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elysiadjarin · 3 years ago

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Day 6: Hand Kink

Day 6 of Kinktober! Already almost a week in, huh… I figured I’d dip into the rich Japanese side of mythology this time. I hope this is an acceptable tribute… Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ content ONLY. Trigger warnings for violence mentioned including physical assault, some family abuse dynamics, implied sexual assault (does not actually happen), and mild descriptions of death. Also sexual content including soft dom themes, PinV unprotected sex, entirely consensual.

Tags: Beast Youkai x reader, fox spirit x reader, exophilia, terato

Small Sun Showers

“It’s such a small thing, really.”

You slid the bag you’d brought into the hollow of the old tree. Avoiding the ropes strung around, you carefully sat on the rock next to the tree.

“I brought you some sweet buns, this time, with poppy seeds,” you said, ignoring the comment that had come from the dark hollow. “Since you said you missed some of the herbs.”

The sound of crinkling came from the hole, followed by the sounds of munching. “Attentive to me, as always, sweet one,” the disembodied voice cooed, though a moment later burning orange eyes stared at you from the darkness.

You studiously avoided the gaze, looking down at the grass under your feet. A sliver of shadow from the abandoned warehouse nearby fell over you, giving you some shade from the warm sun. As always, you didn’t respond to the epithets. You never did.

“How is the temple doing?” The voice asked.

“It’s fine,” you answered, almost automatically. “The festival is coming up soon, so everyone is excited.”

“And yet you do not, hmm?” The eyes tilted, as though the head had cocked at her curiously.

Your eyes slid away, more towards the forest beyond the tree. Unconsciously, your fingers tugged at the long sleeves you wore, despite the warm weather.

“I’m a little nervous,” you admitted. “As a Shrine Maiden, I’m supposed to be doing the Miko Kagura. I’ve been practicing, but…”

“You wear long sleeves again.” A hint of suspicion crept into the voice.

Despite yourself, you flinched. “I— I’m just-“

A low growl issued from the tree. “A spirit has been harassing you again, hasn’t it. Why haven’t you called an exorcist? Or told your Father, the Priest?”

You turned your head away. “It’s been contracted by someone else,” you admitted, voice thin. “I… can’t tell Papa.”

A pause. “Because it was bought at a high price.” A sneer laced the voice. “Then how do you plan to get rid of it? You can’t hold it off forever yourself. And it’s already injured you, hasn’t it.”

You shook your head. “I’ll find out a way. I can’t bother anyone else with it.” Your eyes slid closed, the bruises mottled up your arm throbbing.

“Or you could create a contract with something far more powerful,” came the slick purr. “If you’d only break the talisman, I would make a contract with you, sweet one.” The sealed beast offered, for not the first time.

“You are a beast youkai,” you answered, voice steady. “It is against your nature to bind yourself to anyone, much less become the guardian spirit of a small temple.” You reminded both him and yourself.

“Unless we have reason. Even the mightiest of beasts might be swayed by beauty such as yours.”

A bitter smile twisted your lips as you turned your face away. You? As if. The beast youkai only even spoke to you because you gave it food and paid attention to it out of your own loneliness, not because it somehow cared about you. You couldn’t bring yourself to really believe that.

With a soft sigh, you plucked at your sleeves. “What do you want me to bring you next time?”

But the voice stayed quiet for a moment. When it spoke again, something in its voice had changed. “Do you truly not believe me? I do not lie when I say that I would bind myself to you. I would never let you be injured. I would protect you, like your family cannot. I would hold you close,” the voice said, a dreamy tone in its voice, “and I would shower you with everything you deserve.”

You fought the tears that welled in your eyes as you abruptly stood, grabbing your bag. “If you don’t have any requests, I’ll just bring anything,” you interrupted, struggling to make sure your voice didn’t waver.

A sigh, so soft that you wondered if it were only the wind. “A meat bun.”

You nodded, then headed back down the hillside towards home. Reaching up, you angrily smeared your tears from your cheeks, breath hitching on your sobs.

You could never allow yourself to believe the words of a youkai, much less a powerful and dangerous one like him. No matter how sweet his words, how genuine they sounded… Everyone always lied to you. He would be no exception.

You tried to ignore the little part of you that wondered if maybe, just maybe, dying at the hands of the youkai would be better than continuing the misery of your life.

“Fouuuund youuuu.” A yawning mouth sprang from the darkness, black eyes fixed with crazed bloodlust on your body.

You dropped to the floor, scrambling across the hardwood to slide towards the doorway. Leaping back up, you ran for your life. Your breaths came fast and shallow as you blindly ran, tripping through the dark halls of the temple. Behind you, you could hear cackling laughter as its talons scrabbled after you.

You reached out your hand, then burst though the main doors, stumbling across the stones out front. Looking up, you froze.

An entire group of men stood in front of you, all staring at you with leering, jeering faces. The one in the front, the one your brain automatically assumed was the leader, stepped forwards.

“Well, well. Would you look at that.” He grinned, his eyes sliding over your shoulder.

Something grabbed your arm, wrenching you back. You stifled a cry, sinking your teeth into your lip as claws brutally dug into the bruises already all up your arm. The spirit held you, its tight grip almost unbearable.

“I guess the boy must really hate his family, huh?” the man sneered, hands in his pockets as he stared at you down his nose. Reaching out with his foot, he kicked at you like some sort of trash. “To think that he’d offer his own younger sister in exchange for his debts.”

