Pepa and I suffered a lot for our gifts, but we always knew that Julieta had it worse"

"Why?"

"Because she's the one who looks the most like dad" he answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world "If she hadn't been born a woman, I assure you, she would be his living portrait"

You thought about it for a moment. You had seen Pedro Madrigal's portrait many times, and although you had never paid much attention to physical details, you had always believed that he radiated a warmth that you only knew from his eldest daughter. It made sense that Alma would have seen the ghost of her late husband in her, and at that moment, something clicked on you.

"And Julieta's gift allowed her to help the community like no one else could" you looked him in the eye "Despite the exhaustion and fatigue, she was always ready to help others... like your father"

"That's right" he agreed.

"But...her gift made her absorb others’ pain" you continued, with the pieces falling into place in your mind quickly "she was in constant suffering...Alma made her reenact Pedro's sacrifice every day"

"And Pepa and I couldn't do anything"

You looked at Bruno for a moment. Despite being the youngest, he looked terribly tired, his eyes swam in deep sadness, his hands trembled and he looked incredibly fragile. Your heart forgot all about anger and disappointment, and was quickly filled with the same affection you had felt for him the first time you met him, a tender and childish love, pure and sincere. He was a brother who felt guilty for not protecting his sister.

"You love her" you said, it wasn't a question.

"As you don't have an idea" he answered anyway "when I came back, it was her arms that I wanted to feel, not mom's" he admitted "but she was furious with me, and with good reason. I shouldn't have left, I shouldn't have left you or the children, I shouldn't have allowed mom to treat Mirabel like that...I should have done things differently...but that doesn't matter now"

You looked at him sympathetically and put a hand on his shoulder so that he looked at you. He seemed so lost, like a kid who has broken something and didn't know how to apologize to mom. Yes, there were too many things that maybe he could have done differently, you too. But that no longer mattered, time was not going to come back and all you could do was start walking towards the best option you had now, and you both knew that that option had a name.

"Have you tried talking to her?" you asked softly

"Mom is always by my side" he said "And I n-never have the courage to talk to her when we're alone, I…I just don't want her to hate me more"

"She doesn't hate you" you said immediately "she could never hate you... you're her baby brother, and we both know that deep down, there will always be a place in her heart for you, no matter how hard Alma tries to keep you from getting back on good terms with her."

"I feel like I've failed her too much" he murmured, looking at the ground "It doesn't matter what I do anymore, our relationship is broken beyond repair...B-but I love her, that's why I try to keep mom busy with me and leave the rest of us alone. I love her and Pepa, and-and I love our family, my nephews, my nieces, my children...and you"

Your cheeks warmed at the last words, and by the way his eyes looked everywhere but at you, you knew he hadn't expected that confession to slip out of him either, at least not at the moment. You smiled and hugged him again, trying not to let the discomfort touch you.

"Talk to her, Bruno" you said "I'm sure you can fix things...so can we" you smiled

He looked at you hopefully and slowly smiled back, walking silently beside you as you went back to the house. You both knew this wasn't a mend, that there was still too much going on between you, but at least you were headed in the right direction. After all, you'd already fallen in love with him once, who said it couldn't happen twice?

______________________

Except that the first time you hadn't had your sister-in-law's face on your mind, nor had you had a little five-year-old nephew rock your entire world with a simple question.

You really couldn't blame the little guy. Antonio was just a child trying to catch up with the changing situation of his family, he was learning to live with some cousins and an aunt he never knew and you knew you had to be patient with his questions.

You had to admit that he was adorable, and despite Pepa's teasing, it was nice to have him behind you all day. Joaquín and María had become his best friends immediately and it was obvious that he was replacing your son as Mirabel's favorite cousin.

Speaking of your children, both of them were making a titanic effort to stay away from their grandmother, but they were spending more and more time with their father, which seemed to be the first steps towards Bruno becoming part of the "good side" of the family again, as the children liked to call it.

Your relationship with him was still in the mending process, but at least you could say you were friends again, which seemed to relieve Pepa, one less battle to fight between her siblings, you guessed.

The problem was Julieta.

She was still your favorite sister-in-law and your best friend, without a doubt, but things were starting to get weird for you when you realized that she was slowly becoming your favorite person too. You seemed unable to stop your smile every time you saw her and your heart raced when you heard her laugh.

It was a terribly familiar and terrifying feeling, because you knew that she shouldn't have that effect on you, that you shouldn't feel with her what you once felt with Bruno. And yet you couldn't stop.

As much as you tried to lie to yourself, it was obvious that you were always trying to be with her, whether it was helping her cook or just chatting with her over coffee, it didn't matter, you just wanted to be close to her. You felt bad for a while, but then you started noticing the way she would blush every time you smiled at her or how she would look at you when she thought you weren't paying attention.

You were both playing a dangerous game, but it somehow felt so…natural, like that was the only logical path for you. You didn't expect that to be confirmed by the miracle itself.

It was one afternoon when, a few days after finishing the reconstruction of Casita, you and Julieta were sitting in the kitchen, just talking, you were telling her about the first dress that Mirabel made when Camilo ran in, his eyes full of emotion and fear in equal measure.

"Tías, you have to come quickly" he told you

"What's going on?" Julieta asked, even as you both were already getting up

"You have to see it for yourself"

You and the brunette looked at each other curiously for a second before hurrying after your older nephew. The rest of the family was already there and you only had to look in the same direction to understand the commotion. The candle was back.

Well, not exactly. The candle itself was there, but it was out. Still, you knew what that could mean for your family, you knew what they could get back if they managed to make it shine again. The question was, how?

"Mom, you have to take it" Mirabel said excitedly

"What?"

"Think about it Juli" Pepa agreed "you're the new head of the family, you should be the one to protect the candle now... right?"

