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#stop this we’re at 4.5K now
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It would be so funny if, instead of recording a heartfelt message, Jason just called Bruce a bitch one last time
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viennakarma · 3 months
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Wreck my plans (that's my man)
Part 2 of Say Something
Lewis Hamilton x Reader | Fernando Alonso x Reader
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Summary: Juggling a new life as a divorced woman, a toddler and maybe a new (old) love.
Word count: 4.5k
Tags: Female reader, new love, a kinda asshole Lewis, co-parenting relationship, smut, oral sex (f receiving), a lot of spanish pet names, not beta read
Relationships: Fernando Alonso x Reader, Ex!Lewis Hamilton x Reader
Notes: I know some of you wanted forgiveness for Lewis, and another bunch of you wanted Toto Wolff but I blindly opened the doc and these 4 thousand words just happened. If you really want an alternate ending (forgiving Lewis), drop something in my inbox and I might write a lil something for you ;)
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“Look, mama!” Luna pointed the little finger at the big poster of George Russell, “Uncle Joje!”
“Yep, that’s uncle George, my love!”
“And Dada! Dada!” She pointed to the next big poster, a big picture of Lewis wearing the team gear.
It was the first time you went back to a Grand Prix, in a little more than two years. And it was Luna’s first time ever attending. You and Lewis had a great co-parenting relationship, the world knew about Luna, but the Silverstone GP was going to be the first time she’d be seen publicly. You knew Lewis had hired the best security team just for this, and he had called you with a confident pep talk the night before.
As soon as the car stopped, you pulled Luna closer.
“Baby, stay close to mama, yes? We’re going to see Dada and Papa Anthony too, ok?”
Your daughter nodded but you knew she didn’t really understand, so you just smiled at her and opened the door. You could feel the flashes popping around the two of you, and could imagine everyone wondering what Lewis’ ex wife was doing there.
The bodyguards walked you and Luna over to the Mercedes’ hospitality. You found Lewis in the privacy of his little driver’s room.
“Dada!” Luna squealed as soon as she saw him, casual jeans and the team shirt.
You smiled, setting your little girl down so she could run to her father’s arms. Lewis smiled big, that one smile he only directed to his daughter. Lewis picked her up, kissing her face and hugging her.
“Hi, Lewis!” You greeted him with a side hug, since Luna was still in his arms.
“Hi, Y/N! Are you two ok? Was the trip here alright?” He asked, attentive.
“Yes, thank you. How is your schedule? You wanna stay with her a little?” You asked.
“Yes, I want to be with her. My dad’s at the hospitality too, he’s dying to see Luna.”
You gave him your daughter’s bag, with nappies, toys, drinks and snacks. You told him to call if needed, anything. Kissing your baby’s cheek, you left Lewis’ room to give them a little space and privacy.
Walking around aimlessly, seeing the energy flowing was kind of fun. You walked by Ferrari and greeted both drivers, who you had known back when you were married to Lewis. A good part of the grid had changed, but the few from before still recognised you and talked to you.
You were going back to Mercedes to check on Luna when you hit someone chest to chest.
“Oh, god! I’m so sorry!” You whispered.
“Y/N” he greeted you. You met the gaze of beautiful brown eyes, in an almost green kind of shade.
“Fernando! Hi!” You finally recognized the spaniard.
You had met Fernando the same night you had met Lewis, introduced by Sebastian and his wife after you created the project for their family home.
“It’s good to see you,” Fernando said, still holding your shoulder.
“You too.”
“I’m sorry about the divorce.”
“Uh, don’t worry. It’s been a while, Lewis and I are friends now.”
Fernando nodded, his eyes on your face. You stared at his eyes, trying to find something to say, to fill in the awkward silence.
“You’re just as beautiful as ever,” he whispered almost in a daze. You felt the blush creeping up your face.
“Thank you, you look handsome too,” you said, and you phone started ringing, you checked to see it was Lewis calling, “sorry, I gotta go,”
“See you around?” Fernando asked.
“Yeah, I’ll see you around, Fernando.”
You started walking away feeling butterflies in your stomach, like a silly teenager. You were walking but as you looked back, Fernando was still there staring at your distancing figure.
Fernando never forgot your pretty smile. He had met you so long ago, in a party hosted by Sebastian and his wife. Fernando had been enchanted by you, by the way your presence lit up the room, by how smart you sounded, by how clever you were. The problem was Fernando had gotten to the party late, and when he arrived, you had already met Lewis, fully entranced by the British man's charisma.
Fernando still had a silly crush on you when you were dating Lewis and he saw you around, but after you got married, he had forced himself to move on.
Now it felt like some sort of miracle, bumping into you again.
He didn’t lose any time. As he went back to the Aston Martin garage, he called someone.
It was a couple of hours later and you were by the Mercedes garage chatting with Anthony and keeping an eye on Luna who was running around with George and Lewis, greeting engineers and mechanics, enchanting everyone with her charm.
Someone wearing green came into the garage and everyone stopped, looking at the intruder from the Aston Martin team. The Aston Martin lady handed you a big bouquet of lilies and excused herself.
Every single pair of eyes were set on you and the mysterious bouquet. With your face red, you pulled the card, opening.
“Glad to see you again, hermosa. - Fernando”
You smiled, covering your face. On the back of the card was a phone number.
“Who’s that from?” Lewis asked and suddenly everyone was silent, tension rising up.
“Lewis,” you said between gritted teeth, “you’re making a scene.” Lewis seemed to realize everyone had an eye on you two, so you just turned to Anthony and said, “can you keep an eye on Luna for a couple of minutes please?”
After confirmation, you walked inside, taking your bouquet with you, and putting the number on your phone.
“Who’s it from?” Lewis followed you inside.
“It’s none of your fucking business, Lewis.”
“It is because you’re the mother of my kid.”
“Which means the only topic concerning you is our kid!” You whispered angrily.
“You’re dating, now?”
“Fuck off, Lewis!” You exclaimed, a surge of anger coming through your chest, “Don’t come at me all high and mighty now. You cheated on me, and I still let you be close to my daughter, and I still treat you with respect! I kept the secret of why our marriage ended to save your reputation and we only have a good relationship for her sake!”
You knew the words struck a nerve because his chest was heaving. You had been respectful to Lewis ever since the pregnancy because you wanted your daughter to grow up in a safe and happy environment. But that was where you drew the line.
“My life doesn’t revolve around you anymore.”
Leaving Lewis behind, you went to a room in the hospitality and managed to send a thank you text to Fernando.
You ended up accepting going on a date with Fernando after a few weeks of calling and texting. He ended up going to your place in Edinburgh for a cozy dinner, in a week Luna had gone traveling with Lewis for the summer break.
After the divorce you faced a lot of backlash from Lewis’ fans, even if they didn’t know any details, they still blamed you for breaking their idol’s heart. A few man had flirted with you here and there, but pregnant for nine months and then raising a baby after, you didn’t have the time or energy to find romance. Dealing with the aftermath of your divorce with a world superstar athlete had been something else.
So you had been living a low profile life, one that Fernando fully respected. He and you opted for cooking dinner yourselves, preparing a pasta dish with lots of pomodoro sauce and cheese.
He was easy to talk to. So openly into you, complimenting you, talking about how pretty and how interesting you are. The Spanish charm was so real and delightful, after years of feeling rejected. 
“Can I ask you something?” You asked, over a glass of wine while Fernando mixed a saucepan.
“Anything.”
“Why are you interested in me?” You sounded honestly confused. 
You were a divorced woman, with a toddler, still trying to figure out the relationship you had with your ex, and living under the radar after having your face plastered all over the media. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was really into you or if it was some sort of vendetta against Lewis. You knew that despite them being on good terms now, there’s history between them, and many layers of rivalry you weren’t privy to, since it happened long before they met you.
“Is this to get back at Lewis in some way? Because I’d like to manage my expectations if that’s the case.”
He understood why you would be guarded and suspicious of his intentions. Your last relationship had imploded in a way that he could only imagine left you devastated. It must look off, a known rival of your ex-husband sweeping in and showing romantic interest. But Fernando didn’t mind showing you his true intentions as long as you allowed him.
Fernando turned the stove off, and walked around the kitchen island, standing in front of you, so close he was almost between your legs.
“It has nothing to do with him because I have always been interested in you,” he whispered like a secret, seeing you confused frown, he kept talking, “remember the night we met? Lewis left early, we went to the garden, and sat down by the fountain. We shared a bottle of wine and a cigarette. Just me and you watching the sun rise.”
“Fernando…” you whispered back, remembering. Of course you knew about that, but for so long your life was entangled to Lewis, that the memory of that night was only attached to him in your brain.
But that had happened. You and Fernando had talked late into the night, chatting about life and the future, sitting barefoot on the grass, passing a wine bottle between you. Fernando didn’t flirt with you that day, he just chatted.
At the time you were so infatuated with Lewis already, that you didn’t see what was right under your nose.
“And for years after that,” Fernando gulped, looking a bit guilty, “I wondered if I had gone to the party earlier, if I had met you first, wouldn’t it be me by your side?”
“You’ve been into me all these years?” You asked, shocked.
“I have been in love all these years.”
You held his face, pulling him into you, kissing him. He was shocked at first, but as soon as it wore off, his hand slipped around your waist, pulling you flush into him. With the other hand, he cradled your head by the nape, his lips leaving your mouth, to kiss down your neck and nip at your earlobe, which had you moaning softly, melting against him.
“I’m sorry, hermosa,” he apologized, taking a step back.
You were panting softly as he stared at you, red face and lips, hair a little disheveled from his hand.
“Fernando,” you stood up, holding his hand, “come back here.”
You pulled him back, pressing your lips into his. He held you close, flush against his chest, opening his lips and deepening the kiss. You felt hot all over.
“I have dreamed about this, diosa.” He moaned into your lips.
“Can we-” you muttered between kisses, “can we skip dinner?”
You turned around to go back to the living room, hearing Fernando hearty laugh, and he immediately hugged you from behind, kissing your shoulder and neck. Finally making it to the sofa, you sat down. Fernando just knelt in front of you, pushing your dress up.
“Dessert first, sí?”
Laughing, you nodded, kicking your panties after he pushed them down your legs. Fernando bit into your thighs, and you moaned at the feel of his beard on your skin. With his head between your thighs, he mouthed you, licking a stripe into your cunt. Using a hand to open you up, he lapped your pussy like a man starved, pressing face, nose and tongue into your wetness. You had gone so long without another person, that now you were mushy under his ministrations. He still couldn’t get enough, so he put one of your legs over his shoulder, diving deeper, tongue over your clit and finger entering your cunt.
“Fuck, Nando. Too good, too good,” you gripped his hair, grinding on his face. He curled his fingers up inside you, finding your g-spot, making you shake, “I’m so close, baby. So, so close.”
He latched on to your clit, and you came hard, shaking, hips pressing into his face as you tried to come down. You were panting, breathless, as you came down from your high. Fernando stood up, sitting by your side, kissing you. You tasted yourself on his lips, and he held you.
You cupped the bulge in his pants, and he kept kissing you face gently, holding you in his arms like he wanted to never let go.
“We should take this to the bedroom,” he whispered into your ear, making goosebumps arise in your skin.
You two stumbled to the bedroom, laughing as you pulled each piece of clothing off, tossing them to the floor. You were fully naked by the time the door closed behind you in the bedroom.
You didn’t actually lay in the bed, since Fernando made you keep one foot on the floor and pushed your other leg on the mattress, leaving you open for him.
“Dios, I want to keep you in this bed for days until I have tasted all of you, cariño,” he said, running a calloused hand up and down from your back all the way to your butt, pressing his fingers over your cheeks, making you moan.
“Nando, please fuck me, just- I need you, please,” you begged, feeling the way he lined his cock to tease your entrance but not actually putting in, just coating himself with your wetness.
Then finally, he pushed inside, slowly, your walls pulling him in a perfect tight grip. The two of you cursed as you adapted to the feel of him inside, of having someone fucking you for the first time in years.
Fernando started fucking you softly, and you let him manhandle you as he pulled you back to stand up, your back against his chest, one of his hands snaking around your middle to keep him pressed to your backside and the other hand cradled your face by the jaw, forcing you to look ahead.
“Mírate, cariño (look at you, dear)” he whispered, making you face ahead, finding the full length mirror on the other side of the room, you could see perfectly, Fernando fucking you from behind, his sweaty face above your shoulder, your tits bouncing with each snap of his hips and his hands claiming your body like you were a fucking masterpiece, “you look so pretty taking my cock.”
You looked at the mirror, his hand keeping you up like a toy and he started pounding into you, and you could only moan his name as you felt the orgasm buildup, you threw your hand back, holding his head and pulling his hair and your other hand down to your clit as his thrusts became harder and slower. You felt yourself clench around him, coming hard as he whispered in your ear.
“Oh, you feel so good, hermosa. I bet it feels so good coming around my cock does it not?” He talked you through your high.
“Fuck, you’re so good to me. Please, baby.” You moaned and that did it for him, and you had him cumming with a couple of sloppy thrusts.
You two fell on the bed, breathless.
“Goddamn, Nano, you’re going to ruin my life,” You whispered.
“I’m happy to be of service,” he joked and you ended up laughing out loud, him accompanying you with a few giggles.
You two showered, and then dressed in robes, ate dinner on the living room floor, sharing the wine straight from the bottle just like the first time you met. 
After talking for what felt like hours, he took you back to bed, feasting on your cunt until he pulled two more orgasms from you, and then fucking you slowly. Mouth on your nipples and a hand keeping your hips high as he fucked into you. You held onto him for dear life, fingers tangled on his soft hair and kissed him whenever he gave you the opportunity. He worshiped your body like you were the only woman to ever exist, intense eye contact and praising you every step of the way.
The next morning you woke up naked, spent and happy. You barely had the time to feel Nando’s absence in your bed when he entered the room, carrying a big tray with breakfast.
“¡Buenos días!” He greeted you with a peck and set the tray in front of you. There was coffee, juice, toast and cheese.
“Buenos días, baby” you said, lazily taking a sip of coffee, “this is nice. I’ve never been surprised with breakfast in bed before.”
“You deserve it, you took me so well last night, hermosa.” He kissed you quickly again, and you blushed because of his words.
You kept eating when he went to the opposite side of the room to take a phone call. You spoke intermediate Spanish because of work, but you didn’t pry in his conversation, instead focusing on recharging your energies.
“Duty calls?” You asked as he came back. He only nodded, which made you a little sad, “well, I was going to ask you to stay the weekend, but I understand you’re busy.”
“I’ll cancel my plans.” He shrugged.
“No, no, you don’t have to.” You said quickly, feeling guilty for messing with his schedule.
“Do you want me to spend the weekend?” He asked softly. And you just nodded, not wanting to be the cause of him getting in trouble with work. “Then I’ll spend the weekend.”
He immediately got into a phone call again, and from what you could gather, he was rescheduling his commitments for the next week.
“Why did you do that?” You reprimanded him, but deep down you were kinda giddy because he was going to stay the weekend.
“You’re a priority, not a second thought.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing ever. “Besides, I’ll never say no to spending more time with you, cariño.”
Throughout the next six months, you and Nando kept in touch and met here and there whenever Lewis had Luna over. He officially asked you to be his girlfriend when you spent a week with him in a secluded villa close to the beach in Spain. It’s not that you didn’t want Fernando to meet Luna, but you two were still figuring out your relationship and you didn’t want to introduce them and in case he ended up not sticking around for the long run.
“Are you sure?” You asked him suddenly one night when you two were cuddling on the balcony, staring at each other and at the sky.
“Sure of what?”
“Are you sure you wanna be with me, Fernando?” You asked absentmindedly, running your palm up and down his back.
“Yes, I am sure.”
“Why, though? I come with a kid and a lot of baggage?” As you said the words, Fernando pulled your hand and kissed your palm, putting it against his cheek, looking into your eyes.
“Because I want you.”
“Even with all the complications? Even if we never find a way to go public?”
“I don’t mind if I have to spend the rest of our lives reassuring you. I’m with you because I want you, simple as that” he said with his serious voice and thick accent, as a lump stuck on your throat, “I’m not with you because of what you look like by my side or what you can do for me. I’m with you because I love you.”
Your tears fell down and Fernando caught them with his lips, kissing your cheeks and tears away. It was so good and so safe, you never wanted to leave his side.
“The rest of our lives, eh?” You giggled, “I’m not gonna lie, I like the sound of that.”
“Bueno. I like the sound of that too.”
“Gracias, Nano. Yo te amo y te deseo también. (Thank you, Nano. I love you and I desire you too)”
“Wait-” he pushed himself up, “you speak Spanish?”
“Sí, lo hablo. (Yes, I do)” You laughed out loud at his dumbfounded face, and he held your wrists up above your head.
“Todo este tiempo hablaste español? (All this time you spoke spanish?)” He clicked his tongue, “eres tan mala y te voy a castigar. (You're so bad and I'm gonna punish you)”
You squealed as he carried you back inside, tossing you on the bed.
Eventually, you made up your mind about telling Lewis. Not because he had to know, but from a standpoint that he should know for the sake of Luna. So you stopped him one day when he came to drop off Luna.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” You asked after greeting your baby, “Luna, why don’t you take your new toys inside while Mommy and Daddy chat a little?” You watched your girl run inside, “Careful! The porch is slippery!”
“What happened?” Lewis asked, putting both hands on his pockets.
“I’m seeing someone.”
Your words made his stomach drop. The dreaded day had come. Lewis had noticed how you looked happier and healthier than before, how you were wearing more makeup and pretty stylish clothes. The other day you had a mysterious tan on your body when he came to drop Luna off, way too strong tan for Scotland, anyway.
You are one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, he found it a miracle it took you so long to find someone. Maybe deep down Lewis thought you two could mend your relationship.
“Who?” Was all he said.
“Fernando.”
“Fernando?” He frowned, “who’s Fernando?”
“Alonso.” You bit your lip, waiting for an explosive reaction, but Lewis went silent, thinking.
“I can’t believe this. He’s just using you to target me, can’t you see?”
“So that’s all you see me as? An object? A ploy crafted to only be used for you or against you?” You asked, crossing your arms defensively.
“That’s not what I mean! He’s- he’s evil, you know that!” Lewis bared his teeth, getting angrier by the second.
“I don’t. That’s not how he is to me.” You shrugged.
“Do you have any idea how messy this will look when it comes out? Are you ready to face the consequences of this stupid adventure to get back at me?”
His words made you raise your walls, defensive, that sounded dangerously like a threat. You remained collected, because if Lewis wanted to go low, then you’d go lower.
“I’ll let this one slide, but it sounded dangerously close to a fucking threat,” you started, your voice so cold it sent shivers up his spine, “This had nothing to do with you. Nothing. But if this information leaks, I’ll know who did it. And if you do this to damage my image to the world or try and force my hand into leaving him, then everyone will finally know why we divorced, and how the other woman kept harassing me while I was pregnant!”
“What?” His expression dropped. 
He didn’t know because you didn’t tell him, because after a few months of mockery and threats through texts, you changed your number and it stopped. You still had the screenshots though.
“Luna will always be my greatest priority, and I love my baby girl. But my life has revolved around hers ever since I was pregnant, and before that my life revolved around you,” you felt a lump in your throat, eyes watering, “can I have this one thing for me? Is it selfish wanting to be loved?”
“I do. I love you.” He said, his voice wavering too.
“No, you don’t.” You shook your head, “you loved the idea of someone living solely for you. You loved that I was there during the good and the bad, picking up the pieces when you were down and popping the champagne when you were up. You loved that I loved you.”
You looked back, where Luna was calling you from the door.
“I am with Fernando now, and as Luna’s parents, I just didn't want you to be blindsided,” you turned around but looked at him over your shoulder, “don’t go ruining my future a second time.”
He flinched before your words. You knew it would cut deep, but you were tired of that conversation and his entitlement to your life and decisions.
A few weeks later, you introduced Luna to Fernando, and to your surprise, they got along so well. Probably because he bought her a lot of presents. She liked his presence most of the times, despite feeling jealous sometimes when he hugged you or kissed your cheeks.
When you and Fernando made it to a one year anniversary, you two adopted a kitten who had been abandoned by the road. Luna fell immediately in love with the pet, which found home with you. For Christmas, Nando’s gift to Luna was to install a swing and a see-saw on the garden, which ultimately made her completely enchanted by him, asking him to play all the time whenever they were at your place at the same time.
You were sitting on his lap while Luna played with the cat, throwing toys around.
“How would you feel about a baby?” You asked him. He straightened up, searching your eyes.
“Are you pregnant?” He sounded shocked.
“Of course not, tonto! (silly)” You giggled, “I’m just- mulling over the idea, wanting your opinion, you know.”
“Yes, I want more kids if you want too,” he said honestly, his hand softly caressing the side of your hip.
“Mhm,” you nuzzled into his neck.
“Your question came with good timing, you know, I have been thinking,” he mumbled, thinking, “Do you want me to retire?”
“What? Are you insane? You love racing, it’s like- it’s in your blood! You know I do-”
“That’s not what I asked,” Fernando interrupted you, “I asked if you want me to retire? We could move in together, spend more time together, I could move here.”
“You’d drop your sunny and warm Spain for Scotland?” Your voice was laced with doubt.
“I’d drop anything for you, don’t you see?” He lowered his voice, closer to your ear, “besides, we could always go back and forth here and Spain. I’d do it if it means I get to make love to you every day, and wake up by your side every morning.”
“You’re so cheesy,” you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks were deep red.
“You love it.”
“That I do.”
“That sounds tempting but I could never ask you to stop racing, it’s literally your favorite thing!”
“You are my favorite thing.”
“Fernando…” you whined and he laughed.
“Ok, let’s meet in the middle, sí?” He proposed, kissing your cheek, “if you get pregnant, I drop everything. Meanwhile, we let things run their course as it is, ok?”
“That’s perfect, mi amor” You laid back on his chest, watching Luna playing.
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jazzyoranges · 5 months
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Harleys in Hawaii
Tara Carpenter x fem!reader
Summary: you’re Tara’s older girlfriend
Words: 4.5k
A/n: listen to harleys in hawaii
Warnings: i didn’t feel like editing or spell checking sorry bout that 💀, age gap (Tara is 22/23, you’re 27), drinking, kissing, fade to black sex, R is implied to dress more masculine, also Scream 6 doesn’t exist cause Anika is alive 😇
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Tara has gone through 3 girlfriends and 5 boyfriends in the span of 5 months. Currently, she’s having an intervention on how and why. Well, the core four’s version of an intervention at least
“Dude, you have to teach me how to get a girlfriend” Chad begs, and Mindy laughs
“Why am I even here? You guys suck at interventions. If anything, this is the opposite of one”
This time, her sister chimes in. “We’re here because you’ve been going through partners like pairs of clothes. Why are you dating all these people?”
“I don’t know!” Tara groans “In the beginning it’s to be fun dating someone, but after a week it feels like a chore”
“Wow, never knew you of all people would have the same mindset of a frat boy” This earns Mindy a slap on her shoulder from Anika, who was cuddled into her
“Shut up Mindy.” the younger Carpenter spits out
“So you date people and drop them ‘cause they don’t give you the thrill of being in a relationship?” Chad says and everyone in the room goes silent. Momentarily, he stops throwing his tennis ball up in the air
“…Did I say something wrong?”
“Never knew you could be smart, Chad”
“Sometimes I wish we weren’t related.”
“Is that it, Tara?” Sam asks “You just want the thrill of dating?”
“When you put it that way, I guess? I dunno, I haven’t really met anyone exciting. You’d think there’d be fun people in New York”
“You just haven’t met the right person, Tara. I’m sure there’s someone for you, you just suck at looking”
“Oh, really? Where am I supposed to look, then?”
“I dunno, definitely not where you’re looking right now” Mindy shrugs, and Tara sighs at how helpful her friends are
You meet you coworker’s sister when her and her friends decide to have a study session at the small coffee shop you and Sam work at. You and the older Carpenter instantly clicked as friends. Sam knew you knew about the Woodsboro killings, but you knew not to trust the media entirely. After a few weeks of talking to her, you didn’t understand how Sam could be accused of such disgusting things
Your friendship solidified when you ‘accidentally’ spilled an ice cream sundae on some girl who was being mean to her. Of course you were fired the next day, but Sam left with you, opting to work at a smaller coffee shop run by a nice old man and his lovely wife
Sam considered you a good friend, and she trusted you with being around her sister. Luckily the old couple who ran the shop were kind and trusting, and let Sam’s sister and friends use the coffee shop after hours for late-night studying. It was maybe about 6:30pm when the shop officially closed, and the study session started. Sam insisted she stay by herself, but you didn’t want her to be lonely while watching her kids friends study
Personally, you thought it was far too late to study, but you also hadn’t been to school in 3 years. Soft music was playing while the group studied and you and Sam cleaned up the shop here and there
Tara tried to focus on her work, she really did. After a few glances in your direction and many “sorry, what did you say?”’s later, Mindy finally decided to comment on Tara’s behavior. I mean, could she really be mad? You were breathtaking. Your shirt hugged your arms and torso just the right way, you hand a very pretty face, most of all, you were-
“Alright, what’s up with you? You’ve been distracted this entire time”
“I’m not distracted, I’m listening” Tara lied straight through her teeth, and Mindy just looked at her in suspicion
“You’ve seemed out of it this entire study session, you okay?” Anika reached to rub Tara’s shoulder
“Uh, y-yeah” Tara turned around in her seat looking for you. When she saw you were either in the break room or the bathroom, Tara leaned in closer to the group and so did her friends
“Sam’s friend is really hot.”
“Understandable” Chad nods
“Definitely ask her out”
“Like hell I am, Mindy!” Tara whisper-shouts
You’re about to leave for the night. Gathering your jacket, helmet, and keys from your locker, you barely make it out of the break room before one of Sam’s friends calls you over
“Hey, Sam’s coworker! Are you good at algebra?
“A little above average, why do you ask? You walk over to the booth they’re studying at. You miss the glare the brunette gives to her friend
Mindy motions to Tara “My friend over here is having a little trouble, and we’re all not really good at explaining. Could you help her?”
“Also,” the twin points at each of her friends “Anika, Chad, Tara, and I’m Mindy”
You pull up a chair to sit next to Tara “Y/N, nice to meet all of you. Sam says lots of good things”
“Likewise, Sam told us about what you did for her. We all appreciate it” Anika smiles
“Those girls were assholes,” you shrug “they deserved it.” Now focusing on Tara, you met her eyes while the rest of the group fell into discussion
“So, what exactly do you need help with?”
Tara tries to listen to what you’re saying, but everything is going in one ear and out the other with your proximity to her. You make simple small talk with Tara, and she notes how the corners of your eyes crinkle when you laugh. The brunette learns you’re about the same age as her sister, you have a second job as a mechanic, and you owned a motorcycle (in which her interest was immediately peaked).
A few hours of conversation and studying later, the group decides they’re finished. They pile into Sam’s car to be dropped off at their respective apartments. Unfortunately due to a little clutter, there isn’t enough room for Tara in the car (which is surprising since she’s incredibly small, but you decide to hold your tongue this time)
“Cmon, guys, can’t you make some room?” the brunette groans
“You could ride with Y/n,” Sam suggests “I trust her to get you home”
“Yeah, I got an extra helmet in my locker, I’ll go get it” You jog back to the shop, and you’re back a minute later with a helmet in one hand, and a hoodie in the other. Your hoodie, Tara thinks
“Here, it gets cold. Is this your first time?”
“Yeah, I’ve never been on a motorcycle before…” Tara says nervously, and she has to stop herself from taking a big whiff of your hoodie around her
“No worries! If you get scared just squeeze my thigh and I’ll pull over, okay? Also, make sure to hold on tight” You put the helmet on Tara, inspecting her to make sure it’s on correctly
“Geez, it feels like I’m an astronaut” Tara laughs, flipping up the visor
“Doesn’t it? I always feel like a bobble head or something when I’m in it” You teach Tara how to get on, and soon enough you’re on the road following Sam’s car
Tara’s arms were snugly wrapped around your torso, and she was absolutely having the time of her life. The helmet she was wearing smelled like you and it was absolutely intoxicating. Not to mention how your hoodie sat comfortably on her body — almost like it was meant for her to wear. Deciding to be bold, Tara decides to hug you tighter
When you two eventually stop at a stoplight, you hold out a thumbs up, questioning if Tara is comfortable. The brunette responds with a thumbs up of her own, and the slow circles she’s making with her thumb under your shirt that leave a trail of goosebumps behind
First Sam stops at Mindy and Anika’s, then Chads. Since there’s more room in the car Tara doesn’t actually need to stay with you, but she’s practically glued to your back. The brunette decides to be greedy and hold on
A few minutes later, you two reach Tara and Sam’s apartment complex. When you come to a stop the younger Carpenter gets off first, and you follow after
“So, how was your first time on a motorcycle? Scary?”
“Honestly? Not really. I trust you won’t crash, or else Sam’ll get real mad at you” Taking off her helmet, you get the pleasure of seeing Tara smile again. She starts to take off your hoodie, but you stop her before she does
“Keep it, I already have a bunch of other hoodies and jackets at my place”
“Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t be saying it if I wasn’t sure, Carpenter”
“You’re an ass” Tara rolls her eyes and playfully hits your arm
“Nice meeting you and your friends, by the way. I’ll see you guys around” After you wave bye and hop back on your motorcycle Tara watches you leave, pulling your hoodie closer to her body
Study sessions at the coffee shop after closing time became more and more regular. Sometimes it’s just Sam closing up, and other times it’s just you. Tara still regrets telling the group about her very tiny minuscule crush on you, since you’re now used as blackmail to get Tara to go anywhere
“Wanna go to the movies?”
“Sorry, I have to finish an essay”
“Y/n’s gonna be there” Mindy says in a sing-song tone
“Fuck you.” Tara groans before grabbing her jacket, fully expecting to be invited for a motorcycle ride from you
At first Tara only saw you during study sessions at the coffee shop. It was the same story almost every time. There wouldn’t be enough room in Sam’s car, you’d drive Tara home, and if she was lucky you’d stop at a 7 Eleven for slushees and a snack
When Sam invites you to a game night with the group, you happily accept the invitation. With a bottle of wine in your left hand, you make some final adjustments to your outfit before knocking. Smoothing out your shirt, you hear a familiar voice behind the door
“So, are you gonna stand there or are you going to knock?” The younger Carpenter teases, and she can practically hear you roll your eyes when you scoff
“I was making myself presentable” You shrug, hearing the click of the door as Tara opens it
“Whatever,” The shorter girl laughs “You’re kinda early so you can wait on the couch or something” She takes the bottle of wine from your hands, setting down on a table
“Geez, don’t people have manners nowadays? I thought it was a given to arrive early”
“I think that’s just you being old”
“You’re mean.” Tara’s face collides with a pillow as she turns around and the brunette can faintly hear you say ‘headshot!’ in an excited voice
“Me? Mean? You just assaulted me!”
“You’ll live. Mario Kart?” You wave a second controller in her direction with the game already booted up, and Tara takes her seat next to you on the floor
The next few minutes are spent casually trash-talking each other. When you get particularly close to winning Tara shoves you to the floor, causing you to lose. A smug grin adorns her face when you throw another pillow at her
“Stop throwing pillows at me!” Tara laughs
“You quite literally shoved me to the floor ‘cause you’re not as good as me”
“Shut up, you’ve have more experience”
“Are you calling me old again?” You say in a dramatic tone, and the door rings a whole 20 minutes after the rest of the group is supposed to show up. Sam lets them in, and you wave hello. Mindy gives Tara a look you don’t recognize, but Chad quickly challenges you to another game of Mario Kart
The twin tried his best, he really did. He took the shortcuts, chose the best character, and even optimized his power-ups. But alas, his efforts were rendered useless as you casually mopped the floor with his ass. The scoreboard with your name at the top is enough for Chad to groan in defeat
“Dude, how are you so good?”
“I guess I just have more experience”
“So you can say it but I can’t?” You end up sticking your tongue out at Tara like a child
“Whatever. You guys got any other games?”
“We have Uno” Sam suggests
Oh how foolish she was.
Arguing, wine, and lots of popcorn later, you’re currently in a battle for 4th place with Tara. Fifteen minutes after Chad won 3rd, both of you insisted a 4th place winner. When you put down a plus four twice in a row, the group only groans
“Please are you two almost done?”
“It’s Uno. How about we play another game?” Chad pleads
“Absolutely not. I refuse to lose to a girl that’s basically half my height.”
“Half your height!? You’ll probably be balding by 30!”
“You take that back!” You slam a hand against the table, and your friends can’t tell if they should intervene or watch the argument play out. They choose the latter
Shallow insults are exchanged between you two and the rest of the group finally understands both of you aren’t serious. They decide to leave you two to pick up some pizza, and you’re far too busy arguing how you’re not going to go bald at 30. Really, whose idea was it to give the most competitive people copious amounts of wine?
Eventually your arguing dies down, leaving you both giggling like middle school kids when they see their crush. The absurdity of the situation paired with the wine you both drank made a very fun combo
“Sorry I said you’d bald by 30” Tara leans onto your shoulder and you lay your head atop hers
“It’s okay. Sorry I said you were half my height… even if it’s true” You smile and Tara hits your arm while suppressing a grin
“You mind if I sleep here tonight? Pretty sure I can’t drive my baby in this state”
“Your baby?”
“My motorcycle. Her name is Elizabeth” You nudge her shoulder
“You named your motorcycle?
“It’s how you create attachment, Tara. You name everything so you care more about it”
“God, you’re a weirdo.” The younger Carpenter leans into you even further
“You never answered my question”
“Hmm… I think Sam wouldn’t mind”
“But would you mind?”
“No, you’re my friend”
A comfortable silence passes between you two. Tara, half asleep on your shoulder; and you, trying to formulate a plan to get Tara in her bed. The only good idea you’ve thought of is carrying her, so that’s what you decide to do
Tara makes a sound then holds onto your shirt as you scoop her up from the couch. There’s a feeling in her stomach she can’t quite place when your arms wrap around her. You’re warm, and Tara only wants to get closer to your body heat
“Tara, honey, where’s your room?” You whisper. The pet name accidentally slips, and you hope the younger girl doesn’t notice.
Oh but she does
Tara notices and opts to bury her head in you chest, pointing in the direction of her room. She can feel her face warm up immediately
You open up the door all the way with your foot, and lay Tara down in her bed. You’re about to leave to probably sleep on the couch, but you feel a hand around your wrist and Tara mumble something sleepily
“You alright, Tar?” You bend down
“Please stay… don’t go.” The younger Carpenter whispers, and you wouldn’t be able to hear her if not your close proximity
“I’ll be in the living room, don’t worry. I don’t drink and drive”
“No, I mean stay here.”
“You… You want me to stay in your room?”
Tara nods.
“I- I don’t know, Tara.” You were hesitant to accept her invitation.
“I won’t be far, I promise”
“I don’t care you’re older than me.”
“W-What?”
“Please, you make me so happy. People my age are so dull…” Tara takes your hand in her own, playing with your fingers
“You don’t mean that, Tar. You’re drunk and tired. How about you get some sleep, hm?” You say in the softest voice you can manage, pushing away the thoughts of how badly you just want to hold Tara in your arms again
“Y/n…” Something in you shifts when the brunette says your name in her sleep-drunk state. You notice the pleading look in her eyes, and it’s difficult to imagine saying no to her
“I can’t say no to you.” You sigh, taking off your jacket before getting in bed. Tara immediately curls up against your chest like it’s the most natural thing ever and you wrap your arms around her waist like it’s second nature
“Thank you. I really like you, Y/n”
“If you end up regretting this I’ll pretend like nothing’s happened if you want”
“No!” Both you and Tara are surprised by her tone
“I- I mean no. I promise I won’t regret this. Regret… you.” She says in a smaller voice
“Do you like me too?” Tara looks up at you with hope in her eyes and your heart melts at the sight
“I don’t know, Tara. Part of me thinks this is wrong, and the other part just wants to spend time with you.”
“Ever since… Amber, you’ve helped me move on” This was the most Tara has opened up about her late girlfriend. Of course the group told you a few tiny things about her here and there, but you hadn’t heard from Tara straight up. You knew this was a very hard and difficult subject even as time continued to pas
“You don’t need to feel like you have to tell me about her, Tara. How about we sleep? You’ll have a clearer mind tomorrow” Pressing a kiss against her forehead, your girlfriend(?) smiles
“…can I wear your shirt?”
“I’m right here, you know”
“I wanna be closer to you”
“Go actually get ready for bed, Tara. I know you don’t wanna sleep with makeup on” The brunette gets up to leave but decides to double back and give you a kiss on the cheek, leaving you a subtle lipstick mark
You hate how she makes you all giddy like a teenager in love.