Your heart sank. Of course. Your brother who had gotten into debt with the yakuza. Of course he’d offer you: the only girl, the precious little shrine maiden.

Sadly enough, it didn’t even surprise you. But at least now you figured out why the spirit had haunted you in particular so insistently, and how much trouble you were in. Which, you snorted bitterly to yourself, was a lot. Probably at risk of your life, at best.

A wild thought flashed through your head, desperate but somehow… insistent. Your eyes briefly scanned the crowd of men. You were smaller than most of them, and probably in better shape at this point. If you managed to get a brief head start, you weren’t too far away— enough to maybe be able to get there just fast enough. But you’d have to immobilize the spirit first, at least temporarily.

Thickly, you swallowed, closing your eyes and breathing in deeply. You had enough. Just enough for one— Your other hand landed on the spirit’s as your eyes flew open. The spirit let out a piercing shriek, letting go of you as the searing spiritual energy burst through your palm. You didn’t hesitate.

Breaking into a dead sprint, you headed straight for the hill behind the temple. Behind you, you could hear the angry shouts of the men as they started after you. You pushed yourself, ignoring it, taking as many shortcuts as you could, heart pounding in your ears as you gasped for air. Your legs were starting to ache, and you could hear them gaining on you; but the warehouse was in sight.

Skidding around the corner, you ran straight for the tree. Your hand reached for the talisman.

When the yakuza men caught up to you, they found you kneeling at the base of the tree, a shattered seal at your feet.

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you whispered into the hollow. “Please… if you help me, just this once… I’ll give you myself in exchange,” you promised weakly.

“It’s too late now, little girl,” the boss sneered, starting to step towards you. “You’re coming with us.”

But before he could say anything more or another move was made, a dark mist began to swirl around the area. Shouts of confusion arose as the mist covered everything, too dark to see through, almost too dark to even move in safely. A low, grating laugh spilled from the darkness, just as you felt yourself being lifted up.

Startled, you gasped softly and clung to the solidity you could feel under your fingers. Lips parted, you stared at the familiar orange eyes that slowly materialized in front of you. A wide, fanged grin split the darkness underneath the eyes; and slowly, a body started to emerge from the swirling dark mist.

“Well hello there, my sweet one,” the familiar voice cooed. Long, pitch black hair tied in a low ponytail framed a pale face. The beast youkai, one that you now recognized as a Fox, held you effortlessly in one arm, pulling you close to his chest. He towered above the ground, dwarfing you in every way possible. His entire hand curled around almost your entire thigh.

You swallowed. “H-hello,” you whispered tremulously, not even sure what to think at this point.

“You released me,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on you. He leaned forward, and his nose brushed against your cheek as a soft purr rumbled through his chest, reverberating down into you.

Your fingers clenched in his robe, surprise flittering through you that he wasn’t… leaving. Or killing you.

“My brave darling,” the youkai fairly gushed, nosing against you. “Now I can finally fulfill my promise to you.”

“Promise?” you repeated dumbly, mind whirling. What-?

He chuckled. “I told you, didn’t I? That I would contract with you, if you set me free. Protect you, cherish you as you should be.”

He’d actually meant it? What?

“I…” You stared up at his orange eyes, fixed on you intensely. Your breath stuck in your throat as the familiar ache of longing overcame you. Reminded you of your stupidity, falling in love with the beast youkai that you thought would never even glance at you if he were free.

“Of course I’ll do anything for you,” he purred, his tongue flicking out to briefly lick away the tear-streak on your cheek. “As if I would deny you when you offer me the one thing I truly desire more than anything else.” He grinned, eyes sparking. “You.”

And then his fingers tilted your chin up, and your eyes squeezed shut as his lips landed on yours. The kiss was warm and soft, surprisingly so. You could feel your spiritual energy gravitating towards him, could feel it wrapping around him, infusing him, as he made a contract binding him to you and your spiritual energy. He reluctantly let go of your lips, the dizzying kiss making your head spin as you gasped for breath.

“My name is Kaz, sweet one,” he murmured, orange eyes half-lidded in simmering contentment.

Unthinkingly, you repeated the name. “Kaz…”

His eyes glowed. “Now then. Why don’t we start with these filth?”

In the next moment, the mist cleared to reveal that everyone now stood in the empty warehouse. Kaz still held you in his arm, keeping you close against his chest as he stared at the yakuza men starting to reorient themselves.

The boss cursed, glaring at you and Kaz. “Hand her over,” he spat, bristling. “She’s ours.”

But Kaz only laughed, his teeth baring as feral glee glittered in his eyes. “Give you my precious shrine maiden?” he cackled. “Didn’t you ever consider the fact that she is in fact a shrine maiden at a temple, with her own powerful spiritual energy? Enough to make a contract with a powerful beast like me?” He licked his lips. “And your blood… smells wonderful.”

Some of the men started to look wary, clearly leery about the sheer size of Kaz, especially in comparison with you.

Kaz tilted his head toward you, just as he flicked his fingers. A soft sort of puffy cloud materialized beside him, and he gently set you on it. “Stay here while I get rid of these nuisances,” he said gently, his fingers brushing across your cheek. “I’ll be right back, I promise.” With one last sickeningly sweet smile, he turned towards the men. A sword materialized in his hand, practically the size of your entire body.