"I… I guess"

Julieta looked at you for a moment, and you could see the doubt and anxiety in her eyes, so you just smiled and nodded, hoping that was enough comfort for her. The brunette returned your smile before approaching the candle. Her hands trembled and you did not doubt that memories of when she received her gift, more than 45 years ago, passed through her mind.

You all held your breath as the older triplet's hands carefully took hold of the candle and a current passed through you. It was soft and warm, just like a tickle. You waited a moment, but nothing else happened. You could see the disappointment in the rest of the family, especially the brunette, but they all faked supportive smiles.

"Maybe we need to call-"

"No Juli, we don't need her"

You were a bit surprised by Pepa's tone, but you could understand. Alma hadn't been back since the night you returned to Encanto, taking refuge with the Guzmans ever since. It hurt a little that this distanced Dolores from Mariano, but no one could deny that everyone breathed more peace since she was gone. It didn't seem strange to you that they refused to call her now.

"It's because tía Y/N isn’t close" Antonio said suddenly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world

"Excuse me?" you blinked

"Abuela's candle was lit because Abuelo loved her" the boy explained.

You all looked at him like he was growing another head, but deep down, you all wanted to know the reasoning behind that little head. After all, the little ones always have the most creative solutions.

"What does that have to do with tía Y/N, Antonio?" Mirabel asked softly

"Tía Y/N loves tía Julieta" he said "the candle has to light if she's around her girlfriend, right?"

You didn't even need Dolores' gift to hear a pin drop, not when the room was deathly silent. You looked at Julieta out of the corner of your eye and you could see that her face was redder than a tomato, and you doubted that you were better. Your heart was racing like crazy, your hands were sweating and you could feel the anxiety building up in you.

How could a five-year-old boy understand better than you the forbidden feelings that had been blooming in you for your sister-in-law? Had you been too obvious? Did the others notice it too? God, you didn't even want to look at Bruno.

"Mami! mami!"

María's voice brought you out of your thoughts and you looked at her worriedly. Your daughter just looked at you in amazement and pointed with her little hand to the place where your attention should be. You hadn't even realized that you had approached Julieta, but now you were facing each other, with the candle between you and a small flame sprouting.

“It can’t be” you heard Isabela whispering while Pepa gasped

The moment you took a step back, the small flame went out. The brunette looked at you for a second before slowly approaching you again, causing the candle to relight. It wasn't a strong, magical glow like the one it had before the whole disaster, but it was a promise that you’d get the miracle back.

Except that neither you nor Julieta wanted to think about what the miracle was asking of you, or what that meant for both of you and your respective families.

#reader insert #x reader #Female reader #bruno madrigal x reader #bruno madrigal and reader #bruno x reader #bruno madrigal #julieta madrigal x reader #julieta madrigal and reader #julieta x reader #julieta madrigal #encanto x reader #encanto imagine #Encanto #change the future

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faebaex · 9 months

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Workplace Hazard

author note: i'm breaking my accidental writing hiatus bc I was watching TV and got inspired 😭 accidental mafia AU I guess bc I feel like it's given that Jade is probably going to be in some sort of shady occupation no matter what.

characters: Jade Leech x GN!Reader

When your partner works in a... Less than ordinary profession, there are certain risks involved.

You began your relationship with Jade Leech when you were in college. You both attended the prestigious Night Raven College, in the same year and in the same homeroom class. You were all too aware of his shady reputation and how he was considered one of the most intimidating figures in the college. Yet despite this, you found yourself entwined with Jade, your interests and personalities bringing the two of you together in a relationship that would transcend the cultural gap and difficulties that often persisted between merfolk and human couples.

When you both graduated from college, you went on to a career that blossomed from your fourth year internship whilst Jade carried on to closely work with Azul and his twin. Azul's humble Monstro Lounge grew into a service empire that encompassed ventures ranging from hotels and resorts, all of which Jade worked closely with as Azul's right hand man. Of course, Azul's under the table deals and predatory contracts flourished under the cover of Azul's corporation. Azul's public image considered him as a successful bachelor and a benevolent soul, but those who were unfortunate enough to not be able to fulfill their end of the contract had a different opinion. To them, Azul and his associates were a despicable mafia prettily gift wrapped in an illuminous reputation.

Jade Leech is considered a formidable and prominent presence both under the sea and on land. Employed officially as Azul's secretary, he also works as Azul's trusted right hand during his seedier operations. Such delicate work meant that Jade had accumulated quite the pool of enemies. And some of those enemies thought the best way to get back at Jade, was to get to you...

You had been waiting for Jade to come home, finishing up some of your work in your home office with an impatient sigh. Jade had said he was coming home days ago, yet he still hadn't showed. His messages were scarce and vague, filling you with a festering frustration that was slowly eroding away the edges of your patience.

A soft thump alerted you to a presence, and your eyes narrowed as you looked up from your work.

"Jade?" You called, reaching under your desk and discreetly pressing the button beneath the polished surface, your hand then slipping into your desk drawer.

"What time do you call this? You said you would be home days ago." You seethed, walking out of your office and making your way through your dimly lit apartment towards the front door. A quick, shadowed movement in your periphery has your head twitching to the side. "Jade...?" You repeated, feeling tense with the continued silence, a cold feeling crawling up your spine as you hesitated before a shadowed figure suddenly lunged quickly towards you.

....

Jade slid his house key into the front door smoothly, a constant low level vibration sounding from his phone in his inside pocket, alerting him of the panic alarm activated in his home. He twisted the key calmly, pushing open the door and entering without haste, closing the door with gentle precision.

"Darling, I'm home." Jade spoke in his smooth baritone, hanging his hat up on the coat hanger by the door. There was no response.

"I apologise, my love. Work has been terribly complicated at the moment. I do hope you could find it in yourself to forgive me." Jade continued, his polished shoes clacking through the hardwood floors of your shared apartment. Again, no response.

Jade's steps took him towards the lounge. As he entered, he saw a figure crumpled on the floor, their hands tied behind their back and their legs bound together. Another figure sat in an armchair in front of the bound figure, a baton twirling between their fingers as they looked up at Jade.