Getting up to ask Tara if she has an oversized hoodie you could sleep in, you’re caught in the hallway by Sam. You only notice how bad it looks you’re walking out Tara’s room with messy hair, ruffled clothes, and a noticeable kiss on your cheek. You’re quick to wipe it off and smooth out your hair a second later
“Sam, it’s not what it looks like.” You say quickly
“I dunno, it really looks like you’re fucking my sister”
“I-It’s not like that! She- I uh-“
“Listen, I don’t mind you’re dating my sister. Would’ve wished you told me, though”
“That’s the thing! I have no idea what we are” You look behind to look for Tara before turning back to Sam
“She said she really liked me, but then she’s also drunk, but then she also kissed me. What if she doesn’t actually mean it? What if she regrets this? What if-” You’re talking quickly and about to start pacing around before Sam grounds you by holding onto your shoulders
“I trust you, Y/n. You’re my friend. I trust you’ll take good care of my sister”
The older Carpenter gives you a quick hug before leaving to her own room, leaving you staring at nothing as the door to the bathroom clicks open
“Y/n? You alright?” Tara pulls you into a hug, shoving her face in your neck
“Y-Yeah, do you have a hoodie I could sleep in?”
“Mmm… I think I have one in your size” The shorter girl leads you to her closet. A few seconds of searching lands you a hoodie with an album cover you don’t recognize. Tara notices your confusion
“Tyler the creator”
“Is he any good?”
“Well duh, I wouldn’t have him on a hoodie if he wasn’t”
“Okay smart ass, no need to be mean” You feign annoyance and the brunette can only roll her eyes and drag you into bed for the second time this night
Both of you get into position again. Tara’s arms securely wrapped around your torso, and your arms that bring her closer to your neck. You decide it isn’t so bad you’re in love with Tara Carpenter
You and Sam meet the rest of the group at their college. The lovely older couple that ran the coffee shop insisted you two spent time with Tara. They may as well be your parents with how much they treat you and Sam like their own kin. With the rest of the day to spoil Tara, you happily jump onto her with open arms while spewing a slew of praises and compliments
Your girlfriend should probably be embarrassed at how loud your affection is, but it’s New York. Who really cares? When you’re done being yourself, Sam also gives Tara a bear hug
“So, what’re the plans, birthday girl?” Mindy asks
“Honestly? I just wanna spend time with you guys”
“How disgustingly cute. I think that’s a great idea, babe”
“Are you kidding?” Chad speaks up “The last time we all spent time together, you two were fighting for 4th place in Uno. Fourth place!”
“I think you’re being over dramatic, bud”
“You looked like you were about to flip the fucking table when Tara made you draw 12 cards”
“Like I said, stacking is a curse that makes me angry”
“I gotta agree with Chad, here” Sam chimes in “You almost killed Tara because of Jenga”
“It’s not my fault your little sister is a pathological liar and a gaslighter!” The younger Carpenter rolls her eyes
“You’re awfully childish for someone that’s so old” Your girlfriend laughs, making you look away, embarrassed
“It’s not my fault I’m competitive!”
“So, where do you wanna eat out, Tara?” Anika asks “I’ve been starving practically all day”
“Hooters.” The brunette answers almost immediately
“So, birthday girl, what’s it like being 23?”
“A lot like being 22”
“Noting different?”
“Well, this is the first year you’re here to celebrate with me” Tara turns on her side to face you “I guess that’s pretty special”
You copy her actions, now looking at your girlfriend
“Oh yeah? What’s so special about me being here?”
“Please, you really don’t need a bigger ego”
“Aw you’re no fun”
“I’m plenty fun, babe” Tara reaches down to the hem of your shirt, feeling the skin right above your pants
“Mhm, and what type of fun?”
“You’re such a tease.” Your girlfriend rolls her eyes. Both of you are inching closer to each other to close the gap. You blink for half a second, and Tara straddles your lap with a hungry look in her eyes and a smile that highlights her cute dimples
Diving into you, Tara kisses you with fervor and lust. Her kisses are sloppy, but you don’t really care. Currently, the only thing in your mind is Tara’s name on repeat. Both of your clothes are off in only a matter of seconds due to the brunette’s growing eagerness of wanting your fingers inside of her
“A-Are you sure about this?” You mumble in between kisses and pecks
“Absolutely positive, baby.” Your girlfriend’s ever growing wetness smears on the skin of your exposed thigh, making you sigh in delight
“If you don’t want to keep going, just tell me and I’ll-“
“Y/n.” Your head snaps up at the brunette saying your name
“I want this. I want all of you. Drill it into your pretty brain, yeah?” Tara makes an act of lightly drilling her finger into the side of your head, making you laugh
When you kiss Tara for a second time it feels different. Her lips taste sweeter and all you want to do is give her the entire world. Unfortunately you’re only mortal, so you opt to give her a few lot of mind blowing orgasms instead
“So, what’re your plans for the break?”
“We were actually planning a road trip to the beach this weekend to celebrate, and you’re coming”
“No room for debate, huh?” You laugh, swinging an arm over her shoulders “I’ll have to bring my truck, though. Elizabeth is 100% going”
“Sometimes I think you like her more than me”
“You may be my girlfriend, but Elizabeth is my first love” This earns you a punch to the arm via Tara. Although it doesn’t hurt much, you feign a wounded expression and place the back of your hand to your forehead
“Woe is I, for my girlfriend no longer loves me…”
“You’ll be okay” Tara rolls her eyes
“Kiss it better?”
“Please can we have a ride without our helmets?”
“Sam wouldn’t forgive me if we crashed and you weren’t wearing a helmet”
“Please, baby?” Tara uses her best puppy eyes, and she knows they’re working when you look away to resist her charm
“The sunset is beautiful, the back roads are empty, and I want to spend our last moments here on the beach. Don’t you want to see the view, baby?”
You sigh, looking away. This girl was going to be the death of you.
“Well after such a confession, I don’t think I’m able to say anything other than yes” Tara kisses you on the tip of your nose, making it scrunch up just how she liked it
“This is gonna be so aesthetic, babe”
“…Aesthetic?”
“You’re not that old, love”
Before getting on, you take two spare sunglasses from your leather jacket pocket and hold them out for Tara
“Aviator or round?”
“You take the Aviators, I want you to look like one of those guys from Top Gun” Tara takes the sunglasses out of your hand to place them on your face
“Geez, I look more like a biker than a motorcyclist now”
“There’s a difference?”
“I’ll teach you one day. Cmon, the sun’s setting already”
Tara truly believes she’s made it to heaven while you drive. Arms around your waist, the salty breeze, and not to mention the beautiful setting sun. This is what she’s always been craving
Exhilarated is how she’d describe being around you. The simplest touches sent shivers down her spine. The tiniest glances made Tara’s heart giddy with joy. How couldn’t she fall for you? Picture-perfect is what you were. Not boring, not simple, not easy. You were… you
With sand in you hair from previous beach endeavors and a smile wide enough your girlfriend can see just from looking at the back of your head, Tara can’t image herself anywhere but with you
1K notes · View notes
little-miss-vader · 10 months
Text
Ask Nicely
Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Actress!Reader
Summary: You landed a role in a Star Wars film and your co-star is none other than Hayden Christensen.
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A/N: IM SORRY IVE BEEN GONE. I have had this one in my notes for a month and I finally decided to post it. Enjoy <3 i missed y’all
Warnings: Age gap!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LIKE A BIG AGE GAP!!!!!! Oral, fingering, edging.
Word count: 4.5K
You were late. Again. The alarms you set had no effect on your will to get out of bed. Your entire body hurt from training for hours the day prior. It was intensive and hard on you. They had purposefully given you a heavier prop lightsaber to train with because you weren’t very strong to begin with and the crew wanted the real prop to look like it was a feather in your hands. Hayden, of course, breezed through it. Meanwhile, you had to take a break every hour to catch your breath and keep from throwing up.
You knew you had to get up now or you’d be in a fair bit of hot water but you couldn’t move. A soft knock was heard at your door and you groaned as you reached over to push your fingers against the screen of your phone with your eyes closed until you finally hit the “stop” button for your alarm. “Come in.” You yelled, hoping the person on the other side would hear you. A small click was heard as the door unlatched and the hinges made a squeaky sound that made you want to kill somebody.
“You’re not up yet?” Hayden’s voice rang through your ears and your eyes snapped open. You pulled the blanket over you subconsciously as you sat up wearing the sports bra and shorts you had trained in, you’d been too tired to even wash your face after yesterday and opted to just deal with changing and showering in the morning.
“I was so tired.” You said as he stood at the door. “You can come in. Or not, I mean you’ll be late if you don’t go now.” You stuttered as he crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the doorway, his leg across the other. Your eyes were glued to him, he was wearing baggy black pants and a white t-shirt that hugged his chest in the most drool-worthy way. His blue hat, which he very proudly represented his home country with, sat on his head and you loved it.
“That’s normal. They’re not expecting you to be perfect, Y/N. Take your time.” He shrugged. “Besides if I go now I’m just gonna be waiting around for you to get there and we’re supposed to train together. I’m already late, can’t be late twice.” He laughed softly. He was older than you by a fair amount of years. Hell, you hadn’t even learned to walk properly by the time he played his role as Anakin for the first time, yet he always treated you as an equal. You watched him for a moment before sliding your legs over the edge of the bed. With a slight wince you let your feet touch the ground. You felt him watch you and you scrambled to find something to say.
“Well I appreciate the gesture.” You said, keeping your cool, as you walked toward the washroom after grabbing new clothes from your suitcase that you hadn’t bothered to unpack. “Take a seat or something, I’ll be ready in ten minutes.” You called over your shoulder and you heard him walk in as the door closed behind him. He sat down on the small couch in your trailer and you got ready as quick as possible.
You threw your old clothes in the hamper as you emerged from the bathroom with a fresh set of the same clothes you had on before. “Time to go?” You smiled as you bumped your hip against his shoulder. Hayden looked up from his phone at you and nodded his head with an “mhm” and you smiled. “Come on then lazy bones.” You continued as you opened the door. Hayden rolled his eyes at your ironic remark and stood up from the couch.
“I’ve been up for three hours and I’m the lazy bones?” He questioned as he followed behind you, his hand pressed against the door and held it open as you walked out and he closed it behind the two of you. You laughed in response to his words. You looked over at him and your smiled dropped a bit. He was quiet, staring at his phone while the two of you walked. You fought the urge to peer over at his screen but decided against it.
“What’re you so quiet for, grandpa?” You asked with a small smile, the nicknames you’d given him had almost everything to do with his age and he’d stopped trying to give you shit for it.
“The mother of my daughter refuses to let me have her this weekend. Says I’ll be too busy to watch her.” He mumbled as he typed away on his phone. Your eyebrows furrowed.
“But you have the weekend off, and I always help watch her when you can’t. You have a whole crew of people here who’d do the same as well.” You started and he shook his head.
“It’s not really about that. She just likes making things specifically difficult.” He said as he put his phone away. “I’m not gonna worry about it. I have two days before the weekend to talk to her.” He said before looking down at you. The relationship you both had as coworkers was normal to you. Being friends with the guy you spent almost every day with seemed inevitable. When you’d arrived to begin working on the movie you were alone, your family was in another state and this was your first real job. Hayden kept an eye out for you, made sure you were safe. He drove you around everywhere and bought you food and whatever else you needed for the first month until you got paid. He still did those things now, but less so now.
There was speculations. Made by the media, fans, everybody really. You guys were often together. Pictures of you both walking with overpriced smoothies you had made him buy, the two of you sitting in the same car when he drove you to get your mail, going on a walk with his daughter when she came to visit him on set. Photos of you doing normal things were plastered all over the internet and seen as scandals. Some people said it was almost unprofessional to hang out with each other but you guys did the interviews and answered the questions. ‘He’s like my set-dad. I bother him more than anything. He’s taken great care to make sure I’m always okay. I came here with virtually nothing but a contract for the film.’ You recalled yourself saying with a laugh during an interview. ‘I see her like a younger version of me. When I was her age, I was kinda scared to be in LA alone. I chose to be a safe space for her. For me, being a dad, that was easy enough. Though, I guess from the outside looking in… It’d hard to understand because there was no context before but that’s why we’re here and answering this question now, right?’ He had said in response to your answer. You had found it hard to lie through your teeth about how you felt all the time. You had always admired him, he was your favourite Star Wars character and pretending he wasn’t the first crush you’d ever had was damn near impossible, but you did it with a bright smile and truthful eyes. Being an actor came to its advantages.
“Just let her do what she needs to.” You shrugged as you walked. There was no point in fighting these things, his daughter would see who she sided with when she was old enough to understand and think for herself. Hayden had commended you for having that outlook on the situation when you first said it to him.
“We have a table read after we train, 6 o’clock.” He spoke as he held the door into the large building open for you. The floors were lined with blue pads stuck together with velcro. You stepped in and immediately sighed when you saw a bunch of raised platforms. Today was the day you were to learn how to backflip with a saber in your hands. You said you wanted to do your own stunts but you didn’t know it would be this intense. You were just glad you would be attached to wires.
“If I live through this session I’ll see you there.” You grumbled. Hayden laughed as he went to the prop station to grab his own stuff as well as yours and brought it over to you. You mumbled a quick “Thanks.” with a smile and your hands grazed across each other as he handed your stuff to you. A blush boiled your cheeks to become a bright red colour and he didn’t even seem to notice what he’d done. You turned your back immediately and walked over to your trainer for instruction on where to start.
You both started off with the simple stuff, blocking one another and doing the small amount of choreography you had learned. Hayden was a fairly large man so doing this even when he was using a quarter of his strength made you grunt every time you had to block him. Sometimes it felt like he was giving you a harder time than what was necessary just to hear you make some noise. You pushed that thought to the back of your mind and continued on with your session.
— 3 Hours Later —
“Alright that’s all for today.” The young woman who was in charge of making you look way cooler than you were on screen yelled out and everybody stopped what they were doing. You let out a deep, content sigh as you let go of your prop saber and dropped to your butt on the padded floor beneath you. Your hair was stuck to your face as you opened your water bottle and practically drank it in one sip. You were too distracted by how thirsty you were to notice Hayden sitting next to you.
“Feeling okay?” He smiled. You rolled your eyes as you kept drinking your water and when you finished you crushed the plastic into a smaller vessel and threw it into the trash can beside you. “Nice shot.” He regarded quickly.
“Yeah. I’m okay. Just need to shower before the read.” You said and a groan escaped your lips as you pushed yourself off the ground. He immediately stood up and stood next to you. “Oh we’re walking together?”
“I mean..” He spoke and looked away for the smallest moment. “We always kinda do, don’t we?” He shrugged and you fought back a smile. Instead you gave him a nod.
“You’re right, we do.” You responded as the two of you made your way back to the trailers. His was farther than yours but he never made you walk him over, he always stopped at your trailer to drop you off before moving on to his own. You reached your hand into your bag and pulled out a small white and red pack of smokes and a matching red lighter. You slapped the top end against your palm gently as the two of you neared the fork in your journey’s.
“That’s why you can’t train without feeling like you’re dying, you know.” He mumbled as you pulled a cigarette out of the pack using your lip. You raised an eyebrow at him as you raised the lighter to the small stick.
“Acting like you’ve never smoked before again?” You mumbled as you struggled with your lighter in the wind. He stopped and turned to face you, raising his hands to create a barrier around your lighter and you sparked it with ease. “Thanks.” You inhaled deeply.
“You’re right I have smoked before but the difference herein lies in the fact that I actually was able to quit for my own well being.” He preached as per usual and you rolled your eyes.
“I’ll get to it one day. Just like you.” You gave him a fake smile and now it was his turn to roll his eyes. He clenched his jaw for a moment and your eyes watched the small muscle in his jaw move as he did so. He was so handsome it almost made you angry.
“I’m only trying to help, but you’re right. It never helped me when people urged me to quit. I just see so much of myself in you.” He shrugged and you almost choked on the smoke in your lungs. He sees himself in me? Damn, so do I. You thought.
“Alright, fine.” You pressed what was left against the sole of your shoe to extinguish the cigarette and threw it aside with a smile. “I shouldn’t be smoking around you anyways. I’m sure you miss it.” You shoved your hands in the pockets of the zip up hoodie you had brought with you as you approached your trailer.
“Oh, it’s not a big deal. The smell is good enough for me.” He pushed the door of your trailer open and gestured his hand in a way that said ‘after you’. You gave him a quizzical look for a moment before entering and he followed you. The door clicked shut behind you and he locked it, a gesture that made you feel a bit confused.
“You’re coming in?” You asked and he sat down on your couch again.
“The read isn’t for a few hours. Besides, my shower is only giving me cold water so I thought I’d use yours when you’re done.” He said and you stopped in your tracks. This was news to you. You didn’t question it. You sat down next to him and laid your head on his shoulder as you often did. You kicked off your shoes and raised your legs so that your knees rested on his legs that were propped up on the coffee table in front of the couch. “You smell like smoke and sweat.” He said with a fake grimace.
“Oh like you smell any better.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m too tired to deal with you right now.” You mumbled as your eyes began to feel heavy. A nap wouldn’t hurt anybody. A shower right after would wake you up and you’d be all set to go. It was a perfect plan. Turns out, he had a plan of his own.
Your eyes snapped open when you felt his finger slide under your chin, his thumb cradling it in place. He lifted your face from his shoulder and raised to to be level with his own. “Too tired to deal with me?” He whispered and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “Well.. I guess I could leave you be.” He began to pull his hand away but in a trance, your own hand snapped up to grab his wrist in an attempt to keep him from moving. You shook your head. You didn’t know what was happening but you would be insane to let him walk away. He smiled at you, his blue eyes shining brightly as the two of you stared into each others faces. You didn’t dare say a word, you barely even breathed. “What do you want right now?” He asked and you gulped.
“I-I don’t know..” You started and he moved his tongue gently to make a ‘tsk’ sound.
“I think you do.” He rebutted quickly and your cheeks began to burn again. “I watch you, I see how you act around boys your age. You act like they don’t exist. You have a whole coworker on this movie who’s head over heels for you, he’s your exact age and you don’t even look at him. Me though, what makes me so special? What makes you want to spend every moment with me?” He went on and his words made you feel like thousands of electric needles were being stabbed into your body. “Use your words for me.”
You swallowed but it felt impossible due to how dry your mouth had gotten all of a sudden. Your eyes were wide and you were sure you looked like a deer in the headlights. Your mouth opened and closed for a moment as you collected your thoughts. “I just.. I get along with you. I just.. I wanna be… I like..” You stuttered and pursed your lips with a sigh when you realized you couldn’t use your words. You squeezed your eyes shut and you heard him chuckle. His breath hit your face gently enough to make you let out a small desperate moan, so quiet you yourself could barely hear it.
“I think you want me kiss you, hold you close..” He started and your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes snapped back open. “Touch you..” His free hand trailed down your back as he turned his body to face yours. You shivered under his touch and his lips curled into a gentle smile. “I’d do it you know, only if you wanted me to.” His hand rested on the small of your back and his other hand still held your chin, his thumb made small windshield wiper movements on your cheek now and you leaned into it.
“I do.” You managed to spit the words out as you watched his eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes.
“You do what?” He urged, keeping eye contact now.
“I want you to kiss me.. Touch me..” Your voice dripped in a quiet desperation and he smirked once again.
“I mean if you say so..” He whispered and your hands grabbed the back of his head to pull him into you. Your lips connected and warmth spread through your body. A small grunt came from his end at the impact and it made you breathe heavier against him. His hands pulled you into his lap and you swung your leg over him as you sat on him. His hands gripped your hips, harshly holding you down against him. You tried to move so you could feel some sort of release but his grip was too strong. The idea made you whimper against him and his hands tightened as he pushed his chest farther into yours. You did the same, wanting to be as close as humanly possible. Your hands slid into his hair and his hat fell off his head behind your couch.
He broke he kiss to look at you, your chest heaved up and down as his gaze dropped between your bodies. “This couldn’t have come sooner..” Hayden mumbled as he let go of his grip on your hips to run his hands gently up and down your exposed thighs, squeezing gently when he’d get to the top. “Watching you run around in this, getting all hot and sweaty. It did something to me that I wasn’t proud of..” He whispered as he stared into your dilated eyes.
His hands roamed your body and stopped at the bottom band of your sports bra. His fingers lightly traced the under side of your tits and you jerked toward him. You pulled it off slowly and tugged on his shirt, pulling it over his head. His eyes were glued to your chest as he began to fondle gently at you. Your head leaned back slightly as you felt how warm his hands were against you. Your breathing was shaky and he pulled your head forward to look at him again, he was in such good shape and your hands desperately ran up and down his chest before trailing down to his abs. You stopped at the waistband of his pants and ran your thumbs over his v-line. You watched his face as small reactions washed over him at your every touch. He bit on his lip gently as you tugged at his pants ever so gently. You could feel something harden under you and your lips curled into a small smile. You pushed your hips down gently in a rocking motion and a soft noise stumbled its way through Haydens soft lips. With a triumphant smile you pulled his pants down and he kicked them away. He pulled you on to the couch and climbed over you with a smirk.
“I like it better this way.” He mumbled as he pressed his lips against the sensitive skin by your collarbones causing you to take a sharp breath and he chuckled. “Relax. Let me take care of you like I always have..” The words made goosebumps raise over every inch of your body and you let out a shaky exhale. His hands pressed into your waist and you were sure they’d leave some sort of mark. His movements were so rough yet so gentle and it caused your head to spin. Your hand reached between his legs and he grabbed it, putting it back where it was before. “I just wanna make you feel good… Don’t worry about me.” Hayden whispered against you as he kissed his way down your body, stopping to take extra long in the spots that made you squirm more. When he pulled at your shorts his eyes widened at the fact that you weren’t wearing any underwear.
“It’s just uncomfortable during training-“ He shushed you and shook his head with a grin.
“It’s hot is what it is.” He mused as he pulled them off and threw them aside. His fingers traced up your legs and another soft, desperate moan left your lips as he continued to kiss down your stomach. “Do you know how many times we’ve stood back to back or close enough to touch and you’re telling me the only thing keeping me from you was your shorts?” You bit your lip as his deep voice sent vibrations through the skin he was kissing away at.
“I guess so.” You smiled with shaky breaths. You yelped when you felt something warm press against you, long and slender. His finger pressed hard against your entire pussy and he could feel your pulse through the touch. You shook at the sudden feeling and your hand cupped your mouth. The trailers were well insulated but they weren’t sound proof and you knew that.
Hayden hushed you as he pulled his finger down to slide in between your folds, collecting the large amount of excitement you’d already created. A smile tugged at his lips before he pressed them against your swollen clit. He created a gentle suction as he pushed a finger inside of you causing your eyes to roll back. You pressed your head against the arm of the couch and your hand that wasn’t covering your mouth grasped at his shoulder as he pumped in and out of you. It wasn’t long before he added another finger and began to use his tongue against you. The soft flicking motion mixed in with the feeling of his long fingers made you bite your palm. The noise still came out of you and even though it was muffled it made him want to make you do it again. His movements quickened when he felt you get used to the sensations he was providing for you and it caused you to moan out again, this time it was his name. He hummed in approval against you and the action felt like a small vibration. You arched your back at the feeling and he pushed you back down, keeping a specific level of pressure on your lower stomach.
“Tell me when you’re close.. Ask me for permission.” He said and your eyes widened. You’d never done that before but you decided to give it a shot. It’s almost like him saying that made the process expedite itself. You felt a warmth begin to build in your stomach and you finally mustered up the strength to speak.
“Can I-“ You started and he stopped everything he was doing. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head as your chest heaved and you sat up with the look of confusion on your face. “What the hell?!” You asked and he smiled. He pulled you by the legs so that you were laying down again.
“Not until I say so. I promise it’ll feel better.” He whispered, leaving kisses on your inner thighs. When he felt you begin to bring your breath back to normal he slid his fingers back into you. “Wetter than before… So eager.” He hummed as he began placing soft kisses on your clit. “Don’t forget to ask again okay?”
You nodded, his words and actions placed you under a trance of sorts. You’d do whatever he asked right now. “Okay..” You whispered and this time he didn’t use his mouth. He used just the two fingers inside of you, curling them, going faster, slower. All of it felt so much more intense than it ever had before. You’d been fingered but you’d never been pushed to an orgasm with just penetration. Your breathing began to become erratic again as small moans and gasps left your mouth. “Please… Please I’m so close.,” You whimpered and he stopped again. Tears welled near the corners of your eyes as you looked at him. You must have looked pathetic.
“Look at you, begging for me to let you cum. How adorable. You’re a mess.” He whispered, almost reading your mind, as he reached his hand up to your mouth. “Open.” He demanded and you parted your lips so he could slide his soaked fingers into your mouth. You moaned as you sucked yourself off him and he smiled. “Good girl.”
“Please..” You whispered as he pulled his fingers from your mouth and he shushed you again before placing them back inside of you. You squeezed your eyes at the feeling and squirmed when he began licking frantically at your clit while pushing your legs apart with his hands. Your entire body began to shake as you felt the familiar feeling come back like a bullet train. “Please.. Please can I?” You whimpered, begging him to let you feel the satisfaction of release.
“Yes.” He spoke against you and you couldn’t help the sounds from barreling out of you as your entire body shook. You saw dots in your vision as you felt warmth spread to every inch of your body and your hands gripped at his hair like your life depended on it. Your hips bucked around against him, completely out of your control. He slowed his tongue as you rode his face until you felt satisfied. When you finally stopped, you laid your head down with your eyes squeezed shut and your chest heaving. He climbed over you and left a kiss on your head. “You okay?” He asked as he sat next to your body on the edge of the couch, his hand rubbed soft circles on your stomach and you nodded your head.
“More than okay… I wanna do that forever.” You laughed as you finally figured out how to speak again. Hayden smiled.
“Well. We haven’t even started filming yet. We’ve got lots of time.” He said with a wink as he pushed his boxers down his legs and walked over to your bathroom. “You coming?” He called over his shoulder and you stood on your jelly legs to follow him with no question.
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sapphire-writes · 1 year
Text
Teacher's Pet (modern!HOTD)
read the second installment Lessons
pairing: professor!Aemond x student!Reader
summary: A night out during the spring semester of your senior year of university leads to a run-in with your former professor.
warnings: NSFW 18+ (explicit sex, unprotected, fingering, oral fem-receiving, overstimulation, titty sucking, praise, degrading language) mature themes, power imbalance
word count: 4.5k
note: I got a saucy little anon saying y'all needed a student x teacher fic from me, and to celebrate 3,000 besties I had to deliver!! thanks for all the love and support, you all mean the absolute world to me! Excited to keep creating for you all, ilysm 😘
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You and your best friend Sara Snow grew up together, and spent nearly every waking moment attached at the hip. You know those friends you have that are more like siblings than friends? Sara was more like your twin. So when she stayed in your hometown going to Winterfell State, and you traveled to Citadel University, it was like you’d lost a limb. 
Which meant you had to visit each other as frequently as possible. Sometimes you’d travel back home and visit Sara, and other times she’d come to you. Sara preferred visiting you, she loved the wine bars and clubs of Oldtown.
“The vibe is just different here,” she says, sipping her wine, “I love it. Very chic.”
You’d chosen a new wine bar to explore this time around. It’s a super cute place, with low lighting and a chalkboard bar and tables, with chalk for drawing laid out on all the tables. Sara, being mentally 12 years old, had already drawn a veiny cock in front of you. You swipe it away with your hand.
“Rudeness!” she says, pouting as you destroy her artwork. 
“Stop drawing dicks,” you tell her and she narrows her eyes.
“You’ll have to kill me,” she teases, eyes flickering toward a blonde girl who passes on her way to the bathroom.
“You’re staring,” you tell her and she sticks her tongue out at you.
“She’s been staring at me for a while,” Sara tells you, grinning, “I for one, plan to get laid tonight.”
“I love that for you,” you tell her, smiling. 
“This guy at the bar, totally checking you out right now,” Sara says, sipping on her wine. 
Your face flushes and you turn your head slightly to look. Sara makes a noise of disapproval, setting her glass down.
“Don’t look,” she whispers, pushing some dark hair over her shoulders. 
“I’m not,” you hiss, tilting your head.
“You totally are,” Sara accuses.
“What’s he look like?” you ask.
Sara’s dark eyes scan the man, you watch them move seemingly over his form.
“Tall, platinum blonde, like seriously, must have an extensive hair care routine,” she says, nodding, “We love that, love a man with good hygiene.”
You snicker, living for her analysis. 
“He’s lean, but like you can tell he’s muscular,” she glances at you, “I know you’re a hand whore, and I can tell he’s got nice hands.”
“You’re so rude,” you accuse, blushing because she’s right. 
Sara scoots off of her seat. 
“C’mon, we’re going over there,” she tells you.
“Okay,” you agree and she links your arm pulling you from your seat.
You finally get a look at the guy and your stomach drops.
It’s your professor.
Not this semester, but last semester. Westerosis Literature taught by Professor Aemond Targaryen. A great class, hard as hell. He worked you fucking hard for that A. You mean to tell Sara but you’re still in shock as you come face to face.
“Hey there,” Sara says, smiling sweetly, “I couldn’t help but notice you checking out my friend, thought you’d like to buy her a drink? Maybe keep her company while I visit the loo?”
Aemond’s eyes rake over you, clearly recognizing you. You blush furiously, mouth gaping. 
“She likes Sauvignon Blanc,” Sara tells him, motioning to the bartender, “I’ll be back, take care of my girl.”
And with that, she flounces off toward the restroom.
“I’m sorry professor,” you tell him, nervously playing with your fingers, “If I had known it was you I wouldn’t have let her drag me over here.”
“Something tells me your friend would be hard to deny,” he tells you as the bartender comes over, “A glass of Sauvignon Blanc please, and I’ll take another gin and tonic.”
You flush as the bartender nods, getting your drinks. 
“She’s very persistent,” you tell him, nodding in agreement and casting your eyes to the floor. 
Aemond cannot keep his eyes off your glowing cheeks, the way your lashes flutter against them as you avert your gaze. 
“I can just take this back to the table,” you say, grabbing the glass of Sauvignon Blanc he paid for. 
Aemond shakes his head.
“You shouldn’t drink alone,” he tells you, patting the empty chair next to him, “Indulge me for a bit, will you?”
You look back towards the table you shared with Sara, though she has yet to return to it. She’s probably chatting up that girl she had her eyes on. You bring your gaze back to Aemond.
“Okay, if you’re sure you’re comfortable with that,” you tell him, slipping onto the stool. 
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“Because that paper was cruel and unusual punishment, even for you,” you tell Aemond through a laugh.
You’re on your third glass of wine, the hours ticking away as you converse with your former professor. Sara has made herself scarce, though she’s been texting you. 
“You did rather well if I recall correctly,” he says, with a sly smile on his face.
You roll your eyes, taking another sip. You’ve always been a good student. 
“Only because I dedicated a week of sleepless nights to that assignment. Seriously, you should be paying for my therapy after that,” you tease, leaning your cheek against your hand. 
You’ve gotten closer to him during the night, your knees brushing against his thigh, heel clad foot mindlessly rubbing against his calf. You’re not sure if it’s the wine or the ease of the conversation that has you feeling so comfortable around him. 
“Send me the bill,” he jokes back, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. 
“I’ll put it in your mailbox tomorrow,” you giggle, taking another sip, “You know, I was really disappointed when your Essosi Literature class was full this semester.”
“Is that so?” he asks, sipping his gin and tonic, raising an eyebrow at you. 
“Now I’ll never have the chance to take it,” you continue, “Unless you teach a summer course, otherwise your popularity has thrown off my entire plan of study.”
“My apologies,” he insists, grinning at you, “My popularity, you say? I thought I was a hard ass.”
“Oh you are,” you assure him, “But that doesn’t mean you’re not popular.”
“How so?” he pushes, a long finger dancing around the rim of his empty glass.
Your eyes follow the circle he traces, up the veins on the back of his hands. How have you never noticed how sexy his hands are? You’ve never been this close to him, his lectures always held in one of the large lecture halls on campus rather than the more intimate classroom settings. You wet your lips, desire pooling in your belly before you meet his eyes once more. 
“You know,” you tell him, unable to keep the secretive smile off of your face, “I mean, you must know.”
“Know what?” he murmurs, staring at you with such intensity it makes your thighs tremble. 
You brush a strand of hair behind your ear, chewing on your lower lip. This will be your last glass of wine, you feel too giddy, too at ease in the presence of your professor. You’re going to regret this little flirtation in the morning, you can feel it in your bones. But the alcohol is liquid courage, and you’re a senior after all. Once this semester is over, you’re out in the real world, done with Citadel University. 
“You’re popular with the ladies of campus,” you tell him, “and the men, and everyone else.”
Aemond quirks an eyebrow at you. 
“Oh really?” he asks.
“Of course, I mean you’re the youngest tenured professor, you are a hard ass grader but your lectures are so enticing, and it helps you’re easy on the eyes-”
You choke as soon as the sentence escapes you. A freudian slip if you’ve ever had one. Aemond’s mouth quirks up into a wolfish grin.
“I’m so sorry,” you tell him, covering your mouth.
“It’s alright,” he assures you, but you’re off on a nervous ramble.
“That was seriously so shallow of me and inappropriate to say-”
“Y/N,” he says, resting a hand on your knee, “It’s alright, really.”
You laugh nervously, enjoying the feeling of his hand on your leg. You can feel the heat it emits through your tights. His hand is huge, and you lose yourself in the moment wondering how it might feel against the bare flesh of your thighs, you neck-
“I should see if Sara texted,” you tell him, reaching for your phone.
You’re greeted by a dropped pinned location and a text from Sara saying she went home with the blonde from earlier. Lucky bitch. 
“And she’s left me,” you say aloud. 
“Everything alright?” Aemond asks.
“Yeah, yeah. This has been great,” you tell him, “Thank you for keeping me company, but I should probably get home, call an Uber.”
“Let me drive you,” Aemond insists, “It’s no problem.”
You bite your lip. You shouldn’t do this right? He’s your professor, your teacher. 
“Are you sure?” you ask and he nods.
That’s how you end up in the passenger seat of his mercedes, the dark leather seats warm and inviting. You know you’re staring as you watch him drive, long fingers gripping the wheel, the other hand resting on his knee. 
As you pull up to your apartment, you swallow the lump that has formed in your throat. You almost want to invite him up. He watches you closely, as though sensing the words swimming around your head. No, you're not doing this.
“Thank you, professor, I appreciate it,” you tell him, leaving it at that. 
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“I think I embarrassed myself big time Sara,” you tell her groaning on the phone. 
There wasn’t much time to debrief the night before Sara had to head back to Winterfell. You brought yourself to the campus coffee shop, settling in to complete some homework while you had some free time. 
You’d been staring at your laptop screen, and the empty word doc that was pulled up, for the better part of an hour before deciding to call Sara. 
“You did not,” she insists, “I don’t care if he is your professor, he was totally into you.”
“He was just being polite.”
“I know polite, and I know eye fucking. Professor Big Dick was the latter,” Sara insists.
“Sara!”
“You know I’m right,” she tells you.
“Fuck,” you tell her, placing a hand against your forehead.
“Look, if you’re that worried about it, go talk to him,” Sara says, “Drop by his office or something, bring him a coffee and tell him you’re sorry.”
“You don’t think that’s weird?” you ask, nervously chewing your thumb.
“I think it's weird you didn’t suck his dick when he drove you home,” she answers honestly.
“Bye Sara,” you tell her.
“Love you too bitch,” she says, making a kissing noise into the receiver. 
You decide to take Sara’s advice, bringing Aemond a coffee as an apology for your behavior. You walk through the building; it’s quiet with no classes, not many people pass you on your way to the faculty offices. Most doors are closed, but you see Professor Targaryen’s door is ajar, signaling his presence. 
You’d been to his office one time before, dropping in for office hours the previous semester when working on your midterm. He grilled you hard, and you left feeling frustrated but with a strong desire to please him. You always did crave academic validation. 
You knock on the door, greeted by Aemond’s gentle timbre telling you to enter. He’s seated behind his desk, a book open on his lap. He’s wearing gray slacks, a simple button down shirt and his silver hair is pulled away from his face in a loose, low bun. His violet eye lights up as you enter, blue sapphire prosthetic winking in the afternoon light that filters through his window.
“I don’t mean to intrude,” you tell him, closing the door behind you.
You walk further into the room and place the coffee cup on his desk.
“What’s this?” he asks, closing his book and placing it on the desk. 
“An apology from a tremendously bright student?” you tell him, smiling nervously.
“What do you need to be apologizing for?” he asks, picking up the coffee, inspecting the order on the side.
You chose black to be safe, not knowing this is how he preferred his coffee. Aemond takes a sip, humming appreciatively. 
“I just really didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I know I was a little tipsy, and I hope I didn’t cross a line or anything,” you tell him. 
Aemond stands, picking up his book and walking over to his bookshelf. It’s stacked with books, classics and other contemporary novels. 
“You’re very thoughtful, Ms. Y/L/N,” he comments, sliding the book back where it belongs. 
“Thank you, professor,” you tell him.
“If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me,” he tells you, walking in front of his desk.
He leans his back against it, resting his palms on the edge. 
“Why would you apologize?” you ask, tilting your head with curiosity.
“Well, if anyone’s responsible for making our interaction inappropriate it's me,” he tells you, jutting out his sharp chin, “I’m your professor, you’re my student.”
You flick an eyebrow up at him.
“You were my professor,” you tell him, “I’m not in your class anymore.”
“Still, that power imbalance doesn’t just go away,” he insists, eyes meeting yours.
There it is again, that look. The one with such intensity it makes your knees weak. You can see his tongue poking his cheek as though he’s contemplating something. Your breath catches in your throat and you nervously wet your lips. 
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you tell him, “No more flirting with strangers at wine bars for me.”