You looked away, bile rising in your throat. The blood drained from your face as you heard the men screaming, the sound of the carnage making you reach up to clap your hands over your ears. Though you were sure the men were far from innocent or deserving of mercy, the brutality of their deaths was undeniable. A high-pitched, inhuman shriek indicated that the spirit they’d contracted had also been shredded by Kaz.

It made you wonder. How powerful was Kaz, exactly-?

After another moment, you felt Kaz lift you up again in his arm. Eyes flying open, you grasped at his shoulders as he pulled you close against himself again. His other blood-spattered hand still held his sword, but his eyes were adoringly fixed on you.

Reaching up, you absently wiped away a tiny drop of blood off of his jaw. “Thank you,” you whispered. Despite yourself… you felt safe.

His eyes visibly lit up, and his grin widened as he gazed up at you. “Ah, my darling praises me!” You could swear his eyes had hearts in them. “Do I get a kiss?” His grin turned teasing.

You swallowed thickly. “I… I promised you myself if you helped me,” you said weakly. “It’s all I can really give you… besides my spiritual energy—“

Kaz leaned forwards, his face so close that you could almost feel his breath against your lips. “Be my bride,” he whispered, his voice a heady murmur.

You breath hitched. “K-Kaz?” Had you… heard him right-?

“You offered me yourself, darling,” he purred. “So, be my bride. I am contracted to you, aren’t I? So I will be an impertinent beast and ask the shrine maiden to be my bride without shame.”

You closed your eyes. “Okay,” you whispered.

He paused, as though he himself didn’t believe you’d agreed.

Because you both knew that as a youkai contracted to someone with spiritual energy, you had the power to entirely command him to do anything… and deny him anything. Yet here you were, agreeing to be his bride.

“Okay, Kaz,” you repeated, not meeting his eyes. You could feel the color splash across your face.

But in all honesty, it wasn’t as though you really had many other options. Kaz could promise you some sort of safety even against your own family, and his power was certainly enough to protect you against other youkai. It had taken one of the highest-complexity talismans to even seal him away in the first place, and you could already feel through the contract how powerful he was.

The idea of being his bride… wasn’t really disagreeable.

“Darling,” Kaz breathed. His lips gently slid against yours, the touch soothing and almost… grounding. “I’ll be a most devoted husband, I promise,” he murmured.

You closed your eyes and decided that you would try to believe.

The talisman had been such a small thing, really.

You smiled as you walked down the street, stretching your hand out to gather the raindrops that pattered down and pooled in your palm. The weather had been beautiful, but despite the warm sunshine and hardly a cloud being in the sky, it had still decided to rain.

Pausing in the middle of the empty sidewalk, you lifted your face and let the raindrops splash against your face in a cooling shower. You loved the rain, the way it seemed to wash away all your heavy worries and soothe the ragged edge in your soul.

A shadow fell over you, and you opened your eyes to see Kaz standing above you, smiling down at you. He leaned down and swept you up into his arm, one hand holding your thigh while the other wrapped around your waist. A startled laugh fell from your lips as you held onto his shoulders.

“Is my darling enjoying the fox wedding?” he cooed.

You flushed, just then realizing the common name for the burst of cloudless rain. You gave him a shy smile, then nodded.

He chuckled. “Should we celebrate, sweet one? I can give you a gift, if you like.” Between one breath and another, he’d shifted you both somewhere else.

You gasped, eyes widening as you saw that you were floating on a soft, wispy cloud, now deep in the forest on the outskirts of town. A place no other people were, where the rain pattered softly against the leaves of the trees and dripped to the undisturbed grasses below. Flowers bloomed beneath your cloudy carpet ride, and you leaned over to brush your fingers through the colorful blooms.

The cloud rose a little, coming to a stop and floating peacefully. Kaz pulled you into his lap, his hands wrapping around your entire waist. He smiled, watching your expressions as you looked around in delight.

“And what do you think of your wedding veil, my darling bride?” Kaz murmured, leaning down to brush his nose against your hair.

You looked down at the long, wispy cloud under you, and smiled. “It’s pretty. Thank you, Kaz.” You tilted your head back to smile at him.

His orange eyes flared, and he caught your lips in a burning kiss that seared through you like foxfire. Letting out a surprised squeak, you grasped his robe, fingers tangling in it for support as he pulled you closer, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Your head spun as your eyes fluttered closed.

When he finally parted, you gasped a little for air, blinking dazedly. His hand gently slid up your waist and side, sliding to your back, pulling you flush against him. He pressed another kiss to your lips. You realized, with a burst of embarrassment, that the rain had entirely soaked your shirt, plastering it to your body and leaving rather little to the imagination.

“Darling, my darling,” Kaz murmured against your lips, “won’t you let me touch you?” His hands slid down your body, fingers caressing you sensually.

You bit your lip, heat staining your face. It wasn’t fair. He knew your weakness for his hands. His large, strong hands that held you close, admired your body with touch. His calloused, capable hands that protected you, defended you, worked for you.

You nodded shyly, peeking up at him. Your lips parted in a gasp as his hands slid under your shirt, starting to map out your skin. His tongue slid against yours in a soft kiss, almost distracting you from how his hands deftly explored your body.

It almost startled you when your back landed against the cloud, Kaz hovering above you with his hands wrapped around your waist. His robe slipped open, sliding down his shoulders as he observed you with burning eyes.

“So beautiful, darling,” he purred, his hands trailing down to your pants. “Can I touch? Please?”