"Am I a joke to you, Leech?"

Jade's eyes lingered on the figure on the floor before they looked up at the seated silhouette with a smile on his face.

"Of course not, pearl. I would never dare to not take you seriously." Although his smile was genuine, it did have a hint of teasing to it, as if he enjoyed the thought of you all riled up. You tutted, your eyes remaining on the squirming figure at your feet before they moved to glare up at Jade.

"You said we'd go to dinner yesterday but you never turned up. I looked like a fool in that restaurant, all alone." You ranted bitterly, your lips pressed in a tight line.

"My apologies, pearl. Some clients can be so... Difficult," he crossed the room, stepping over the quivering figure, as if they weren't even there, so he could stand directly in front of you, "perhaps such misunderstandings would not occur if you attended one of Azul's restaurants, per my suggestion. I'd be able to get messages to you much easier that way." Your expression soured at that.

"I should be able to go to whatever restaurant I feel like when I've planned a dinner with my partner." You huffed, turning your face away from him and thumping the baton into your palm in frustration.

You felt the familiar feeling of smooth leather cup your chin gently as Jade's hand softly tilted your face back towards him, his eyes tender as he gazed down at you. "I'm sorry, darling. I'll endeavour for it to not happen again. It pains me to miss any precious moment with you."

You didn't soften at his words, continuing to pout and glare up at him, making a warm, fond smile spread across his lips. Jade leaned down, his hand still cupping your chin as he stooped so that his face hovered close to yours as he spoke quietly, "how about we go to dinner now? I discovered a restaurant with a fascinating menu you'd appreciate. I'm sure I could persuade them to stay open a few hours later than usual..." His thumb stroked over your bottom lip as he spoke, a loving gesture as he watched the worst of your wrath extinguish in your eyes, but the coals of discontent still simmering.

"Let me devote myself to you and make it up to you," he promised, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before he stood straight again, "but first, let me deal with this complication." His hand reached into his inside pocket as he pulled out his phone and speed dialled a number, stepping away from you and over the body on the carpet casually.

"Floyd." The bound figure immediately stiffened when it heard that name. "Can you come over? There has been a situation," Jade said smoothly, "there is a wayward remora here but unfortunately, I am terribly late for dinner so I cannot entertain them. I wonder if you could keep them company for me."

There was a pause, the room silent apart from the buzz of Floyd's voice through the phone as he spoke to Jade. For the first time since Jade had entered the lounge, his eyes slid down to the bound figure at his feet, the tender look in his eyes long gone as he stared down at the figure with hard eyes and a cold smile.

"But don't be too rough with them. I'd like to play with them too."

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst jade #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jade leech x y/n

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canonicallyobserving911 · 1 month

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Buck & Eddie: Buck died for three minutes and seventeen seconds!

In 6x12, Eddie told Buck, “You died, Buck!” but Maddie told him, “Buck, you died” and Bobby said the same thing in 6x15 during Buck’s performance review (related post linked here).

Was Buck dying a huge deal? YES! And apparently, it affected everyone but Buck. Eddie cried in Buck’s hospital room, Chris asked him to come back, Maddie cried, Bobby kept vigil by Buck’s bedside with his rosary beads, Athena knew the effect his death would have on her husband because he sees Buck as a son and she told him to “Wake up damn it”. Chimney cried, Hen did too and May was worried about the effect Buck’s death would have on Bobby just like Athena was worried. Chimney told Albert they had to take Margaret out because she was hysterical but the audience didn’t see her cry like we did everyone in Buck’s found family and I believe that was on purpose (post linked here).

Now, onto 7x1 where Buck told Eddie that he broke up with Natalia because all she talked about was death and he’s not sure why he thought dating her was a good idea (neither did the audience but ok, that was the decision that was made so there’s nothing that can be done about it). TM (showrunner) said in a recent interview, Buck was tired of talking about his "death" and he’s ready to find happiness. If that’s true, then great but if he’s really moved on from it, why didn’t anyone including Eddie, who knows Buck to his core (RG's words) see the growth? Reminder, Eddie's response to Buck's breakup was, "Welcome back to the land of the living, Buck. You were truly missed."

The timeline for last night’s episode was so messed up that it was hard to make heads or tails of anything. Bobby initially bought their cruise tickets in 5x18 but their trip got postponed at the end of 6x1 since Athena's father had a stroke. It begs the question did those tickets get refunded and he purchased new ones because Athena told Frank, two months before they left on their cruise, which happened a year after the bridge collapse 🤷🏽‍♀️that Bobby bought the tickets a week ago, so who knows what time period it is in this realm or wherever they’re in right now. The way things played out, dare I say it but it kind of seems like they’re all still living in Buck’s coma dream but hey, maybe it’s being done on purpose.

Back to the regularly scheduled program…

Reminder, Buck died! And according to Eddie, he was dead for three minutes and seventeen seconds. He was literally dead and even though Chimney worked on Buck for three minutes, he couldn’t restart Buck’s heart, only Eddie could and the last seventeen seconds was all him!

These things happened and they’re important but for some reason, Buck’s death along with everything else that happened to him in season 6 are being treated like they didn’t happen or as if they were of no consequence. In 6x12, Dr. Salazar told Buck that people who have near death experiences either go back to their lives like nothing’s changed or they make a drastic change and quit their jobs, divorce their spouses or they go to Italy.

Well… Buck’s done NEITHER of those things since he’s still doing the same job and he didn’t do anything drastic like move out of the loft or something, just anything other than saying and proclaiming he's happy now all of a sudden. Him breaking up with Natalia wasn’t drastic since he broke up with Taylor in season 5. It would have been different if it had been his first time choosing something for himself but it wasn't.