“I’m not a stranger,” he says.
“You know what I mean,” you tell him. 
The air between you is warm and inviting. It’s like the bar all over again, you can feel some invisible force pulling you closer to him with every word you exchange. It’s so effortless, this playful banter, you fall into it easily with him. You have to stop, have to stop before you cross another line. 
“Anyway, take the coffee,” you tell him, “and let me know if you decide to run that summer class, cause I’ll totally take it.”
“You’re graduating,” he teases.
“They’ll let me hang around, I can be very persuasive,” you insist, kicking yourself for the insinuation.
Aemond lets out a breathless laugh. 
“I’m sure,” he says smirking. 
You stare a moment longer, appreciating how his tall, lean frame looks resting against his desk. Your gaze drops to his hands again. His hands. You blink, steadying yourself, but he’s definitely noticed the mental lag you had. 
“Goodbye, Professor,” you tell him, “Have a good rest of your day.”
You turn walking toward the door. You reach for the handle, pulling it open slightly before a hand reaches above your head, pushing it shut. He keeps his hand on the door as you turn around to face him. 
“Don’t leave,” he murmurs, bringing his opposite hand to trace a line down the side of your face, before cupping your cheek.
Your breathing turns ragged as his thumb strokes your cheekbone. He’s so close you can feel his breath on your lips, and smell his cologne. His hand strokes the doorframe, following into down until he reaches the handle, flicking the lock into place. 
“I thought we weren’t doing this,” you whisper, hands clenched into fists at your sides. 
“Then why’d you come here?” he purrs.
“I was being nice,” you tell him, as he brings his other hand to your waist, pulling you against him.
“Such a good girl you are,” he whispers and then his lips are on yours. 
Your hands fly to his neck instinctively, pulling him as close to you as possible. His mouth feels so perfect against yours, the mingled taste of spearmint and coffee sharp on your tongue as you greedily drink him in. Your hands fist the back of his shirt. 
You’re practically gasping against his mouth as his hands move to cup your ass, before he bends his knees to lift you up by your thighs. You wrap your legs around his slender waist, continuing to kiss him all the while, moaning as he slips his tongue into your mouth. 
He turns, walking you away from the door and placing you on the corner of his desk, hastily brushing his arm to move loose papers and knick knacks out of the way, sending them crashing towards the floor. Not that either of you care. Your hands work quickly, tearing at the buttons on his shirt, revealing his chest. Your nails rake down his abs, reaching for his belt. You’re desperate and you don’t care, you need to feel him inside you. 
Aemond removes his lips from yours, laughing breathlessly at your eagerness before swatting your hands away. 
“Let me,” he murmurs, sinking to his knees in front of you. 
His hands travel up your thighs and you squirm against his touch as they disappear beneath your skirt. You feel his dexterous fingers loop through your underwear pulling it off of you. You assist him, bunching your skirt in your hands revealing your dripping cunt to him.
“So wet for me,” he purrs, “Are you always like this?”
“Fuck,” you mewl as his tongue flicks out, tasting the wetness between your folds.
He hums with appreciation, as though tasting a fine wine. Aemond pressing his face into you, nose nuzzling against your clit, sending spark waves of pleasure dancing upwards toward your navel. His tongue swirls around your center, dipping into your tight heat. 
“Did you sit through my lectures with your pussy dripping like this?” he asks, voice rough with desire. 
You squirm against his mouth as he wraps his lips around your needy clit, suckling gently and flicking his tongue around the sensitive nub. Your hand flies to the back of his head, foot digging into his shoulder blade. 
His hand squeezes your inner thigh roughly, before slapping the tender flesh causing you to cry out. 
“Oh gods,” you moan, head tilting back in the throes of pleasure. 
“I bet you did,” he answers his own question, smirking at you. 
He moves his attention away from your clit momentarily, dragging a finger through your folds. You can’t see his hands but you can picture them, his long, skilled fingers as you feel him sink one into your tight heat. 
Your spine curves, pushing your pussy closer toward his face as his finger searches for that special spot inside of you. 
“Oh fuck, fuck!” you cry as the pad of his finger pressing against the spot inside of you that paints stars behind your eyelids.
Aemond glances up at you, watches as your brow creases with pleasure, and your mouth forms a perfect O shape. 
“There we go,” Aemond purrs, wasting no time and slipping another finger inside of you. 
Every crook of his fingers has you trembling against him, his pace relentless as pressing against your g-spot. He brings his attention back to your throbbing clit, increasing the pleasure building in your abdomen, tingling up your spine. His tongue laps away, little kitten licks against the sensitive button drawing you closer and closer to orgasm with each flick. 
Tears well in the corners of your eyes and your nails dig harshly into his scalp, not that he seems to mind. Aemond simply groans against you, the vibrations only adding to your pleasure. 
“I’m gonna come,” you pathetically whine, shaking against the desk.
“That’s a good girl, c’mon,” Aemond insists, slipping a third finger inside you.
The wet slurping of your soaked cunt echoes in the room as he never relents the stokes of his fingers, the flicking of his tongue. It’s all too much and the tightly wound coil of pleasure inside you snaps with a strangled sob. As your high washes over you, all the tension in your body releases. 
Only Aemond doesn’t stop.
“Professor,” you moan, feeling the wave cresting inside of you again.
His fingers are soaked, easily sliding in and out of your greedy cunt. 
“Please, please, it’s too much,” you beg, slumping against the desk.
“But you’re such a good girl,” he insists, “You deserve one more, give me one more.”
“I can’t- holy shit!” you squeak, as his lips suck your clit.
You’ve never been treated like this before. One orgasm-if you’re lucky-has been your experience with your past lovers. But you can’t deny him as his fingers work their magic, his tongue swirls around your puffy clit. 
“Yes you can,” he purrs, and of course he’s right as you feel yourself thrown over the edge of pleasure once more. 
“One more,” Aemond insists and you feel tears leaking down your cheeks.
“Professor I can’t-” you tell him, and he shushes you.
“One more, on my cock, huh?” he asks, unbuckling his belt, “Yeah, you like that idea baby?”
Your eyes light up, and you push yourself on your elbows to watch as he reveals his impressive length. Sara’s always told you guys who are lean are usually well endowed. Boy was she right. Your eyes widen taking in his length, as he grips it in his hand, pumping it. You bite your lip, watching precum leak from the reddened tip.
“I changed my mind,” he says roughly, dragging you toward him like a wolf with its prey, “Two more, you’ll give me two more.”
Your eyes are round as he drags his cock through your folds. You wiggles as he drags the tip over your clit, up and down, using your arousal as lubricant. 
“You’ll cum just like this,” he says, continuing the movement against your sensitive clit.
You’re squeaking and moaning embarrassingly, wriggling like a trapped kitten as he holds your thigh tightly with one hand, while the other continues to rub the head of his cock against your clit. Your third orgasm builds quickly and crashes over you just as powerful as the first two, leaving you gasping for air. 
“So pretty like this,” Aemond murmurs, bringing a hand to the back of your neck to kiss you. 
You whimper against his mouth and his hands move to your shirt, breaking the kiss only to pull the material off of your head. You reach around to unclip your bra, leaving your breasts free and hanging heavy with need. Aemond brings his attention to them immediately, his erection pressing against your thigh as he circlies your nipple with his hot mouth, sucking on your breast. 
You’re babbling uncontrollably at this point as he switches, suckling at your neglected other breast before aligning his cock with your soaked entrance. 
“You sure?” he asks, hesitating for a moment. 
“I’m on birth control,” you manage to gasp, “I’m sure, please, please.”
Aemond grins wolfishly before sinking into your wet heat. His jaw slacks as your pussy greedily accepts him, warm walls holding him firmly inside as he stretches you out.
“So fucking tight,” he murmurs, slowly dragging out only to thrust back in, balls slapping against your ass. 
Your head is full of cotton at this point, unable to form coherent thoughts as he plows into you. His hands rest securely on your lower ribs, as your own hands grip the back of your thighs, allowing your legs to bend at the knee. Your back is arched off of the desk, head thrown back and mouth hanging open in pleasure. 
“You like that?” he asks.
You can’t find it in you to reply, answering only in a breathy moan. Aemond merely chuckles.
“Awww did I fuck you stupid, baby?” he teases, causing you to whimper.
He feels so fucking good, sliding easily in and out of your tight walls, the sounds of lewd, wet slapping filling his office. It’s filthy, it’s erotic, and it’s so so bad of you but you can’t help but love the position you’ve found yourself in. 
“I think I did,” he continues, “Poor, silly, baby thought she could handle it her professor fucking her.” 
Desire and humiliation tingle up your spine, spreading across your body like wildfire at his taunts. The pitch of your moans increase as he brings his fingers to play with your clit. 
“She’s all cockdumb now,” Aemond croons, squeezing your breast.
He releases your breast to bring a hand to grab at your chin.
“Look at me,” he demands, and you do so with tears in your eyes.
The head of his cock bullies against your sweet spot, rubbing the tender spot with precise devotion. 
“You’re going to cum all over my cock,” he tells you, “Soak my cock like the good little girl you are.”
He keeps his hand on your face, forcing you to look at him as he plows into you and your fourth orgasm rolls over you. It’s intense, almost painful with the pleasure it brings you as your walls clamp down against his cock. 
“Fuck, baby,” he moans as you tighten around him and he chases his own release.
“I’m going to fill this pretty pussy up,” he tells you, and you feel him spill inside of you, warmth flooding through you. 
You stay connected for a moment, relishing the feeling of him inside of you. You’re incredibly sensitive from the overstimulation as he begins to pull out, moaning slightly with the loss of contact. 
Aemond grabs some tissues, gently wiping down your inner thighs and beginning to clean you up. He glances up at you as you attempt to find your bearings.
“Holy. Hell.” you tell him, breathing heavily. 
Aemond smirks.
“Was that too much?” he asks, a note of concern in his voice. 
You shake your head. 
“That was amazing,” you tell him, shyly looking away. 
You grab your bra, putting it on and reaching for your shirt as he stands. You clip your bra, pulling your shirt over your head as he hands you your discarded panties. 
“Thanks,” you tell him, standing on shaky legs.
You nearly fall over putting your panties back on, Aemond’s arms catch you, helping you stand. 
You chuckle nervously. 
“You sure you’re alright?” he asks, his arms still holding you.
“Yeah,” you assure him, “I should go though.”
“Of course,” he tells you.
You move toward the door but pause, turning to look at him. He’s just finishing buttoning up his shirt.
“Was this…was this a one time thing?” you ask.
Aemond looks up at you.
“It should be,” he tells you.
Your heart flutters in your chest, and a smirk tugs at your lips.
“That’s not an answer,” you tell him.
He smirks at you.
“No, it isn’t,” he agrees. 
You hold his gaze a moment more. 
“I’ll see you around, professor,” you tell him, unlocking the door and leaving his office. 
You walk quickly, heat pounding, desperate to get back to your apartment and call Sara. You hop on the campus bus, holding tightly to the railing, trying to ignore the dull ache between your legs, and the warmth of Aemond’s cum that is still trickling down your thighs. 
Boy are you fucked. 
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somekindofpoet · 1 year
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Nevermore Grounds - Second Dates
Summary: R and Jenna go on their second date, Raven is a menace to society
Word Count: 4.5K
Warnings: Language 
A/N: As promised, here's part 2!
Part I
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“Are you going to pay me overtime for picking up your slack this week, or are you gonna put your phone down and help me?”
“I’ll be there in a sec,” you wave Raven off from the couch. 
“Your girlfriend can stand to wait five minutes,” Raven whines, glancing at the clock.
“She’s not my girlfriend Ray.”
“Ummm bro. I literally watched you hurdle an armchair and trip over your shoelaces trying to get to your phone yesterday.” 
You shrug, “It could have been my utility collector. Bills are important, Raven.”
Raven rolls her eyes and throws a rag at you, “I mean this with all due respect as your friend, but be for real right now. You’ve been grinning at your phone like an absolute psychopath.”
You sigh and drop your phone, fixing your face. You definitely hadn’t been smiling at the message on your screen. Not even a little bit. The rag she’d thrown had fallen short, landing on the back of the couch. You stand and grab it, making your way to the bar to help her clean up for closing. She comes around the bar with the mop and starts to clean around you. You absently wipe down the bar top, eyeing the mop bucket warily, unwilling to chance getting close to it after its brutal attack on you a week ago. 
Your phone vibrates on the table in front of the couch, and you pause, glancing over at it.
“Don’t you dare.” Raven says without looking up from her work.
You put your hands up in surrender, “I wasn’t going to!”
“Is she coming back to the shop any time soon?” 
You take a deep breath and puff your cheeks out, exhaling heavily, “She’s pretty busy. I don’t even know if she leaves the set much.”
Raven stops her mopping and turns to you, resting her arms on the handle, “She works a lot y/n, like she might be a genuine workaholic.”
You make your way around the bar and begin stacking the dishwasher with mugs and plates, nodding along to Raven's voice.
“We have that in common.”
“What’re you gonna do when she goes back to LA?”
You wince and falter with the mug in your hands, “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Uh huh,” Raven nods and returns to mopping, “And I don’t think about marrying Harry Styles on a daily basis either.”
“It’s not that serious Ray,” you tell her, closing the dishwasher, “but it feels good, and I’m enjoying myself. Can that be enough for now?”
Your phone vibrates again, catching your attention. You ignore it, if only to avoid being chided again. 
Raven shrugs, her back turned to you as she continues to cover the floor in suds, “Of course, it can. I just worry about you, is all.”
You stand up straight, a smile stretched across your face, “Awwwh, is this where we hug, and you tell me you love me and no one is good enough for me?”
She snorts and turns back toward you, walking the mop back to the bucket, “You wish, babe. As much as it pains me, I just don’t see what you see in the fairer sex.”
“Your loss,” you reply, popping the cash register open to close out for the day.
It had been a running joke between the two of you that you were secretly in love with each other after Raven’s ex accused you of turning her against him. Reality couldn’t be further from that. You loved her dearly, but she was your best friend and basically your sister at this point. 
Your phone vibrates again, and you frown over at it. You and Jenna had been texting nonstop since your impromptu date a week ago, but it was rare she’d text you three times in a row without you responding. You throw the dish rag over your shoulder and look over at Raven. She’s busy dumping the water out of the mop bucket, so you think you’re clear to check the phone without being nagged. You tiptoe over to it and tap the screen, seeing Jenna’s name there. Just as you pick the phone up to unlock it, the bells at your front door chime.
“Sorry, we’re closed,” you say, not looking up from your phone.
“If you read your texts, you’d already be closed and changed.” 
The smile that lights up your face would be embarrassing if you had the capacity to care. You turn, beaming, and the butterflies are back in your stomach, seeing Jenna leaning against the bar. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing her in your space. She’s stunning as usual, wearing a white collared shirt and red vest, a green tie popping out under it. 
You eye her from your vantage point, and she smirks at you, “Are you going in that?” She gestures to your work clothes.
A confused frown replaces your smile. You look down at your black polo, then back to her, “Going where?”
She tilts her head at you, “We’re going on a date.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
“Oh.” You feel like an idiot, unable to come up with anything else to say. 
She raises her eyebrows at you, trying to get you moving again, “So you’re ready then?”
Your brain is still trying to catch up, still processing how good she looks in a tie and the fact that she’s there at all. You shake your head from side to side slowly. Just then, Raven begins belting out the lyrics to Its All Coming Back to Me Now from the supply closet, and you slap your hand over your face. Jenna’s face turns from mildly impatient to absolutely amused, turning her head toward the closet. Raven reappears, still serenading what she believes is an empty coffee shop, and rounds the bar at the crescendo, her arms in the air.
“BABY BABY BABY WHEN YOU-oh shit!” She skids to a halt when she sees Jenna and stumbles backward.
“Did I interrupt something?” Jenna asks, trying hard not to laugh.
You watch as Raven cycles through emotions and settles on being a smartass. She grins, places one hand over her heart, and reaches the other out toward Jenna.
“When you touch me like this,” she spins around, “when you hold me like that,” takes a few steps toward Jenna, “it was gone with the wind, but it’s all coming back to me!”
You’re not sure if you should be mortified or rolling on the floor. When Jenna reaches out and takes Raven’s hand to spin under her arm, you decide laughing is the answer. Raven continues to butcher the song, but the sound of Jenna laughing and watching her dance with your idiot of a best friend makes it worth it. When they stop, she’s panting and laughing even harder. Raven walks over to you and punches your shoulder, a self-satisfied smirk on her face.
“And that, is how you woo the ladies y/n. You should thank your lucky stars she’s not my type.”
You shove her playfully, then wrap your arm around her shoulders. Jenna is shaking her head at the two of you, still recovering from the laughing fit Raven had brought on. 
She waves at you, “Seriously though, go get changed. We have reservations we have to get to.”
Raven perks up, “Oooh should I wear a dress?”
You pull her into a chokehold with your arm around her head, bending her over. You glance up at Jenna and shrug, then release Raven and shove her to the side. She laughs as she stumbles off to grab her things to head out for the night. 
“Sorry about that one, I’ve been trying to house-train her for years, but she just never quite picked up on it.” 
Jenna chuckles, “I like her. Almost as much as I like you. Be careful, she might move up a spot if we’re late.”
You hold up a finger, “Give me a minute, I’ll make you eat your words. Make yourself comfortable.” 
You don’t wait to hear her reply and turn on your heel, ripping the door to the stairs open and bounding up them two at a time to go change. You choose a sheer green button up over a black bra and a pair of pleated khaki pants, evaluating yourself in the mirror. The Dr. Martens were a staple, and you decide it should be good enough to make Jenna reconsider her statement about Raven.
When you reenter the coffee shop, you’re proven correct. Jenna shoots out of the armchair the second she sees you, her eyes trailing over you. Even from the other side of the room, you can see the blush rise over her cheeks, and you smirk. Mission accomplished. 
You open your arms out and spin, “Eh? Words tasting good yet?”
Jenna blinks a few times and gulps, “Okay, you’re right. I like you more than Raven.”
You hold out your arm for her to take, and she does, making your ego soar through the roof. If this continued, your head wouldn’t fit through doorways anymore you’d be so full of yourself. You escort Jenna out of the shop and lock the door behind you, following her to the waiting town car when you’re done. Phil is holding the door open, smiling like a proud dad when you both slide into the back seat. He closes it and sits up front, with Billy behind the wheel.
“So, where we headed?” You ask Jenna, turning to look out the window.
“It’s a surprise,” she says, resting her hand on your knee.
You freeze and slowly turn to look at her hand. Your heart is pounding so hard you’re worried she might hear it. Your eyes make their way from her fingertips all the way up to her eyes. The looks she’s giving you sends your already pounding heart into overdrive. If she couldn’t hear it before, she’d have to be deaf not to hear it now. 
You gulp, “I don’t know if you can surprise me in my own city,” your voice is cracked and shaky like a teenage boy’s.
Jenna smirks, “We’ll see.”
——
When the car pulls into Hudson Yards, you already know where you’re headed. The Edge. You grant Jenna the win on this one. You’d never made the time to go up to the clear glass observation deck. You saw the building often and could see the crowds of people that were usually up there, overlooking the city, but this evening the deck was empty. You gaze up at the bottom of it when you climb out of the car, shading your eyes with your hand. 
“I’ve never seen it empty before,” you mumble, more of a comment to yourself than to Jenna. 
She slides her hand into yours, a satisfied smile on her face, and pulls you toward the entrance. “That’s not even the best part, come on.”
Her excitement is palpable and infectious. You can’t wipe the goofy smile from your face as you stumble along behind her. The elevator ride is like a ticking time bomb of nervous anticipation, you sneaking glances over at her and her catching you with a smirk. The bodyguards hadn’t ridden with you, but you write it off as a capacity issue. 
You expect a line when the elevator doors open, but the lobby is abandoned. You blink hard a few times, unable to believe the place is empty. Nowhere in the city is ever empty. There are always people rushing by, tourists in the way, and kids running and screaming. But the only thing you can hear is Jenna’s heels on the marble floors and La Vie En Rose tinkling through the speakers in the room. You stop and turn to Jenna, absolutely in awe.
“You closed the place down.”
“For a few hours,” she shrugs and tries to keep walking, but you grab her by the elbow and pull her back.
“You closed the edge. For a date. With me?”
Her brow creases in confusion, “Do you not like heights? I should have asked-“
You cut her off and pull her into your arms, kissing her. She melts into it almost immediately, her smile making it hard to keep kissing her. 
“This is incredible, Jenna,” you say, leaning back.
“You haven’t even seen the best part yet,” she pulls herself from your grip and retakes your hand.
You follow along behind her, your brain fuzzy and warm. You think just being with her is the best part. The car ride over could have been the whole date, and you would have been thrilled. But this girl went all the way and rented out the entire observation deck for a date. You couldn’t believe your luck. As she pulls you outside onto the empty deck, you can see a small table set up in the middle of the clear triangle floor. Your jaw drops. There’s a bucket with champagne and two flutes waiting for you. Jenna pulls the chair out, motioning for you to sit down, then sits in her own chair across from you.
You look down between your feet, and you can see the city below you, busy and bustling as usual, ignorant to the fact that you were having your mind blown. A loud pop catches your attention, and you look up to see Jenna with a cork in one hand, a fizzing bottle in the other. She pours you a glass and takes one for herself. 
You take a sip, point at her, “You know damn well I can’t top this date.”
She shrugs, “It’s not a competition. Your date was amazing, and you did that with zero effort. I figured the least I could do was show you something you’d never seen in a city full of things you know so well.”
You grin over your glass, “Raven.”
She laughs and nods, “Raven was a great help.”
A waiter comes out to the deck, and you can't help but be impressed. She really went all out. He takes your orders and heads back inside, leaving you alone to admire the view. The sun was beginning to set, washing the city in a warm orange glow. It was a place you knew like the back of your hand, but you’d never seen it like this. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t more than a backdrop because you were focused on her. The way she drank her champagne, how she tucked her hair behind her ears, bit her lip, how her mouth moved when she talked. You were in a trance, engrossed in everything about her. 
“So filming wraps soon,” Jenna says between bites of food, eyeing you for a reaction.
You grimace at the topic, afraid of what it means for you. “How do you feel about it?” 
“I’m happy to get a break, even if it’s a short one. But it means I have to go back to LA.”
You nod, staring at your plate, “Jet setting already huh?”
She sighs, “That’s my life. But I do have some good news.”
You look up, intrigued, “oh?”
“I got an apartment.”
You frown, “Don’t you have a house?”
“I got an apartment here, in Manhattan.”
You drop your fork halfway to your mouth, the clattering on the plate making you wince. She raises an eyebrow at you, trying to gauge your reaction.
“So you’re staying in New York?”
She screws up her mouth, frowning at her own plate, “No. Not right now. I have too much work. But I wanted to talk to you about that.”
“You want to talk to me about work?” You leave your fork on your plate, you’re afraid if you pick it up, she’ll say something to make you drop it again.
She laughs and shakes her head no, “I want to talk to you about this,” she gestures between the two of you, “and how to make it work. Because I really like you, and I’d like to keep doing this.”
You’re grateful you’d left the fork because you probably would have choked on it hearing those words. The most perfect words coming from her.
“I’d like to keep doing you too,” you say, and immediately want to catch the words in the air as they left your mouth, “THIS. I mean this. I want to keep doing this. Shit, I’m going to stop talking now.”
Jenna snorts, nearly shooting champagne through her nose. She covers her mouth and nose with one hand, gulping and coughing. Tears are forming in her eyes as her coughing turns into laughter, and it’s contagious. Before you know it, you’re both howling, the sound carrying out over the balcony and fading off in the sunset. 
“Please,” Jenna says between breaths, “please go on.”
“My mouth cannot be trusted.” You say, your eyes watering, giggles still shaking you.
Jenna snorts again, and you decide you’re willing to make an absolute fool of yourself as long as it makes her laugh like this.  You sit back and grin like a fool, watching her compose herself. The waiter clears your plates, smiling politely and reminding you of your limited time. When he leaves the table and you’ve both finally regained a scrap of composure, you return to the conversation.
“What I was trying to say,” you say, a small laugh slipping by your lips, “is that I would like to keep doing this with you. So, tell me what that looks like.”
Jenna leans back in her chair, scratching her chin, “Well I work a lot.”
“I do too.” You interject.
She nods, “We work a lot. So time is going to be a thing for us I think.”
You shrug and sip another glass of champagne, your body warm as it bubbles in your throat. “So we make the best of it when we have it.”
“And then there’s the issue of location.” 
You don’t have an answer for this, so you stay quiet, hoping she offers a solution. After a beat, she perks up, her eyes bright.
“Have you thought about expanding?”
“Oh I don’t know, I think I like my size just fine.” You shoot back, unable to help yourself.
She rolls her eyes, “You know what I mean. Your shop would do well in LA.”
You tap your ring against your glass, milling the idea over. You hadn’t considered it, because you’d never even thought about leaving Brooklyn. It was your home, and your favorite place in the world. 
“I mean, I’ve never thought about it. If I did open in LA, I wouldn’t stay there. I love New York.”
“Oh no,” she shakes her head and holds a hand out at you, “no I didn’t mean for you to move there. Only that if you had a shop there, you could, you know, visit. For extended amounts of time.”
You set your glass on the table and lean forward, “Ms. Ortega, are you growing attached?”
She waves her hand at you, brushing you off, “Don’t be so smug. I like your company.”
“Then I’ll consider it.”
“You will?”
“Are you surprised?”
“Honestly? Yes.”
You shake your head at her, making her frown. She had no idea that if she asked you to jump off this building at this very moment, you’d consider it. You would not do it. But for a second, you’d consider it. You’re not going to tell her that though, because that is an insane idea for someone you’d only known for two weeks. But already, she’s beginning to feel like home. You feel at ease around her, a feeling few people have you. And you very much enjoy kissing her, so that’s a spur in your ribs as well. If Raven could see you now, she’d probably slap you upside the head. But Raven isn’t here, and Jenna’s eyes are wide and hopeful, and you’re considering jumping off a building she hadn’t asked you to jump off of. 
She stands and holds out her hand to you, helping you out of your chair. The champagne has gone to your head, making you feel as bubbly and as golden as the liquid itself. 
“Let’s get you home before Raven tries to hunt me down.” 
——
Jenna comes into the shop every evening of the last week she’s in the city. Raven comes in on her off days to crash your little dates in the corner, but neither of you minds. You’re glad Raven likes her, or you may have to second-guess your commitment to this new relationship. Your latte art gets dramatically better with you prepping Jenna’s drinks every day, and the smile or laugh you earn from them makes the hours toiling away over practicing them worth it. The day Jenna leaves is harder than you expect. You’ve grown comfortable in your new routine. She promises she’ll be back to visit as soon as she can, kisses you briefly, and then she’s gone. 
The day after she’s gone, you’re pouting on the couch. You hate to admit that you miss the sound of her laugh or seeing her speed reading your favorite books in front of the fire. Even Raven is a little less perky, eyeing the table where Billy and Phil always sat. 
When the shop empties, she comes to the couch and sits next to you, resting her head on your shoulder. “It’s kinda lame without her here now, huh?”
You lean your head over to rest on hers and sigh, “I’ll never admit that.”
Raven wraps her arm around your waist and squeezes you, “That’s okay. We’ll get back to normal.”
The bell at your front door chimes, and without looking up, you both say, “Sorry, we’re closed.”
The person clears their throat, and you can hear heavy footsteps approaching you. Raven sits up, and you both turn to look at the stranger. It’s a heavyset man in a suit two times too big for him, sweat beading at his balding head. He smiles warmly at you and offers his hand to shake. You get off the couch and take his hand.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Earl.”
You shake his hand, clammy in yours, “Uh, nice to meet you, Earl. I hate to do this to ya, but the coffee is all put up.”
He chuckles and shakes his head, “Oh no, I’m here on business.”
You tilt your head, frowning, “What kind of business?”
He points at the armchair to the left of the couch, “May I?”
You glance at the chair. It’s the one Jenna curled up in the first night she was there. As much as you want that image to remain, you nod and gesture toward it, “Of course.”
He settles into the chair and pulls a folder from his satchel, laying it on the coffee table. His polka dot tie and comfortable demeanor are oddly heartwarming, and you settle into the couch across from him, curious about why he’s there. He pulls a sheet of paper from the folder and lays it on the table before looking back up at you.
“I’m here to help you with your expansion if you want it. But before we talk business,” he pats his coat and pulls an envelope from an inner pocket, “I’m supposed to give this to you.”
You reach out and take the envelope, turning your head to Raven. Her confusion mirrors your own, and she shrugs. You look down and open it. There are two plane tickets tucked inside a letter.
“Read the letter first,” Earl tells you, pushing his glasses up his nose. 
You unfold it, perfectly neat handwriting covers the page. Your eyes scan the paper, and a grin breaks out across your face.
“What’s it say?” Raven asks, reaching for it.
You hold it out of her reach, “It’s from Jenna.”
“Oh now I HAVE to see it.” Raven snatches it from you and stands up, rounding the couch to escape your retaliation. 
She gasps, “We’re expanding to LA?”
“It looks that way.” You grin at her, your arm on the back of the couch.
Raven's eyes are wide as she finishes the letter. When she’s done, she neatly folds it, sits back on the couch, and hands it over to you.
“Y/n. I think I’m in love with your girlfriend.”
You shove her shoulder with yours, “Too bad I don’t like to share.”
Earl is patiently waiting, his hands resting on his knees and a polite smile on his rosy cheeks, “So, would you like me to stay to go over the details with you then?”
“Uh, duh!” Raven barks before you can answer.
You elbow her in the ribs and look back to Earl, “I’m sorry for her. She’s not house trained. Yes, sir, let’s talk.”
——
Earl had given you all the details you needed about your potential new space in Hollywood, going over the finances and location and your original business plan. After a few hours, he bid his goodbye, and everything was set in motion. The two plane tickets were for you and Raven to travel out to LA in a week to check out the new location, sort out the final details and begin your planning. You set up a schedule for your employees to cover the shop while you’re out.
Raven is so excited she’s nearly unbearable, babbling about Hollywood and the beach and celebrities she was going to force Jenna to introduce her to. The week went by in a blur, and before you knew it, your bags were packed, and you were climbing into an Uber on your way to the airport. JFK is a nightmare, as always, but you make your way through security and onto the plane after a few hours. Over the six-hour flight, Raven keeps you more entertained than the screen in the back of your seat. She’s inhaled as many bread rolls as the flight attendants would allow and finally passed out on your shoulder.
When the plane lands, you expect to find a chauffeur holding a card with your name on it. You drag Raven behind you, searching for the names on the signs, but you’re at a loss. Until you see a lumbering frame a few yards away and a bald head, you’d recognize anywhere. Raven spots him at the same time as you and squeals.
“Billy!” She yells, jumping up and waving her arms.
You laugh, watching him smile in genuine amusement at her. He comes over and wraps her in a hug, patting you on top of the head with his free hand.  
“Ladies, if you’ll follow me, your car is waiting.”
You make your way through the labyrinth of an airport, following Billy through signs that mark the parking area as private. The crowds thin as access is restricted, and he finally leads you out into the warm California sunshine. You round the corner, and you can see Jenna, her arms crossed, leaning against the car. She pushes herself off with a smile when she sees you and hugs Raven first. When she’s released from her death grip, she turns to you, her eyes bright and excited.
“Y/n, how do you handle the sun?”
You pull her into a hug without answering, only pulling back from her to give her a quick kiss. “With a mountain of sunblock.”
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bloatedandalone04 · 4 months
Text
Bets & Bargains - Part 1
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Series Masterlist
➪in which a freshly broken up with bradley agrees to throw a back-to-school party and it’s there where he comes up with a cruel way to win back his ex.
PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.
WC; 4.5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡
“Bri, don’t be like this,” Bradley mumbled as he watched her pace around his room from his spot on the edge of his bed. When she passed by him he reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Come on.”
She stopped walking and turned to glare at him. “No, Bradshaw,” she seethed and roughly pulled her hand out of his grasp. “I can’t do this anymore. You don’t take things seriously! You don’t take me seriously!”
Bri turned once again and picked up her discarded shirt she had taken off not even an hour ago. She had shown up at his frat house, a needy mess for him like she always is, and now that he was done fucking her she just had to bring up the fact that he doesn’t put enough effort into their relationship. 
It was bullshit, because Bradley felt like he put in more effort than most guys would, and it started out as a casual thing, anyway.
Sure, it developed over time and he was going onto almost eleven months with her, but he felt fine at the pace they were going at. He was only twenty two, he didn’t need something super serious right now. 
He thought what the two of them had right now was good and enough. But apparently he was wrong. “You haven’t taken me out on a date since the beginning of June,” she continued as she shrugged the shirt on and looked at his sticker-covered mirror to fix her hair. 
When he just lifted a brow and set his phone aside, she met his eyes in the mirror with a harsh glare. “And?” He asked in self-defense. 
She spun around and put her hands on her hips. “It’s the end of August, Bradshaw!” She nearly yelled and Bradley winced, hating how she never used his real name. No one did, but she did it even after he told her he preferred if she used his first name. “I want someone who takes me out every once in a while, and not just to frat parties. I mean, I stayed here all summer with you instead of going back home and spending time with my family. You only took me out once and it was to pick up dinner from that stupid fast food place that is literally a few streets down from the campus.”
Bradley huffed and caught his shirt when she picked it up and threw it at him. “Oh, come on,” he muttered as he put his graphic tee back on. “That’s not true. I took you to that…” He trailed off when he realized he couldn’t complete that sentence. 
He looked up and gave her a boyish smile, and she really did not like that one bit. “I need a man, Brad,” she muttered and picked up her bag. “Not some boy who won’t meet me halfway. I’ve put almost a year of my life into this relationship, and for what? So you can just have me on the side? You don’t know how to treat a girl, Bradshaw. You don’t know how to be a decent boyfriend.”
She grabbed her heels and held them in one hand as she opened his door. “Bri,” he said quietly, his eyes pleading with her and saying all the words his mouth couldn’t. “Babe.”
Briana just laughed and shook her head. “This was a waste of time. It was fun, yeah, and you do not disappoint in bed, but I need more than that,” she shrugged. “Honestly, I think that’s the main reason I put up with this for so long. You’re a good fuck, Bradshaw, but a terrible guy. So we’re done.”
He scoffed and felt a little more than beyond objectified, but he still, for some dumb reason, didn’t want to lose her like this. “Briana,” he called as he stood up and made it over to her in three strides. “We’re good together. I can be better, just give me a chance.”
She shook her head and kissed the hickey on his neck that she had given him an hour ago. “I’ve given you one too many chances,” her voice was so monotone, it was actually kind of eerie. She ran the tip of her finger down his chest and stopped just above his jeans, where she full on groped him. “This is all you’re good for, and even that isn’t enough.”
Even though Bradley was currently getting chewed out by her, he still didn’t want to break up. He didn’t want to have wasted nearly a year of his life by not fighting for her. If she wanted more, he’d do more, but she wasn’t giving him the chance. “Bri, I don’t want to lose you,” he confessed quietly, gently taking her hand in his. “Or this.” He gestured in between them with his free one, and she sighed. 
“Sorry, Brad,” she patted his chest. “We’ll still see each other. Maybe we can even continue the sex part of our relationship, but that’s it. I’ll seek you out if I need someone to get off with, but for now, we’re over. I’m sorry.”
And then she was pulling away from him completely and leaving his messy room with her head held high while he was left with a broken ego. 
He heard her bound down the stairs and the sound of the front door closing before he slammed his bedroom door shut and fell backwards onto his bed. 
All she needs him for is an easy lay? That’s all she thinks of him now? How did he possibly miss the signs? Actually, now that she put the idea in his head, he couldn’t remember her ever giving him a sign. He couldn’t even remember her ever complaining about any of the things he apparently did wrong. 
This had to be a test. She was testing him, right?
She’ll be back. After she spends a little time away from him, she’ll come crawling back. Unless she just wanted him to fight for her. Or maybe she wanted him to prove her wrong, prove that he is way more than just some good fuck. He can be a good guy, and he can be an even better boyfriend. 
Bradley shakes his head as he grabs his phone and clicks on the group chat he shares with his friends and housemates.
Bradley B: Bri broke things off with me. I’m gonna get her back, though.
Eli H: Fuck her. Let’s throw a party tonight.
Bradley scoffed as he read the reply, not at all surprised that his friends couldn’t care less about how he was feeling and cared way more about getting drunk.  
Bradley B: I’m kind of sick of parties.
Westley E: Yeah right. I’m down for a party. It can be a back to school thing. It’ll also be a good way to get a rebound. 
Of course that was all they were thinking about. Rebounds, girls and partying. 
They had so many parties at their frat house last year, and had the cops called on them more than once. Bradley wasn’t kidding, he really was getting sick of the partying. He’s here to start his career, not find someone to settle down with when he’s still trying to figure out his life. He’s not here for the parties or the girls or whatever else. 
But no one would take him seriously. They never did. 
He really couldn’t wait to get out of here. 
School starts again tomorrow, and he should really be spending his time getting himself ready and organized for his final year, but he was agreeing to another pointless party. 
Bradley B: Fuck it. I’m in.
-
“Ooh, a party!” Sam says excitedly as she enters your room. You look up from your place on your bed, your hand shoved in a box as you tried to find your notes from last year. “Y/n/n, there’s a party tonight!”