Shyly, you nodded, one hand over your mouth as you let out a quiet whimper, chest heaving with breath. Kaz’s hands were so broad, so warm… handled you with such a reverent sort of gentility and softness that you couldn’t help but bask in it, melt into it.

A steady purr rumbled through his chest as he kissed his way down your jaw and neck, fingers sliding into your pants and underwear to pull them off. Sliding his hands under you, he pulled your body up against him, lips sliding across yours.

Your hands braced you against his chest as you gasped, feeling his cock land heavily against your stomach. It throbbed against you, but he quickly distracted you as one hand slid into your hair, pulling your head back. He pressed a kiss to your lips, his mouth hot against your skin.

“So tiny and sweet,” Kaz mumbled against your neck, his voice half-drunk. His fingers slid across your thigh wrapped around his waist, and he lowered his hips, pushing you into the plush softness of the cloud. Your mind started to fuzz, entirely focused on the way his hands grasped at you, somehow greedy and gentle all at once, and the way he handled you with that deft confidence yet tender infatuation.

“Kaz,” the moan left your lips before you could quite help it, your entire body humming at every brush of his fingers.

His answering hum was low and amused as he started to gently slide into you, making you gasp and arch. His cock slid into you without resistance. You’d gotten so wet just thanks to his soft touches and gentle attention. He murmured your name against your lips as he slid wholly into you, seating himself inside with a heavy breath.

You whimpered, biting your lip as you tried to somehow ground yourself. Everything had started to go fuzzy, especially as his hands wrapped entirely around your hips and pulled you down onto his cock, his grasp iron as he ground up into you.

His pace, once he started thrusting, stayed steady and almost agonizingly slow. But when you whined, he chuckled and slid his fingers between your lips instead. You let his lithe fingers gently play with your tongue, while his other hand kept you anchored to him.

You could feel the coil inside you steadily growing, getting tighter, closer to the edge. Everything felt so hazy and light, like the solidity of his body was the only real thing, the only think that mattered. Like his hands were the only things that kept you grounded, held you down, safe from drifting away.

“K-Kaz.” Your teary eyelids opened to gaze up at his face.

“Does this please you, my darling?” Kaz murmured, sliding his fingers out of your mouth and down to press against your clit.

“I— I love you.” Your fingers curled against his chest.

His orange eyes widened, then flooded with that pure, infatuated adoration. “I love you, my sweet darling,” he purred, kissing you. “And I am so entirely yours.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, your orgasm washing over you with a force that left you lightheaded and dizzy. The pleasure suffused your entire body until you were gasping, tears streaking down your cheeks as you whimpered.

You finally floated down from your high to the feeling of Kaz’s hands sweeping over you. He murmured soft endearments into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin. He pulsed inside you, but still kept his pace slow and steady as he fucked you through the aftershocks.

Wrapping your hands around his neck, you nestled your head into the crook of his neck. His hands clenched around your hips, and he let out a groan as he rested his head beside yours. You could tell that he was so close, his hips starting to stutter.

“You feel so lovely, so warm and tight and soft, darling,” Kaz groaned. “Please, can I—“

“It’s okay, Kaz,” you reassured sweetly, voice shy. “You can.”

He jerked one more time, sinking into you with a low groan. His entire body shuddered as he came, pouring into you as he gripped your thighs hard enough to leave fingerprints. For once, you didn’t mind the bruises.

Pulling back, he caught your lips in a deep kiss, mouth slanting over yours. He poured the love, the gratitude, the adoration between your lips until you felt as though you could drown in it.

“I will always protect you,” he promised against your lips.

And for once, you believed the promise.

It was such a small thing, really.

#elysiadjarinkinktober #elysiadjarin #my writing #mywriting #x reader #kinktober #fox spirit x reader #Youkai #japanese mythology #Youkai x reader #Exophilia #monster x human #nsft #smut #terato #monsterboyfriend #monsterlover #monsterfucker #x you

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years ago

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Chapter 11

WC: 2077

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: full on angst, discussions of emotional trauma, mild depictions of blood/gore, mentions of self h*rm & su*cide, mentions of child abuse, discussions of physical disabilities, institutionalization, some dialogue & plot canon to TV show, hurt/comfort

🧠

The rest of the conference went by much like the first day did. Both you and Laszlo bought a few books for your collections. An ease had settled over your conversations with the help of Sara and John's presence; you spoke more freely with each other. You tell yourself it is not because he's going soft on you or vice versa, but rather that you have found yourself in this imaginary bubble where you happen to get on well. It's inevitable that it will pop once you’re back at school and Laszlo will revert back to his usual callous state.

Laszlo. It still felt odd to think of him like that, rather than by his title. You couldn't lie, it gave you a sort of thrill. Even in your dreams you had only called him by his honorific. Thankfully you didn't have another dream after Friday. You couldn't escape the feeling that you'd said something incriminating in front of the man in question. So you chose to pretend it didn't happen.

Monday morning came and you headed to the train station. Once again he had secured a private cabin for the journey. This time you came prepared with a book since you had yet to replace your broken phone.

"Thank you again for inviting me to this, I really enjoyed myself. It was really nice of the department to foot my travel expenses, the hotel was really fancy. I may have helped myself to a mini-bottle or two," you joked.

"There is no need to worry about the department's finances; they were not involved."

You pause. He paid for you? Laszlo did say he would take care of the arrangements; but the four-star hotel, the private compartment train tickets, the admission to the conference, and every meal? Shit, that must have been a fortune, hundreds of dollars at least.