IMO, the way his death is being glossed over makes it seem like there’s something else that could happen with Buck after 7x6 airs. Reminder, there will be a mini hiatus just like there was between 6x12 and 6x13 and everyone should remember the drastic change that took place then. Buddie and the Buckley-Diaz family were prominent more than any other ship in that episode. Now, be clear, I’m not saying Buck will have a breakdown (even though he's overdue to have one and him crying over Eddie being shot is not the same thing) but I will say he’s headed for a storm. Also, his life is paralleling Eddie’s after the shooting and to me it seems off because Buck’s happy but no one knows why or how he got there. It appears he’s hiding how he truly feels the same way Eddie did before he started panicking followed by his breakdown. Additionally, it appears Buck’s continuing to parallel Athena’s arc for this season too and if he is then, his fear or whatever has him “terrified” will come into play later in the season (post about Bathena and Buddie parallels linked here).

I fully understand the show only has so much “real estate” per episode, as TM described it but in season 6 (which I know should be a distant memory by now for a lot of reasons), the audience only SAW Buck start things but there wasn’t any resolution to any of them. THEY WERE ALL UNFINISHED BY THE END OF 6X18.

In 6x1, he wanted to be interim captain but that storyline fell off a cliff and wasn’t revisited.

In 6x2, he wanted to be happy and apparently, according to OS and TM, this season he’ll be going after the things that make him happy but NO ONE BUT BUCK knows what those things are.

In 6x4, he thought long and hard about being Connor’s sperm donor but there were two things he said that were left unfinished and unresolved.

When he was at Hen’s house, he told her he didn’t want to turn them down but he never said why.

At the end of the episode, he told Connor and Kameron he didn’t know what he wanted (I still think that was a lie but I digress) but he was willing to give them what they wanted.

The audience doesn’t know why Buck didn’t want to turn them down and if he would have said why, there wouldn't be an issue. Also, he never explained what he wants but I suppose the audience is just supposed to forget all about those two important factors and move on the way Buck has. As a viewer, wanting answers to close main characters' storylines is a fair request since we’ve all seen Buck repeat the same mistakes and remain on the hamster wheel (OS’s words) for the last three years with no resolution.

In 6x7, he was adamant about donating even though the universe kept screaming at him not to do it and it went so far as to stop his Jeep on the street but he ran there anyway. Also, only him and Eddie touched the cursed bracelet during that episode but nothing came of that either.

In 6x9, he told the team he was the creator of new life and he had a onesie on the nightstand with an LAFD logo on it but that too went absolutely nowhere (posts linked here and here).

In 6x10, he died! But also, before he did, he talked a lot about family but no one knows if he wants his own family or if he’s happy with his biological or found or both.

In 6x11, he was in a coma for most of the episode where it was all about him (he was making things about himself again like everyone has told him he does) but when he woke up, he told Bobby there was one thing he couldn’t fix while he was in it but since he didn’t say it, NO ONE KNOWS WHAT THAT IS.

In 6x12, when Eddie asked him if could ask him how he was, Buck replied, “Honestly Eddie… I don’t know”; well, since he didn't say it, neither does the audience. Also, he went to Maddie’s and told her about his coma dream but the only part the audience heard was that it was never nighttime and the first thing he does when he wakes up is text Bobby.

In 6x13, he knew how to do math and his life appeared to be going where he wanted it to but then, 6x14 happened and his math powers were gone.

In 6x15, aside from meeting the DeAtH dOuLA and telling her about his dream (which the audience didn’t hear then either), he told Eddie while they were in the cemetery, “The truth is… I am different but I feel like I have to be the same old Buck, mostly for the sake of everyone else”. Is he still being the same old Buck now? Who knows?

From 6x16 through 6x18, Buck was still acting like the same old Buck then he ended the season in another lackluster boring relationship with someone who he believed SAW him but everyone knows she didn’t see $hit.

Now here’s my main issue and please don’t misunderstand me. If Buck’s all great and happy, FINE but it’s hard to correlate his new found happiness with everything he’s been through especially since the audience didn’t get to see his journey. He’s not in therapy and he’s not reading self-help books or whatever anymore so how did he get from point A to point B? Inquiring minds would like to know.

Since the audience remains in the dark, are we supposed to just accept him saying he’s better? I’m not buying that snake oil they’re selling and my reasoning for it is based on two things. First, Buck identifies himself as a firefighter but that wasn’t addressed before season 6 ended because IMO it tied in with everything else he experienced. Also, Buck’s actions in the promos and trailers make it seem like he’s hesitant about something regarding his job. Could the narrative change? ABSOLUTELY but if it doesn’t, no one knows if he is or isn’t still struggling.

Reminder, Buck broke up with Natalia but Eddie didn’t know and why is that? Their lack of communication could be due to the wacky time jumps or the miscalculation of them but in any event, they hadn't discussed it even though they're working together again. In 7x1, they kept showing how close they are but there’s obviously some things they still haven’t discussed including Buck’s death. Please note, Buck is once again paralleling Athena since there’s something she hasn’t told Bobby too. They're both not saying the stuff they should be and if they continue to parallel then all should be revealed soon.

This post is simply to highlight the fact that Buck took another journey but once again, the audience has NO IDEA how he got there just like at the end of season 5 when he finally ended things with Taylor. Sure he broke up with her but he didn’t do it because he was unhappy, he did it because she did something he probably knew she would do anyway especially since she betrayed the 118 and Bobby in 2x6 so what exactly is the audience supposed to believe? He’s changed even though we didn’t see it? I call BS and I think TM is lying just like he did about Eddie’s PTSD. He said Eddie wouldn’t go through it but a few months later he did and it was important to his healing.