You scoff as you resume your rummaging, not even glancing at her twice once you locate your notes. “Already? School hasn’t even started yet,”
“Yeah, well, you know how college boys are,” she pointed out as she moved to sit across from you. “What do you say? Wanna come to a party with me tonight?”
You look up at her with a blank expression on your face. “Not really,”
Sam rolled her eyes and moved to lay back against your pillows. “Oh, come on,” she whined, typing something on her phone. “You’ve been so moody lately, it’ll be good for you to get out and have fun for once.”
You scoff again and stand up, taking the box with you. “I’ve been moody? Hm, wonder why,” you muttered as you set the box down in your closet. “Maybe we should ask your brother.”
Sam looked up with you, her phone dropping from her hand as she lifted them both up in surrender. “Hey, I had nothing to do with that,” she says and gives you a smile. “Speaking of, when are the two of you going to get back together? I still want you as my sister-in-law one day.”
Shaking your head, you close the closet door and move onto your suitcase. “Yeah, maybe tell your brother to stop acting like a dick and then we’ll see about me becoming your sister,”
“Luke’s always been like that,” she brushed off your words and sat up. “And you still fell in love with him somehow. Come on, you were together all through high school, don’t waste those years just because you two got into a fight.”
You narrow your eyes at her. “I’m not wasting them,” you mumbled. “And it wasn’t just a fight. We want different things right now, that’s it. This break from each other will be good for us.”
Sam lifted a brow and gave you a skeptical look. “So it’s just a break? You’re not broken up?”
“No, we are,” you give her a shrug and a smile. “For now.” 
“Then it’s rebound time! Find a hot frat boy at this party tonight and experience someone else for a change,” she suggested and you grimaced at her words. “But don’t do anything more than that. You’re still going to be marrying my brother in the future.”
Then she was pushing you out of the way and tearing through your closet for something you could wear at the party, and you knew you would be fighting a losing battle if you were to decline more than you already have. 
What’s one stupid party, anyway?
-
This is exactly why Bradley didn’t like parties anymore. He wasn’t drunk yet and there were far too many topless girls around for him to be able to think straight. 
 It wasn’t even twelve yet and the party was completely out of control already. The frat house was big, but it felt way too small with the amount of people that filled every room. 
Bradley was holding his third beer of the night when he finally found Eli and Wes. They were in the living room, a girl in between them on the couch as they passed a joint back and forth. “Hey, there he is!” Eli called out as soon as he saw him. “Come here, man.”
Eli pushed on the girl’s shoulder in an attempt to get her to move, and she did with a scoff. Bradley gave her an apologetic smile as she pushed past him before Wes reached forward and tugged on the sleeve of his flannel. “Get down here, dude,” he laughed, holding the joint up once Bradley was sitting beside them.
“Nah, I’m good,” he waved off his friend’s offer of the joint. “I don’t feel like getting high tonight.” Actually, he didn’t feel like getting high ever, and the few times he did was because he was pressured into it by the very two guys beside him.
“Wow,” Eli mumbled as he took the joint instead. “You don’t feel like getting high? Bri really did a number on you, huh?”
Bradley shrugged, bringing the cool bottle up to his lips. “I’m going to get her back,” he repeated what he said over text and turned to Eli when he just laughed. 
“Dude, just get over her,”’ he said. “You were with her for so long, what’s left to experience with her?”
Bradley really hated the way his friends talked about girls. It was as if they were just an object to use then discard once they got bored, and Bradley couldn’t ever remember a time when he thought about a girl as just a way to gain experience. 
Sure, he wasn’t much of a relationship guy, but he knew how to treat a girl for the most part. 
He was sure Bri would laugh if he were to ever say that out loud, though.
“I liked her, Eli,” Bradley muttered as he finished his beer. He was definitely drunk now, or very close to getting there since his eyes were blurring and his head was spinning a bit. “I want her back.”
Eli just scoffed as Wes moved closer. “Why don’t you make her jealous? Have her come crawling back to you?” 
Bradley turned his head. “How?”
“I don’t know, man, just…” The blond trailed off as he looked around the packed room. “Pick someone to be your rebound, any girl you think is hot enough, then stay with her until Briana notices you’re not paying attention to her anymore.”
“Right,” Bradley scoffs, then realizes his friend was not joking. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Hell yeah, man,” Wes answered and leaned back as the effects of the weed began to take over his body. “If she sees you with another girl she’ll go crazy. You know how jealous she is.”
Bradley just shook his head and stood up. “I’m not in seventh grade anymore. I’m not doing that,” he announced as he pushed his way through the swarm of people. 
“Don’t be such a bitch, Bradshaw!” Eli called out after him but Bradley just shook his head as he held onto the doorframe and scanned the kitchen area. 
He was more than a little pissed off now, and being called a bitch didn’t really help. He was half tempted to go up to his room and call it a night, while the other half of him was wanting to turn around and deck Eli square in the face. But the two of them had only recently made up for the last time they got into a physical fight with each other, and Bradley knew that another one would do as much good as the previous one did. 
His eyes land on Bri, who was hanging off a guy he’s seen around campus. During the last eleven months she had never given this guy the time of day, and now that she broke things off with Bradley she was all over him.
She had every right to be, but this was Bradley’s fucking house, and she’s his fucking ex, and she looks fucking happy. 
He really couldn’t believe the nerve of her. 
Without thinking much, and using his three beers as a source of confidence, he made it over to her in four strides. “Bri,” he rasped, glaring at the guy whose name is Jensen. At least he thinks his name is Jensen. “We need to talk.”
Briana laughed and nuzzled further into Jensen’s side. “Didn’t we do enough talking this morning? We’re done, Bradshaw,”
Bradley glared at her then at Jensen again, who only laughed. “Why are you doing this? Huh? Why are you even here?” 
“It’s a party, right?” Briana leaned up and wrapped her arm around her date’s shoulders. “Isn’t everyone invited to these things? Come on, Brad. We started off as friends, can’t we go back to that?”
Bradley felt his face heat up in both anger and embarrassment, and he knew he needed to walk away before his fist got the better of him. “Sure,” he answered and gave Jensen one last glare before turning around and pretty much storming back over to his friends. “I’m in. I’ll do it.” He said, making both Eli and Wes look up at him with smirks on their lips. 
-
“Whose house is this?” You ask as Sam pulls you with her and into a mass of sweaty people. If you thought the outside of the house was crowded with people, the inside of it was on a whole different level. Everywhere you looked was taken over by students, and you were sure that this is what a club downtown looks like every Friday night. Maybe even worse. 
“I don’t know, but that’s what makes it exciting,” she answered as she guided you into the kitchen. 
You strongly disagreed with her on that, and you were quickly finding out that the smell of weed and loud music was not something you wanted to be around during your final few days before classes started again. “This is lame,” you say over the sound of people chatting around you. “Let’s leave.”
Sam scoffed, turning towards you with an eye roll. “We just got here,” she pointed out and looked at the array of booze lined up on the counter. “Live a little.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” You mutter, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hear you very well. Your head was already pounding, and your comfy bed at your dorm was calling out to you right now. Why do you ever bother leaving the house?
“Which one do you want? Vodka or gin?” She asked as she grabbed two red cups. 
You raise a brow at her. “Neither,” was your answer and she gave you a pointed look. You sigh and nod at the vodka, watching as she pours an uneven amount of it mixed with coke into the cup. 
“Drink up,” she stated as she handed it to you, her own cup in her free hand. “We’re here to have fun.”
You give her a thumbs up and take a sip of the drink that tasted like straight up vodka rather than a vodka mix. “Fuck,” you grimaced and she smirked at you.
“Good, right?”
Wrong. “Right,” you force yourself to nod and move off to the side when someone bumps into you from behind. 
“Sorry,” they say, making you turn and meet the eyes of a cute brunet boy. 
He definitely was not someone you’d look twice at, but he was nice looking nonetheless. 
You weren’t able to wave him off before Sam was reaching around you and tugging on the guy’s shirt. “Tan! You came!”
Tan grins and moves to stand beside the two of you. “Oh, hey. Yeah, I was planning on staying in tonight, then you asked if I wanted to meet you at this party and thought what the hell,”
Your eyes narrow as Sam had definitely forgotten to mention that she had invited a guy to tag along. “How nice,” she beamed, glancing over at you. “This is my roommate, Y/n. Y/n, Tanner.”
Tanner lifted his cup in a form of greeting. “Pleasure to meet you,” though the way he said that gave away the fact that he didn’t care much for your presence at all. 
You copy him with your own cup, glaring at Sam as you point towards the dining room area. “I’ll be over there,” you say, hoping she will follow you.
She doesn’t. “Okay, we’ll catch up later!”
And you were left to stay true to your own words as you wandered off into the next room with your too strong of a drink in your hand and a nervous look in your eyes. 
-
“Oh, dude,” Eli nudged Bradley from his spot on the couch. “What about that girl? She’s hot enough.”
Bradley and Wes both look over and see a girl standing in the dining room, her back to the wall as she holds her cup to her chest. 
She looked extremely uncomfortable, and Bradley felt a bit bad for her. He couldn’t remember seeing her around campus before, but he also couldn’t see very clearly right now. She was cute, though, he could admit that. 
“Damn, I think she’s hotter than Bri,” Wes commented, earning a glare from Bradley. “Not that I think Bri is hot or anything.”
“Shut up,” Bradley muttered as tried to blink away the blurriness in his eyes. He looks over at the girl in the next room, his cold gaze softening just a bit. “She’s not my type.”
Eli scoffed, inhaling his second joint of the night. “She is so your type,”
Bradley rolled his eyes but focused on the girl for a bit. She was actually very cute, dare he say cuter than Bri, but he would never admit that. “She seems easy. I want a challenge,” he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth, and he knew that if his mom was still around she would’ve smacked him upside the head by now. 
“Make it a challenge, dude,” Wes suggested, leaning back against the couch with a hazy look. 
How could he do that? He just needed to make Bri jealous, that’s it. Why was he wanting to make it harder for himself? Maybe he just wanted to prove that he is someone who can be loved, and that he is someone who can be in a serious relationship. “I can make her fall in love with me,” he thought out loud and instantly regretted it as soon as he saw the look of mischief in Eli’s eyes. 
“Dude,” he said as if he was just told the greatest idea he’s ever heard. “You could totally make her fall in love with you.”
“Ah, I like it. Good idea,” Wes agreed, slapping Bradley’s shoulder for further effect. 
Bradley’s face fell a bit as he shook his head. “I can’t. I was with Bri for eleven months and she doesn’t give a shit about me. She never fell in love with me,” he tried to talk his way out of his own idea, but his friends seemed fully onboard. 
Eli rolled his eyes. “That was Bri, she doesn’t love anyone but herself. If she were to see someone else with you in that way she’ll come crawling back,” 
“Yeah, maybe you’ll even get her to stay on her knees,” Wes smirked and Bradley physically cringed. “I bet a thousand dollars on it.” 
That had both Bradley and Eli looking over at him in shock. “No shit,” Eli scoffed. 
“I will,” Westley says. “We all have it. I’ve got thousands of dollars saved up, Brad’s got his parents’ life insurance and your dad’s rich.” 
“I don’t like it,” Bradley mumbled but then Eli grinned. 
“I like it,” he said. “Dude, you have to do it now.” 
“What am I even doing? I have to make this girl fall in love with me or I lose? I’d have to owe the both of you one grand?” Bradley couldn’t wrap his head around any of this, or how he even managed to come up with this dumb idea in the first place, but he knew it was slipping out of his control at this point. 
“Nah, just five hundred each will be fine. You get this chick to love you, and you win a thousand bucks. It’s easy money, Bradshaw,” Wes pushed Bradley up so he was standing. “Do it, man.” He encouraged the cruel bet with a lazy smirk. 
Bradley shook his head as he stepped away. “Guys, this seems a bit fucked up,”
“Just do it, man, you came up with this,” Eli muttered. “Don’t be a bitch.”
And now he was once again pissed off. Eli knew he could get under his skin easily, and that was the exact reason they got into a fight during one of the parties they threw last year. 
Now Bradley wanted Eli to owe him money. He wanted to be able to hold that above him. He also wanted to hold that above Bri - that she was wrong. 
“Fuck off,” Bradley grunted as he walked towards the girl on unsteady legs. He definitely had too much to drink, and he’d like to think that he would’ve never come up with something like this, or even done it, while he was sober. 
His head was spinning a bit as he wandered into the dining room, though calling it that was a bit of a stretch since it only held a small round table with four chairs. 
What the fuck is he doing? Is he really about to drag a poor innocent girl into his fucked up world and pull a cruel prank on her? He wasn’t that kind of guy. His mother raised him better than this, so why was he now standing in front of said girl?
A slurred, “Hi,” came out of his mouth and she was now looking at him, and it was too late to turn back around. 
Her brow raised as she looked up at him, a shy and timid smile on her lips. “Hi,” 
Oh, God. 
That voice. 
She had possibly the sweetest voice Bradley had ever heard, and his mind went blank as he struggled to find words. “I, um,” he stuttered, his face flushing when she grinned up at him. He was usually fucking great at talking to girls, drunk or not, so this was getting kind of embarrassing. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you starting your first year?”
“No, my second,” 
“Really?” He asked, placing his forearm flat against the wall beside her head. “Weird…you’d think I would’ve remembered seeing you around campus.”
There he was. At least he got his beloved smooth talking skill back. 
The girl hummed. “Yeah, I usually keep to myself. It’s easier that way,”
Bradley lifted a brow and leaned a bit closer. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude,” he said after a few seconds. “I’m Bradley. I live here.”
She looked at him in surprise. “This is your party?”
He nodded and her smile softened a little bit. “Why do you look so surprised?”
She shrugged, hugging her drink close to her chest. “Well, this looks like a frat party, and you definitely look like a frat guy, but…”
He felt his confidence slipping away a bit as he straightened up his posture. “But?”
“You don’t really act like one,” she shrugged and sipped on her drink. Though she tried to hold back a grimace at the taste of the liquid in her cup, Bradley caught onto the fact that she really didn’t like it. 
Now he felt even worse since it was obvious she was only drinking as an attempt to fit in. 
Bradley furrowed his brows as he raised his free hand and took the cup from her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked over the loud music, noting the grateful smile she gave him when he discarded the drink onto the table.
“It’s not a bad thing,” she quickly says. “Really, you seem sweet, not loud or arrogant like the other frat guys I’ve met.”
His gaze softened at that and he couldn’t fight the grin that was beginning to form on his lips. He leaned in closer and was met with the sweet scent of vanilla and peach, and if he wasn’t already, he was sure he could get drunk off it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,”
The girl gazed up at him, matching his dumb smile as she answered, “Y/n,”
217 notes · View notes
byullielle · 7 months
Text
Walls Could Talk // Bang Chan x Mafia!Reader
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Part 1/3
Trilogy Playlist, Till Death Do Us Part, is what the vows contain. Hitched off to notorious mafia boss Christopher Bahng, and despite her volatile and bratty attitude–it'll be only through her that anyone gets to kill her husband.
Tags: Yakuza/Mafia AU, Est. Marriage, Marriage for Convenience, Eventual Lovers, Resolved Sexual Tension, Smut, Hurt/Comfort
Disclaimer: how chan looks in the freeze mv is exactly how he looks in this fic. themes and graphic descriptions of violence, drugs, substance abuse, panic attacks and disorders, trauma and traumatic responses are present, proceed with caution. chan does NOT cause the reader's trauma, however, and vice versa. MINORS DNI. NSFW Content.
4.5k Words
"Boss," he clears his throat, a nervous gait to him, "We failed to take her," he reports with a shaky voice, "Resistance…it was more than we anticipated,"
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Your phone buzzes against the cupholder while the car speeds through the busy Seoul streets. Annoyance flares through your body like an allergy as you grab it with a wince–switching to airplane mode before a yelp escapes your lips. “Sorry,” Felix lowly mutters while concentratedly patching up the wound on your thigh.
For what it’s worth, it wasn’t your fault you were running late to the stupid function your husband was currently throwing. With the guest of honor late and wounded in her car, you hoped to god that he already started without you. Although if you didn’t have the police force under your family’s grasp Seungmin would’ve gotten 5 speeding tickets, at least. 
A loud yelp escapes you again, making Felix look up in concern while he’s putting pressure on the bleeding leg, making sure your pretty black dress isn’t soiled by blood. “Sure you can take it boss?” he asks with concern in his voice.
You huff, trying to lean back and endure the pain, especially the sore spot on your stomach after being kicked right by your diaphragm, “I can,”
You’ve argued to him many times that if he simply wanted to network he could do it without you there but apparently according to him, “Your presence is crucial,” and the second part, “Don’t run late,”
Normally, you weren’t one to be tardy to any function with special considerations such as this one but you highly doubt that was the conclusion your husband of 6 months would go to. Women and their womanly whims tend to make them late after all, you knew that much you’d get that specific flack for showing up almost an hour late. “Boss we’re almost there,” Seungmin announces before you groan and try to not mind the searing pain your body is going through before Felix places a square bandage on your thigh. You hand him the ice pack before turning your back so that he can put the dress back in place.
 “You sure you could walk properly in this state boss?” he asks, concern lacing his voice before handing you your gun. You hum noncommittedly, slipping the weapon on the garter holster on your more decent thigh before pulling the dress down completely, “Not that I have much of a choice, Felix,”
By the time your car rolls into the estate, Minho, one of your husband’s closest guards is already waiting outside, phone pressed to his ear wearing a very unamused and apathetic expression on his face it scares you a bit. “We should’ve brought Jisung with us,” Seungmin murmurs as he turns exits the car, immediately jogging to your side as Felix heads out first to give instructions to the valet boy. Seungmin reaches a gloved hand out while you take it, trying not to wince in pain as you smile sheepishly at Minho. “Sorry I’m late,”
“The boss isn’t happy,” he immediately counters as you fix yourself up one last time, “Well I’m here now,” you let out with a sigh before straightening your posture.
Minho pushes the door to the function open, the creaking sound of the closed door calling attention towards you while Seungmin and Felix take their posts on your right and left, a few steps back. Some of the chatter stops, all eyes on you but your eyes immediately land on Christopher’s.
And evidently, he isn’t happy.
The eye contact lasts for about 10 seconds, before your eyes start roaming in caution–starting to read the faces of the people who showed up. It grows with you, your stellar ability to read people's body languages and looks, the hardest challenge posed to you is still none other than Christopher.
However, today, he was wearing his heart out his sleeve. 
"Ladies and gentlemen," he grabs a pen nearby and taps it against the glass of wine he was nursing, "My beautiful wife," he announces, voice booming throughout the hall as the rest clap to your entrance. It does set off a few sensitive alarms off your head, the booming and drowning sound of claps flying all over, but you could feel Seungmin push you towards Christopher a bit more and snapping you out of the alarming noises. 
"Sorry I'm late dear husband," you smile, saccharine and sweet before gently cupping his cheeks, pressing a very chaste kiss on his lips, "I hope I didn't crash the evening too much," you whisper, close to his face before you feel him grip your arm tightly, "You're in big trouble,"
You bite back your retort, knowing better than to start being a smartass now. 'How big a trouble could I truly get when it comes to you,'.
People start approaching you, the prickle of the skin on your arm making itself known as you shake each and every person's hand while trying to read their faces. Some old, some new, all just the same. Chris still had his hand placed on your hip, knowing that the very condition you set him to show up in the first place was for the people to not get too comfortable.
They say it’s a possessive husband’s desire, you say it’s a wife who knows how to play her cards. 
Once the crowd around you has died down, distasteful comments of “Women getting ready,” and every variation of it finally gone, Christopher leans forward, “Where the fuck were you,”
You turn to him and smile, “Don’t you know women take forever to get ready, Christopher?”
A punch is lodged into your stomach as you groan. Felix digs his knife into the assailant’s back before tossing him aside, Jeongin is fending off two men single-handedly.
Who in their right mind would attack someone in front of their estate? Idiots. That’s who.
You roll onto your back to dodge an incoming attack from a knife, immediately extending your legs to kick the weapon away–as it flies mid-air you immediately rush to catch it before the assailant could. Once the hilt lands on your palm, you immediately slash the closest body part you can, handing a hit to the jugular. 
Blood splatters against your face, making you wince before getting up, the adrenaline from all the defense you have to do still fending off the stomach pain you know would hurt like a bitch. About 5 unconscious bodies are scattered around the perimeter of the infiltrated courtyard, blood painting the pavement. Felix and Jisung manage to hoard in another 3 men while Jeongin finishes off the last one, accidentally ripping his sleeve off as the body slumps down coldly on the pavement. “How many do you think are dead?” you wipe off the blood from your face, “Only two Boss,” Felix estimates, “We’ll clean up here, go get ready,” he immediately suggests before you notion to Jeongin, “Help me walk, I think one of them managed to get me on the thigh,”
“Yes boss,”
“Just tell me why I need to be here Chris,” you exasperatedly sigh, wrenching his hand off you before a sharp pain comes with your inhale. He furrows his brow and raises his hand again, this time a gentle grip encasing your shoulder, “You’re hurt,” he states as a matter of fact, “What happened, Y/N?”
“Just a little scuffle,” you excuse, “Christopher, I swear I have it under control. This is just collateral damage now tell me why I’m here,” you impatiently prod on, not bothering to even shrug his hand off. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”
“Do I need to shank someone?”
“No,” he shakes his head, finally lowering his hand, “You just have to observe. You’ve always been good at that,”
You sigh out to relieve some of the pressure off your stomach, nodding along with it before letting out a hum, “What exactly should I be looking for then,”
Christopher looks around and shakes his head slightly, taking your hand before pulling you into a more secluded corner of the venue, dimmed to its maximum before placing a hand on your back, both of you walking around with his head nearly pressed against yours. It looks intimate in an outsider’s view, so loving and so sweet. The contents of his information are anything but.
“The shipments are supposed to arrive today. Instead, we were met with a truck-full of cocaine gone,” he sighs while you keep your eyes on him, “Unfortunately, I suspect we have a rat amongst our ranks,” You furrow your brows, a frown on your face, “And you're suspecting the rat is here?” 
“That's what I want you to find out. Anything suspect, you immediately report to me,”
“How far back would it knock sales down?”
Chris shakes his head, “Not a lot, I got that covered at least,”
"Okay,” You nod, laying a hand on his arm before turning towards the crowd. You press a chaste kiss on his cheeks, nearly hitting the corner of his lips before you walk away from him, flipping your hair to the side while walking towards a few women with a confident stride. The stinging pain in your thigh was nothing, so long as you didn’t exert too much pressure against the leg, the stitches wouldn’t open. “Ah! If it isn’t miss Y/N!” one of them notices you as you take a glass of champagne from the passing waiter, a friendly smile immediately plastered on your face. “Hello ladies, mind if I join in?”
A few hours of chatting go by, and you're quite surprised you could find suspect so quickly. 
“Oh my husband would never even let me enter his office,” one of the ladies rolls her eyes, while the wife of one Jung Kwang-ho nods erratically, eyes obviously dilated while she goes on rapid-fire speech about her husband getting mad at her for wanting to stay with him in the workspaces. “And I can’t believe he named his nephew heir for his seat in office! Nephew!” she rants while flailing her hands wildly, the sweat on her forehead beading while she wipes them off with a handkerchief already in her hand, “That sister-in-law of mine isn’t even half reliable,” she mutters before you step closer to her, “Are you feeling warm Jung-ssi? You seem like you need a cooler place,” you suggest despite the air conditioning around. You had to ask Seungmin about the temperature later.
“Oh don’t mind me,” she giggles with a little tinge of unhinge-ness to it, “This is just my hot flashes darling, menopausal and all,”
‘Sure,’ couldn’t help but nod, however aside from another wife she was the only one profusely sweating. Continuing to converse with the wives, you couldn't help but keep a keen eye on her. ‘This couldn’t be good,’
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The water swishes around as you scroll through the files Jeongin has sent you on your tablet, half your body submerged in the floral fragrance of the tub. You furrow your brows at the percentages presented to you, the loss of the drugs was not that great but something wasn't adding up, something amiss that you couldn't point your finger on. 
It was so reminiscent of something, long lost in the back of your mind but before you realize it a few drops of blood start dripping from your nose, a strong tremor shaking through your body as you feel your chest tighten. Tears blur your vision while the crushing weight on your lungs never lets out. You grip the sides of the tub, blurry vision seeing the bell your guards have left you for an emergency.
This was definitely one. Yet you couldn’t lunge forward to grab it, your bare body freezing cold in the water as nails scratching on the board tamper with your hearing. It was deafening, and you didn’t know if you were screaming or a silent wail unable to escape your throat. “Boss!” Jisung runs in with a towel in his hand immediately draping it over you not minding as the tips get dipped in the tub water, “Boss,” his voice softens, a steady hand on your shoulder, “Boss we’re here, should we call Soyeon?” he starts talking while trying to look at you in the eyes.
The searing pain in your thigh and stomach flare up, and then a stinging sensation by your spine jolts you up, tears flowing down as Jisung gently cajoles you back to reality. 
It goes by like forever, but once the pain stops, and nothing but the breathlessness is left, you look at him with wide eyes before he shouts for Felix to get another towel.
“What happened there boss?” he softly asks, making you gulp down and gasp out, “The attack,” you mutter, “It’s the same thing that killed my mother,” you painfully recall, closing your eyes before Jisung hums in acknowledgment, not pushing you further. “Boss, you wanna get out now? Some warmth would do you good,”
You nod and have him help you out of the tub, water dripping from the first towel as Felix walks in and hands you the new one, both of them leaving the bathroom with the door ajar as you dry yourself up. You’re careful to pat the wound on your thigh before looking back on the tub, realizing that there was blood coming from your nose. But the water was simply cloudy with oils and bath agents, with no trace of blood either in the water or from your nose.
You furrow your brows and take a deep inhale, trembling hands patting the towel around your body. The faster you were out of this bathroom, the better.
With paper in your hands, your footfalls echo against the mosaic tiles of the manor, desolate and lonely. You couldn’t help but have goosebumps rise over your skin as you tread the seemingly endless hallway to Chris’ office, but once you get there, you heavily pound against the heavy wood door.
Stepping back a bit, you come face to face with Changbin and his glock. “Changbin,” you greet with a slight nod of your head. He lowers his gun and guard down before bowing politely to you, opening the door wider to reveal Chris scanning through papers, desk filled to the brim with files scattered around. All the legwork he did the past week was catching up to him, and you were about to add more.
“Yes?” he mumbles, not even bothering to look up at you while signaling for Changbin to grab a chair for you. You wait for the velvet chair to be placed in front of his desk before gently smacking the papers against the file he was reading. “Jung Kwang-ho, familiar?" you question, trying to contain the residual trembles on your hands, “Yes, one of our valued assets, what about him?"
"Does his wife have a history of drug intake?"
“Not that I'm familiar with," he furrows his brows, setting the files aside, now fully facing you. "I met Jung Hyeon-ssi on exactly three occasions, and none of them seemed off,"
“Not anymore,” you nip at the corner of your lower lip, peeling off the slight excess skin with your teeth, “We talked. It's too early to say but keeping an eye on her and the Jung family isn't out of our best interest,” you mutter while averting your gaze.
He sighs, leaning back against his chair with a finger pressed to his temple, “I'll keep that in mind,” he responds, another sentence about to spill from his mouth before you get interrupted by a knock on the door. Both you and Chris turn to look before Changbin opens it and announces his presence. "Mr. Jung Yejun is here,"
In alarm, you immediately shoot out of the seat before making yourself comfortable on Chris' lap right after. 
"You didn't tell me someone was coming?" you scold through grit teeth while Changbin checks any weapons on the sudden guest. "Where would be the fun in that," Christopher smiles cockily at you, resting his hand on the shy of your satin-dressed back and pulling your legs closer with the other. "Oh you dog," you whisper in disbelief before the man himself enters.
"Oh, it's a pleasure to see you here today Miss Y/N, I hope you remember me," 
"I do," you smile, the mood immediately turning 180 come face to face with the guest. "Your aunt and I are well acquainted," 
Christopher draws small patterns on your back as you speak, your position on his lap making you seem like such a clingy spouse it makes you want to throw up. "Well, what brings you here Yejun-ah," Chris moves the process forward as he clears his throat. "Reports given by my uncle, our faction is already clearing out the fields to find the missing men belonging to the Jinyoung group, sir," 
"What missing men?" Chris then sits forward, hands still encasing you but adjusting you accordingly. Deciding to just end your suffering, you slide off his legs before placing both hands on the backrest of his chair, listening intently. 
"Your uncle hasn't reported any missing men yet, Yejun,"
“Haven’t you heard sir?” Jung hands over a file, your hand point blank on his arm as the sleeve rides up a bit, scales inked near his wrist. You peer over Chris’ shoulder and start scanning the files. It’s men from his faction of the city. “They’ve been gone for a while now, a few more added. I don’t know who’s responsible for this yet although my uncle is looking into it,”
Chris looks up at you, silently asking if you know these men. You subtly pat Christopher’s shoulder before he lowers the file and nods, “Thank you for your input, Mr. Jung, any more?”
“None sir,”
“Then you’re dismissed. Your information is highly appreciated,”
He nods wordlessly. Getting up, he makes a very quick exit to the office. Changbin starts checking in case he left some recording device while you take the file off Chris' hands. Flipping through the papers, you're shocked to see a few of the men from your faction of the group as well. 
"I thought only the cocaine was missing?" you question him with a scowl. "So did I," he sighs, "I'll look into it tomorrow. Jung would probably call me out-site. You keep on checking tabs on his wife,"
You nod, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Something was terribly wrong.
"Here Mrs. Jung," you kindly offer her a glass of iced water, "Oh thank you so much Y/N-ssi, what a darling you are," she smiles kindly, although her pupils are dilated widely there's still a certain endearment to how she looks. "How are you finding the party so far?"
"Oh, it's nothing too different. Nothing I haven't been to," she chuckles with whimsy laced in her voice, "Although the younger men are now in charge of their groups, it is my first time seeing their wives. Such as yourself," she starts to ramble. And you gladly let her, most of the time cocaine dependants are chatty, always giving out information with such little care in the world, it was quite convenient.
"How has your husband been treating you darling?" she asks, a hand on your arm before you couldn't help but flinch at the contact a bit, making her immediately detach from you. "Oh, sorry,"
"No, it's alright," you sheepishly chuckle, "I just get jumpy at times," you explain before straightening your dress, looking for Christopher amongst the crowd, "He's been wonderful," you try to dotingly muster, "He's been nothing but accommodating and kind to me,"
"Is that so?" Hyeon smiles, "Darling…you know you could tell me anything right," she woefully lays a gentle hand on yours, sweating profusely. You try to not let your brows shoot up in surprise at the sudden opening, "Oh me? I believe I don't have anything…" you try to excuse. 
"Do you…?" you question with hesitation, unsure about where the conversation was going. 
"Oh I do," she openly admits, there's no reason not to. Despite the confusion coursing through your body rumors about abuse regarding you aren't so far off the roster, "I've heard things my darling. This world wasn't always made for us," she smiles down at the glass of water, "But we can make it safer. At least your generation of wives,"
You control every nerve in your body to not snap in her direction, trying to ground yourself as you feign concern, "I don't quite understand," you gulp down before she hands you a slip of paper, a phone number scribbled onto it. "If Christopher touches you, call me, yeah?"
"Yeah, okay Jung-ssi,"
"Please, call me Hyeon-unnie,"
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Leaning back against your chair, you furrow down at the piece of paper wedged between your fingers. Groaning you lean back and press your lips together. You suspect something off with the Jung family–with the messy case of the inheritance and Hyeon Jung’s potential drug addiction–it wasn’t the hardest to spot. What you were ultimately on the edge about was just how involved were they with your family.
For Hyeon to question how Chris treats you, an alleged abuse going on behind closed doors–where she got that information was beyond you. 
To Christopher’s credit, you and he got along well in terms of a loveless marriage– your ultimate free reign over your activities save for the occasional heiress chores you have to air out, and the respect you had for each other was a far cry from domestic abuse. Sure, the both of you were still aloof around each other, glorified housemates if anything but you knew he wouldn’t lay a hand on you. 
Letting a sigh roll out your lips, a knock comes from your door before you call out to let themselves in, "Felix," you tiredly smile at him, "Great timing I was about to call you,"
“Well I have a bit of bad news boss," he steps up in front of your desk, "What do you need?"
"Give me a background check on Jung Hyeon,"
“Sure,” he nods, “Here boss, the bad news," he hands you a folder. You thank him before he retreats from your office. 
Opening the folder, you immediately see photographs of a tattoo, serpentine in shape and scaly, a mamba of sorts. You turn the picture and see a name tagged to it, one of the men slain in the assault yesterday. Flipping through the pages is the same variant of the tattoo, clothed and unclothed.
You have a sense you’ve seen it before. 
Keeping up with the reading, the status of their factions are still unknown but there was a certain group they fell under. It didn’t take a genius–they were all part of the Jung family. Guards and marksmen. 
A sense of dread spills into your stomach, and you immediately scramble to reach out for your phone, contacting Hyunjin who answers in two rings, “Miss Boss?”
“Where is Chris?” you ask with urgency. “He took Minho-hyungnim with him, they’re on their way to Daego-do, last time he updated had to get gas. If you need anything Changbin is also there,”
“What exactly are they gonna do in Daego-do,”
“Check out the missing men case Jung-ssi presented yesterday,” was all you had to hear before hanging up abruptly.
“Fuck,” you spit out.
Running past Jisung and Changbin, you hot-foot it to the garage, grabbing your gun and keys. The pair look at each other and hurriedly follow, grabbing car keys no questions asked. You snatch your helmet out of the garage stands before putting it on hurriedly, the key already starting in the ignition while you tuck your gun in the holster on your leg. You mount your motorbike and rev up the engine while Jisung scrambles to start the car.
You immediately take off, smoke filling the garage. You speed out of the estate as fast as you can, time and a life on the line because Hyeon’s voice doesn’t stop–playing over and over again like a broken record. The verbalization of the realization catches up a bit late, through grit teeth and the wind pressure ahead of you, ‘Jung Kwang-ho is gonna ambush Chris,’ You weren’t a hundred percent sure, but your intuitions never failed you.
Your eyes are zeroed in on the road, speeding and weaving through cars as they honk at you violently. Seoul traffic wasn’t that bad for a 2 PM rush but fuck, were you tempted to hit the very end of that speed meter. You increase the speed drastically, tilting the bike back a bit before fully speeding off into the highway. Chris left 10 minutes ago, he couldn’t have made it that far yet, from what you knew Minho was a cautious driver, not even risking to speed up on the freeway beyond its limit.
You could catch up, you had to.
You squint your eyes to try and see further, trying to spot a black GMC but so far it was futile. Unless Hyunjin was wrong there was only one South Highway in the entirety of Seoul City. You lean forward, pushing the limits of the bike as it shoots off, gradually getting faster before a relieved gasp escapes you, seeing Chris’ car approaching a tunnel.
The panic in your system spikes, already seeing how many ways this could go wrong. So with a final boost of speed, you get close enough to the tail of the car, slowing down as you feel for your gun plastered to your side before pointing it at the wheel behind.
Then a gunshot goes off, narrowly missing you as you curse, motorbike wobbling a bit. You grit your teeth and speed up to the side of the car, trying to match its speed before targeting the front right wheel. The car’s brakes screech against your ears painfully, making it careen off to the side only to be stopped by the railings along the highway, smashing against the front of the car. You immediately step on the brakes of the motorbike, swerving it to the side before r immediately pointing your gun at the invisible gunman.
You squint and take two chance shots, a yelp immediately coming from the foliage atop the wall before a man crashes down the concrete, helmet emitting a crack sound as you see his leg shot. 
You look back hurriedly, seeing Jisung and Changbin try to catch up from the other side of the highway. You rush to Chris’ car, seeing the airbags activated before the door slams open, a gaping wound on Christopher's forehead, and a limp to his gait while holding his side, "What the fuck was that!" he yells as if he isn't in pain. You stand your ground and frown,"I'll explain later, help me get Minho out of the car," you push past him before rushing to the driver's side. Your own car stops, the doors flying open quickly “Fuck, boss what did you do!” Jisung curses as he gets out but you immediately signal to the dead man down on the highway.
“Get rid of the body quick, they probably retreated,” you look into the dark tunnel before you, “But this means war,”
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Final disclaimer! This is not entirely accurate and is fabricated for the sake of storytelling. This is a work of pure fiction and does not represent any real-life people, events, or places.
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charmercharm3r · 1 year
Text
lay me down gently
KSM
Masterlist
3/8 of The Sleepwear Series
wc: 4.5k
Synopsis: No one understands him the way you do, and he can't help the things you make him feel.
warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, sub!seungmin, oral (f receiving), furniture humping, scratching/marking, slight orgasm denial, master/pup/puppy, breeding, is this considered pet play? serious question, nice lil aftercare cus its what everyone deserves
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He writes in his journal every day, without fail. Not a single soul has seen what it is Seungmin writes about, but he can sit there for a few minutes or a few hours jotting away. He started doing it a little bit after debut, there’s a pile of finished journals all dated in the corner of his room. Of course, the boys asked about what it is he spends so much time writing about, but Seungmin never gives them a straight answer.