You don't know what to say, so you settle for an awkward "oh." A moment passes before you add "I appreciate that, um, I can pay you back. Might take some time but I can."

The professor is flippant in his reply. "There is no need, it was well spent for the research and knowledge acquired." He opens his book signaling the conversation is over.

You lick your lips. Fine then, I'll just consider it payment for emotional suffering and damages of the last eight weeks.

The first few hours of the journey were spent reading one of the new books you picked up at the convention. Occasionally you would peek over the pages at the professor. He was engrossed in his own selection; sometimes he would pause to write down a thought.

Around the seventh hour of your journey you had given up on reading anymore in favor of looking at the fields outside. The silence was comforting.

Laszlo had trouble concentrating on the book in his hand. He saw you as a conundrum. One minute you could be sociable and teasing with your comments, then next you were biting at his throat with your quick wit and fierce ideals. He decides that he wants to know what made you into who you are today. Now is as good a time as any.

His eyes on you cause a tingle up your spine but you ignore it. Laszlo breaks the silence; "may I ask a personal question?"

"You just did," you answer, still peering out of the large window. He huffed once, amused. At his following silence you face him. You raise your eyebrows to signal him to go on with his question. Curiosity grows at the thought of what he intends to ask.

"Twice now you have made implications of a traumatic past," he begins.

Bubble popped.

Interrupting, you snark "is this the part where you psychoanalyze me, doc? Because trust me, I've been through enough of that." You pick at the lint on your jeans.

Laszlo tries to choose his words more carefully the next time he speaks. "What I mean to say is, the first afternoon in the classroom where you defended that student you implied you had been witness to a trauma. You then displayed signs of anger and embarrassment before leaving prematurely. Yesterday you mentioned having entered a psychiatric facility. As an alienist I can't help but find myself curious about your experiences."

You slide your eyes to meet his from across the cabin. Your face is devoid of any emotion. "We all have our demons. Even you can't argue with that."

Your jaw clenches. Everyone had warned you. They all said he would try to worm his way into your head to figure you out. All the reviews, the gossip, everything. It was a big fat 'I told you so'. You give a pitiful laugh at the situation. "You know, everyone told me that you would pull this stunt."

He seems confused by your statement. "And what is that?"

"That you'd get inside my head and try to figure me all out or whatever. You already know I googled you beforehand, what everyone says about your methods. By now I assume you've done a little research yourself. I promise you there is nothing exciting here," you scoff and point to yourself.

"You would be correct in your assumption." You chew at your cheek as he starts. "I do know some of what happened in your past. Yet I also know that society likes to dilute the truth into something either more palatable, more entertaining, for people to consume greedily. What I want to know is what you have faced. How you have not allowed the experience to overcome you so much so that your humanity is erased like the characters I lecture on."

Eyes closing of their own volition you are thrown back in time to that night so many years ago. You didn't talk about it anymore. Bitsy knew of course, but that was the extent.

Laszlo waits. He knows this is likely to push you over the edge if your history with him means anything. Quite frankly, anyone would be tossed to their limit at his interrogation had they gone through what you had. John always told him that he needed to work on his bedside manner; that he had a habit of coming on too strong in his pursuit of learning the intricacies of the human mind. But your earlier comment about being sent to a so-called 'nuthouse' rubbed him the wrong way. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to know. He needed to understand.

Laszlo can imagine the reprimand that he would receive from John and Sara for this. Just as he considers apologizing for his intrusion you open your eyes.

"She was fine. None of us suspected anything was wrong. I came home from having dinner with some… boy, and she had locked herself in the bathroom. She- she must have started over the sink and moved to sit on the side of the tub. She was hunched inside it when I got the door open. I pulled her out. Blood was… everywhere." Your voice is clinical as you explain.

"After, I shut down. So I checked myself into a psych ward a few days later when I couldn't get the feel of her blood off my hands. It's slippery, you know. And it smells. You wouldn't think so but it does." You clear your throat. "I did the therapy, took the meds they prescribed, all the standard treatments. Later I started watching true crime documentaries. I'd heard about exposure therapy so I figured the more I saw the gore, the less the image of my dead roommate would bother me. And it did help. The nightmares stopped after a while, I came back to school. I was better, just not the same.” You had watched the passing landscape as you explained. Turning to face him you speak again. “That's why those pictures didn't bother me. They weren't anything I hadn't seen before."

He contemplates you. The discovery and subsequent loss of your friend in this manner would no doubt cause lingering effects to your psyche. A stain that would forever remind you. "I offer my sincerest condolences. I do not presume to know what that would be like to experience, but I am glad you sought help afterwards. To make the choice to alleviate yourself of your own suffering where possible.”

As he says this he realizes that your anger towards the idea of being enslaved to unconscious impulse makes perfect sense. It explains why you focused so much energy on defending your belief in free will. That you have the power to choose how you carry your joy, your anger, your healing. It reminds him of how he held onto his own guilt and hurt, ignoring how it festered within him for so long. He feels as though he needs to share a piece of himself with you.

“I played piano as a child, quite well too. My mother hoped I would someday make a career of it. I vividly remember playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor at a holiday party when I was seven years old. It was my favorite to play.... It requires two hands." You finally look at him. "My father...” He pauses to gather himself.

Now it is the doctor that cannot meet your eyes. As you listen you feel your confusion grow. How could he have been a talented pianist if he only had full use of his left hand? Unless..., the realization dawns on you just as he continues, his words slow.