Will anything come of all the things Buck experienced in season 6? Who knows but apparently the audience is just supposed to roll with the idea that he’s 100% better even though we didn’t see any of it. Reminder, we saw everyone else’s journey and how they clawed their way back after their breakdowns, i.e., Eddie’s, Maddie’s, Athena’s, Chimney’s and even Bobby’s after he had two, one in 2x16 and one in season 1 after the plane crash but we’re supposed to accept the fact that Evan “Please don’t leave me, I make things about me and I like to fix things” “Buck” Buckley is ok? NOPE! I’m not buying it.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #911 on abc #911 meta #911 speculation #911 spoilers #anti bucktalia #911 season 7 #911 season 7 speculation #evan buckley character study 911 #oliver stark #ryan guzman

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shina913 · 1 year

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On Tilt, Part 1 | KNJ

On Tilt, Part 1 Definition: a poker term for a state of mental or emotional confusion or frustration in which a player adopts a suboptimal strategy, usually resulting in the player becoming overly aggressive.

On Tilt Masterlist

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: idol!AU; angst; fluff; smut

Warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamic; cussing; explicit sexual conversations; dirty talk; clit play; heavy petting; oral sex (F-receiving); intercourse; orgasm denial; fingering; masturbation (mutual); exhibitionism; stamina!; multiple orgasms; pining; unrequited love; miscommunication

Word count: 4.5K words

Summary: You’ve said time and time again that you wouldn’t lose yourself to him. You were in control now. You were going to make better choices. For a minute there, you were able to keep up with it. It wasn’t ‘til Namjoon’s extended break that you found yourself falling into old habits. Will you ever learn to quit Kim Namjoon?

A/N: First off—boop! Title change! This was going to be called something else but decided to switch it up last-minute. I've had this sitting in my WIPs for a while. So long that ago that this was was actually drafted before the first hiatus announcement in June. This is the first time I am writing an idol!AU (please be kind)! I’m not sure how many chapters this will be yet…could be two, could be three. For now, please enjoy and let me know what you think! Now, excuse me while I get side-eyed by my WIPs.

You are jolted awake by your phone blaring loudly. What time was it? It was still dark out.

“Hello?” You croaked out drowsily–your eyelids fighting to stay closed.

“Hey.” You’d recognize that rich baritone anywhere.

“Uh…hi.” Your eyes flickered, pulling the phone away from your ear to figure out what time it was. Too early.

“Remember that dark blue strappy dress that you had?”

“W-what?” You responded after a beat once your brain lurched forward. “Where are you?”

“Los Angeles. Just chillin’ at the hotel,” he rasped. “Were you sleeping?”

“I was,” you answer dryly.

He chuckled into the phone. “You never used to need that much sleep.”

“Well…I’ve changed. And you have, too,” you point out while rubbing your eye, mid-yawn. “We’ve already had this discussion.”

“I know, I know,” he relents, effectively dropping that subject. You fall silent on the other line. A few beats later, he asks, “Are you alone?”

You scoffed. “Namjoon, who else would I be with?”

He laughed from deep within his chest and it tickled your ear. “So–can we keep talking about that dress?”

After rolling your eyes, you try to wrack your brain for any memories of whichever dress he was referring to. You owned so many over the years. “I don’t know…I’m kind of drawing a blank–”

“Whenever I pushed one strap off, the other would fall, too.”

As soon as he said it, that certainly narrowed it down. You zero-in on the dress and the memories came rushing back, hitting you like a tidal wave. You hummed at the nostalgia. The dress used to be one of your favorites–and clearly, it was his too.

“Now I remember.” It was a navy-blue, silky, cowl-neckline dress with spaghetti straps. It had an asymmetrical hemline–the longest falling right above your ankle but it had a pretty high slit that went up your thigh. If you picked your feet up too high while climbing some stairs, people would get an eyeful. Luckily, back then, you and Namjoon always took elevators. Except that one time when you both snuck into the emergency exit where you had a little private moment by the stairs.

You blink the memory away. “That was a nice dress,” you say leisurely, trying to fight off the drowsiness. Maybe he wasn’t even thinking about that scandalous-looking slit…or that night by the steps.

“And I also remember that it had that sexy slit that went all the way up your left thigh…” he drawled. “That came in handy that one time by the steps? You know, the emergency exit?”

Fuck. He could read minds now, too? You were wide awake now. “Uh huh…” you drew out while your eyebrows furrowed. What was he up to?

“Mmm…you had great legs.”

You sat up on your bed. “‘Have’.”

“Sorry, say that again?”

“I have great legs. Present tense,” you corrected.

He gave another deep, throaty laugh. “I will not object to that. I love your legs. I love having them wrapped around my neck—like that time I came home to you after that show?”

Your mouth went dry. That was the night he made you cum so hard that you bit him so deep on his shoulder that you drew blood.

“Joon…” you rasped.

******

“So, did either of you do anything fun last night,” Lani asked while she perused the brunch menu. You’re not sure why since she ordered the same thing every time.

“Happy hour with a couple of coworkers. We went to a bar that had an indoor bocce ball court. I’d never been but it was pretty chill. Also, everyone should try playing drunk bocce ball,” Jia giggled.

“What about you, YN?”

“Oh, you know—not much. I had a quiet night, after work; turned in early and then…had- accidental-phone-sex-with-Namjoon,” you say in rapid-fire succession.

“Sorry, w-what?” Jia chokes out as her eyes bulged out of their sockets. But before she gets another word out the server stops at your table to take your order.

After they walk away, Jia picks up on your last comment. “Now hold on a second–you can’t just drop ‘Namjoon’ and ‘phone sex’ in the same sentence and expect us to just take it in stride!”

“I didn’t know that you and Namjoon were into phone sex,” Lani says, waggling her eyebrows teasingly as she turned in her seat to face you.

“We weren’t. But their break is coming up and he’s been calling me for the past couple weeks–”

Jia sighed and admonished you. “YN, you shouldn’t be having phone sex with your ex.”

“Okay well, let me correct that–it was technically not phone sex but more of a…a trip down memory lane,” you clarified. “Also, he’s not my ex. We never really defined—whatever this is. So, how can you be ‘ex-whatever’ if you never really ‘were’ in the first place?”

“Fucking without labels. I like it!” Lani winked at you.