Then he met you.
For the past four years, he never skipped a page unless truly necessary. Now, his journal has been sitting on his desk for five months entirely untouched to the point that it was collecting dust.
“I don’t get how airplanes work.”
Seungmin had a towel wrapped around his waist and another rubbing his hair dry as he entered his bedroom. You were laying on your stomach on his bed, scrolling away as he spoke.
“You travel for a living and you don’t know?” You respond, lightly laughing and pulling up google to search for the answer. As you typed you spoke aloud, “how do airplanes fly?”
Your boyfriend tossed the handheld towel into the hamper and hopped on top of the covers next to you, staring up at the ceiling. “I never thought about it before. Now that I have, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Baby, have I ever told you that you think too much?” He turns his head to look at you, then down at your phone.
“Once or twice.”
Google to save the day once again. “Here, something about pressure and the shape of the wings. I never took physics in school.” You handed him the phone and watched as he read over the answer.
“I still don’t get it. How does it stay in the air?” Seungmin used your phone to look closer.
These were usually questions he had for his journal, some deeper than others. A lot of those questions went unanswered and it bothered him to no extent, keeping Seungmin in a constant state of skepticality over anything and everything. Why he never thought to just look up the answer before you, he didn’t know. But now that he has you, he doesn’t stay up at night wondering alone anymore.
You watch as he ponders deeper into the internet. Silken, makeupless features were lit up in the dim glow, charming and lovely as ever. Seungmin always had the smoothest skin, you couldn’t help but pinch at it as he continued to read.
The book on his desk just a few feet away beckoned you to ask another question, “why don’t you write anymore?”
Seungmin barely glanced at the desk, lingering his gaze on you, “I have no need for it.”
“The guys used to tell me you would threaten to beat them up if they even looked at it.”
“I say the same thing about you.” It was so casual how the charm just oozed out of him.
“Kim Seungmin, are you comparing me to a book?”
Eyes wide in fake bewilderment, “only the most important book in my life. Every single thought I’ve had is written in it. That’s why there’s so many.”
“So how do I play into this?”
“Because I have you to listen to every single thought I’m going to have.”
“And that explains why you text me every few minutes whenever we’re apart?”
“Exactly.”
Content with his answer, “okay.”
“Okay.”
Then a thought struck you. “I don’t get boats.” Mouth parted slightly, he gazed up at you. “I mean, I know it’s buoyancy or whatever, but it still doesn’t make sense. How can metal boats float?”
It seemed to strike a nerve in him because his fingers rapidly tapped your phone screen. “Water displacement? I get that,” Seungmin showed you what he’d found, turning over on his stomach to lay like you.
“You get boats but not planes?” A small smile crept upon your face.
This is how nights with him went a lot of the time. He asks a question that leads to another one and another one until suddenly it’s four in the morning and neither of you are remotely tired but have to be up by seven. 
“Yeah, boats don’t get turbulence. I don’t like turbulence.”
“I know you don’t. I also know that most of the ocean is unexplored. If you look up at the sky, that’s all there is.”
“There’s also aliens.” Rolling your eyes, your face planted into the pillow with a sigh. It was going to be another long night. You felt a hand thread through your hair and massage your scalp gently, a low moan escaping your lips as his fingers applied more pressure.
“And stars. Stars are pretty.” Turning to face him, a droplet dripped from his hair onto his lips, only for you to swipe away.
“The ocean is pretty, too.” Seungmin shifted onto his knees, rolling you onto your back for him to climb over your body. He had you pinned to the bed, his large shirt you had on now ridden up and exposing your panty-clad lower half. It wasn’t even a nice pair of panties, just some normal light grey ones that you wore when you wanted to be comfortable. Truth be told they were old and probably a bit too small, snug around your hips and butt and left indents in your skin and the bow on the front was hanging on by a thread, still, better than teeny tiny thongs to wear to bed.
He hovered just above your thighs, body hunched over to bring a chaste kiss to your lips one after another. Both his hands cupped your cheeks while your own landed on his bare thighs where the towel was now slowly coming undone. Kissing him was always saccharine, taking his time to drown in the feeling of your lips on his one of the only things that topped the absurd and alarmingly strange conversations the two of you share. It was a nice contrast, being able to go from talking about anything and everything to not having to say a single word to express how either one of you feel. It’s like you already knew.
Though, the moment didn’t stay sweet. Seungmin ran his tongue over your bottom lip with expertise to which you granted without a fight. Exploring your body was an expedition he never got tired of, letting his hands roam further to fondle your breasts over his shirt for a second before thumbing at the waistline of your panties. The digits traced up and down beneath the tight material, tugging lightly at it before moving to snap the lining around your legs, making you squeak into his mouth in surprise. Big hands found their way beneath your underwear, squeezing your ass and pulling your lower body up to brush against his.
Seungmin disconnected from your lips, “it’s big.” He smirked down at you, kissing your cheek and towards your neck. “And deep. So deep you can get lost in it.” A heavy grind of his cock against your now arousal soaked panties made you quietly keen.
“Are you still talking about the ocean?”
Against the nipped skin of your collar bone, “totally talking about the ocean.”
His knees were sturdy on either side of you as he used his raw strength to keep your body suspended, growing hungry every time you tried to roll up into him. It didn’t take very long for your arousal to soak through, spreading higher and higher up with every dry thrust of the towel shielding away his dick. The flesh of your ass molded around his fingertips, his grip almost slipping because of how rough his grip was. When your own hands found their way around his waist to slip under the towel and guide him harder into you, Seungmin ripped the fabric away all together and tossed it to the floor.
With a relieved sigh, his cock bobbed against his lower stomach, tip red and leaking. He moved off for just a moment to pull your legs from below him, bending and spreading to settle between them. A full view of your sopping pussy, Seungmin smiled almost evilly from his towering position above you. Just two fingertips ran over your pussy lips, feeling the wetness for himself and bringing them to his mouth to taste. A low groan erupted from his chest as Seungmin popped his fingers away, only to move the gusset of your panties to the side.
“Pup, no teasing tonight,” you breathe as he stares at your glistening cunt.
“Promise I won’t,” he says, pushing your panties as far as they’d go. “You lay there and be pretty. I’ll take all the teasing for both of us. Just looking at you makes me wanna blow.” You whined at the mention, “but I won’t. Won’t cum until you finish at least twice.”
Your nails raked hard across his ass and down his thighs, sending a shiver through his spine in a whole bodily reaction. It made you smile and giggle proudly as his dick twitched, knowing the feeling was mutual.
Hearing your giggle echoing throughout his bedroom inspired him. Seungmin shuffled backwards until he stood at the foot of the bed and took hold of your ankles, sliding you across the sheets. He instantly fell to his knees, eye level with your cunt as he draped your knees over his shoulders. Still with your panties pushed to the side, he sucked in a deep breath of your scent.
Before he moved any further, Seungmin looked up at you, eyes wide and chest breathing heavily. You reached for his hands and rested them along the length of your body, keeping a firm grip on his forearms. “Twice. No touching.”
His cock throbbed at the denial, the feeling of the tip tapping against the edge of the covers enough to make him more desperate. “Yes, master,” his handle on your thighs already bruisingly tight.
“Eat, pup.”
Seungmin kept his eyes locked on you as the tip of his tongue ran over your folds, your head falling back into the sheets under his warmth. An unrestrained moan escaped you as he ventured deeper, harder, hardly breathing because the taste of you was like oxygen itself. Seungmin eats pussy like a starved man, taking in as much as possible out of fear that he’d never have it again. He put everything to work, lips suctioning your clit, then tongue dipping into your hole only to have his nose nudging the bundle of nerves again and making your back arch off the bed, even whimpering into your cunt and vibrating through you.
Your nails dug into his arms, leaving deep scratches and crescent marks as you attempted to pull him deeper into you. His forearms were decorated in red lines by the time the burning of your first orgasm began to tighten in your stomach, your legs covered in already forming bruises under his hands. Your hips were rising and falling, trying to find the spot that would push you over the edge but Seungmin followed every movement until you held him in place by his still damp hair. Grinding up against his nose you found it, the final rub in just the right way and you filled the air with your wail of pleasure, holding his face snug against your pussy.
His tongue circled your entrance as you came down, opening your eyes to find him already staring at you. Tugging him away, his tongue hung from his mouth, out of breath. “Good puppy,” you praised, breathing just as hard.
You planned to take a second to breathe, not expecting Seungmin to use his teeth to pull at your panties and messily place it over your cunt again. Before you could protest he was already diving back in, lapping at you through the material. The change in texture was already making you squirm as it was faintly tender from overstimulation. You tried to push his head away, but the exhaustion was too great, not enough strength to fight him off. So you laid there and took it, afterall, he did say he’d do all the work.
Sloppy and practically drooling Seungmin was as he ever so gently teethed at your clit. The soaked fabric of your panties cushioned the sharp edges, though it still made you shiver. He reached for the hemline on your hips and tugged them up your body so strongly that it almost took you with it. The outline of your puffy, abused cunt shown through, doused in spit and arousal and it made Seungmin lose his fucking mind. He repeated his earlier actions over and over until you were a whining mess unable to fight the second overstimulated orgasm from erupting. The wet texture of your panties and warmth of his mouth was too good of a combination, paired so well alongside the dizzying vibrations coming from his sinful, hungry moans. You were trapped in your own clothes, drenched in sweat and saliva and the smell of sex, and Seungmin was right, you got lost in it.
You didn’t realize how lost he was, too, thrusting into the air and hoping his dick would hit something, anything for the long awaited friction he craved. The duvet covers weren’t doing enough for him, Seungmin was so desperate that he unconsciously scooted closer to the edge of the bed and found a tender spot in the side of the mattress, silently rutting against it.
He would’ve gotten away with it if he wasn’t manhandling you at this point, standing taller on his knees and taking you with him so your lower half was being held in the air. You looked up, only to find him humping against the bed.
It was hot, really hot. But you’d already told him no and it seemed like he was having too much fun by himself.
One hard tug of his hair away from your cunt made him cease his actions on you, but he couldn’t stop his hips from moving. “Have your fun, puppy. Just don’t cum.” He let out a high pitched wail when you lulled his face back into your pussy.
You were amazed by his multitasking skills. Maybe it was brainless muscle memory that made his mouth work wonders on you while also pushing himself closer to the edge. Honestly, you just wanted to see how far he’d take it, if he’d actually come from just the feeling of a lifeless mattress and the taste of you. “Does it hurt, baby?” You asked, voice airy.
Seungmin nodded, trying hard to focus. “Better hurry and make me cum, then. I don’t like to see my pup hurting.”
“Your pup,” he repeated almost intelligibly, tongue swirling stronger around your clit.
Somehow he still had so much energy, tongue moving with more fervor in messy figure eights. His display of adrenaline and strength to keep you held up was arousing in its own way, you couldn’t stop pushing your hips into his face, just as desperate for another high as he was for his first. He didn’t disappoint, suckling you in with the right amount of pressure to make you tip over the edge again into a borderline painful, blinding orgasm.
When your body relaxed from around his head, Seungmin placed you back onto the bed. His hips stuttered as he tried to stop himself from continuing rutting against the bed, your eyes just barely opening again to see him almost close to crying, eyes glassy and constant, whispered pants falling from his lips.
“D’you want something, baby?” Your words were taunting, most definitely teasing as you spread your knees just a bit wider to get a better glance at the tremble in his lower half. You wanted to call him pathetic, but he was just so cute.
Seungmin nodded rapidly, “want you.”
“Seems like the bed was doing a pretty good job there. You like humping furniture like the dog you are?” He shook his head even faster, “n– no, not dog. Puppy wants you, please, just you.”
It was so hard to tell him no for a second time. So you pulled him in by the back of the neck with your ankles, Seungmin jumped your bones, kissing up your belly and pushing your shirt over your breasts and latching onto your right one while his left hand tweaked the other. Finishing his fun with a deep bite into the skin, he bit more marks along your neck until he reached your lips and crashed into you. He attempted to hold his hips off you, but every time his cock accidentally smacked against your cunt, he’d shudder.
His head buried in your neck, you whispered, “you wanna be my good puppy?” Seungmin mumbled an “mhm,” and bit harder into your neck. You’d pushed him off by the shoulders, watching the desperate look on his face closely as you sat up on your knees and pulled your underwear down. It hadn’t gotten lower than your knees when your boyfriend quickly got to his feet and stood behind you, palming at your love handles.
“Down, boy. No jumping,” you smacked his hand away and he immediately took a step back. Concealing a smile, you fell back onto the bed on your back and heard him emit a small disappointed whine. “C��mere,” coercing him with your underwear hanging off one leg around your ankle, Seungmin hesitantly crawled back on top of you. Then you pulled him down into a sugary kiss, reassuring in more ways than one as hands hiked your knees around his waist and your nails dragged against his scalp. Almost as soon as you guided his cock towards your entrance, he’d lost his mind.
From the get-go he thrusted into you at a steady pace, your relaxed cunt welcoming him with hot, slick walls. Lewd skin on skin barely overshadowed the bounciness of your moans with every hard tap of his cock against your soft spot. From the back of his head, down his neck, and across almost every inch of his back did you leave searing, on the brink of bleeding scratch marks. And Seungmin loved every bit of it, it reminded him of his place, who he belongs to now and who he belongs to in the morning. Every line you drew along his body was like a collar and you held the leash, he just wished you’d actually put one on him.
He practically cried at the wetness that engulfed him, blinking away tears because of the stark contrast between the rough bed and your delicious pussy. Shaking, heavy breaths were all he could manage as your cunt sucked him in, not a single other thought when the sting mixed so, so good with the pleasure. You tried to be subtle in the areas you left your mark, but he wore oversized clothes anyways. By the time he was starting to lose rhythm the entirety of his back and biceps were criss-crossed covered.
He let out a whiney, high pitched mewl, telling you he was close. But that wasn’t enough. He was good for you tonight, but not that good. He could always be better– his words, not yours. There was always a chance for him to be a better puppy. Like now.
A stutter in his thrusts allowed a short window for you to scoot up the bed and let his cock fall from your pussy, not without a sour complaint from your boyfriend. “N– no, no, why?! So close!”
“That’s why, pup. Down,” he slouched back on his heels, cock unashamedly twitching and  leaking precum like it was the only thing his body could produce.
You moved to kneel highly and peer down at him ever so slightly, hand finding his cheeks puffy and blushing. Brushing his hair from his forehead, you smiled, sickly like syrup. A chaste kiss to his lips, and he was calm again. 
He didn’t know what to do when you moved onto all fours, ass up, face down. Seungmin ogled you like he’d never seen you naked before, as if he wasn’t just buried in you. Coming in unrushed, he took hold of your ass, running his big hands over it softly.
“Go on then, pup. Be good and fuck.”
It was like a switch went off in his head. Permission, access granted, entry allowed, he’d never stuck his dick in someone so quick. He’d also never been so deep in headspace before, but it was a long time coming with you.
Seungmin had revealed his little kink a while back and agreed to take it slow. He was just glad that this was one more thing to make it out of his journals, and with someone who loved and respected every single bit of him without an ounce of judgment.
Testing his own self restraint he dipped the tip of his cock past your entrance, heat spreading throughout his body. Then he thought to himself, screw this. Literally. He plunged his entire length all at once, making your body clench like a screenshot at the welcomed invasion, followed by a pleasant sob. Sheathed completely, Seungmin hunched over your back and stood himself onto his feet, and his thinning rope of control snapped. Balls smacking against you and using the fatty flesh of your ass to pound you against him, he had no thoughts other than cum.
“Oh, you fuck like a dog. What happened to my sweet puppy?” If it were anyone else, Seungmin might’ve laughed at the words. But your usual honey voice was cracking, pushing broken with how hard and fast he hammered into you. You didn’t even mind, too in love with this side of him that you didn’t bother him to finish you off a third time. Taking it upon yourself, you reached between your legs and rubbed circles into your clit.
He couldn’t even speak back, too lost in his own head as rigid breaths filled his silence. That was fine, he knew you didn’t need a direct answer now. All he could muster was, “not a dog.”
“No?” You chuckled a feigning innocent laugh, “my sweet puppy wouldn’t try to breed me like this.”
Seungmin practically growled, pummeling harder and deeper while also trying to make himself last as long as possible. He just couldn’t get enough, feeling like he’d die on the spot if he pulled out. But the mere mention of breeding you, how could one’s mind spin if they didn’t even have one?
“Only big dogs breed, baby. Are you one of the big dogs now? With a cock like that, why wouldn’t you wanna mount me? C’mon, pup. Breed me, if you can.”
It was a challenge designed for him to win. Tight convulsions of your hot, wet pussy practically wrote him his death certificate. Seungmin let his arms wrap around your torso, chest coming into contact with your back as he finished with a last few shallow pumps, riding the high immersed in your heat. Minutes of your lives were spent in this position, feeling as though he was coming for ages. You didn’t mind, though, and Seungmin didn’t either as he rubbed his forehead into your back.
He pulled out with a whine, soreness or reluctancy or probably both, kneeling behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see him in a dazed state and his eyes blinking slowly, looking like he was going to tip over. Without thinking, you sat up to steady him, helping him lay gently into the bed. Seungmin blinked a silent thank you, eyes full of adoration and awe. Hopelessly devoted, you stroked his cheeks softly, planting tender, bewitched kisses to his lips, cheeks, everywhere and showering him in love.
Pulling up the soiled panties from around your ankle to catch the spilling cum, you hurriedly slung the shirt back over your breasts and made a break for the bathroom for some wipes and maybe scar cream. Finding them and running back to his room, Seungmin was on the brink of sleep. There was a strange noise as you teetered through the hallway, something of a thump, but you were sure it was nothing.
“No sleeping yet, baby.” With an exhausted groan, Seungmin let you maneuver him and around him, starting with wiping down his lower region delicately. He winced when you swiped away the fluids from his flaccid cock, but let out a sigh of relief when you were done. He was even harder to handle to get onto his side so you could clean his scraped back and dab the cream wherever need be. You’d done a real number on him this time, his skin scratched so raw that any slight mistaken movement might hurt. But it’s what he likes, you’re just there to bandage him up afterwards.
So you lightly clean his wounds, not hearing a lick of complaint from the cold of the towelette. A proud smirk painted your face as you gazed over your artwork, but an almost beast of a snore snapped you from your trance, giggling to yourself over your versatile boyfriend. He had fallen asleep. And that was okay, too, you expected as much after all was said and done.
The only things left to do were to wipe yourself down, change out of these filthy underwear, grab a new one of Seungmin’s shirts, and climb into bed with him. After all that, you’d found your phone hidden beneath the pillows, seeing his glowing on his side table.
Checking yours first, there were just a few unanswered messages.
felix (skz) >> please check seungmins phone
felix (skz) >> like now
felix (skz) >> im begging
You panicked for a second. What was so urgent that Felix needed to message you in the middle of the night?
Reaching over your sleeping boyfriend, you took his phone off the charger and looked at his notifications.
Missed calls, missed texts, missed face times, all in the upper eighties of notifications. To read a few;
menace minho hyung >> shut the fuck up
menace minho hyung >> shut the fuck up
menace minho hyung >> shut the fuck up or i’ll piss in ur cereal
lix >> pls let me sleep i'll do anything
lix >> is someone crying?? do i need to call an ambulance??
lix >> im so scared mom pick me up
jeonginnie >> there’s a reason i chose the room furthest from you
jeonginnie >> now there’s two grown men in my bed
jeonginnie >> one of them has 119 speed dial
jeonginnie >> the other is holding a carton of milk with your name labeled on it
jeonginnie >> shut the fuck up
lix >> WHY IS Y/N COVERED IN BRUISES WHAT DID YOU DO
Both mortified and hysterical– mostly mortified– you replied back to Felix.
<< im…so…sorry… it's safe to go back to your room now…
felix (skz) >> its not safe until seungmin is moved into ur place
You couldn’t help but laugh harder, trying hard not to wake your boyfriend. But he stirred either way, arm instantly finding its way to drape over your torso and tug you closer to his body. “Why’re you laughing?” He squinted one eye open.
“We have some noise complaints and maybe an eye witness,” you giggled into his chest, tossing the phones aside and snuggling closer into him.
Seungmin closed his eyes again, getting comfortable in your embrace once more, “fucking losers.”
-
A/N: *taps mic* is this thing on... damn site has been acting up so much lately I reeeeeeally hope this post pulls thru :(( also if I'm missing anyone on my tag list please comment on my separate post for it pinned to my profile! reminder please have age indicators and a non-bot looking profile just any reblogs or interactions will suffice. AAAAAAND stay tuned for part 4 ;)
TAGS: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @aliferousminho @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules
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lambtotheslaughterr · 2 months
Text
When The Bough Breaks : Part Nine
A Rafe Cameron Mini Series
[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]
WC: 4.5k
Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics
PART EIGHT | MASTERLIST | FINALE
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            It made your skin crawl having Ward Cameron sit across from you at your dining room table, in your home. Like his son, you knew well enough that he was no good & anywhere he went he only wreaked havoc. Now there they both sat at your table; Rafe on your right & Ward across from you. You felt like your lungs would collapse any second.
            “I’ve known about your trysts for some time now.” He started out. You swallowed.
            “When you have a son like I do, you learn to anticipate his actions.” Ward gave Rafe a discontented look, “And he’s not so subtle, anyway.”
            You took a look at Rafe, expecting to see him looking shameful, but there was no such suggestion on his face. He appeared completely at ease with what his father was saying.
            “But I can only let him act a fool for so long before it becomes problematic. So, I took protective measures. That’s where you come in, Mrs. MacFarlane.”
            “We’re not together.” You rushed out, uncaring of where Ward was going with his self-righteous speech.
            “Sure you aren’t. Now—”
            “No!” You exclaimed, rising from your seat, “I am not with your son. I cut it off a couple weeks ago. He knows that. But he insists on coming back here & harassing me… doing horrible things.”
            Suddenly, you felt hot, like being center stage under an overwhelmingly bright light.
            You wished you had the mental capability to take pride in the brief look of shock consuming Ward’s face as he stared at his son in disbelief. But it was short lived anyhow. Ward cleared his throat.
            “And I will take care of that.” Ward said firmly, & shockingly, you believed him. “But I need to take care of you first. So, sit down. Now. We have business to discuss.”
            You felt your brows quivering, much like the rest of your body. This was your home! You needed to stand your ground against these volatile, invasive men.
            “How dare you come into my home & demand anything of me.” You spit through gritted teeth, “I want you & your son out of my home in the next sixty seconds or I will call the cops & have you both thrown in jail. I don’t give a fuck what happens to me or my marriage because of it. I’ll be damned if you think I’m going to let another Cameron come in here & do as he pleases.”
            You kicked your chair out from behind you, prepared to go to the landline in the kitchen since Rafe still carried your phone, when a sudden vicelike grip wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back. Your feet tripped over each other, causing you to fall towards the table. Fortunately you caught yourself, but not before tossing a death stare at Rafe, who matched it.
            “You can call the cops if you want, I won’t stop you.” Ward started, “But before you do, I want you to know that if you do, you’d only be ruining your husband’s life.”
            Any fight you had had been nearly stamped out with those words. You parted your lips, but no words came out.
            Ward gestured to your seat, “Sit down, Mrs. MacFarlane. You’re going to want to listen to what I have to say.”
            Reluctantly, you lowered yourself, ripping your arm out of Rafe’s hand & rubbing the skin there. Ward glanced unimpressively between the two of you before continuing.
            “You recently had a break-in.” Ward started. You didn’t bother confirming; it was well-known.
            Ward then reached into the pocket of his blazer, pulling out a paper bag. Overturning the bag, a plethora of colored & various sized pills spilled out. After Ward emptied the bag, he tossed the bag to the side, “I believe these are your husband’s.”
            Your eyes flew to his.
            “Your husband, as good a man as he is, isn’t the brightest. These are from the pharmacy he keeps in his office.”
            “…why?”
            “Because I’ll send your husband to prison for illegal distribution of unreleased drugs before I ever let my son have his mugshot taken. Now, I’ll admit, I initially came here to ensure that you wouldn’t open your mouth about your affair with my son. But seeing now that the relationship isn’t entirely consensual, he faces greater risk.”
            You couldn’t help that your jaw dropped, “You’d put a good, honest man in jail to protect your rapist son?”
            Ward closed his eyes at the word ‘rapist’, his lips pressed firmly. He appeared to be struggling himself with the reality of the situation, but when his eyes opened & met yours, you could see that Rafe had to of gotten his insanity gene from someone.
            “I will do anything to protect my son. I’m sure you’d understand that if you still had one.”
            The shot to your heart forced hot, angry tears to your eyes.
            “Dad.” Rafe warned.
            “You—” Ward pointed toward Rafe, “shut your mouth. We’re in this shit because of you.”
            A wave of nausea returned. But you pushed it down, staring heatedly & hatefully at the man across from you.
            “You’re a monster.” You forced out.
            Ward smiled knowingly, “A necessary one.”
            Rafe placed a hand on your upper back, but you shoved yourself away from him, throwing him the same hateful look. You wished you had never moved to Kildare.
            “So, if I get even an inkling, a gut feeling that you’re up to no good Mrs. MacFarlane, expect your husband in handcuffs within the next 24 hours. Do I make myself clear?”
            You said nothing as rushed breaths flooded your lungs. This wasn’t happening. Your throat was scratchy & dry, your pits damp with sweat. Your head throbbed from the influx of adrenaline coursing through your body.
            “That won’t be necessary.” It was Rafe. You couldn’t move to face him. You could barely make out his words as he spoke to his father. But you did feel his hand grip your thigh. “Because we’ll get married.”
            “What?” You & Ward responded in unison, though you sounded more fearful than he of course.
            “_____ & I will get married. She’ll divorce her husband,” Rafe caught your eyes then, giving you a pointed look, “to protect him, & she’ll marry me. Then there’s nothing she or anyone else can say or do.”
            “You’re fucking crazy if you think I’d ever marry you.” You hissed, struggling to get out from under his firm hand but he kept you in place, his nails digging through the fabric to nick your skin.
            “What other choice do you have?” Rafe countered, his head cocked as he challenged you to think of something better. But nothing was better. Absolutely nothing. You were completely ensnared in their fucked up web.
            When you said nothing, unable to think of anything to argue with, Rafe nodded, “There you have it. A contract solves everything, dad, you taught me that.”
            Ward eyed his son suspiciously but did not dismiss his proposal. Then Ward looked at you, “Well, Mrs. MacFarlane, for once my son thinks effectively & efficiently. So, do we have an agreement?”
            You scoffed, bile rising in your throat. You shook your head, finding the whole situation unbelievable. But what could you do? Honestly, what could you do? You had to think about Moses, about protecting him. You had already betrayed him by breaking your vows. Would you let your stupid fucking mistakes cost him his well-being? Picturing him in handcuffs, his face on the news, his reputation ruined, his career destroyed, his wife…to blame for all of it. Tears bounced down your cheeks. No, no. You couldn’t let anything happen to him.
            Not trusting yourself to hold in your sickness if you opened your mouth, you simply nodded once.
            Ward smirked proudly, “Great. Well then.” Ward rose from his seat then extended his hand as if he was closing out a typical business deal.
            You eyed his hand as if it was made of poison, but forced yourself to rise just enough to give him yours. His hand was warm & cold at the same time. Goosebumps raided your skin, making your spine tingle uncomfortably.
            “You have until Monday to break the news to your husband. If you know what’s good for him, you won’t disappoint.”
            With that, Ward & Rafe left you at the table. You vaguely listened as they talked to one another down by the front door, but you didn’t care to make anything out. Blood was rushing to your ears, you felt like vomiting, all you wanted to do was to crawl back into bed & go to sleep, hopefully never waking up.
            But your nightmare returned as he climbed back up the stairs, a proud smile on his face as he sat back down next to you. Your muscles tensed as he brought you close to kiss you on your temple, his breath fanning your hair.
            “Now we have nothing to worry about.”
            Fuck, he was delusional. Tears of anger & frustration continued to spill down your cheeks, but you felt numb in the face as your stared at your lap.
            “Once you tell Moses that you want a divorce, we’ll get married & you’ll be happier with me.” He sounded so elated. You felt like your life was ending.
            “Why don’t you lay down on the couch, I’ll heat up some leftovers.”
            Like a mindless zombie, you rose from you seat & dragged your feet to the couch. You didn’t bother kicking off your heels or slipping out of the skirt that hugged your waist too tightly. You just wanted to sink into the couch until you disappeared, never to be found again.
            As Rafe clambered around in your kitchen, you thought back to your life before you met him. You were mixing your medication with alcohol, drinking day & night, spending all your time alone bitter & angry at the world. You were completely helpless, or so you thought.
Lying there on the couch though, trapped in your own home, having no will or way to protect yourself or your husband, you only then realized this is what helpless was, this is what rock bottom looked like.
And there was no way back up.
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A pounding on your front door stirred you awake. Your house was dark as you looked bleary eyed around your living room. The kitchen was quiet & Rafe was nowhere in sight. You sat up, thinking it must’ve been a dream when the pounding came again, this time even louder. You shot forward, ready to make a dash for the door while Rafe was MIA, but just as you stood up he appeared at the mouth of the hallway.
He was peering curiously down at the door over the railing. Then he sighed, annoyed.
“What is it?” You asked, rounding the couch toward the stairs. He stopped you abruptly though.
“I’ll handle it.”
You hated how much control he had, how perfectly together he seemed, all the while you were losing your fucking marbles.
Rafe ambled down the stairs, unlocking the door then swung it open.
“Oh, my god. He wasn’t kidding.” It was Sarah’s voice.
You practically jumped down the stairs, relieved that someone who you felt to be reasonable & trustworthy had appeared.
When you stepped up next to Rafe though, her furious brown eyes landed on you.
“So, it’s true. You guys have been hooking up & now you’re getting married.”
You began to shake your head, desperate for her to know the truth, but Rafe gently pushed you backwards out of sight, though his hand remained firm on your shoulder, a warning grip.
“What’s your problem, Sarah? You like her, dad likes her, I like her. I thought you’d be happy.”
“Bullshit.” You heard her seethe, “_____ hates your fucking guts, what the hell is going on?!”
“Fine.” Rafe stepped back, leaving space between him & the door, “If you don’t believe me, she’ll tell you herself.”
Then, while Sarah couldn’t see you, Rafe stared at you. Hard. The same look he had when he cornered you in the bathroom at his house.
It’d be so easy to tell Sarah the truth. Just step out, tell her what exactly was going on, how Ward threatened Moses, everything. If she knew, then you had someone who would be on your side. But then you remembered her & Rafe shared the same dad. Ward would shut her up too, you were sure of it. The chances were too low for a risk so great.
Swallowing down a dry lump, you readied yourself to lie to what might be your last hope.
When you stepped into view, Sarah had her lips pursed. You could tell that she was concerned. She didn’t know what to think. And it made you want to vomit yourself to death before feeding her lies. But you had to. For Moses.
“It’s true, Sarah.” Your voice cracked, so you cleared your throat, “We’re getting married.”
She guffawed, eyes flashing between you & your offender, “But you hate him…”
“…I don’t. I… only said that to keep up appearances, make it easier for us to see one another.” Tears threatened to fall but you blinked them away.
“Wow.” Sarah laughed in disbelief, “I really thought you were different.”
I am. You wanted to scream it out, reach for her & beg her to get you help. But you said nothing as she shook her head.
“Well, don’t expect to see me at the wedding.” With that, she spun on her heel, her hair whipping behind her as she stomped down your outdoor stairs.
Your heart shattered as she disappeared from sight, Rafe closing the door on your one chance at escape. He locked the doors before throwing an arm over your shoulder, “She’ll come around. Once she sees how amazing we are together, she’ll understand.”
But you knew she wouldn’t. And you hoped she wouldn’t. You hoped she escaped the Cameron’s as much as you both wanted to. At least one of you needed to survive this family.
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Rafe woke you up early Friday morning. He had your coffee, medication, & a plate of breakfast ready for you. It was a little past six in the morning. Moses would be home in a couple hours. You wished you could be excited about it.
“Don’t forget the plan.” Rafe said as he took your plate away. You knew you’d be throwing up those eggs & toast in the next twenty minutes. You hadn’t stopped puking since Rafe appeared some days ago. Your body couldn’t handle the stress without alcohol. But you couldn’t go back to it now. You needed to stay sober.
Rafe then led you back to your bathroom. You stripped out of your pajamas’ as he turned the shower on. You hated him. You fucking hated him. Never ever in your life had you felt so helpless. He was always hovering, always doing things for you, coddling you like a goddam baby. You knew it was because he didn’t trust you, & he was right not to, but you just needed five minutes alone, five minutes to fucking breathe.
As you stepped into the shower, you were horrified to see him begin to undress as well. He hadn’t touched you since the night before last. For that you were thankful. But it seemed his lust for you was short-lived, his erection apparent as he stepped in behind you.
Words died on your tongue as he pressed you into the porcelain wall, his lips caressing your neck & shoulder. The water was warm, exceedingly so, but Rafe’s touch left chills.
He turned your face towards him, his mouth catching yours. You struggled to not fight back.
Rafe’s hands grazed your back as he pressed his front to yours. You loathed how your body responded to him naturally. That a slickness appeared between your thighs. How you bit your lip to keep the moans from slipping out. It sickened you.
“Open up.” Rafe breathed hotly against your mouth. You parted your lips in the slightest. His tongue massaged yours as one of his hands dipped below, his fingers finding your sensitive nub.
A gasp escaped you at the sudden touch. Rafe smiled into the kiss, pulling back to watch your face as it contorted itself with pleasure.
He started with a single first, just teasing your entrance, collecting the wetness there all the while the heel of his hand kept a circulating pressure against your clit.
“Your body needs me.” Rafe gently grasped the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your head back so he could stare down at you, “As much as I need you.”
Then a second finger entered you, though this time deeper. You could feel your walls clenching around him, almost painfully. You battled with your bodily response, not wanting to submit to your wonton needs.
Rafe began to pump his fingers, his lips grazing your jawline as you desperately grasped for anything to hold onto as he fucked you with his hand.
“Please.” You choked out, unsure if you were begging him to stop or to keep going.
He then pulled his fingers out, much to your relief, but it was short-lived as he only switched to focusing entirely on your clit. A squealed yelp left your lips, forcing your body to jump as he used the pads of his four fingers to rub you vigorously. Your orgasm was building fast, the impeding crash fast coming. You opened your mouth but only a silent wail came out as you felt your body crash.
Cum dripped from between your thighs. You could barely hold yourself help. Rafe pressed his face into the side of your neck, laughing proudly to himself, “That’s my girl. You’re my girl, aren’t you?”
You said nothing, leaning on him entirely as you gained your footing. But Rafe was impatient. He pushed your head back against the wall, looking you deeply in the eyes, his own hooded with unbridled carnal want.
“Tell me. Say it.”
You licked your lips, still catching your breath. Nodding, you couldn’t look him in the eyes as you said it, “I’m your girl, Rafe.”
A wicked smile appeared on his regretfully handsome face.
Not giving you a chance to recover from your first orgasm, Rafe suddenly spun you around, pressing your front to the glass door. You didn’t have a chance to comprehend what was happening before he slid into you with one thrust.
Rafe groaned loudly, his hands harshly gripping your upper arms as he used you to balance himself.
“This pussy is mine.” He growled behind you. You grunted, your walls clinging to his girth as he sunk deeper & deeper.
“Say it.” The digging of his nails into your skin made you wince.
“My pussy is yours.” You cried out, “Only yours.”
“Yes, it is.” He breathed out as he began to thrust.
Your tits were crushed uncomfortably against the glass, but the slickness of the water helped to add pleasure to the discomfort. Your nipples hard & begging for attention as the friction of the movement made you wetter by the second.
As if he could read your thoughts, Rafe brought his arm to your front, forcing your back to arch as he brought your head to his shoulder. His hands grabbed a handful of each tit, molding them to his grasp. His fingers tweaked & rubbing at your nipples. One of your hands gripped his thigh, hanging onto him as his thick cock & expert fingers crafted yet another orgasm from you.
“Ah, fuck!” You bit your lip, grinding your ass into Rafe’s hips, bouncing yourself off his dick. God, you couldn’t believe how he made you come undone over & over again, even when you didn’t want to.
“I can’t wait to fuck you every day. In our home.” His words were faded, sounding far away as you came down, but they still affected you. As quickly as your orgasm came, the pleasure from it evaporated just as fast.
Rafe continued fucking you, releasing you to prop yourself up onto the glass as he chased his own release. You pressed your forehead into the glass, staring into the foggy nothingness of ahead of you.
You were thankful for the water to disguise your tears.
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Moses knew something was wrong the second he walked through the door. You didn’t see the point in hiding it, faking any sort of feeling from him.
He found you in one of the guest bedrooms. You had the sheets from your actual bed in the washer, not wanting to return to the bed Rafe fucked you on multiple times without them being cleaned.
You were curled in on yourself, unaware that he was even home as you lied there, numb to everything.
“_____?” Moses sat beside you on the bed, immediately bringing you into his arms, “What the hell is going on?”
But you said nothing, you couldn’t trust yourself to say anything. Not yet anyways. Rafe only left less than an hour ago. After he finished filling you with his cum, he let you shower properly. But no matter how deep you scrubbed your skin you couldn’t wash him off of you.