“My father had two sides. One loving and the other brutal, the two often coexisting. It was something as trivial as putting me to bed, I recall... A game of tug of war. We were laughing…” He inhales a sharp breath. Already you can feel the tears begin to blur your vision. “I don't remember if he was drunk or if I said something that offended him. He must have pulled my arm behind my back.” Laszlo exhales shakily. “In small children, fractures can often affect…” he trails off, unable to finish. You can hear how he barely holds himself together.

Your heart aches for the broken man that sits in front of you. He never let on how much his arm bothered him, at least not within your presence. Suddenly you don’t see him as this rude, insufferable, obsessive man, but instead as someone that spends his life trying to protect himself. He projects his own anger and hurt so that he may, just for a minute, forget about his own demons. He wants to help others even when he feels he cannot bear to help himself.

But unlike you, he has to live with the physical reminder of his past every day of his life.

You stand and move to sit on his right side. Before allowing yourself to think too much of your actions, you place your hand atop his own, curling your fingers around his palm and squeezing delicately. You don’t bother wiping away the tears on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Laszlo;” the whisper is barely heard above the sound of the train. A second passes where you fear you have overstepped and offended him by touching the affected limb. When his thumb tightens against the backs of your fingers you know he is not. He holds you in place.

“You asked me how I kept my humanity. How does anyone really? We learn to take what we get and we carry it in a bag. Sometimes you have to drag the damn thing behind you. But eventually the weight gets less and less if you allow yourself to move forward, even if it’s still there with you all the time. I dealt with what happened years ago and it does still haunt me. It’s easier now than it was, but… I- I suppose I’ve learned from you too. Sitting in those lectures and hearing you talk. We can either let it haunt us for the rest of our lives… or we can accept it… and use the memory of our pain to help ourselves and others.”

“I’m not sure the choice is entirely in our hands.” His tone is mournful.

You turn to smile at him through your tears. His own eyes are bloodshot. “I disagree. If it weren’t, if we didn’t have the freedom to choose that, we’d all be murderers.”

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams

#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler daniel bruhl #scuttle-buttle #tw self harm #tw suicude #tw child abuse

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astralspock · 2 years ago

Text

DTA First Read, Chapters 2-5 liveblog

Finally finished Week 1's chapters! Highlights, all in quote form with some comments italicized throughout and lengthier commentary at the end:

"To this day, he still isn't sure what he would have done if he was able to find Castiel's body in that reservoir; most of it is a blur of sleeping, eating, and searching that precluded anything like actual thought that only ended with Sam's insistence that he needed to stop, that maybe there wasn't a body to find." OKAY I am very glad we're getting this-Dean's s7 trauma worked out in these interesting ways

"for a second (only for a second) Dean feels a hot rush of bitter envy (of the Apocalypse, how fucked up is that?) because he's never been this to anyone, for anyone; no one's ever looked at him like this" I. Was. So. Fucked. by this line.

"If Dean needed him for something, Cas would show up. Late," he adds with a faint smile, almost affectionate, reminding him that Chuck is probably just as crazy as Cas these days. "But I'm pretty sure that was deliberate." "Dying of Croatoan is the least of our problems," Chuck answers with a snort. "Weird thing, international epidemics cause panic. Like mass panic, social breakdown, fragmentation revolution, any of that ring a bell?" I have got to admit this part was Something to read in 2022.

"Destiny is bullshit." "Destiny is a word far more vast than the definition would imply...sometimes, what you've become makes it impossible to see all potential paths. What you know limits what you believe can be achieved." "You can't believe that." YO this is the free will shit that I am here for exploring.

"We weren't always on speaking terms, but neither were we always...not on speaking terms." ohhhhhh

Commentary:

I highlighted approximately 75 quotes from this swath of chapters, and I also hit the part where I stopped reading before -- the very beginning of chapter 3, right before Chuck and Cas have their conversation about Dean and they go on the saving-Dean's-ashes mission. I DO NOT KNOW WHY I STOPPED GOOD LORD.

I think it's official that I'm in, now, and highly invested. I also realize how little I know about this fic beyond its basic premise and I am so stoked to see where the plot is going.

The Chuck/Cas dynamic is one that I'm very interested in, as well as exactly how Chuck's prophet-status will play out in both revelations of the past and in the current plotline.

The entire fucking scene where they get shitfaced and end up cuddling and then the immediate SHIFT in the morning after Dean takes a shower was such a sucker punch to my gut. "You seem to be under the impression that we have developed a bond due to excessive alcohol consumption while you shared your feelings in monotonous detail and I pretended to care." STOP.

The undercurrent of Sam's presence is both heartbreaking and comforting. I find fics where Sam is dead/permanently gone (as far as I currently know/expect) to be quite hard to read sometimes because either they ignore Dean's grief or else acknowledge it and it's all consuming and I am too Dean-coded to read it, but this story is treating Sam's presence with this tenderness that I am very grateful for. Dean is such a little SHIT to Cas (entirely warranted) and the layers of character interactions that happened to push their relationship forward in the span of 3 chapters is an absolute masterclass that kept me devouring it the entire time.

On to week 2! Chapters 6-10 liveblog coming later this week...follow the tag #camppodsquad!

#down to agincourt #camp pod squad #camppodsquad #dta #seperis

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zv5x · 3 years ago

Note

Oh? 👀👀👀

~🌸

The moment we have all been waiting for, a part two to the angst haven yan!spirit fic !