“What-everrr,” Jia says, annoyed. “He’s in and out of the country. When he’s here, he’s usually in the studio. You guys barely see each other but as soon as he calls, you come running.”

“Excuse me but I do not come running, Jia,” you argued.

“You just come,” Lani snorted.

You give Lani a deadpan look before turning to Jia again. “For real, though. I think that I’ve actually gotten better with this whole Namjoon business! Would it kill you to give me a little credit?”

Jia softens her expression at you. “Sorry, YN. It’s just that I really care about you and…when he left for that one tour then went straight back into recording the new album without seeing you–I saw how much it tore you apart." She reaches across the table to rest her on yours. "There are other guys out there. Other guys who can be present…who can love you and argue with you, in person. None of this complicated idol-bullshit.”

You tried. You really did. You put yourself out there, met other people…none of them lasted. Namjoon was always there for you. And you were there for him. You were familiar with each other. Neither of you needed a manual to navigate each other.

With Namjoon, it was just like stepping into that navy-blue dress. Easy, comfortable…and you always felt sexy.

It was just too much work dating–trying to get to know someone new and getting used to them. You had grown too impatient for that.

Or maybe you just had to admit that you didn’t want to find someone new…because all you really wanted was him.

******

After playing the last night of the band’s stadium tour, Namjoon picks you up from your place so you could head on over to another hotel, only to switch cars, to drive off to another hotel. It was like a shell game. He needed to play it safe because he never knew who’d be watching or following him. It all came with the territory.

It was just before midnight. You paused before sliding into the backseat next to him. “I’ll need you to take me back home tonight.”

Namjoon cocked his head to the side, looking slightly disappointed. “You won’t stay the night with me?”

You paused, leaning on the open car door–fully intent on standing your ground.

“I’d really like you to stay,” he added with a flash of his dimple.

The truth was, you really wanted to. And once, back in the day, you would drop whatever you were doing whenever he was back in town for his visits until you ended up resenting him for it. You may not have learned to stay away from him, but you’d picked up a thing or two about having a healthier relationship–more for your sanity. “Look, let’s just keep things simple, okay?”

His chest lifted and fell on a deep breath. “As you wish.” With that, you climbed into the backseat of the SUV with him, shutting the passenger door.

“Can I schedule time for you to spend with me?” He asks softly.

You sat so close to each other, thighs and elbows pressed together…but there was an unspoken distance between you. Even though you enforced it, you still wished it didn’t have to be there.

“When?” You ask him with a hint of exasperation.

“I was hoping for one more night this week and all of next weekend for sure.” They were on an extended break. The other guys would disperse and travel back to their own hometowns after a publicly-announced hiatus by the record label. He’s decided to spend the next three weeks in your area.

You nodded then glanced sideways out the window. He vaguely mentions that it was another 10 minute drive to the next hotel–giving you time to think about how the rest of tonight could go. More sex? More Namjoon? You craved both–more than you’d like to admit…and it would’ve been much nicer without so many doubts and reservations.

You missed how carefree you both used to be. When you first met, there was no sense of time or what day it was. You’d go whenever and wherever you pleased. His schedule was packed but he always, always made time for you.

Sometimes, he’d go as far as clear out a whole place for both of you. Once or twice, he paid to access some museums after-hours. You’d stare at sculptures and paintings. He’d wax poetic about each piece while you hung on to every word he said. Afterwards, he’d take you back to the dorms and fuck you into the morning.

And then…the schedules just got more complicated. International attention heightened. Next thing you knew, he was on planes more often than he was on your bed.

“Listen,” he began, “You should know this is hard for me, too.”

“At least you have a clue about what’s going on,” you argued softly, turning away from him to look out the window while the car zoomed past your quiet neighborhood and into the city.

The announcement of the extended break was a surprise to you but he’d vaguely hinted at it several times during one of your clandestine meetings. What he hasn’t disclosed were his plans during this break.

Namjoon turned in his seat and reached for you, catching you by the nape and pulling you in. You closed your eyes, anticipating the moment when his parted lips would touch yours. His tongue caressed the curve of your mouth…the feeling had you leaning closer for more.

“Can we worry about the rest on a different day? I just want tonight to be about…us.”

Us.

Even though you went months without seeing or talking to each other, he always spoke of you collectively–never individually…never apart.

You nodded and gave him a small smile. The subtle gesture lit a flame. You stared at each other in the dark–only catching flickers of your features as you passed the staggered illumination of dim street lamps and tunnel lights. You saw him moisten his lips with his tongue and in a matter of seconds–the flame had escalated into a raging fire.

“Always so sweet,” he murmurs while you feel his finger brush the shell of your ear. The darkness combined with his deep, silky voice sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m going to spread you across my bed and lick you from head to toe.”

You hummed. “You’re good at that.” You were needy in an instant.

He pulled back, as if to look away, then surged forward again, catching your lips in a heated, hungry kiss. His mouth devoured yours, his tongue stroking, exploring. You were just as greedy for him, your hand sliding into his hair, seizing the roots while you had your fill of him. He cupped your breast in his hand, massaging it, his thumb and forefinger capturing your aching nipple and tugging rhythmically. You moaned, turned on to the point of no return.

“Fuck, YN,” he groaned, releasing you and falling back against the seat. “I want you. Right here. Now.”

Truth be told, you were incredibly tempted to demand that he raise the partition so you could climb him right then.

“Tell your man to drive faster,” you said in a rush as you pressed your thighs together–as if that would stop your juices from flowing.

He threw his head back, his laugh booming through his chest. Moments later, he turned his head, leaning against the headrest to look at you. “Fine. But when we get to bed, I’m taking it real slow.”

******

And boy, did he take it really slow..

“Namjooooon,” you dragged out. Fisting at the sheets, your body arched off the mattress, lifting yourself greedily to the torture of his mouth. You’d almost forgotten what he could do to you, how he could penetrate your skin to get into the very heart of you.