“Darling, talk to me.” Moses’ voice used to soothe you, used to bring you great peace, but now, it felt like a distant lullaby, one that you knew would stop singing to you.
Other than your catatonic state though, Moses could find nothing wrong. He eventually left you but not for long. He returned with one of your favorite fuzzy blankets, a mug of tea, & a lavender scented candle. As you felt him moving around the room, you begged yourself to cry, to wake up, to respond to him, talk to him.
Tell him, tell him, tell him. You repeated to yourself over & over again. But you couldn’t. One voice rang louder, & it belonged to Ward Cameron.
You slept in the guest bedroom all night, relieved that sleep eventually came for you. When you did wake up, your muscles & joints ached as you finally moved, stretching your limbs. It was then that you saw Moses on the floor. His back was resting against the bed & he was sleeping soundlessly. A book was in his hand & his reading glasses were barely hanging onto his face.
He didn’t deserve to be ruined because of your actions. Had you known that everything you had done in your life would lead to him getting either his heartbroken or his life ruined, you never would’ve gone on that date with him.
But then you also would’ve never had Jesse.
Jesse’s face flashed through your mind then. You covered your mouth as rampant cries suddenly threatened to break loose. You pulled your knees to your chest, stifling your cries as you teared up.
Everything was your fault, everything bad in your life was your fault. Even Jesse…
“_____.” Moses was beside you all of a sudden, wrapping his arms around you, “You’re scaring me, what is going on?”
You raised your head, wanting to stare at the only man in your life who truly loved you. But as you looked at him you saw Jesse’s eyes.
In a flash, you thrusted yourself out of Moses’ arms, falling to the floor. Moses was shocked, watching as your rushed to your feet, backing away from him.
“Don’t.” You held up your hand, staring hard at him through your tears.
“_____---”
“No, Moses. I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.”
“What are you… what are you talking about?” He made to stand but you shook your head, backing further away. Moses stopped moving but remained sitting at the edge of the bed, his eyes full of fear as he stared at you.
“We need to stop avoiding talking about what happened. We both need to stop giving me a break.”
Moses hung his head, immediately knowing what you were referring to.
“We have to say it for what it is, Moses. Because it’s killing me, it’s been killing me.” You could feel yourself on the edge of a panic attack.
Moses raised his head, his eyes red & tired, “Should we call someone?”
“No!” You shouted, “No, no. No one else. Me & you. Like it always should’ve been.”
“_____, I think you should sit down.”
“Quit fucking coddling me, Moses!” You yelled, feeling the last shred of your self-worth snapping. “Jesse is dead! Because of me…”
Moses’ eyes began to swell with tears, but he pressed his lips together as he looked at you.
“Because of me, Moses.”
“That’s not true. You know that. It was an accident.”
“No.” You wailed, recalling the tragic day, “If I hadn’t fallen asleep…”
“It wasn’t your fault. And if it was your fault then it was my fault, too.”
“Moses, don’t. You were at work.”
“Exactly!” He stood to his full height, throwing his arms out, “I should’ve been home with you both. You were so tired. Jesse was a handful, he was so full of energy, always on the go. Neither one of us could keep up with him on our own. I should’ve been there. You fell asleep because you were so busy keeping up with him, _____. Jesse loved you. He’d pick you again.”
Moses’ words forced you to fall to your knees, sobbing, crying for Jesse, wishing you could hold him in your arms once more.
“Our son is dead.” You gasped on your choked breaths. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Moses.”
You needed him to know before you broke his heart. You needed him to know that you were sorry for everything.
Moses joined you on the floor, holding you as you cried into his chest. You could feel his own tears falling onto your scalp.
“I’m sorry, too.” He whispered.
He held you for some time, letting you cry, letting himself cry. You two remained there for what felt like ages, finally allowing yourselves to grieve, to feel the pain of Jesse’s death. A huge weight had been lifted from your shoulders, though your heart remained forever heavy.
After a while, you had stopped crying, your cheeks crusted with dry tears. Your lips were chapped & you licked them lazily. Moses was gently rubbing your back.
You wanted nothing more than to stay there with him forever, with the love of your life, your selfless husband, the most beautiful father to your child. You wanted to stay there & never leave.
But you couldn’t drag him down with you, not anymore.
“Moses.” Your voice was hoarse from the wailing.
Moses leaned back, still holding you softly as he pulled back enough to face you.
“Yes, my love?” Your heart shattered. My love, my love, my love. You’d never hear those words again. But you couldn’t cling to them, you needed to rip off the Band-Aid.
You couldn’t look Moses in the eyes as you said the words, lowering your own.
This would be the cruelest thing you’d ever do. The end of everything good in your life. This was the end.
“I want a divorce.”
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fuuuuuck me. i can't believe this series is one chapter & epilogue away from being finished. i think thus far, this is my absolute proudest work on my blog. i really really hope you guys have enjoyed this journey with me as much as i had writing it.
as always, please share your thoughts with me by commenting, reblogging with reviews, or talking to me in the ask box (which is looking a little lonely>.<)
regardless, thank you for all the love & support. it means everything.
thank you for reading!
beau<3
Requests are currently CLOSED.
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Alfred ‘Professional Enabler’ Pennyworth isn’t going to care, Jason
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One Minute, It's a Beautiful Scene
CHAPTER SUMMARY : how has megumi managed to convince you to run away from the class and visit the local aquarium?
boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro
WARNINGS : 18+, PG chapter tbh!
WORDS : 4.5k
notes : I PROMISED I'D POST THIS WEEK AND I DID
       LAST CHAPTER ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER
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You observe Megumi as he fills in the last few areas of the bear page. He laughs when he puts his pen down. It’s ridiculous, but he likes it. Yours on the other hand doesn’t compare to the purple dolphin you had done previously. Megumi definitely has you beat this round in terms of colouring. He takes your book again, flipping through the pages for another page to colour in.
“The red elephant definitely wasn’t your finest work, O’Keeffe.” he tuts, focusing on which page he’d like to colour the most.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” you tell him, pouting like a petulant child at the nickname. It is so loaded and filled with hate. But then again, so is the man who keeps using it against you. He huffs, annoyed, just because you’re telling him you don’t like it won’t change a thing. You’re O’Keeffe, to him. Megumi likes it. So Megumi won’t stop.
“Here, you do this one.” he tells you, pointing at a page filled with different types of flowers. It’s cute, and the big sunflower in the centre is calling your name.
It’ll pass the final hour to colour in again at the very least.
You can’t help but smile each time you look over at Megumi. The song ‘Pretend We’re Dead’ by L7 is playing full blast through his headphones whilst he's poking his tongue out in concentration as he colours in an a unicorn.
So angsty and still so cute.
He scoffs when he notices you staring, insisting that you shut up.
“I didn’t say anything!” you giggle.
“Alright, O’Keeffe, focus on your flowers.”
You sigh, looking down at the page. The way your stomach twists and spasms is all too familiar to how you’ve felt ever since you first met Megumi. Looking at the flowers now, despite them not being your own creations, is causing you nothing but pain and heartbreak. Flowers were your muse. They always made you smile, feel loved, feel happy.
But now all you feel is disdain.
His eyebrow quirks and he looks subtly over his shoulder as he watches you close your book without finishing your colouring. He pretends he isn’t interested in what you’re doing as you pack your book back inside of your tote bag and fold the tray table back to where it belongs. You place your felt tips onto his table, manoeuvring your body so you’re facing the window and looking at the sea in the distance.
You’re close.
It’s difficult forgetting who you’re dealing with. Megumi Fushiguro is like no one you’ve ever met. Although there is a familial resemblance to Naoya, both arrogant and nasty, he is so cold and uncaring.
Most normal people tend to ask what is wrong when you begin acting how you are right now. Yuuji would be begging you to share your woes with him.
But Megumi Fushiguro is not Yuuji.
He’ll never ask, although you want him to so badly. You want to scream at him, make him realise what he’s done to you. How he’s ruined something as beautiful and ordinary as flowers for you. And he still won’t stop calling you O’Keeffe! He won’t ask, your only choice is to tell him. But you know it won’t do any good.
He just doesn’t care. And you can’t make him.
“I need some fresh air and a smoke. Why are we even going to this hick town?” Megumi grunts, finishing colouring the unicorns horn in a pretty pastel blue. You scoff, and laugh, earning another infuriated grunt from him. “What?”
“It’s not a hick town, idiot. It’s a coastal town!” you inform him.
“Same thing. Nothing to do but look at the beach and morons walking their mutts.” he huffs.
“You’re always on, aren’t you?” you laugh. “You can turn the angsty teen act off once in a while. It’s okay to like things. You might even like the place, the sea breeze is good for you.” you explain. He shakes his head, resuming his colouring. “I didn’t know you smoke…” you sigh, repositioning yourself so that you’re facing him.
“Nosy.” he says.
Maybe he has a point. But you never thought you’d be comfortable enough with your bully to sit and talk with him like this. You shrug your shoulders in an attempt to appear as if you don’t care, but the look in his eye tells you that you aren’t a good enough actress to pull it off. “You’ve seen me with coke on my nose and you’re surprised I smoke?” he states. Your eyes widen in horror as you remember seeing his dusted nose in the bathroom that day.
“Oh, I—”
“Everything in moderation. I don’t smoke or do drugs often. Every now and then to remind me I’m alive. Or when I’m stressed, I guess.” he hums as he explains. “You ever do drugs?” he asks.
“Nosy.” you tease back. A smile creeps onto his face, shaking his head with a pout as he considers you. “There was this one time when I got spiked…”
“Alright, shut up.”
“Are you ever going to apologise for how you’ve treated me, Megumi? Do you know what you’ve done to me?” you wonder.
It’s hard to talk to him. He’s so fucking unusual and mystifying you can’t help but lose yourself in conversation with him and want to know every inch of his aching soul. That’s your inner empath talking. But there’s a frightened voice within you that can’t let you forget what he’s done to you. Every single thing he’s done and you keep throwing it up in the form of words each time you remember. He asked you a question, and you couldn’t help yourself but remind him of what he is.
He’s a bastard.
A bully.
A monster.
He covers his ears with his headphones for the umpteenth time, disregarding your words and your existence entirely.
Something is telling you that you won’t be hearing from him for the rest of the journey.
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Somehow you managed to drift off whilst riding out the final hour of the ride. Megumi was happy with his unicorn colouring and admired it for a while as the vehicle slowed down so that it could park. The other students began to stand up and pick up their belongings so they could get outside sooner. Everyone seemed to be desperate for some fresh air.
The girls of your worst nightmares sauntered by you both. But the blonde couldn’t help but stop and look at the two of you. She sniggers, pulling the attention of the redhead to stare at you as well.
“Looking very cosy, Megumi.” she spits, a loathsome tone in her voice.
Megumi looks to his side, seeing you comfortably resting on his shoulder as you continue to nap. He doesn't want to wake you. But for some reason he let the girl’s comments get under his skin. He shrugs his shoulder, hoping it would be enough to wake you. You stir, but he notes you have no intention of opening your eyes.
“Get up.” he demands, using the full force of his hand to shove you away from him. The back of your head thumps against the window and your eyes shoot open. Your heart is racing at your unfamiliar surroundings, evidently forgetting where you are whilst you had been sleeping. “We’re here.”
“You didn’t have to shove me.” you tell him.
“I’m not your fucking pillow, O’Keeffe. I know princess is used to everyone doing whatever she wants, though, so I’ll let you off this once.” he tells you as he gathers his things. Before you can get out of your seat, he’s shoving his three coloured pages in your face and demanding you put them in your bag. He is a princess. A childish little bratty princess.
“Don’t you want to keep them?” you ask him waving them in your hand wondering if he’ll change his mind.
“No, put them in your book. They’re yours.”
He stands in the middle of the walkway, blocking everyone from getting ahead of him as he waits for you to get your things together and get off the bus. It makes you nervous, you can hear people complaining in the aisle about being held back and it’s your fault. Why won’t he just let them by? He looks unbothered, as always. His expression is telling you not to worry. But how could you not? He towers above you when you finally stand up and guides you out.
The salty air hits you like a brick through a window. You’ve never felt so alive. And you can tell by Megumi’s face he’s enjoying it too. He’s disgruntled when he hears your lecturer inform you that you’re five minutes away from an art gallery you’ll be spending some time at.
He wanted some time to stretch his legs and breathe in the air; it is a crushing blow to realise he’ll be trapped in a stuffy gallery immediately after getting off the coach. You all walk together in the direction of the art gallery nonetheless. But when you get outside, Megumi pulls you backwards and drags you away from the group so that you can hide around the corner.
“What are you—?”
He’s lighting his cigarette and leaning against the wall. His face instantly turns from tense to pure ecstasy. He snickers each time you look around, tense about being caught with him and not inside with your class. As if you aren’t adults. It’s like you’re scared about being caught smoking.
You are.
“Why are you so antsy? Here,” he speaks as he holds his cigarette out to you. Though you politely decline, he continues puffing away and tarring his lungs. “We aren’t teenagers y’know. We won’t get in trouble.”
“We’re meant to be with the group! You didn’t even tell anyone about—”
“Shut up.” he hisses, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stubbing it out with the bottom of his shoe. “C’mon then, princess, let’s get you inside before you blow a fucking fuse.” he moans as he storms ahead of you. Your legs work over time doing your best to keep up with his massive strides, still trailing behind him.
It turns out you were worried for nothing as you seamlessly re-join with the class. The two of you lingering in the back as your teacher explains what is going on. Apparently you have an hour to wander around and admire the work, and after that time you need to meet back up in the main room to listen to a speech from one of the curators here. Megumi rolls his eyes at that, immediately skulking off to the nearest elevator to hide on the top floor.
As much as you want to explore and admire all of the art, you know you’re easy pickings by yourself. The girls are eyeing you up like vultures the further away Megumi gets from you. You look between him and them a few times before rushing over to the elevator. He shakes his head in annoyance as he swallows liquid from an energy drink can he pulled out of his backpack.
“Little bloodsucker.” he mutters.
You ignore him, though, knowing it’s easier to listen to his insults than be involved with the girls downstairs. There isn’t much to look at when you step outside and onto the top floor. A few paintings and nothing more. Although there is a comfortable looking bench that Megumi soon makes himself at home on. You sit beside him twiddling your thumbs, unable to help feeling like you’re missing out on things.
“I’m not keeping you here, go look at the art.” he tells you.
“N-No…” you stutter, pulling your laptop out of your bag and searching the gallery up on the internet. “I’ll use my phones hotspot and… it’s fine. See, most of the paintings are on their website so—”
“It’s different in the flesh. You want to make some notes for your dissertation, right? Go look around.” he instructs.
“I don’t want to go. Those girls terrify me... They only leave me alone when you’re with me.”
“Well I’m here now. And there’s some paintings here, too. So go look at those.”
You suppose he has a point. There’s no one here but you and him. You tuck your laptop back inside of your bag and decide to look around.
He doesn’t take his eyes off you while you look at each painting and make page after page of in-depth notes. You’re smarter than he’s given you credit for. He hasn’t even thought about writing his dissertation. He feels a strange sensation in his chest each time you lean forwards and tuck your pen behind your ear as you study each individual brushstroke on the canvases.
He’s getting warmer, and he can’t stop smiling.
He tries to shake it away and drink more of his energy drink. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore. About you. Why is he thinking about the time you kissed at your parents manor house?
Fuck.
He gets up, abandoning you as he strides towards the elevator again. It’s hard for you to put your things away and catch up with him, but you do. Standing side by side as the elevator descends to the floor below.
“What’s wrong?” you ask.
“Nothing.”
He sticks close to you as you wander from painting to painting. He even shields you from the girls when he spots them getting a little close, not that you noticed, too captivated by the paintings. They’re all so homely and sweet. The type of painting you’d see in a grandparent’s home. Mostly beachscapes and sea life. You turn a corner, and Megumi whistles as he studies the painting in front of you both.
“Wow…” you huff.
“It’s... big.” he follows.
“And so detailed.” you add.
It’s another beachscape, but with a ton of attractions included in the image. Amusement parks, restaurants, you name it. You’re scribbling down notes furiously as you take in every inch of the beautiful painting. Megumi, meanwhile, is more interested in the floor to ceiling window overlooking the town and bathing the painting in natural light. He notices something in the distance that makes him squint in concentration. His vision begins to alternate between the painting and the window. He takes your breath away as he drags you towards the window so you can see what he’s looking at. You begin to copy him as you look between the painting and the window, seeing what he’s seeing.
“An aquarium!” you smile, excited by the prospect of going.
“Shall we go?” he asks. You shake your head.
“We can’t,” you tell him as you hoist your bag over your shoulder and begin to walk towards the elevator for the final time. “we have that speech thing in ten minutes.” you remind him. When the doors open and you blend in with the group, your lecturer stands proudly in front of everyone.
“Feel free to look around for another ten minutes before the wonderful curator tells us about the history of the town and how it influenced the art on display.” he announces.
You turn to see Megumi standing with raised eyebrows.
Do you really want to stick around and listen to that?
Both his facial expression and your internal monologue ask you that. When there’s an aquarium down the road? Absolutely fucking not. He tilts his head in the direction of the exit, and you both casually walk towards it hoping to not get caught. Once outside, you begin to sprint together down the streets.
“You’re a bad influence.” you tell Megumi as you slow down now that you’re safe enough to walk.
“You feelin’ alright princess? Didn’t think you had this in you.” he taunts.
“Let’s just go,” you demand as you overtake him in your speed walking, “I wanna see some fish!”
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Megumi covers the cost of the admission fee, telling you that you have to pay for food. You remind him that you can’t be any later than 5pm or you’ll miss the coach home. He side eyes you as your phone lights up with a text. You reply with a cheesy smile on your face.
Why does he feel so fucking angry about it?
He feels even worse as you giggle with your reply.
“Who’s that? Yuuji?” he asks. Instantly cringing at his questioning. He shouldn’t have asked. He doesn’t care. Does he? Why did he ask?
“I haven’t heard anything from Yuuji since he left.” you sigh, wondering why he hasn’t made the effort to answer any of your messages yet. You hold your eyes shut as you try and dispel the negative thoughts from your mind. Smiling when your eyes open and excited to tell Megumi the truth. “It was your dad, actually.” you chuckle.
“Oh, yeah? You text with my dad?” he queries.
“Not really, he was asking how we’re doing and if you’re giving me any shit.” you explain.
“Gonna rat on me again?”
“No! I—”
“Ugh, you’re sick. You want to fuck each other so bad. It’s obvious.” Megumi pouts, walking away from you as he steps into the first room.
“I do not! I can’t speak for Toji and I wouldn’t blame him because, well, look at me.” you joke as you flaunt your body and your face sarcastically. “But I’m with Yuuji and I love him and I’m happy.” you speak a little louder than intended. He nods, but doesn’t speak. You think he’s more interested in the fish, which is fair.
You spend time in each room. Sometimes you stand together, and other times you stand apart. The rooms all link together, so you take your time exploring them all. From Amazonian fish to cold water ones. By the time you reach the warmer waters room you hear Megumi’s stomach begin to growl.
“There’s a café upstairs.” you tell him as you lead the way.
You point at the window while you wait for your orders to be brought to your table. It’s raining. His face scrunches in disbelief. It has been perfect sunshine all day. Barely a cloud in the sky and now it’s pouring down rain.
“I told you.” you remind him.
“Yeah, you did.”
You note the time on your phone, telling him that you should probably go back to your class soon. But he disagrees. You’ve got over an hour before the bus leaves and you still have a few rooms left to look at. You’re satisfied with your small plate of food but it’s clear that it has barely touched the sides for Megumi. Though he declines your offer to get him something else, he’s more intrigued by the prospect of looking at the sharks.
“Maybe we’ll see a purple dolphin.” he jokes.
He starts to think of all of the colouring you did together on the coach. And the flowers. Why didn’t you finish the flowers? They’re your thing. He calls you O’Keeffe for a reason. He picked that page specifically for you.
Were you just too tired?
“How’s your sketchbook doing? I bet you’ve got a garden growing by now.” he asks, distracting himself from annoying, niggling thoughts. You puff out air, unsatisfied with the question and your current predicament.
Flowers. Fucking flowers.
“I’ve fallen out of love with flowers...” you admit, earning a surprised expression from Megumi.
“Shame. What’s the reason?” he questions, oblivious.
“… You. Because of you, Megumi.”
He clears his throat, awkwardly. It’s not that he feels bad, he doesn’t, but it’s like a real look in the mirror. You aren’t joking with him like you had on the bus. You aren’t trying to get him in trouble with Toji. It’s earnest, it’s real.
You’ve stopped loving something that meant so much to you, because of him.
Painting flowers meant so much to you. It calmed you. Brought you joy, happiness, strength. And each time he harassed you, called you names, harmed you, destroyed that. It was like he personally ripped an individual petal from every single flower to exist.
You’ve lost love.
The world has lost its bloom.
He gets up, walking away from the table without a word. You’re never going to get a word out of him. You’ll never get an apology or an acknowledgement of what he’s done to you. What you’ve become because of him. That’s just something you need to come to terms with. You step out into the tropical waters display, a huge underwater tunnel showing you the sharks swimming over your head. The unpleasant conversation seems to melt away from you as you watch the sharks movements and rippling water above you.
The bright blue water illuminates both of you. Though you don’t pay attention to Megumi, he can’t stop staring at you. After torturing you for so long, he doesn’t think he’s seen you truly happy until today. You look like a totally different person to him with an earnest smile on your face.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” you query as you make eye contact with Megumi. He does nought but nod, looking above him at the sea life once again.
“Yeah.” he mutters, so quietly you can’t hear him. He watches you for a while as you take more pictures on your phone.
“Smile!” you tease, pointing your phone at him and catching him off guard. You manage to get one nice one, the rest you take are him covering his face. “Will you take one of me?” you wonder. He hesitates, but nods.
He takes a few as a shark swims behind you, handing your phone back to you to see if you’re satisfied.
“I think you’ve got a new muse.” Megumi informs you. You look deeply into the water, considering his words. Maybe he’s right. It can’t hurt to take some more pictures just in case.
“Come here.” you command him. He gets closer, but begins to retreat as you flip your camera to selfie mode. “Just one, stay still!”
He cracks a smile as you take a photo of yourselves together with the blinding blue water highlighting you both. You consider putting it on your story, but your stomach sinks at the prospect of Yuuji stumbling upon it. He watches you save the image and close out of it, keeping it for your own personal memories.
“Shall we get another coffee and then go?” you ask.
“There’s a gift shop over there.” he points. Your eyes widen. There is nothing more exciting than a gift shop. Regardless of how overpriced they can be.
“Okay. Coffee. Gift shop. Bus.”
“Sure.”
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“How cute is this shark!” you smile as you practically shove the shark plush in Megumi’s face. “I want it but—”
“Sure. Hurry up and decide while I go piss.” he sighs as he leaves you alone in the gift shop.
You become incredibly tense after you put down the shark. It was as soft as a cloud, but as the time draws nearer to 5pm, your nerves get the better of you. Where the hell is he? You linger outside the bathrooms for a little while, despite the fact it’s making you feel like a criminal, but he doesn’t appear.
The time hits 5:29 and you can’t help but wonder if he is back to his old tricks. Did he go to the bus alone and leave you stranded here?
You look out of a nearby window, and spot him standing across the road. A cigarette between his fingers on one hand and his phone to his ear in the other. Even from this distance you can practically see a vein bulging in his forehead. He’s yelling, furiously. He tosses his cigarette aside and continues talking as he walks back into the aquarium.
At that moment, your heart sinks.
Right as he walks inside, you see your class’ coach drive behind him and out of town. Fuck. You run faster than you ever have before, sprinting down the stairs and out of the building. You didn’t see Megumi, but you pick your phone up and begin to dial your lecturer again and again.
No answer.
You run back inside; searching each and every room to find Megumi again. In hindsight, it would have been a great idea to finally ask for his number while you were on the coach. He’s nowhere in sight, and you worry you’ll never find him at this rate. Should you wait outside for him? Stay in one room and hope that he finds you?
You rush outside into the torrential rain, tears streaming from your face. You aren’t sad, you’re stressed. You’re scared. Where is he? What the hell are you going to do? You’ve been left here and you’re stuck! How could they do this? How could your school just leave you here and not even try to get in touch?
“What are you doing out here?” Megumi asks, yet another cigarette latched between his teeth.
“Did you do this on purpose?” you accuse him, a dangerous scowl on your face telling him you aren’t playing around.
“I was just—” you cut him off as he raises a bag he’s holding in his hand.
“You knew we had to be back at the pick up site for 5pm. Look at the time! It’s gone, we’re stranded! What the fuck are we going to do?” you rant and rave as he continues to smoke casually.
“I don’t want to be stuck here in this weather with you. I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Who were you on the phone to?”
“What?”
“I saw you from the window. Arguing. Was it Toji? Were you telling him your latest plan to make my life hell? No one can save me while we’re here. Haven’t you fucked my life up enough?” you begin to cry harder as the stress sets your mind into overdrive. Why did this have to happen to you? Why is he doing this?
“It wasn’t Toji. It’s none of your fucking business who I talk to on the phone.”
“But—”
“Shut up. Stop crying. Let’s go inside and figure out what we’re going to do.”
You suppose he has a point. Crying won’t solve anything, and maybe you were a little rash in accusing him. Not everything is about you. That’s what you’re sure he’s telling himself in his mind. That you’re a spoilt princess and making something about you which, in reality, didn’t have anything to do with you. It’s just an unfortunate circumstance that you missed the bus home. You need to figure out how to fix this.
You need to find a way home.
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© 2022 fuwushiguro | © 2024 rinhaler
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atinylittlepain · 2 days
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Part One
no outbreak!joel miller x f!oc
series playlist
joel miller masterlist
series masterlist
She's tired. He's tired. They're neurotic. They're in love. Something needs to change. They need to change.
word count | 4.5K
chapter content info | 18+ angst, discussions of pregnancy, people being WASPy, marital squabbles that become something more serious some of the time, but also real, persistent love
a/n | listen, don't look at me. not gonna lie, it feels good to be back in the ring and i'm excited to share this one with y'all. special thanks to @wannab-urs for beta-ing and for encouraging me along with this one - love ya, twin.
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He looks handsome and he’s getting on her nerves. She looks beautiful and he still doesn’t think it’s a good idea for her to go to this. She knows he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for her to go to this, but she thinks that’s bullshit, kid gloves that she doesn’t need from him, or from anyone for that matter. 
He could, but he doesn’t tell her that her left eye is twitching a little bit. Her left eye is twitching a little bit, she blinks hard every time she feels muscle starting to spasm, keeps her face turned away from him and toward the passenger side window. 
“What is it?”
“What?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“You keep sighing.” 
“I’m just tired.”
“It’s ten in the morning.”
“It’s been a long week.”
“It’s Sunday.”
“I meant last week then.” 
“Are you taking those multivitamins I got you?” 
“Uh, yeah.”
“I checked the bottle this morning and the safety seal is still on it.” 
“Cass.”
“What?”
“I don’t think a multivitamin is going to be the thing that makes me feel less tired.”
“I hate it when you say my name like that.”
“Okay, how should I say it?”
“Nevermind.” 
“What?”
“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just drop it, I don’t want to start the day like this.” 
“We’re not starting the day like anything, we’re just having a conversation.”
“Joel, please, I’m not doing this with you right now.” And he asks it before he can think much about it, knee-jerk and maybe a little mean, did you take your pills this morning?  Right, going for the nuclear option this morning, she lets out a clipped sound that could be a laugh if it wasn’t so sharp and he wishes there were a way to pluck words out of the air and swallow them back down. And she knows that whatever she says to that is going to be a failure. If she gets angry, if she blows up, she’s crazy. If she informs him that she did, in fact, take her pills, then she’s a liar, because she did, in fact, not take her pills, so she’s even crazier, right. 
“You know, that’s a fucked thing to ask me.” Ring the bell because she’s won this round. He thinks about offering her an apology, a glance while they’re stopped at a red light that only affords him the slope of her cheek and her hair tucked behind her ear with the way her face is turned away from him. He sighs and it makes her shoulders hike up a little higher. 
There’s a spiral of pink balloons wrapped around the porch banister when they pull up, and of course there is a spiral of pink balloons wrapped around the porch banister, she thinks, because Tommy and Maria are having a girl, and that’s lovely, and she is going to smile when she gets out of the car because of how lovely that is. Already thinking about what her face will have to do to make that smile happen while he parks at the end of the driveway because they’re a little late, always a little late these days. At least they have a clear and present escape route, he thinks. 
“Here, let me.” He does, stays still while she runs her fingers up behind the collar of his shirt to smooth it down, and she thinks that she’s not the only one trying to buy a little more time. Made it out of the car, but still standing in front of the car, he has always liked the feeling of her palms splayed over his chest, hums and thanks her for fixing his collar, leans in for a quick smacking thing of a kiss that she gives back to him all ease, and he thinks that maybe they’ll get to be normal today. 
“Remind me again what we got them?”
“Bottle warmer and a set of swaddling blankets.”
“What, they can’t use hot water from the tap like everyone else?” That gets him a clipped laugh from her, and he knows he’s bordering on something tender that could snap and snarl if he says any more, so he takes the laugh and leaves it at that. She laughs, feels stupid for the heat that thickens and closes in behind it and hides the flush from him by collecting the gifts from the trunk. Pastel pink and perfect wrapping paper with thin ribbon curled and bouncing. She briefly considers how it would feel to rip it all to pieces. But no, none of that, because this is Tommy and Maria, and she loves Tommy and Maria, really, she does, so happy for Tommy and Maria. Happy, happy, happy. 
Maria is the one who opens the door, all smiles, all round because she made it to the third trimester. He glances at Cass as they enter into the usual greetings and congratulations, leaning hugs and Tommy somewhere in the fray. Cassandra thinks she’s doing a good job of smiling but she can’t really feel her mouth, letting her lungs collapse a little when Tommy pulls her in for a quick squeeze, hey, Cassie, good to see you. And maybe it’s the lack of pills in her system but is he? Is it? Verging a little close to hostage negotiator territory? Talking to her like she’s a skittish horse? Because, apparently, it’s not just Joel, but the whole clan who seems to expect her to have a hard time with this. His and Tommy’s parents smile and pet at her shoulders when they see her, that same so good to see you, as if they didn’t just see her a month ago for the fourth of July barbecue, as if she’s the one who’s–
“I appreciate y’all being here, I know Maria does too.” Everyone in the backyard even though it’s already pushing eighty degrees, linen dresses and blue jeans and fluted glasses filled with orange juice and something a little stiffer. He squints at Tommy, nods, of course, lets his eyes drift out over mingling friends and family, settling on Cass. She’s smiling, mouth moving around easy words in a small cluster of women. Her arm is curled across her stomach, elbow held in hand, drink held aloft. She is doing fine, he thinks, good. And of course she’s doing fine, everything fine, and he’s fine too. Her eyes catch his and her smile stays, and he feels one of his own, there and gone. They are doing fine.
“Is Cass, you know, doing alright?”
“Oh yeah, she’s doing fine.”
She can feel sweat starting to collect along the waistband of her underwear, a cool, nauseous shiver, so terrible running beneath the skin. Someone, she can’t remember the name, a friend of Maria’s, is saying something about tits. Well, she doesn’t use the word tits, no, that word couldn’t come out of her baby pink painted lips. Breasts, and Cassandra curls her lips back into her mouth to stop herself from offering up mammary glands, if you want to be so proper about it, smiling and mmhmming instead about stretch marks and leakage and sore, seaming skin. Not that she’d know anything about it, not really. But all the other women do, something close to sharing war stories, all the space the body can make, and what remains when it’s empty once again. Now that, empty, she knows a thing or two about empty. 
“You hear from Sarah lately?” 
“You wanna know what I hear from her? Is mom there? And then can you put her on?” Tommy laughs, continuing to make quick work out of carving up another watermelon, pink, pink, pink while Joel enjoys a second to breathe in the air conditioned kitchen. Almost eleven, and they’re going to do cake at almost eleven, and he supposes he doesn’t really know what the etiquette is for things like these so sure, he thinks, cake at almost eleven.
“I guess dad’s advice can only work for so long, huh?” 
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s a freshman in college, man, you don’t remember what we were like at that age?” 
“I’d rather not, thanks.” And the truth is he remembers very little of that time. Playing at boy king, at living forever, and then the flashbang burst and bloom, obliteration and letting the shrapnel boomerang back together when Sarah came. And then, he thinks, back out on the porch and squinting at the sun threaded through the branches of an elm tree, then, it was a sort of crawl in those first few years. 
What he remembers, very little eye contact from anyone, and wanting it more than anything. Never expecting the father to be the one to stay, the very young, very bleary-eyed father who eventually learned to stop looking for other eyes to meet his. Yes, a crawl, kept his head down until one day, two-year-old in tow in the grocery store, looking at pouches of pureed sweet potatoes and peaches, someone ducked her head down alongside his, looked him in the eye, and asked him if it was his wallet she found at the end of the aisle. For the record, it wasn’t his, but he can’t remember who it got returned to any more. That Tina Turner song was playing over the speakers, he remembers that. What’s love got to do with it, what’s love got to do with a HEB on a Wednesday night? Just enough for him to keep going to the HEB on Wednesday nights, hoping to run into the woman who looked him in the eye and told him his daughter was beautiful and had his smile.
“How many do you and Joel have, Cassandra?” Must have been smiling and nodding a little too well to get that question from Sally, Sammy? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t care. Maria needs better friends, she thinks, or maybe just less of them for her to keep track of. 
“Oh, just one. Sarah started college this year actually.” And the usual sequence of snobbery that follows her sharing that detail. Yes, had her very young, yes, must be so proud, and she is proud, she can mean that yes, at least. 
“But she’s not yours, is that right?”
“Excuse me?” Excuse you, Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck you are. Excuse you in your baby blue linen dress and your fuckass bob. Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck she is, eats her words fast, quick flickers of french tips and well, I just mean, not yours biologically, you know, I think Maria mentioned something about you adopting her when you and Joel got married. Said with that pitch that winches higher and higher with each word like a question going nowhere. She clasps her hands behind her back and digs her nails into the soft of her palms until the urge to throttle Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck she is passes.
“Yeah, well, she’s not mine in that way. But I’ve been in her life since she was two so, I think that matters a little more than if she slid out of my vagina.” Shit, slipped, should not have said that, gets a glossed gasp from the peanut gallery and she’s just glad Maria is off hostessing with other people right now, not bearing witness to the way she just slaughtered this conversation with the sharp of her words. Excuse her Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck you are, and excuse her, all the rest of you, she needs to get out of the heat, out of the sun, out of whatever this is. 
He knows what looks mean what by now. A pinched brow, a frown that’s just barely a frown. She breezes past the kitchen with one hand pressed high against her stomach as if to make sure the rise and fall is still happening. Says her name once and she waves a hand behind her, already halfway down the hall and not turning around now,  sorry, just need the bathroom. Tommy’s eyes do that thing, that softening, slipping thing, looking at him and not asking the question, though it hangs in the air somewhere between them. He excuses himself, walks slowly enough that the bathroom door is already shut and locked by the time he gets to it. The faucet is running, all he hears when he says her name again, feeling like a perfect fool knocking on the door. Not the first time this has happened, and she feels more foolish every time it does. But he’s already asked her if she’s taken her pills today so at the very least, that question is out of the way. Or maybe he’ll ask it again, and maybe she’ll break something, and then report back to her OB-GYN who, for some reason, is the one prescribing her these pills, and tell her OB-GYN that she’s getting crazier and needs more pills that she’ll forget to take. Repeat ad nauseam. No, she thinks, too tired for any of that, two years too tired. She presses her fingers into her temples and closed eyes until the throb in her skull begins to still.
“Do you want to go home?” He doesn’t know how to handle this, not really. Seems to get it wrong more often than not, and sometimes his own frustration turns into meanness that makes it worse, he knows that. He doesn’t know how to deal with her any more, she knows that. The truth is she doesn’t even know how to deal with herself any more, everything always raw and hurting, blistered brain and aching heart and wilting like a frail, flimsy thing. She does alright keeping it tamped down most of the time, keeping it cool and closed off. But, there are times when it flares, like a thin flume of disease nested somewhere deep inside of her. During things like these, around people like these, and the month of April, forget about it. 
“I said something a little awful, I think.” Sheepish, the door still only cracked, enough that he can see that she isn’t crying so, little lift of relief in his chest, at least. 
“What’s that?” He slips in through the half-opened door and she lets him, shuts the door behind him and tells him, may have snapped, may have used the word vagina. It’s a relief to hear him laugh, a single breath of it like he’s not sure if he should. He touches her hand, her wrist, her elbow, little pulse points, half a tired smile.
“There are worse words to use.”
“Could have said cunt.” She shrugs and you’d think he’d have gotten used to her surprising him like that after sixteen years together, but it’s still a giddy little shock to the system, her brass and brash. Like another vital sign, so long as she has her fang she’s fine, at least he thinks so.