I'm also going to tag @fizzy-popp as well since they wanted this too and I modeled this part two off of their request since I liked it a lot !!!!

(A/N) - I left the method (Y/N) used to get Spirit out of the Hating Simulator ambiguous considering it wasn't confirmed how he was trapped in there and my brain is too fried to think of a method that makes genuine sense , I feel like it might be just some chant or something like that but I'm not sure so we're all gonna have to use our imaginations on this one tehee

Stay safe you all and remember my inbox is always open!

( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

How long's it been? At least a few years. Most definitely, but you were too absorbed in finally being independent again that you were too euphoric to worry about counting your days. It wasn't like your freedom had a deadline, after all.

It was just another day, a day which you spent happily around the presence of other people. One of them asked you to borrow something at the cafe, and being the kind person you always tried to be, was absolutely willing to help out. You were sure you had what they wanted (hell, you had everything a human could ever need no matter the situation) in a room you haven't touched in lord knows how long. Your brain wanted you to remember what the reason for that was, but your guilty conscience begged you to remain ignorant. At least for as long as you could.

The item they desired laid near a far corner, and you found it with great ease. However, your main objective was pushed to the side as you looked to your side and fixed your gaze on a certain jet black console. Your heart sunk as your eyes focused in on it, your brain throwing all the memories attached to it front in center. You knelt down, scooting up to it by your knees and wiping a line of dust off it with a single swipe of your trembling finger.

He was still in there. Spirit was in there.

Tears pricked your eyes as you felt yourself raising the console up and settling it down inside your lap.

Was he even conscious at this point? You weren't sure. Though, with all the memories flooding back to you, it was easier said than done, letting yourself stay with those questions. Still trembling, you picked the console up and held it close to your chest. Walking to your own room, with a TV set up all ready for him, you pondered about what you were to say to Spirit.

A "did you learn your lesson", while appropriate considering the circumstances, would sound quite insensitive to any outside viewer, and especially to Spirit himself. An "I'm sorry" would more than likely imply Spirit was without fault, and you couldn't have him falling back into his own delusions the moment you were considering freeing him once more.

Settling the console down in your room, you finally were able to get a good look at the state it was left in. Dusty, tangled cables, cold to the touch. Still, it looked hauntingly comforting. Like a parasitical nostalgia with sickening undertones. You could barely focus on reality as you turned the console on and plugged the cords in all their respective places. You were only snapped back to the present moment as that oh-so familiar title music filled your ears and almost caused you to jump. You sat and listened to it for a moment, staring longingly at the sprite of Senpai that lingered on the screen. It reminded you of a much easier time, and though he was a robot, you hoped he was doing a lot better than you were at the present moment.

Pressing a button meant to pass the title screen, you weren't half surprised as instead of a save file screen, you were greeted with complete blackness.

"(Y/N)...is-is that you...?"

You lip quivering, you could only let out a weak hum in response to who you knew was at the other side of the screen. Immediately after hearing your response, you saw him pop up on the screen, gentle sobs just barely audible from where you were positioned and from the current volume of the television.

"I missed you...so much..." His voice was weak, he sounded absolutely defeated. Not that you blamed him, though. That place just be hell to spend so long in, along with the anxiety of wondering if today was the day the code would break completely, leaving you to rot in your own digital corruption. Thinking back on it, you didn't know what you were thinking. There were better ways you could have approached this, you didn't know why your last resort had to so quickly become your first.

"I'm-I'm here to let you out, Spirit. I'm so, so sorry..." Breaking your promise to yourself to not apologize, you wiped tears from your eyes with your sleeve and quickly thought of how you got him out last time.

Taking a deep breath, you repeated the exact steps you took the last time you wanted him out. However, this time, you harbored the guilt of being the one who trapped him in there in the first place. You wonder if he, the father of the girl who originally gave you the game, felt any guilt for being the original trapper. You wondered if he thought about Spirit after he trapped him even half as much as you did.

Soon, in no time at all, you allowed yourself to take a breath you failed to realize you were depriving yourself of, and your eyes locked on him. There he stood, right there back in the middle of your room. He stood silently for a moment, before looking down and staring at his hands. He was full again, free again. You gave him another chance.

Slowly, he looked up at you, just as you got up from the floor and met him at his height, swallowing hard before giving him a sympathetic smile. "Welcome back, Spirit..." He blinked, looking as if he could barely believe he was finally standing in front of you once more. Like you were the most rarest occurrence showing itself right before his eyes. But still, he seemed still disillusioned by the whole situation. Maybe he just needed some time to adjust.

And so, you gave him that time. All while giving the real affectionate attention you know he's missed for so very long. You spoke to him, clueing him in on every major human event he's missed, giving him yet another tour of your house, smiling at him and pointing in the direction of every new belonging the two of you passed. He seemed silent, still. Closed off. That was, until, you paused right in the middle of the room, cooing words of encouragement and gently patting his head. Feeling your touch, his eyes widened instantly, tears welling up from the feeling.

Bursting into sobs upon feeling your touch, he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into your shoulder, holding back purrs as he felt you rub smooth circles on his back. He feared the two drastically different emotions being expressed physically at the same time would do more harm than good, so he focused on expressing his bittersweet grief first.

"I still love you, (Y/N)..."

Smiling and giving a gentle peck on his cheek, you shushed him ever so gently.

"I know you do, Spirit. I know you do." Your voice was so calm, so welcoming, he truly wasn't able to comprehend how he lived so long without being able to hear it.