He held you pinned at the thighs, his mouth on your throbbing center, his tongue licking leisurely. The slow rhythmic strokes over your clit had you gasping. The need for an orgasm was so fierce, you were drenched in sweat, legs practically burning from the strain while he held you wide open.

“My god, your tongue…” you whined.

“Yeah? Did you miss it while I was gone?” He gives your sopping core a quick flick of his tongue.

“Ahhh! Yes…Oh my god, yes,” you groaned.

He slowly pushed two fingers into you, making you gasp softly. After a few slow pumps, he paused to turn his wrist so his palm was facing upwards. His thumb was now circling around your clit while his two other fingers, still buried in you, curled and stroked at the bundle of sensitive nerves.

The sensation made your whole body clench tightly–it won’t be long now before you’d start to fall apart.

“Yeah? Did you touch yourself?”

“Yes,” you distractedly admitted. Your mind, clearly elsewhere while he dangled you over the precipice of your climax.

And then you felt empty. Having withdrawn his hand, you saw him sitting up, gazing down at you. “Show me?”

“Show you what?” You asked, trying to regain focus.

“Show me how you touch yourself.”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’ve seen me touch myself.” You referred to previous nights when you’d call each other over video while he was away. “Now come on, please,” you begged. “Make me cum,” you almost whine.

“No, I want to see it in person,” he says.

“But you’re right here, how come I need to do it?” you argued. Any longer and you’d lose your lady-boner and call it a night.

“I’ll do it with you,” he answers. With a flash of his dimple, he sat back on his heels, dropping his hand to fist his cock.

Your eyebrows quirk, suddenly intrigued. You’d never touched yourself while he was in the same room with you. You shifted restlessly, your attention fixed on his long, nimble fingers.

“Come on,” he coaxes you while he stroked himself, squeezing right when he reached the tip, bringing a flush to his face.

Your core began to ache at the sight. Your fingers move of their own volition, sliding between your legs to rub your aching bud.

“Fuck, this looks so much hotter in person.” He was watching you closely, his gaze was hot and hungry. His tongue slid slowly along his lips, as if he was tasting you. When his teeth caught the fullest curve of his lower lip, you could have sworn you felt it.

You knew that look well. And you knew what came after it.

******

He thrusted hard, sinking deep in one lunge, wrenching a cry from you as you fell hard into orgasm. Neck arched and eyes squeezed shut, you laid on the bed as the pleasure pulsed through you, your core tightening around his cock as he kept his rhythmic ministrations.

He groaned, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets and pumping himself into you. The climax grew once more, spurred by the steady lunges of his hips...the feel of his cock fucking into you relentlessly.

You writhed helplessly, lost to him, desperately hanging on to the part of your soul that wanted to surrender. You gripped at the back of his broad shoulders tightly, your nails leaving marks and scratches at his repeated assault on you.

Namjoon’s lips were in your ear, his breath hot and needy as he growled after every thrust.

You felt the muscles flex as his body worked to give you another orgasm. You’d lost count after the second one.

His teeth sank into your earlobe, groaning in pleasure while his abdomen contracted against your stomach, his sweat and yours mixing together.

“You won’t believe how much I thought about you this whole time,” he gasped.

So he has thought about you. In what way? Thought about fucking you? Or thought about you just because? As much as you wanted to unpack that, you brush the thought aside. Right now, he was dicking you down real good–and that needed 100% of your attention.

“So g-good.” You swallowed past a dry throat.

He drove the point home with every thrust, fucking you so thoroughly you couldn’t think beyond the need to cum again.

Your body was not your own as he had come to fully possess your whole being.

Namjoon was the only one who could do this to you...make you mindless...drive you crazy. When you were in bed with him, you were his. Ready and willing to do whatever he wanted, to take whatever he chose to give you, knowing he would make you orgasm over and over...

You whined, feeling his grip tighten on you, every muscle on his body gathering as his own climax brewed.

You realized then that he was hanging onto you as desperately as you were to him, you felt that urgency in every breath, every touch.

Your eyes stung with tears when your orgasm hit, sucking the air out of your lungs, causing spots in your eyes. A long, drawn out moan escaped from your mouth–a mix of pleasure and relief.

“Ah, baby.” He kissed you, absorbing the sound, slowing until he was just circling his hips, feeling every hard inch of him inside you. “I love that sound you make when you cum. It tells me how good I make you feel…how much you love me touching you…being inside you…”

How much you loved being serviced by him. How much you loved—

He rips the thoughts away from you when he takes your mouth, kissing you deeply. His hips circled again, making you feel every inch of him. The slow, purposeful stroking over your nerves kept you hot and on-edge.

“I missed you so much, YN,” he whispered into the kiss. “Did you miss me, too?” He asks in a soft, almost pleading tone.

When you didn’t reply, he brushed the sweat-slicked hair strands away from your face and searched for the answer in your eyes.

You stared back at him wordlessly, your jaw slackened while your core rippled along his length. His eyes clenched shut and his lips parted, his body tightening along with yours. “No, no. Not yet. I don’t want to cum yet.”

“Please..come on, Joon….” You were begging and didn’t care. You just wanted him to come. You wanted it more than your next breath.

“No. I’m not rushing this.” He reached behind him to grab your wrist, bringing your right arm up and over your head. His other hand pushed beneath your bottom, lifting you into a smooth, easy thrust. “Hmm...so good. So perfect for me. Always.”

You wanted to tease him with your own little naughty comeback, to play the game just as he was, but you couldn’t think of anything. You were at a loss for words.

“Stop thinking and just feel it…feel me,” he murmured, nibbling on the corner of your mouth, dragging his lips across your jawline. “Let me make you feel good, baby. That’s all I want. To make you feel good.”

Turning your head, you caught his lower lip with your teeth and let him.

******

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His thumb brushed the corner of your brow and drifted down to your cheek, tucking stray strands behind your ear.