“Yeah, that.” He laughs again, coughs, heat flushing down fast in his face and there’s a quick kick in her chest at the sight, something dormant getting stirred up. She likes that look, coaxing that look out of him. The first time, way out of line and out of place, she thinks. Fresh out of college and buying condoms and pretzel rods at the HEB down the block from her apartment and she shouldn’t have, pretty guy, man, father with pretty brown eyes and a little girl in the seat of his shopping cart with pretty brown eyes like his and she shouldn’t have. Thought she was so smooth, pretending like the wallet she showed him wasn’t hers, like she had found it on the linoleum floor, yeah, so smooth, just looking for a reason to shuffle down the baby food aisle and talk to pretty guy, man, father. That same flush, that same smile, little shock, though he had caught her too, taking a sharp glance down at her basket before she could tuck it behind her legs. And then her turn, little shock when he made some joke about little late for me, for that, shrug and smile and yes, she thinks, she didn’t exactly love him right then and there, but whatever comes right before love, it was that. 
“Listen, if it’s getting to be too much for you we can–” Wrong, all wrong, sound in the back of her throat like a scoff that’s how wrong those words were.
“Why does everyone seem to think this is too much for me? It’s a fucking baby shower, not a, I don’t even know what. I’m fine, it’s fine. It’s Tommy’s and Maria’s day and I’m so happy for them that they’re having a–” It catches her off guard, the way the sound gets stuck in her throat, not quite a sob, but verging on it, hiccuping out the rest, a baby. He reaches for her arm again but she jerks it away, hands clasping opposite elbows, all tucked in on herself. 
“It’s okay if it’s not fine, you know, nobody is expecting you to–”
“Nobody is expecting me to keep it together, right?”
“Would you let me finish speaking?” No, never winning any points for patience, ever. Not too many for thinking before he speaks either. Her face crumples for a breath, if that, smoothing back out with a scoff, I’m so sorry, Joel, what were you going to say? No, not normal, not today. He wonders briefly how long they’ve been in the bathroom now, and whether they’ve been speaking loudly enough to draw attention to the fact of how long they’ve been in the bathroom now.
“You know what, forget it. If you say you’re fine then I guess you’re fine. Can we just get through fucking cake and leave, please?” She’s very good at this, at turning herself off, something cool and distant slipping over her eyes, her face, shoulders rolled back sharp. Of course, she says, whatever you say, she says, doesn’t give him another glance as she opens the bathroom door. 
“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t standing here long, just waiting to use the–” 
“Cunt.”
“I’m sorry?” 
“Cut– I had a cut and I needed Joel to look at it but I’m fine, right, Joel? Aren’t I fine?” She doesn’t give him a chance to answer that, doesn’t give Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck she is a chance to say any more either, already moving past both of them and back toward the sound of laughter and cake, fucking cake about to happen. 
He needs to keep his mouth shut, all he can figure. Keep his mouth shut and maybe, maybe, they’ll get through fucking cake without any more seams splitting. Nothing like this when Sarah came, no balloons, no perfectly frosted and tiered cake with a whole cluster of people around it, and he thinks briefly that maybe he’s the one who isn’t fine being here. Like an ache, or an absence, a place inside of him that has been scooped out and left empty. He doesn’t let himself get sad about it often, mostly because he’s too busy being angry about it with (at?) Cass. But he feels it now, a sinking, swimming feeling that weighs everything down, slow to smile when Maria hands him a plate with a slice of cake on it. 
She takes a plate and pushes around globs of pink icing with her fork for a while, standing in another cluster of people she doesn’t really know, one of the women commenting on how good she’s being when she sets her plate down on the kitchen counter, smile and laugh, though the truth is she’s not sure she could stomach pretty pink icing right now. A small mercy when Tommy steps over alongside her and effectively relieves her of having to continue pretending to be interested in a conversation about kitchen remodels. 
“Looking a little green, Cassie, you alright?”
“I think the heat got to me, but I’ll survive. Congratulations again, you guys are going to be great, really.” And she hopes he interprets the pitch, the little catch of her words as a good emotion that is entirely for him and his family. Not anything else, not anything that would be entirely ridiculous and well, crazy, on her part. 
“I just want to say thank you again for giving us all that furniture, and the clothes, we really–”
“Oh of course, Tom, you did us a favor taking all that stuff. It’s not like we were going to–” Going to what? She doesn’t finish that sentence, and Tommy doesn’t need her to, already nodding, already that look in his eyes that she has come to recognize as thinly-concealed pity. Not like they were ever going to have a use for that furniture, those clothes, not again, not after. A foreclosed room in their house that stayed as silent and shut up as a tomb, and then the happy, happy, happy news from Tommy and Maria and of course, they said, take whatever you want, take it all, actually. The room is empty now. The door stays closed. 
He wants to leave and he wants to leave now. The walls creeping in closer and that hollow thing in between his ribs starting to ache and twinge. He catches her eyes from across the room and it takes little else for a knowing to pass between them, both of them already moving, already starting a string of polite goodbyes, friends and family, sorry, yes, really have to go, it’s becoming hard to breathe, really have to go. 
Early in the afternoon and the sun so bright it makes him a little dizzy when they step outside. He follows the sound of her heels on the sidewalk back to the car, relief in the closing of the door, in settling into the driver’s seat. 
She feels like her brain is deflating in her skull. Enough normal for the day, don’t ask her for any more than that. She props her head in her hand and lets her eyes unfocus, turning the suburban streets they're driving through into pale blurs of minivans and basketball hoops. And there is little fanfare to what happens next, she glances at him once, then looks out the window, hears a metallic clink, and when she looks at him again, there’s a cigarette dangling from his lips. It’s so absurd, so out of nowhere, that she has to laugh. 
“Since when do you smoke?”
“I don’t know. Tommy’s a bad influence.”
“Tommy quit.”
“Well then I did him a favor finishing off all his packs.”
“Joel.”
“Yes?”
“How did I miss you picking up smoking again?”
“It’s not like I do it around the house, I know you don’t like the smell.”
“Oh, but you’re happy to trap me in the car with it?” 
“The windows are down.”
“Secondhand smoke.”
“Would you prefer to get out at the next red light?” 
“You know, you’re probably gonna die before me. Then what the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I’m serious. Statistically speaking, men die first–”
“I wonder why.”
“Cardiac events.”
“That tracks.” 
“You’re already two years older than me and now you’re doing shit like this and I’m probably gonna be like, sixty-eight and a widow, and then I’ll die of stress from being a sixty-eight-year-old widow.” 
“Are you done?” 
“Oh fuck you–”
“Hey.”
“No, what next, huh? Are you gonna ask me if I took my pills again?”
“Well, did you?” 
“That’s not the point.”
“Jesus Christ, Cass, it’s like you don’t even want to get better, you don’t even try.” Silence, she doesn’t fire back, doesn’t make a sound, her lips parted around a wordless frown. The only noise is the turn signal clicking as he pulls into a gas station, his heart sunk down low in his chest, shrinking back in on itself. Too far, too mean, and not even knowing what he was saying until he said it, until she was looking at him in a devastated crumple. 
He parks beside a pump but doesn’t get out, doesn’t move at all, really. Waiting. For what, he isn’t sure. When he looks at her again, that stricken look is gone, something slackening, something tired settled in its place. 
“Do you remember when you stopped shaving and you asked me if your beard looked stupid and I told you it didn’t?” 
“Uh, yes.” 
“I lied. Your beard does look stupid.” And with that, she’s out of her seat, out of the car, and clipping fast toward the convenience store, not sparing him another look. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream. 
The light flickers a little in the convenience store bathroom when she flips it on, locking the door behind her just as the first sob shudders up and out of her throat. She doesn’t look in the mirror, she has no use for that, just grips the edge of the sink and allows herself this, a few minutes to get the worst of it out. 
He had finished pumping gas ten minutes ago when she comes back out with a bottle of snapple lemonade tucked under her arm. She has been crying, he can see. He doesn’t know why she always hides it from him. It catches him off guard when she walks around the front of the car to stand in front of his rolled-down window, something bordering on sheepish in the set of her expression, her eyes doing a quick loop from her feet back up to him.
“I didn’t mean that.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t think your beard is stupid.”
“Okay.”
“I like it, think you look handsome with it.”
“Honey, will you get in the car, please?” She does, offers him the bottle of lemonade and they both take a swig, waiting for whatever words are supposed to come next. A car honks at them, still at the pump, and he has enough sense to wave an apology behind his head and pull over into a parking spot instead.
“I’m sorry for what I said. Cass? That was a stupid thing for me to say. I didn’t mean that.” She wants to say no, not a stupid thing to say, not unfair, not really. But that would be an admission she doesn’t want to make, so she nods, accepts his apology, both of them having a hard time looking at the other, suddenly so interested in the brick wall of the convenience store. 
“We can’t keep doing this.” She doesn’t realize how much she means that until she’s done saying it. Finally saying it, this truth they have been scrapping and snapping around for months now. He says, no, we can’t, and she braces for impact, anticipating the worst, the nuclear option, and she wouldn’t blame him for it. But that blow doesn’t come. He takes her hand over the center console, as simple as anything, and she is reminded again of how much she loves him. 
“Something has to change.”
“I think so.”
“We can figure this out, can’t we?”
“It’s us.” As if that’s an answer, though he still nods, repeats it back to her, it’s us. It’s them. They can’t keep doing this. They have to change. They can figure this out, can’t they?
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justagalwhowrites · 9 months
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Lavender - Ch. 36
You, Joel and Ellie become reluctant guests. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-35 found on Tumblr here.
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Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.
Length: 4.5k
You were fairly certain they weren’t raiders. 
Not that you were positive about it. The way Joel’s whole body tensed told you that you might be wrong but they’d approached you very differently than the raiders in Boston had. You shivered at that memory, at the thought of their hands on you, at Joel shooting and killing one just to make a point. 
“Not going to let them separate us,” Joel said quietly, not looking at you. Ellie was squeezed between you, armed men all around. You tugged her sleeve down, making sure her arm was fully covered. “Stay close.” 
You nodded. You hoped you didn’t look as scared as you felt, both because you didn’t want to seem weak but because you didn’t want Ellie to pick up on it. 
The men led you more than a mile into the forest, the brush thick. You had to watch where you stepped, no clear path through it. Ellie tripped at one point and Joel caught her out of the air before she hit the ground, setting her back on her feet. You’d been walking almost half an hour when you saw the light shift ahead of you. Things seemed a bit brighter, like the sun was splitting through the dense canopy. You looked at Joel, his jaw set firm, his hand in a fist. 
They’d taken his gun. It was strange, seeing him outside without it now. It had become an extension of him since you’d left the QZ. It was like seeing a dog with a broken leg, exposed and vulnerable and wrong. He looked back at you, something dark in his eyes. Like he was about to do something reckless. You shook your head once, barely moving it. He gave you a minuscule, single nod in return. 
“Don’t do anythin’ stupid,” the man on Joel’s other side said. 
“Wasn’t plannin’ on it,” Joel glared at him. You ground your teeth. This could go sideways so easily. 
Your group approached a clearing, bigger than you’d have expected to find this far in the woods. It was peppered with makeshift shacks, built with tarps and tree branches. There was one building that looked to be more permanent that some of the people were working on, the walls looking to be about shoulder high. The group was mostly men but there was a cluster of women and children off to one side. The women were watching you - or rather, watching Joel -  eyes narrowed. 
“Well well,” a man who had been standing at the corner of the half built structure strode over, hiking his pants up as he went. He looked Joel up and down, sizing him up. “Been a while since we got anybody through here. What brings you by?” 
“Just passing through,” Joel said, his shoulders squared. You held Ellie to your side and you could feel just how tense she was.”Would have been well and through here if your men hadn’t stopped us.” 
“Where you headed?” The man asked. He wasn’t as tall or broad as Joel but he wasn’t small and you really fucking hoped that Joel wasn’t about to pick a fight with the man. 
“Wyoming,” Joel said. “My brother’s out that way, meetin’ him.” 
Man nodded slowly, kicking at some of the brush on the ground, watching his feet as he did before looking back at Joel. 
“And who’re you traveling with?” He asked, glancing at you and Ellie. “Haven’t seen anyone come through here in weeks, been even longer since any women or kids made it this far.” 
Joel glanced at you quickly. 
“My wife,” he said. “Our niece. Right Baby?” 
Both men looked at you. 
“Right,” you nodded, still holding onto Ellie. “We’re going to stay with my brother-in-law, hoping it’s better out that way.” 
The man nodded again, frowning a little. 
“Looked like you were comin’ from Kansas City,” he said. “Not much down that road beyond that.” 
“Why?” Joel asked, voice getting heated. “What’s it matter where we’re coming from?” 
“Because we had some information coming over radio from Kansas City until just over a week ago,” the man said. “About as long it’d take to walk this far.” 
“Good for you,” Joel said. 
“We got the fuck outta dodge just before FEDRA fell,” the man ignored Joel. “But can’t say FEDRA was much too happy with that. Neither was Kathleen.” 
“Aren’t you just making friends everywhere you go,” Joel replied. 
“One of the last things we heard out of KC was real interesting,” the man said. “At least, as far as you’re concerned.” 
You tensed, trying to look around without being suspicious about it, ascertain where shots might start coming from so you could put yourself between there and Ellie. But you were pretty damn well surrounded. 
“Why’s that?” Joel growled, straightening his spine just enough that the man had to look up at him. 
“Because Kathleen was awful interested in a man, a woman and a girl,” he said. “Was damn near ready to burn the city down looking for them. A man, a woman and a girl who sure fit your description. Wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” 
Joel’s jaw twitched. 
“We dodged Kansas City best we could when passin’ through,” Joel said. “Heard it went to shit, didn’t want to get mixed up in it.” 
“Well how about we just keep you here until we find out,” the man said. “I can’t risk FEDRA coming down on us and I’m hard pressed to think of much that would piss off Kathleen that much short of fucking FEDRA.”
He jerked his head and two men came forward. 
“Why don’t you take the girls…” 
The man closest to you put his hand on your shoulder and Joel moved so quickly it made you jump. He punched the man closest tho him and grabbed his gun as he stumbled back. He grabbed the leader, pulling his back against him and pressing the gun to his head. 
“Not takin’ the girls anywhere,” he snapped. The guns all around you snapped to Joel. Ellie gasped and you tried to put yourself between her and Joel. “They fuckin’ stay with me!” 
“Don’t think you’ve got much room to make deal, friend,” the leader’s voice was strained, Joel’s arm around his throat. 
“You think I won’t fuckin’ kill you right here?” Joel snapped. “They stay with me or I blow your fuckin’ head off.” 
The men with their guns drawn moved closer. 
“Joel, it’ll be fine,” you said quickly. 
“Yeah, if I stay with you, it’ll be fuckin’ fine,” he snapped. 
There was a man on Joel’s other side, where you thought Joel might not be able to see him, who started moving again, gun up. 
“I’m a doctor!” You said quickly. Suddenly, people were more interested in you than they were in Joel. “I”m a doctor, I have medications with me, I can check over your people here. There’s a man, one who met us on the road, he’s limping. It looked like it might be an ankle injury, I can check it, set it properly… anyone here sick? I can treat them. But I won’t do shit for you if you hurt Joel or separate us. 
“You put the guns down and let us stay together and I’ll treat your people while you confirm that we’re not FEDRA or whatever else you’re worried about,” you said. 
“Don’t know that your husband would agree with you,” the leader said. 
“Joel,” you looked at him, eyes pleading. 
“Let me stay with the girls,” Joel said after a second. “Not just lettin’ you do whatever the fuck you want with ‘em.” 
“Stay with them,” the leader said. “We can make that work. We wouldn’t hurt them but you can stay with them.” 
Joel looked around once more at the gathered men before he released the leader and gave the man whose gun he’d stolen his weapon back. He watched them, almost daring them to try to stop him and he came and stood by you and Ellie. 
“You OK?” He asked, his voice low. 
“Better now that you’re probably not going to get fucking shot,” Ellie muttered. 
“Take the three of them to a place they can set up for the night,” the leader ordered the man Joel hadn’t punched. “We’ll try radio contact in the morning.” 
The man kept his eyes on Joel the whole way, like Joel was an animal he was worried as about to try to snap off a hand. You kept Ellie against you and Joel put his arm around your shoulders. The man led you to a part of the clearing that had relatively flat ground but was still open. 
“Assuming you have your own gear,” he said flatly. “Don’t fuckin’ try anything.” 
Joel kept an eye on him as he walked away before he turned his attention back to you and Ellie. 
“They didn’t touch you, did they?” Joel asked, taking your face in his hand. 
“No,” you shook your head. “No, we’re fine.” 
He kissed your forehead before he stepped back from you. 
“Don’t like this,” he kept his voice low. “Don’t think there’s anyone left in fuckin’ Kansas City that they can contact.” 
“Think their radio can reach Boston?” You asked quietly. “Abe knows me, if they talk to Abe, Abe can confirm that we’re from Boston, that we’re not FEDRA… well, that you’re not, anyway…” 
“You’re not FEDRA either,” Joel frowned. “Not the kind they care about, anyway.” 
“Regardless,” you said. “I think we need to tell them we came from the Boston QZ and tell them to radio Boston if they can. Maybe they’ll just let us go, if they really are just worried about FEDRA coming down on them, they’d have no reason to keep us.” 
“You just gave ‘em one,” he muttered. 
“It was the only thing I could think to do to keep them from fucking shooting you,” you snapped. “Figured we could deal with the fallout once everyone was alive!” 
“Guys!” Ellie interrupted you. “If we want to keep them from fucking killing us this probably isn’t the way to do it.” 
You and Joel looked at each other for a moment before you just nodded at her. 
“Let’s do our best to stay in one piece tonight,” you said, looking between the two of them. “Lay low.” 
You watched the rest of the camp from your little corner as you pulled food out of your bags, down to the last of the cans you’d brought with you from the cabin. Ellie staked a claim to the Spaghetti-Os. 
“People from before made some pretty decent food,” she scraped the inside of the can. “QZ food was so shitty.” 
“And that’s not even the good food,” Joel said. “But even that’s not bad. Especially not by comparison.” 
“Know what I would kill for now?” You asked, eating a soggy green bean from your vegetable soup. “A Big Mac.” 
“Fucking hell,” Joel groaned a little. “Who knew I’d ever miss fuckin’ McDonalds but damn, their French fries…” 
“Ugh, when they were hot right out of the grease?” You sighed. “Kill me. So good.” 
Ellie looked between you. 
“Old people are weird,” she muttered, finishing her food. 
As it got dark, the camp got quiet, not much in the way of light. Joel didn’t pull out the lantern, apparently not wanting to risk it if no one else here was. 
“I’ll keep watch,” he said after Ellie had already gone to sleep, her rhythmic breathing quiet and close. “You sleep.” 
“We can trade,” you replied. “Don’t need you to be so sleep deprived you can’t function.” 
“I’ll wake you up halfway through,” he said. 
You moved closer to him, putting your head on his shoulder. 
“Really ready to never see a gun pointed at you again,” you said quietly. 
He kissed the top of your head. 
“Need you to stop offering yourself up every time we’re in a tough spot, Baby,” he said. “You’re not some fuckin’ bargaining chip, need you to stop actin’ like you are.” 
“I couldn’t just stand there while someone tried to hurt you,” you replied. “I know you’re stronger than me and more capable than me but there’s stuff I can do, too. I can help get us out of tight spots.” 
“Not gettin’ us out of a tight spot if it gets you captured, hurt or killed,” he pressed his nose into your hair and breathed you in. Even though you hadn’t washed it since the cabin. He didn’t seem to mind. “It’s not worth you, Baby. Nothin’s worth you.” 
“Nothing’s worth you, either,” you replied. “So stop getting guns pulled on you and I’ll stop trying to get you out of it. Deal?” 
He laughed once. 
“I’ll do my best.” 
You stretched out on the ground beside Joel, his back against a tree trunk. You rested your head in his lap and he stroked your hair as you drifted off, listening to him breathe. 
***
Joel kept his hands on you while you slept. It was comforting, feeling you close, feeling your ribs rise and fall with your breath, feeling the little twitches you made as you dreamed. Solid evidence that you were alive and with him. As long as you and Ellie were alive and with him, he could figure the rest out. He had to figure the rest out. 
You were right about contacting Boston. The people here seemed reasonable - even if they were edging in on desperate. They’d left the three of you alone that evening, minus guards watching you from a reasonable distance. But he was worried about the desperate side of them. Desperate people would justify a lot of things. He knew how that worked. Desperate people would do anything to survive. He’d just need to make sure what they needed to survive didn’t involve the three of you. 
He didn’t wake you up halfway through the night. He wasn’t the most alert guard, drifting in and out of consciousness but staying awake enough that he knew that no one was going to be sneaking up on you. 
You glared at him about it in the morning but didn’t push him on it. It didn’t take him long to figure out why. 
“No,” he snapped. 
“You can just stay here,” you replied, grabbing your pack. “Keep an eye on Ellie. Maybe nap. It’s fine.” 
“Not going to just let you do whatever these people say…” 
“Wasn’t planning to,” you replied. “I was just planning to treat people who were sick and hurt. And check on the kids especially. It’s better if you’re over here, your bedside manner is… Look, Joel, you’re good at a lot of shit but putting people at ease isn’t one of them.” 
He ground his teeth as he watched you head toward the center of the camp, your pack over one shoulder, as you went to talk to the man Joel had put at gunpoint the day before. 
“Gin?” Ellie asked. He frowned down at her. She held up the cards. “I meant the game.” 
He watched from afar, barely paying attention to the game, as you went from person to person, checking injuries, asking questions. You pulled out medications a few times, distributing them as necessary. You’d been working for a few hours when the leader of the camp walked over to Joel. 
“Your wife said you’re from Boston,” he said, sitting next to Joel. 
“We are,” he said. “Left the QZ a few weeks back. Making our way west, like I said. Trying to get to my brother in Wyoming.” 
“She suggested I call the radio tower in Boston if I couldn’t get anyone up in KC,” he said. “But she seemed damn sure I wouldn’t get anyone in KC.” 
Joel just shrugged. 
“We’ll see if we can get a line out to Boston this afternoon,” the man said. “See if you folks are telling the truth.”
“And if we are?” Joel asked. 
“Then we’ve got nothin’ to worry about with you, do we?” The man shrugged. “Look, I’m not wanting to keep you here if you don’t want to be here. And we already have enough trouble feeding our own, we don’t need two more mouths. But I can’t risk the safety of the people here. If there’s even a chance that you’re FEDRA, I can’t let you go and inform on us. We risked a lot to get the fuck away from them, not about to go back.” 
You didn’t come back to your corner of camp until early evening. You’d worked the entire day and all but collapsed next to Joel and Ellie. 
“That felt like a really rough day at the clinic,” you said, arching and stretching your back out as you settled into the ground. “They have almost no resources here…” 
“I know FEDRA’s bad,” Ellie said. “But this can’t be better than that.”
“It was better where we were,” you said, going into your bag for jerky. “Which says a lot because they were executing people for breaking curfew too many times…” 
Ellie frowned and ate some jerky. 
“If there was a cure,” she said, looking at the two of you hesitantly. “It would go back, right? To the way it was before?” 
Joel looked at you for a moment and you looked back at him. 
How was he supposed to answer that? Tell her that who knows what would become of this fucking mission the three of you were risking your lives for right now? That sometimes people are just too damn mean and too damn stupid and too damn power hungry? That it doesn’t even take cordyceps to make the world go to hell? Give the right asshole too much fucking power and they’ll invent problems so they can take the rest of it. 
“Don’t know,” Joel said eventually. “Never had to cure something like this before. Never had the whole world collapse like this before. No fucking clue how it would go.” 
“We won’t know unless we try,” you said, your voice low. “It’s all we can really do.” 
One of the men who’d led the three of you to the camp the day before came over, his eyes on Joel. 
“We got a line through to Boston,” the man said. “Who’s going to verify your identity?” 
“I can,” you got up, dusting yourself off. 
“We all will,” Joel narrowed his eyes at the man. He didn’t trust him. Something was setting his teeth on edge. He could feel it, something shifting. 
The three of you followed him over to the battery operated radio. The signal was faint and fuzzy but you took the mouthpiece. 
“Abe?” You asked. “You there?” 
“Sweets?” His voice crackled and popped. You smiled a little. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were dead! Good to hear your voice. The fuck are you doing way out there?” 
“Meeting up with Tommy, Joel’s brother,” you said. “We left in a hurry but we’ve hit a bit of a snag here, can you just confirm that we’re from Boston and don’t have anything to do with FEDRA in Kansas City?” 
“Course you don’t have anything to do with the shit show in Kansas City,” Abe scoffed. “You’ve been in Boston since 03. They listening?” 
“Yeah,” you said, glancing over at the leader, his hands on his hips. 
“That girl was in my damn office twice a week every week for five years after the outbreak, searching for that man,” Abe said. “Then he found her. They’re from Boston.” 
The leader took the mouthpiece from you. 
“Thank you for confirming,” he said. “Over and out.” 
He put the mouthpiece down and nodded. 
“Sounds like you are who you say,” the leader said. “In that case, you’re free to go. You can go in the morning…” 
“Few hours of daylight left,” Joel said. “We’ll go now.” 
He put his arm around you and started steering you back to where your packs were. 
“Joel,” you said quietly. He cut you off. 
“Need to put some distance between us and these people,” he said. “Somethin’s not right.” 
You didn’t fight him on it. Which was good because he was damn near ready to put you over his shoulder and carry you out of here if you did. 
Ellie was ready first, backpack on, her eyes narrowed at the leader of the group talking closely with a few of his other men. He watched them, too, staying close to Ellie and you. Something wasn’t right. 
“There are some medications I want to leave…” you said as you put your pack on, Joel shook his head.
“No,” he said. “Somethin’s not right, we have to go.” 
“But…” 
“Baby,” he looked at you, all but begging for you to listen to him. “It’s not worth the risk. We have to get Ellie west, we have to go.” 
You looked to the girl who, for a change, was sticking closer to Joel than she was to you. 
“OK,” you said. 
He led you toward the edge of the camp, where he knew the road was waiting for you just a mile out, watching as the men of the camp closed ranks. 
They still had his fucking gun. 
“Sorry to have held you folks up,” the leader said, flanked by a few men. Joel ground his teeth. “We just can’t afford to be too careful, not with what we got away from.” 
“We understand,” you smiled. It didn’t reach your eyes. “We appreciate you letting us get on our way.” 
“Sure, sure,” he nodded slowly, stepping closer. “The man and the girl are free to go. But I’m afraid that I can’t, in good conscious, let a doctor leave. You’ll have to stay.” 
Two of the men came forward and grabbed you under your arms, pulling you back and two more grabbed Joel before he had a chance to react. 
“Joel!” You screamed, reaching for him but they yanked you back. More men surrounded you, your eyes wide and desperate. 
“Leave her alone!” Ellie shrieked before a guard grabbed her, too. 
Joel felt the action before he’d decided to do it. The rage and the fear and the heat of it all taking over the second one of those men touched you. It was a drumbeat in his body: get to you get to you get to you. 
He was not going to let anyone take you from him.
He moved quickly, throwing one of the men who had him to the ground and shoving the other one back before going for you. The leader pulled his gun and pointed it at Ellie. Joel froze, his heart in his throat. 
“Now, I’d hate to harm a child,” he said. “So how about I let you take the girl on out of here and we keep your wife. I promise we won’t hurt her, won’t let anything bad happen to her. She’ll be treated well, better than she would be in a QZ.” 
“Joel,” your face was wet. “Joel, get Ellie out of here…” 
“No,” he shook his head. “No! I’m not leaving you…” 
“Get Ellie to Tommy,” your voice was wet. “Take care of her…” 
He looked at the man with a gun to Ellie’s head. It was like his chest was cracking open with the heat of rage, the desperation of it. 
“Listen to your wife,” the man said. “Don’t make me do something I don’t want to do.” 
Joel tried to force himself to breathe for a moment, looking at the girl you’d both been tasked with protecting. There was rage in her eyes, too. She wanted someone to hurt for this. She hated them, too. 
“OK,” he said, looking back to you. “I’ll get her there…” 
The man started to lower the gun and Joel struck the second it was pointed more at the ground than at the girl. He grabbed his arm and wrenched it back, twisting until he dropped the gun. He pulled the man to him and, for the second time in as many days, pressed his own gun to his head. 
“She comes with me and so do you,” he snarled. Everyone froze. “Let her go! Fucking move!” 
The men holding you released you and you stumbled forward, ducking behind Joel and grabbing Ellie toward you. 
“I’ll let you go when we get to the road,” he said. “Anyone fucking follows us and I kill him!” 
He looked around, waiting for someone to challenge him. No one did. 
Joel looked at you. Your eyes were wide and your face was still wet but you seemed to understand. You grabbed Ellie’s hand and pulled her into the woods, all but running for them, as Joel backed away from the camp, the gun to the man’s head. 
“I will fucking kill every person here,” he said. “Don’t follow us.” 
He started after you, keeping the gun pressed against the leader. 
“We can work something out…” 
“Shut the fuck up,” Joel snapped. He glanced down at you. 
“They hurt you?” He asked. You shook your head. He looked back to the man. “Better count your fucking blessings that she said no.” 
The walk back to the road was faster than the walk to camp, even hauling an unwilling man along side him. Joel kept an eye out for any signs they were being followed but none came. 
“Look,” the man said as they neared the road. “I hope you understand, I was just trying to do the best thing for my people…” 
“By kidnapping someone?” Ellie rolled her eyes. “OK sure.”
“You’re a child, you don’t understand what it means to have people relying on you…” he replied. 
They made it to the road and Joel released the man. The rage was still hot in him, the drive to punish the person who had been a threat to you and the girl strong. 
“Get behind me,” he said, his voice eerily calm. 
“Joel,” you said quietly, but he cut you off. 
“You and Ellie,” he said. “Behind me.” 
He raised the gun. 
“Wait…” The man put his hands up. 
Joel didn’t care. 
He shot him in the head and watched him drop like a bag of sand, the blood vibrant on the earth. You gasped, like you were surprised even though you clearly had known what was coming. 
“We’ll have to move fast,” he said, going to the man’s body and pulling the rifle from his back and gathering the spare ammo he had on his person. “They’re going to come looking for us when he’s not back in time, and that’s assuming no one heard the shot.” 
“Joel,” you said his name quietly, looking up at him. 
“He threatened Ellie,” he said. “Tried to take you from me. I couldn’t let him live. Not after that.” 
He pulled you into a quick hug, Ellie leaning around the two of you to look at the body. 
“Come on,” he said. “We have to move.” 
The three of you ran across the street and into the forest, the trees swallowing you up as the sun started to get low, the pooling blood reflecting the twilight sky.
A/N: Look I will write feral Joel at the slightest provocation, don't test me.
There's a bit more travel time to come before our trio makes it all the way to Jackson and lots of country to cover between now and then. I hope you're enjoying it!
I have a taglist! Please let me know if you'd like to be added to it. I keep having more and more people crop up who I can't tag (Tumblr won't let me?? It's very odd) so I'm so sorry if it's not going through, I promise I'm trying!
Thank you, as always, for reading and for commenting. It's so amazing to see how people are reacting to this story in real time and makes it such a joy to write. Thank you thank you thank you for being here :)
Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings @arizonadaydreamer @mumma-moonchild @blackroseguzzi @candypeaches16 @kittenlittle24 @wrappedinfiction @oatmeaiboy @pedritosdarling @winchestergypsy90 @imnotdatboii @lalalalemonade11 @maknimuk1 @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @pedrosaidsheispunk @commanderawkward @n7cje @elliesgirlll @tsunamistorm123. @spookyxsam @leeeesahhh @anoverwhelmingdin @untamedheart81
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cursedonyx · 2 months
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Professor Fig Adopts the Emerald Trio
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At the end of fifth year, all the Slytherins are celebrating winning the house cup, all except three of them, who have suffered an awful lot, and now face the prospect of having no home to go to.
Professor Fig decides to step in, and becomes the father figure they all need.
Part 1 of an Alternative Timeline where Professor Fig survives the Battle of Hogwarts. I've used my main MC Dracaena as I can't be bothered to think of a new MC, and she's amazing anyway so.
Over the holidays the trio stay in the castle and Fig helps Sebastian process what’s happened with Anne and Solomon, while Dracaena and Ominis accidentally unleash a pixie.
Word Count - 4.5k
Warnings - none, just fluff and hijinks
Masterlist
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As the Great Hall exploded into cheers, Slytherins leaping to their feet and hugging each other, the House Cup theirs, there were three noticeably sombre faces at the table.
Dracaena, Sebastian and Ominis sat together, each of them too weighed down by the year’s events to truly appreciate all they’d accomplished. Sebastian especially was subdued, his eyes red-rimmed, his hair uncombed, his head down.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he murmured, his voice almost inaudible over the sounds of celebration around them. “I can’t go home.”
“Me either,” Ominis replied, fiddling with his wand. “If I go back to the Manor, I don’t know if I’ll ever come out again.”
“We’ll be alright,” Dracaena said, trying and failing to inject some cheer into her voice. “Maybe we could strike out on our own for the summer? I’m sure we could scrounge up a tent, put some extension charms on it, or find rooms to rent in Hogsmeade.”
“That requires money,” Sebastian sighed. “Solomon left everything to Anne, and we’re too young to work. I don’t know where she is, and it’s not like I can ask her for help. She doesn’t want to speak to me.”
“For all my family’s blustering, we’re even poorer,” Ominis agreed. “Unless you’ve got a secret stash of gold you’ve never told us about, we’re stuck. I’ll have to go home.”
“I’ve not got much,” Dracaena said, dubiously. “A few galleons from helping people out here and there and selling things I found, but it’s not enough to see us through the next few years in truth.”
“I suppose I could ask the family if you could stay with us,” Ominis said to Sebastian. “You’re half-blood, so they might be a bit frosty with you, but you, Dracaena…” he sighed. “You’re muggleborn. They’d curse us all on sight.”
They huddled together, their dour expressions ignored by the cheering students around them, until a warm and familiar voice sounded.
“Are you three alright?”
They turned. Professor Fig was there, his expression full of warmth and concern.
“I’d have thought you’d be celebrating as well,” he said. “Dracaena, you’ve accomplished incredible things. You should be proud.”
She shrugged. “It’s hard to be happy when the future’s so bleak,” she said, and quickly explained the situation the three of them found themselves in, carefully leaving out the details of why Sebastian couldn’t return to Feldcroft, and why Ominis wouldn’t return to his family. Professor Fig, displaying all the intelligence and tact of his Ravenclaw house, simply nodded, and asked no prying questions.
“Well…” he said, running a hand over his stubble. “Might I propose a rather… unconventional solution to your problems?”
They tilted their heads, and Fig beckoned, leading them out of the cacophonous Great Hall and into the much quieter Entrance Hall. He stopped and faced them, a little smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“It’s no secret that I’ve become very fond of you since we met,” Fig said to Dracaena. “And any friend of yours is a friend of mine.” He passed a smile to Sebastian and Ominis. “It’s also no secret that since Miriam died, I’ve been at a bit of as loss as to what to do with myself.”
His hand went to his chest, where Dracaena knew he had fashioned Miriam’s wand into a necklace, and it hung around his neck, always next to his heart.
“I can’t see myself going home over the holidays, and our little cottage would be too small for myself and three students,” he said, and grinned as realisation began to dawn on the faces of the Slytherins before him.
“What are you suggesting, Professor?” Dracaena asked, needing to hear him say it.
“Well, I’ll have to clear it with Professor Weasley, but I can’t imagine it would be too great a task,” Fig said, his grin widening. “But I rather think I’ll be staying at the castle over the summer, and, if you’re all willing, I’d like it if my three newly-adopted charges would stay as well.”
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“You’ll still have your dorms, of course,” Professor Weasley said, leading the trio towards the dungeons. It was the morning after Professor Fig had offered to adopt them all, and they were still reeling. “We’ll move you into the sixth-year dorms early, as you’ll be staying at Hogwarts over the summer. Professor Fig will remain as well, as will some of the other Professors.”
She paused at the blank wall and fixed them all with a stern look.
“Now, this is a very unique situation,” she said. “Don’t think for one moment that you can break rules just because Professor Fig is now responsible for you.” She stared intently at Sebastian and Dracaena in particular, who tried their best to look innocent. “Even over the holidays, you’re bound by the rules of this school, so that means no spells in the corridors, no sneaking into places you shouldn’t be, and no mischief.”
“Yes Professor,” they chorused, and Professor Weasley left them with a nod and a small smile.
Professor Fig was in London, sorting out the necessary paperwork. As both Sebastian and Dracaena were orphans, there wasn’t any real issue in him adopting them, but it would be difficult to secure Ominis’ safety.
“They family won’t give me up,” he’d explained to Fig. “Though I’ve not seen them and hardly spoken to them for half a decade, I’m still a Gaunt, and it’ll dent their pride if someone they consider to be ‘lesser’ tried to steal me away. That’s how they’d see it, Professor.”
“Or they’d just say no because it’d make you happy and they don’t want that,” Dracaena said, touching his shoulder.
“Or that,” Ominis agreed. “Professor, I deeply appreciate your offer, but if you’re serious, it will take some extremely clever work on your part.”
“I’ve dealt with worse,” Fig had responded with a genial smile that set Dracaena at ease immediately. If there ever was anyone that could do it, Fig was the wizard.
Ominis was less convinced, but the tiny smile on his lips told them that he at least held on to some hope that Fig would come through for them, especially as both Sebastian and Dracaena said they’d only agree to the adoption if Ominis could be a part of it as well.
“Would this make us all siblings?” Sebastian asked.
“Not really,” Ominis replied. “I think of you as my brother anyway, Sebastian, but Dracaena…” he paused, and his cheeks flushed a little. “Well. Forgive me, I’ve known Sebastian longer. I mean no offense., I-I'm quite fond of you, but in a dif-”
“None taken,” she laughed. “Come on, let’s see what trouble we can get into before Fig comes back.”
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Three days later, and all was agreed. None of the trio knew exactly what Fig had done, but one day they were alone, and the next, Fig was their official and legal guardian. He refused to tell them the details of how he managed to convince the Gaunts to relinquish the last of the control that they had over their youngest son, but at the end of the day, he’d done it, and that was all that mattered.
It was surprisingly easy to settle into their new dynamic. Fig joined them for meals at the huge Slytherin table before looking around the echoing, empty space and suggesting that his office might be more suitable for the time being. He asked them about their homework, offered to help them with it, and engaged them all in gentle conversation that never took too serious a turn.
Otherwise, he left them to their own devices, trusting them to behave themselves. At least, behave themselves enough to not get caught. He told them this with a twinkle in his eye, and they grinned.
Halfway through the first week of the holidays, Sebastian woke up in a sombre mood. Now that the curse of the relic had been lifted and enough time had passed for him to fully comprehend his actions, he became more withdrawn and miserable, missing Anne and blaming himself for everything that had happened.
Dracaena sat with her arm around him in their common room as he stared at his feet.
“Talk to Fig,” she urged. “He can help, Seb.”
“I can’t,” he said, miserably. “If he finds out I killed Solomon, he’ll turn me in.”
“No, he won’t,” Dracaena promised. “You don’t have to tell him everything, you know. But Solomon died and Anne’s gone missing. Of course that’s going to have knocked you about a bit, after all you did to try and help her. It's what he’s there for.”
Sebastian sighed, staring at the rug. “But what about you and Ominis?” he said, softly. “Will you be alright without me?”
“Of course,” she leaned in and kissed his cheek, and he jumped, his hand rising to his face, his eyes going wide. “I’m sure we can keep ourselves entertained for a few hours, though we’ll miss you all the same.”
She grinned and left him sitting on the sofa, before collecting Ominis and asking him if he’d like to explore Hogwarts with her for a few hours. He almost leapt at the chance, begging her a few minutes to get ready when he realised that Sebastian was going to be with Fig instead, and they would be alone.
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An hour later, Sebastian found himself outside Fig’s classroom door. It still felt very strange to know that a teacher he’d hardly spoken to over the last few years had decided to adopt him, and he couldn’t help but feel he should be more formal around him. Yes, it would be nice to have the casual, carefree relationship that Dracaena had with him, but he supposed that would take time.
Perhaps he could just spend time in the library instead. It seemed foolish to go and talk to someone he barely knew about all his problems, but he had promised. And Dracaena said it would help. Merlin only knew he needed it right now. At any given moment of the day, he was one wrong look away from bursting into tears or flying into an uncontrollable rage, his emotions barely kept in check. If he wasn’t careful, he’d lose the only two friends he had left in the world.
With a sigh, he entered the classroom and crossed to the office, raising his hand to knock, hoping that Fig would be elsewhere so he could put this off a little longer. How much help would he be, really? He couldn’t tell him everything, he’d end up expelled and on trial, likely ending up in Azkaban. But he’d promised Drac, and his promises to her he valued above all else.
“Ah, Sebastian,” Fig was at his desk, and he smiled genially as Sebastian came in. This was something he had to get used to as well, this new use of his first name. He didn’t think he’d ever heard any of their teachers call him anything but his last name. “Come in my boy, what can I help with?”
Sebastian stood before the desk, his hands clasped in front of him.
“I… I don’t even know where to start,” he managed.
Fig got to his feet.
“Well, that sounds like we could both use a nice cup of tea,” he said, waving his wand and clearing a space on the cluttered sofa for them. “Come and have a seat, take your time now. I usually find that the beginning is the best place to begin.”
Sebastian nodded, hunching over as he sat, his elbows on his knees.
“I guess it starts when Anne got cursed,” he said, softly, then frowned. “No… before. It started when our parents died, and Solomon took us in.”
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Dracaena and Ominis wandered through Hogwarts, their chatter casual and light. She tried to delicately ask how he was feeling after the whole Solomon debacle, but a stiff silence following that question steered her firmly away, and she kept their banter relaxed, poking light fun and allowing him to poke fun at her in return.
Their walk took them all through the halls and corridors, until they came upon a locked door.
Ominis raised a brow as Dracaena drew her wand and tapped the lock. “Usually, a locked door means we’re supposed to keep out,” he said.
“Never stopped me before,” she replied. “Come on, it might be interesting! Do you reckon Black keeps a stack of naughty books in here or something?”
Ominis flushed, spluttering a little as she laughed, but he followed her in with a grin, and they found themselves in a spacious, disused classroom, piled with old boxes, crates and cages.
“This looks interesting,” Dracaena said, approaching a small, decorative box. “Locked again! Damn it.”
Ominis chuckled as she tapped the lock and swore when it didn’t work. “I see you’re not one to be deterred. Tell me, is there a large, flashing sign on it that says ‘hands off?’”
She snorted. “No, but I want to know what’s in it. If it’s jewels or something, we could sell them.”
“You’re the only girl I know that would think of selling jewels instead of wearing them,” Ominis remarked with a smile. “It’s quite refreshing really.” He laughed again as Dracaena tried hitting the lock with a hardcover book, to no avail. “Allow me.”
He eased her gently to one side and pulled a thin piece of wire from his pocket.
“You know the muggle way to pick locks?” he heard her ask, astonishment in her voice.
“When I first came to live with Sebastian, I was determined to defy my parents in every way I could,” he replied, leaning down to the lock and listening as his deft fingers moved the wire into place. “Learning the muggle way to do a lot of things would infuriate them, and there wasn’t anything they could do about it other than send me howlers when I boasted about it.” He chuckled. “Believe me, a howler from them is nothing compared to what else they could do. I got off rather lightly.”
He heard the lock click, and his chest warmed as he heard her admiring gasp beside him. “There,” he said. “Now, tell me what’s insi-”
With a bang and a puff of smoke, something small and electric blue shot out of the box. Dracaena shrieked and Ominis yelped, throwing his hands up. The creature hovered in the air a moment, taking in its surroundings, before its pointed face split into a malicious grin, and it gave a shrill laugh of spiteful delight.
“Pixie!” Dracaena yelped, before it flew at her, smacking her in the forehead and sending her tumbling backwards. Ominis spun, but it grabbed his cloak and threw it over his head before shooting down and tripping him up. He fell with a shout, and Dracaena grabbed for her wand, spitting her hair out of her mouth. She shot a freezing charm, but the pixie dodged, upending a metal wastepaper basket on her head then clanging into the side of it, making her head ring like a bell.
She pushed the bin off in time to see the pixie dart out the open door, its piercing laughter fading as it zoomed down the corridor and out of sight.
Ominis sat up, hissing under his breath as he righted his cloak.
“Where is that little blighter? I’m going to tear it’s damn head off!” he spat.
“Gone,” Dracaena said, and they shared a worried look. “Ominis, if that thing’s loose in the castle…”
“Oh, Merlin,” he said. “We’ve got to find it.”
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Sebastian sighed, his hands clasped in his lap, his gaze on the floor. A cup of tea balanced on the arm of the sofa beside him, untouched. Professor Fig sat at the other end, one knee crossed over the other, his attention unwavering as Sebastian described his childhood in cold, clinical detail, trying his best not to let any emotion cloud his factual account of what he suffered at Solomon’s hands.
“Anne was always the favourite,” he said. “Not that I minded, but it was always me that got the brunt of things whenever he was annoyed. And then when Anne got cursed…” he paused, wondering how best to detail what happened without turning into a blubbering mess. He sighed. Cold and clinical. That was safest. “Well. It got worse. Solomon didn’t want to help her. He never really tried. He turned me away every time I had a new idea, and it was up to me to save my sister. Dracaena helped, but…” he paused again, and shot a quick look at Fig. He’d said nothing the entire time Sebastian had spoken, but he was listening intently. He turned away and picked up his tea, grimacing when he sipped and found it cold. “Well. To cut a long story short I tried everything to help her, but Solomon… got fed up of it. He tried to stop me again, and ended up… overexerting himself. He died, and Anne blames me. I don’t know where she is now.”
The lie was bitter on his tongue, but it was better than the poison of the truth. Only he, Dracaena and Ominis knew what had really happened, and he rubbed his chest, wondering if the stories about the killing curse were true, and he’d somehow damaged his soul beyond repair.
“That sounds like an extraordinarily difficult life,” Fig said, speaking at last. “You have my sympathy, Sebastian. Such events would break a wizard twice your age, and yet here you are, still standing strong.” He shifted, and placed a comforting hand on the young Slytherin’s shoulder. “If you keep a level head, you’ll come out even stronger on the other side. The most important lessons in life are often hard, but if you can learn from them, then it’s not time that’s been completely wasted. Of course, we’d all prefer it if life was bright and easy each and every day, but one cannot appreciate the beauty of the dawn if the night didn’t come before it.”
“I suppose,” Sebastian said, his hand still resting on his chest, his fingertips pushing into his shirt, four points of sharp pressure. “But… Professor, I’ve been wondering…” he bit his lip, wondering how best to phrase the concern within him, and decided to make Solomon a scapegoat once again. “Do unforgivable curses really damage someone’s soul? Uncle Solomon left the Ministry because he used them against a Dark wizard, and…” his heart jolted painfully, and he winced. “What will become of him?”
What will become of me?
Fig sat back, running his hand over his grey stubble.
“The truth is, no one really knows what happens to a wizard’s soul after they pass on,” he said. “It is one of the great mysteries of life, and it’s entirely possible that damage to one’s soul using Dark Magic is simply a cautionary tale told to us to ensure none stray down such a path. That said,” he continued, as Sebastian’s heart leapt and plummeted almost in the same instant. “There are enough accounts and research to suggest it might be the case.”
Sebastian’s throat tightened, and he turned to the older man, his eyes wide.
“How do you fix it?” he asked, desperately. Too desperately. Fig’s brows moved a fraction, as if some suspicion had lit in his mind, and Sebastian tried to cover. “I just don’t want my uncle to suffer, that’s all.”
Another lie. Solomon could burn in every circle of hell for all Sebastian cared, but he had to maintain this façade, or he’d be in terrible trouble.
“A remarkably mature outlook,” Fig said, after a beat. “Most would wish harm on someone that tormented them so.”
Sebastian looked away, guilt plain on his face, but Fig smiled.
“If you’re concerned, Sebastian, then consider this. There is a way to ensure one’s soul repairs itself, but it’s difficult.”
“What?” Sebastian spun back to him.
“Remorse,” Fig said, and Sebastian’s brows went up. “True remorse for whatever curse they cast will repair the soul of a Dark wizard, though I expect there are few that are capable of such a thing.”
“I… yeah, I guess,” Sebastian said, relief sweeping through him like a wave. He was remorseful, he regretted ever teaching himself those damned curses, teaching them to Dracaena, and worse, using them. All they’d done is brought pain and suffering, and he’d learned far too late that they were Unforgivable for a reason. How he wished none of this had ever happened, and what he would give to take back what he’d done.
He lowered his head once more, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. Fig patted him on the back.
“We all make mistakes,” he said, gently. “And all of us can be forgiven. Nothing in the world is ever black and white, Sebastian. I’m sure that whatever happened, your uncle is at rest and at peace. Anne will come around, in time. You're a bright man, Sebastian, and I firmly believe you're capable of incredible things. Everything will be alright in the end, you'll see.”
“I hope so,” Sebastian said, thickly, and got to his feet. “I think… I think I’m gonna go to the library. Get some work done.”
“I’ll be here,” Fig said. “I’ll always be here if you need me, son.”
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Ominis and Dracaena hid behind a bookcase in the library, the latter peeking between the books at the trap they’d set, Ominis listening hard for any sound of the pixie’s shrill voice. They’d chased it high and low over the castle for the last hour, following a trail of destruction that even Peeves was incapable of, outsmarted at every turn as they tried to catch and subdue the little blue hellion. They were both bruised, and Dracaena’s robes were singed from when the pixie had dropped a lit torch on her, saved only by Ominis’ remarkably quick thinking as he pushed her into a nearby fountain.
She eyed the trap. It was a simple and very muggle in its design, with the hope that a magical creature would be less wary of something non-magical. It consisted of a small bag with a the label ‘EXTREMELY IMPORTANT, DO NOT TOUCH, NO PIXIES’ written on it that rested on a tiny pressure plate. Once the pixie landed on the plate to get at the bag, it would trigger the trap, and it would be caught.
They’d propped the door to the library open, and had been lying in wait ever since, hoping the pixie hadn’t caused too much trouble in the meantime.
They tensed as a high-pitched, piercing laugh echoed from somewhere beyond the library, and the pixie zoomed in, ignoring the trap completely and shooting to a nearby shelf, where it began to yank books out of their places, opening them and shredding the pages, flinging the bits of parchment high in the air.
“What the hell?”
Dracaena and Ominis flinched as the pixie stopped shredding books, all of them turning to find Sebastian in the doorway, staring in utter horror at the ruined tomes.
“You little fucker!” Sebastian yelped, lurching forward, drawing his wand.
“No!” Dracaena and Ominis yelled together, as Sebastian stepped right into the trap.
There was a second in which Dracaena believed the trap might have failed, as nothing happened. Then the pressure plate clicked, and the cloth under that was flung up by the corners, wrapping around Sebastian’s foot and yanking him into the air with a yell. He dangled upside down by his ankle, kicking and waving his arms as the pixie shrieked in fury and zoomed towards him, battering him about the head with a book.
“Diffindo!” Ominis yelled, and the rope holding Sebastian was severed. He fell with a yelp, crumpling to the floor as Dracaena leapt out from their hiding place and set off in hot pursuit of the pixie as it hurtled out of the library, heading for the greenhouses, her best friends following.
They heard the pixie clunking off the glass of the greenhouse walls and ceiling before they even got inside, but when they did, they were met with pandemonium. The pixie had somehow managed to unleash all of Garlick’s most dangerous plants, and a young Devil’s Snare was creeping across the floor, trying to hide in the shadows under the worktables, a few Venomous Tentacula were waving their tendrils threateningly, and a whole crate of Chinese Chomping Cabbages had been unleashed, rolling across the greenhouse floor, directly towards them.
“Freeze it!” Dracaena yelled, firing Glacius at the pixie again. Ominis roared as a cabbage sunk its teeth into his calf, and he kicked it right into the back of Sebastian’s head completely by accident, upsetting his aim and causing him to freeze one of the Tentaculas instead.
The pixie doubled up in midair, laughing uproariously, before shooting out of the Greenhouse and away.
“Come on!” Dracaena shouted, dragging her friends by the collar as they fired hexes at the advancing plants. They swiftly barricaded the door and leaned against it, panting.
“What on earth are you three up to?” a gently inquisitive voice said.
The trio jumped, turning to face Professor Fig, who had a mildly bemused and entertained expression on his face.
“Nothing,” they all said, far too quickly, and Fig laughed.
“I’ve been a teacher far too long,” he admonished them gently. “Ominis, you’re bleeding, Dracaena, you’re singed, and Sebastian, what happened to your hair?”
Sebastian glowered and swiped at the Cabbage spit.
“You’re not in trouble,” Fig said. “What’s going on?”
“Um…” Dracaena glanced at Ominis, who was busy hissing and inspecting the bite on his leg. “There’s a small chance we might have accidentally unleased a pixie.”
Fig chuckled. “Just the one.”
“Yeah.”
“I suppose it could have been worse,” he said, pointing his wand at Ominis’ calf and murmuring Episkey. “It could have been a whole swarm. Come on you three, let’s catch the little bugger.”
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It took most of the rest of the day, but with Professor Fig’s help, the trio managed to corner and capture the pixie, much to it’s fury. They stuffed it back in it’s box, locked it tight and threw it in the Black Lake, before marching through the castle and trying to fix the damage it had done. It was gone ten o’clock in the evening by the time they all returned to Fig’s office, and he brought out several bottles of butterbeer, leaning on his desk as the trio flopped to the sofa.
“I must say, I expected some tomfoolery when I took you on,” he said, with a smile. “But unleashing a pixie? Am I to assume you’ve begun as you mean to continue?”
“Probably,” Dracaena said, her shoulders pressed between Sebastian and Ominis’. “Trouble does seem to have a habit of finding me, sir.”
Fig laughed. “I’m only sir in front of other students and professors,” he said, with a wink. “Any more trouble, you three, let me know about it. You won’t be in trouble, I was rather the scamp in my youth as well, you know, and I’d like to make sure you all finish the holidays with all your limbs still intact.”
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icallhimjoey · 1 year
Text
In 120 Hours
♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader
Summary: You work as a temp and are offered a very exclusive interview for a very exclusive job. You see, someone needs a personal assistant for a very eventful week, and you happen to be the perfect fit.
CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, drinking, rpf, fem!reader
Author’s note: part four! this is where we get unprofessional, but, you know, it's not just you. for all my new readers, know that my joey is soft joey first and foremost - if you were waiting for some filthy smut, im sorry to disappoint!
Wordcount: 4.5K
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part one - part two - part three - part four - part five
At 6AM sharp you grabbed the remote control from Joe’s bedside table and turned his TV off before placing a cup of coffee down.
“Get up, Joe,”
You were still in pyjamas yourself, bedhead, barefooted, voice groggy and sleep still stuck in the corners of your eyes. On your way out of Joe’s bedroom, you said, “We’re leaving in about thirty minutes,” and then didn’t get a response.
You stopped in the doorway, looked back and couldn’t help but imagine what sleeping in that big bed with Joe would be like. The bed looked like it was a twelve-year-old Ikea piece that had been taken apart and put back together too many times - like it would wobble unsteadily any time someone in the bed would turn over. Good thing his new bed was coming in today.
You found the switch for the big light, slapped it, and flushed the room with bright white, hurting your own eyes as well as probably Joe’s.
“Joe?”
Then a thumbs up shot up from the big pile of white duvet, and you scoffed, huffed a laugh, and said “Coffee’s on your bedside table, we’re having breakfast at the shoot.”
In the car on the way over it was quiet. You were both freshly showered, and you’d even had the time to blow dry your hair, but it was still early, and the both of you were still tired. You imagined it was mostly because of the loud TV – there was no way Joe was getting any better sleep than you were with that thing blaring. At least your new earplugs worked just fine and you’d managed to get a lot more sleep than the night before.
The morning felt a little heavy, because with all the driving around London, getting to see so much of it, you had started thinking about why you hadn’t actually moved back yet. Memories of your ex wanting to move away, back to his hometown, his estranged nan dying and leaving him the house... it felt like you’d hit the jackpot at the time. And your family was relatively close too, so it was fine. But you’d had real withdrawal symptoms from leaving the city, and now that you were no longer actually with him, you tried to think of reasons why you’d bought a flat in his hometown after you broke up, but you came up empty.
“Are you all right?”
You looked at Joe whose eyebrows quirked, giving away a polite bit of worry.
“There’s going to be a lot of deliveries today, I’m doing mental math to figure out how I’m going to do this,” you lied in truths. “And I’m really hungry.”
Joe was asked to go to a workshop after the photoshoot, just for an encouraging word, nothing insane, but it meant you were going to be rushing a bit. After the appearance at the workshop, there’d be a phone interview, and then there’d be another screening.
Joe sighed.
“I don’t want to be rude and skip it, but, I kind of want to skip the film screenings today,”
“You’ll still have to go to be seen, talk to some people,”
“Yea, don’t really want to do that either,”
You paused, looked over Joe’s schedule, at how many things there were, saw that tomorrow was his film premiere with the Q&A straight after, and then the day after that, the awards ceremony. You understood the want for a short break, looked at Joe and said, “Let’s have breakfast first, before you make any rash decisions,”
But then Joe smiled wistfully, and you knew this wasn’t a rash decision at all.
Fine.
You could come up with a vague excuse for him, no problem.
A busy morning passed you by, and you'd made a deal with Joe’s driver. You said he could have the evening off if he would go back to Joe’s house to sign for furniture deliveries, and then you’d call if you needed him to come pick you up and bring you somewhere else.
A tricky deal because this was power you definitely didn’t yield. But Joe had said he didn’t want to go to the screenings, which effectively meant that he wouldn’t need to be brought anywhere from the workshop forward.
You were lucky the driver seemed to like you, with a sneaky wink and a small smile, the driver dropped you off, accepted the front door key you handed him and drove right back to Joe’s address.
And then you spent the whole photoshoot on the phone to him, because the men moving the furniture in had also been paid to place all pieces in the correct rooms, and then when you heard the driver walk up all the stairs, you felt like you were crossing a thousand boundaries letting all these people into Joe’s house without you or Joe being there.
“They want to take the big bed out of the master bedroom,”
“Yea sure, can they disassemble it and leave it in another room on the first floor? Just so it’s out of the way. We can maybe use it for another guest room, or whatever, don’t let them take it away. Wait. They can take the mattress; can they take the mattress? There’ll be new ones coming in. Not having to haul that thing off ourselves will be a huge help.”
“Yes, ma’am,”
You crossed your fingers that everything would work out fine, and that you weren’t going to walk into a huge unfixable mess of a house later that day.
Joe basically had a full day of picture taking. The shoot was obviously very camera heavy, but the appearance at the workshop was basically a fan meeting in and of itself. It was all teenagers who either already went to film school, or really wanted to go to film school, and Joe was the only big celebrity that people who weren’t into film would also recognize in a selfie. So, they all wanted selfies, and who was Joe to tell them no?
On the way back to Joe’s house in the late afternoon, you asked him if he wanted to do the scheduled phone interview, and just when Joe was about to say something snarky about you asking him if he wanted to, you had the phone already ringing for him.
Joe narrowed his eyes at you with a small sneaky smile, and started a mild insult, “You little– hello!” but wasn’t able to finish because someone picked up on the other end. You grinned, couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your throat, and this time, Joe didn’t grab your knee to squeeze, but his fingers found your forearm to scratch before he focused all his attention on the lady on the phone who asked him questions about previous and upcoming projects.
Deep breaths, everyone. It was just a scratch. One that made your belly somersault, but you know, t’was just a little scratch. Nothing major. Shit. You had to calm down.
When you rounded the corner into Joe’s street, it was time to face the music. See what state the house was left in by the delivery men.
Downstairs in the living room, there were three rolled up rugs, still in its plastic packaging, a new TV unit, another sideboard that was meant to become a little bar area for Joe, and there were large ceiling lights, still in their boxes – no sofa yet. In the dining room, next to the clothing racks, were ten dining room chairs, lights and a long shelf – no table yet.
You knew upstairs Joe’s new bed would’ve been delivered, and you were about to tell him about it, but stepping into the kitchen you could see Joe hunched over the counter, reading a script, and munching on a banana.
When he saw you, he looked up and asked, “Do you mind if I go sit in your room to read this?”
Your room.
“Of course not, go ahead, it’s your house.”
And Joe left you alone. Which was great actually. It’d give you time to unpack furniture, drag things into their right spots and, you know, see your vision come to life a little. You texted Joe’s management a weak excuse for Joe not going to the film screenings or the industry happy hour that day and got to work.
At 6PM you called, “Joe, you hungry? Should I order some food?” up the stairs. You heard movement, saw him appear at the top and he said, “I’ll cook us something,” as he made his way down.
You watched him jog all the way down, and when stood next to you at the bottom, he gave you a confused look, asked, “What?”
You looked down at his hands.
“How are your wrists doing?”
Joe looked down as well, rotated both hands, completely unsure of what you meant.
“Because you’ve got a lot of signing to do tonight,”
About two hours later, all furniture had been unpacked, all plastic and cardboard had been sorted and taken out, Joe’s clothing racks had found a new home in an empty room upstairs and you had both eaten a beautiful home-cooked meal.
Because there was no sofa and no dining table yet, the two of you found yourselves on the floor, laid out on one of Joe’s new rugs. You were passing Joe photographs of himself in costume, one by one, and Joe signed the same squiggly ‘Joe’ on all of them, laying on his side, hanging into one of his shoulders.
It was boring assembly line work. But there was wine. A lot of wine. And music. Although, you had real strong doubts about the playlist Joe’d put on, but whatever, people liked different things. It was fine.
“If someone had told you five years ago that you’d be signing five thousand pictures of yourself the night before your film would premier at the London Film Festival, would you have believed them?”
“The person I was five years ago was a lot more confident than you’d think,” Joe said, having a sip of wine, giving his hand a 5 second break from holding the sharpie before getting right back into the routine. Dangerous game this, having red wine on a brand-new rug.
“I probably wouldn’t have believed them, not deep down, but I would’ve definitely pretended they’d been right,” Joe continued.
“Sort of, blind confidence, you’d have been like, me? oh yeah,”
“Yea, me? famous in five years? yes, absolutely,”
You both laughed.
You had a nice rhythm going, working in a big triangle. You would slide a photo over to Joe from his left, Joe would sign it, and slide it away from him to your left, where they all gathered in a huge pile that you’d later organize into neat stacks to go back into the boxes. But there were so many photographs, you’d no idea how you were going to finish them all with tomorrow and the day after being busy days.
“You’re a fidgeter,” Joe suddenly said, and you immediately stilled your fingers and balled your hands into fists.
“I’m a fidgeter?” emphasis on the I, you reached for your wine and took a sip, giving Joe some accusatory eyes. You’d seen Joe fidget his way through his days – thumbs finding the underside of his rings, teeth biting into the skin of his lips, sweaty palms being rubbed over his knees, whatever there was left of his nails scratching into his scruff... you wondered if there was anything left of the confident Joe from five years ago he’d just described.
“I’m not saying that I’m not, I’m just saying that you clearly are too,”
You looked at your hand – at your ring, and kind of wished it would’ve just reminded you of your grandmother by now, but it didn’t. Of course, it didn’t. Would it ever?
“That’s a nice ring,” Joe observed, making polite conversation, but carefully, because your face would do this thing whenever you looked at it, or touched it, and Joe didn’t like how he’d lose you for a second.
“Thanks, it um... it used to belong to my grandmother,”
And that’s when Joe thought he understood.
“I’m so sorry,”
You looked up and saw two ridiculously empathetic eyes look at you, displaying far too much pure, raw emotion, especially because it was totally misplaced, too.
“Oh no, she’s alive still. Very alive. Probably making a poor kid behind a bar somewhere cry because he’s mixed her drink wrong,” you chuckled, but it died quick, got stuck in the back of your throat somewhere as it constricted. And Joe didn’t speak, which, honestly, if he’d really been this kind dude that he was portraying to be, he would’ve said something by now so you didn’t feel the need to fill the silence yourself.
But he didn’t. And now you were going to have to share personal information about yourself.
You waited a second longer, looked at Joe to see if maybe he was going to say something, but he’d stopped signing, even capped the sharpie, and just looked at you.
Fuck.
“No um, so, this used to belong to my grandmother, and then she gave it to my boyfriend to propose to me with it, and he did, but then, that... we didn’t work out, so, I’m not engaged anymore, but I can’t give the ring back to him, can I? It used to be my nan’s!”
You were rambling a little, not making eye contact as you reached for the bottle of wine to refill your glass. Surely Joe had left it out here because the expectation was that you were going to finish it, right?
“My nan’s, not his... so I turned it into a normal ring, started wearing it on another finger, and now I... I kind of wear it to prove to myself that it’s something that ties me and my nan closer together, and it's not, you know, the engagement ring my ex-boyfriend gave to me,”
You moved the bottle over to Joe’s glass, and he gave it a small nudge to get it closer to you for a top up.
“But it just, it obviously just reminds me of him all the time... I’ve convinced myself there’s going to be a moment where it won’t, and maybe that will actually be the case, at some point,” you were talking with your hands, waving the bottle around and it made Joe reach a fearful hand over. That was red wine, and you were on a new rug.
“Oh, sorry,”
You knew how expensive this rug was, too.
“Go on,” Joe said softly, as he silently slid your glass away from you a little too.
“No, um, yea...” You shook your head to get back on track. “It’s not been that long anyway, so who knows. I don’t want to give up on it yet, it’s just stupid that it was an engagement ring before it was anything else to me, you know?”
Joe nodded, asked, “How long has it been?”
“About a month and a half,”
“Since you broke up?”
“Um no, since I secretly bought myself my own flat.” You huffed out a laugh. You knew it wasn’t funny, but you also knew that you sounded like a clinically insane person.
Joe didn't look at you as if you were crazy, but he also didn't say anything.
“I knew,” you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. “I knew it wasn’t going to work out. I should’ve never said yes, I should’ve never – honestly, I should’ve never even moved out of London for him, but you know... things happen.”
You slid another photograph of Eddie over to Joe, and it prompted Joe to uncap this sharpie again, sign the one that was still in front of him before moving onto the next. Slower pace now though.
“I only ended the engagement last week,”
“You had your own flat for over a month and he didn’t know?”
“Yep. No clue.” you smiled a painful smile, then cleared your throat. “So, that’s why I’m single.”
Another photo for Joe. Another sip of wine for you.
“What about you?”
“Why am I single?” Joe’s eyes shot up at you, a little playful smile underneath.
“Why do you fidget, you idiot,”
Joe laughed.
“But sure, that too. What’s got you all fucked up inside?”
Joe then grinned, silently signed a few more photographs, then took a deep breath and closed his sharpie again before leaning down further, head now supported by his hand.
“At the risk of sounding like the biggest twat ever,”
“Okay wait,”
You moved, positioned yourself to lay on your stomach, feet up behind you, leaning heavily into your shoulders, ready to listen.
“I’m ready, go,”
Joe laughed silently, then nodded to himself, and said, “You know how fizzy drinks, sparkling drinks, how they go flat if you leave them out long enough?”
Fantastic. An actor using a metaphor.
“Yes,”
“That’s kind of... that’s kind of what tends to happen with me. I’ll really like something, or someone, and then... it loses the bubbles. And I don’t like coke without any bubbles in, you know? I’d rather not drink it, just, get something else instead.” Joe groaned as he heard himself say it. “I don’t mean, I don’t – you know, I don’t shove someone out and just get someone new in immediately, that’s not...” Joe didn't finish the sentence.
You looked at Joe for a second, then clicked your tongue.
“Easy fix, you’ve just got to stop going around and leaving bottles uncapped,”
And Joe laughed. Threw his head back and let the rest of his body follow, rolling onto his back, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. “What? Tell me I’m wrong!” you challenged him.
“Well, I can’t keep all the bottles closed the whole time either, can I? I’ve got to fill up some glasses,”
Joe was slowly losing you with this metaphor.
“Sure, so, fill up a glass, put the cap back on, and back in the fridge it goes!”
A more tentative silenced followed next. Joe flipped back onto his side and reached for his wine.
“Or maybe we could just have wine forever.”
Your conversation carried on, and you talked about all different kinds of things. Joe had you explain the full vision you had for the room you were in, had you dart around gesturing where the sofa would go, which light had to be hung where, what paint colours to use for each wall, which Joe had to get painters in for, because these ceiling are too high to do that safely yourself, buddy. And Joe said he loved it, but you didn’t believe him, because Joe didn’t seem like the guy who could visualize the way you could. He’d confessed being bad at that when it came to his outfits, how was he ever going to convince you that he could do it for his interior? But fine. You could accept a compliment, even if it didn’t mean anything. They were kind words anyway.
When you finished the bottle of wine, Joe asked what time you needed to wake up tomorrow, and it wasn’t until 10 that a stylist would come over with clothing for the premier, so you said 9AM and Joe promptly opened the second bottle before sitting back down and filled up both your glasses once more before getting back into signing.
There was a brief moment where Joe tried to teach you how to forge his signature so you could help, but it was very obvious which ones you’d done, so that plan was quickly given up on.
And when that second bottle was nearing its end as well, somehow, the conversation lulled back onto singledom, and you talked about how being single was actually really quite nice.
You had all this time to yourself, no one to answer to. The place would actually be quiet for once. No mess from other people to clean up after – fully ignoring your current temp job in the moment, you’d been cleaning up after Joe all evening – and no person to yell at you for making a mess.
But then it quickly took a turn, and you both became sarcastic.
“It’s great having dinner by yourself all the time,” Joe spoke into his glass.
“Waking up in empty beds is so fine,” you gulped your last sip down.
“Going out and being the only single one in your group of people is not weird at all,”
“13th wheeling is so fun, isn’t it?”
“Oh, the best,”
“It’s great reaching for a hand to hold in bed and finding that the only other hand in there is your own other hand,” you said, and Joe winced at that, laughed because that felt too real.
“And it’s easy to fight off any loneliness by just turning on the TV to pretend there’s people around and you’re not so fucking alone all of the time,”
And you gasped a sad breath, making Joe freeze just as he was about to take his last sip, and he pointed a finger.
“No, don’t,”
“Oh no... you have that TV blaring because...”
“Don’t,”
“Because you’re lonely?” Your eyebrows couldn’t possibly knit together any further. “Joe, that’s really sad,” you said, but you burst out laughing straight after.
“Yea, well,” Joe emptied his glass, let the last bit of red slide down his throat. “At least I don’t hold my own fucking hand in bed,”
You erupted into full belly laughter. Just, raw joy from the deepest pits within you. It all bubbled up and out, and you laughed until you couldn’t anymore because it started to hurt your stomach too much. You were tipsy, sure, but you hadn’t been able to laugh at yourself like this in ages. Felt great. Sort of cleansing, in a way.
You’d not even gotten through half a box of photographs.
Time for bed.
There was something nice about tidying up before bed, moving things into the kitchen, turning off all the lights and walking up the stairs together. You said goodnight as you walked into the guest room, and Joe made his way up another flight, but you’d only just taken your socks off when Joe called down for you.
“Um... I think we have a problem?”
Joe’s bed.
You ran up the stairs and found Joe, staring at his new bed. Flat-packed, still. There were dressers, nice armchairs, and bedside tables too. But all still in boxes. Wrapped in plastic. New mattresses nowhere to be found.
Shit.
You’d forgotten all about Joe’s bedroom, and the two of you just stared at it for a moment, trying to think of what to do.
“Take the guest room,” you suddenly said, opting a very sensible solution. “I’ll go... I don’t know, find a hotel to stay at for the night,” But then Joe was already scooping up his pillows that had been left in a pile on the side, and said, “Or, we could pillow-wall it?”  
After asking maybe fifteen times if you felt comfortable, if you were okay with this, if you really were fine, which, “Yes, Joe, shut up, this bed is massive, I won’t even feel it if you turn,” you were in bed together with Joe’s pillows strategically placed in between you underneath the covers. Like you were children who both thought the other was gross and touching each other in your sleep would be the death of you. It was fine. Cute even, but you kind of wished they weren’t there. They had to be. Obviously. You were his PA. Ew, gross. Were you getting paid to sleep in the same bed? Technically you were, weren’t you? Disgusting - that was a thought to push down immediately and to forget about forever.
You were right about the bed, though. It really was wide enough for you to move around freely and not have it be weird. But, you know, it was still a little weird. And you were both a little awkward about it, so you found solace in humour as you got comfortable in the dark.
“If someone had told you a five years ago,” Joe started, and already had you giggling. “That you’d be sleeping in the same bed with me, would you have believed them?” Joe asked, and you could hear how he tried to hold back his own giggles.
You were two ten-year-olds at a slumber party, that's exactly what this felt like.
“You were nobody five years ago,” you laughed. “I would’ve gone, who?”
“Who the fuck’s Joe Quinn?” Joe said in a high-pitched voice.
“I’d also probably say, that won’t ever happen, I would never let my boss talk me into bed with him,”
“Oi, fuck off,” Joe laughed. “I’m only here because you fucked up,”
Oof, shots fired over the pillow wall.
“I’m sorry there’s no TV in here for you to deafen your own sad thoughts with,” you fired right back.
“Good night,” Joe spoke sternly, and then you both laughed until silence took over.
“Good night,” you then said back in a softer tone of voice and turned over onto your side. Joe yawned, said good night in a nice way too, indicating that it really was time to sleep now. No more chatting, no more joking. Just silence, and sleep.
You didn’t know how much later it was when you suddenly snapped out of thought – one of those moments where you were like, oh I’m still awake? I could’ve sworn my thoughts were dreams – by something touching your wrist.
“Stop fidgeting,” you heard Joe whisper drowsily, his voice muffled by duvets and pillows. He’d snuck an arm over to your side and let his fingers wrap around your wrist. Almost in a reflex, you twisted in his grip and took hold of his wrist too.
You laid like that for a little while, until you had the thought that, if you were to fall asleep, your grip would loosen and you’d lose each other. You didn’t know why that pained your chest the way it did, but it was enough for you to move your hand down, fit it into his, and Joe followed your lead as your fingers laced together. You inhaled a sharp breath, and you felt Joe squeeze tightly. You could cry at how comforting this was.
“Don’t let go of it,” you whispered into the dark.
“I won’t.”
And without trying to overthink about how you’d gotten here, which steps you’d taken throughout the past three days that lead up to this moment, you fell into a deep sleep, sunk all the way into the plush softness of the bed, holding hands with Joe, with only fifty-six hours on the clock still.
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