Your lips twisted wryly while you laid in bed, cocooned in him. You glanced up at him. “How sexy you are. It’s embarrassing how often I think about that. I need to get over it already.”

He cupped the back of your thigh and urged you tighter against him, teasing you with an expert roll of his hips. It was sickening how much he knew his way around your body. “As if I’d allow you to do that.”

You scoffed, pushing off him slightly. “Huh. ‘Allow me?’ A little cocky there, aren't we?” Deep down, heat slid through your bloodstream…your body becoming way too greedy for him.

“Don’t tell me you don’t prefer a fan who’s more starry-eyed and would easily drop their panties for you, Mr. Kim.”

He ignored your jab. “What I want,” he purred, cupping your jaw and rubbing your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, “...Is you being too busy thinking about me to think about anyone else.”

You pulled in a slow and shaky breath. You were completely captivated by the smoldering look in his eyes, his sexy-as-hell voice, his body, and the mouthwatering scent of his skin. He was your drug, and there were no signs of you kicking the habit.

“Namjoon,” you breathed, completely entranced.

With a soft groan, he sealed his mouth over yours, stealing away thoughts of what time it was with a lush, deep kiss…a kiss that almost succeeded in distracting you from seeing the slightest hint of insecurity he’d just revealed.

You pushed your fingers into his hair to hold him still and kissed him back, your tongue sliding along his.

His arms banded around you and tightened possessively. “I want to spend the weekend with you down by the coast—naked.”

He had a little known vacation property by the beach. There were suspicions from gossip sites but nobody could ever confirm. He had taken you there a few times. It had its own private beach access and was remote enough so nobody would randomly come snooping.

You giggled. “Sounds like every guy’s wet dream.” As big of a kick as you got out of Namjoon in a bespoke suit, you much preferred him stripped down.

“Is that all we’re going to do?” You wondered. “You want me laying there, all ready and splayed for you?”

He let out a deep, sexy chuckle. “We could go on a hike. Maybe swim? Watch the stars. We’ll have some food to eat…and then I’ll eat you out,” He traced vague shapes on your hip bone with his pointer finger, making you squirm.

“Haven’t you had your fill?” You ask him.

“Of you?” He laughed. “Can you fit the ocean into a cup?”

You scrunch your face in confusion. He was always good with his metaphors, which flowed easily into his lyrics.

“You and your damn hyperboles.” You remarked with a laugh.

“I don’t exaggerate. It’s just a fact,” he answers frankly. For a moment, your head floats up into the clouds again. You feel a light, warm fluttering within your chest.

“So–would you be okay with that plan? You, me–alone in a beach house…clothing completely optional?”

With a sigh, you acquiesced.

******

Lani eyed you as you slid onto a bar stool at her breakfast nook the next morning. She knew when she saw your makeup-free state, which betrayed the shower you’d taken just a half hour before. She quietly poured you a cup of coffee, sliding it towards you. She opens the fridge and puts the creamer next to you.

“I forgot how much I like Namjoon,” she said casually as she looked out her kitchen window, watching his black car with heavily tinted windows drive off.

You nodded while stirring in the creamer in your coffee. You liked Namjoon, too. Thing was, in his line of work, the way the band was just starting to hit their stride globally–it made things…painfully uncertain.

“You two gonna work it out or what?”

“I don’t know,” you say vaguely, taking a long sip of your coffee…as if it held the answers to all of your questions about him. “At least this time, I know the rules.”

“Okay so maybe I don’t like him so much anymore.” Lani poured herself another cup and took a sip and sighed. “I always had a feeling that he was in love with you,” she says unceremoniously.

“He’s in lust,” You countered dryly. “And…whatever, I can live with that. It’s the other stuff—the way he talks to me sometimes, as if there’s more. I keep running all of these scenarios in my head, about why he keeps coming back to me—that part is hard for me to deal with. It’s kind of a mind-fuck.”

“You know that I know some people who can knock some sense into him,” she deadpans as she peered at you above her coffee mug.

You smiled. “I think it would be better if those people knocked some sense into me instead.”

“We can do that, too. It’ll be like a two-for-one deal.” She tapped her mug against yours. “But you’ve got plenty of sense. You know what you’re doing. You just wished you weren’t doing it,” she chuckled. “And he obviously doesn’t have a clue or else he wouldn’t risk letting you get away. He’ll never find anyone better, you know. Someone who knows him inside and out.”

You snorted at her. “Don’t get all sappy on me now, Leilani. I might have to kick your ass.” She laughed at the way you invoked her full name. You were only half-joking. In reality, you felt emotional and…attached. Sex with Namjoon did that.

“Fine, if you want to skip the sappy shit, let’s just eat. Get off your ass and help me make breakfast.”

With a groan, you slid off the bar stool. You weren’t much for cooking–more about eating. “Damn. Can we get back to being sappy instead?”

Before you round the counter to head into the kitchen, your phone pings. It was a text from Namjoon, saying that he just got a last-minute individual schedule and that next weekend might be up in the air.

You scoffed after you read it, and practically flung your phone against the counter, where it lands with a heavy clack, startling Lani. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah,” you answer instantaneously, swallowing your irritation, hoping it would pass.

Did you really expect anything less? The company liked to keep them busy even with scheduled breaks. Just because he wasn’t traveling, did you actually think you’d get some quality time with him? It was easier said than done.

Lani stands there eyeing you suspiciously. But before she picks up on your sudden contemplative vibe, you distract her.

“What do you need help with? Do you want me to cut up stuff? Mix? Beat anything?”

She laughs and goes on asking you to take some scallions and eggs out of the fridge to make pajeon.

“Did you want anything else in it? Ham? Kimchi?” She asks you.

You sighed. “I’m cool with whatever,” you say, noncommittally.

She tells you to chop up the scallions, showing you the right way to position your fingers and hold the knife. You mimic her actions thinking that it wasn’t that difficult to learn.

Now, if only Namjoon were just as easy to figure out.

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