You let him out, and now, he was sure you expected a change in behavior from him. Lucky for the both of you, Spirit was planning on staying true to what he promised you before you left him all those years ago.

That he'd be good. And he'd do it all for you.

Now that you're here with him once more, he'll be (quite literally) damned if he'll ever let the two of you be torn apart again.

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paisley-print · 3 years ago

Text

11:00am : I’m Here

About: You and Jack have a necessary conversation on a rainy morning.

Rating: 18+

Word count: 1603

Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Warnings: Verbal Fighting, heavily mentioned loss of pregnancy, curse, implied smut, angst.

Series Master-List

Tag List: @sherala007

Notes: Ok so this was one of the first additions I made when I decided to turn this into a series. I have been dreading it, because it was always meant to be in here but it is also one of the darkest additions to the series. Feel free to skip over it if you so choose. In class, we had learned about the 9/11 baby boom and how humans deal with things like sadness and stress. I felt as though I wanted to explore that more because grief is so complex. Again, I know you all may not like it - but I really felt as though I needed to stick to my artistic guns. Also, a friendly reminder that this couple is toxic and in the real world I would never , ever let this relationship continue. It is a good thing that this is fictional and through fiction we are allowed to look into the darker parts of life.

“God dammit,” Jack said, a thud sounding from where he stood.

You looked up from your spot at the kitchen table. “What happened?”

“Fuckin’ coffee machine is broken” he tossed his cup into the sink a little more forcefully than necessary.

“I’ll get another on my way to the shop” you told him, staring out the window at the rain. The radio was playing in the living room and drifting sweet oldies throughout the house.

“Make sure you tell them it’s the third time were exchanging it - either they get us one that works or we get our fuckin’ money back... ridiculous.”

“I packed you a lunch, it’s in the fridge.”

He mumbled words of thanks and turned towards the refrigerator.

You took a sip of your juice and rubbed sleep from your eyes. The laptop screen before you blurred into an array of letters, so you closed it. You looked over at your husband again, watching as he adjusted the strap on his leather satchel and slung it over his shoulder. “I found a therapist that takes our insurance, she does one on one and couples-”

Jack did not wait for you to finish. He simply sighed and headed out the door to his truck. You followed him out into the rain. He threw open the car door and placed his satchel inside. You slipped in front of him, blocking his path. “Jack, we need to talk about this.”

His voice was measured as he spoke “you’re gonna make me late for-”

“Jack.”

You can tell he was trying to keep his calm, but underneath he was raging. “We spoke about this already - stop forcing me to be some broken record-”

“You know damn well that I’m not forcing you to do anything.” Your clothes were getting soaked. “It’s been three months and you’re not getting better, I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” he said, pushing past you and lifting himself into the driver’s seat.

You had to pull your hands away quickly as he slammed the door shut. In frustration you banged on the side of the truck to get him to open it “Jack!” You moved as he backed the car out of the drive and yelled over the rain. “If I’m the one you’re mad at, then you can just fucking say that! I would rather hear you say it than live with this passive aggressive bullshit!”

The car stopped abruptly; he shifted it into park and got out, slamming the door as he stalked up to you. Mud was kicking up onto his jeans, and you noticed he was getting drenched as well. The radio played on from inside...

He halted his stride a little way in front of you, hands falling to his hips. “What do you want from me? Huh? What do you want me to say? You insist on nagging me so what do you want me to say?”

Your face twisted in anger. “Anything!” you screamed. “Yell and me! Tell me I was the reason it happened! Something! All you do anymore is ignore me and throw shit around! Just give me some sort of idea where you’re at! We haven’t even talked about it yet! Every chance you get you shut me down!”

“I told you I don’t want to talk about it-”

“Well, I do! I need to! I gave you your time, give me mine! Please, Jack, because you’re not the only one who lost something!”

“Fine, you want to know where I am? I’m fucking angry. That's where I am! Every time I pass by that nursery and see that crib still sitting in the fucking box. Whenever I go into work and see the pity on the face of everyone there. Whenever I look at you - because I am once again reminded about how she isn’t there anymore. And it hurts! But you can’t leave well enough alone! You insist on berating me and pushing that knife deeper and deeper! I need more time! Why can’t you just understand that?”

You got quiet, looking at him with sad eyes as his words washed over you. “Alright I’m sorry, I’ll stop... I can take the crib back today but-”

“Don’t touch the crib.”

“Fine, I won’t…... but Jack-” you stepped closer to him. “The doctor said there wasn’t anything we could have done. Sometimes it just ... happens. And it’s nobody’s fault.”

He took hold of your upper arms, gripping you firm but not enough to hurt you. His brown eyes were pleading with you, “I am begging you to stop-”

You went on, “the hospital called again-”

“Y/n.”

“They need the name and your signature for the certificate-”

“Y/n” he said a little more forcefully.

“No!” you shook your head, pulling your arms away from him. “Would you rather them list her without a name?! Like some fucking Jane Doe?! Why can’t you do this one thing for me so I can please stop getting these calls! And so I can try to move on too! You’re being so selfish, Jack! I need you! And you’re not helping me! You left me to deal with all of this alone!”

“Because if I give her a name, that makes her human! And it makes it hurt so much worse! Two! Two children! You have no fucking clue what it feels like! To have two children in the ground!” He took you by the shoulders, pressing you against the siding of the house to get out of the rain. “And you sit here and pry! And you don’t listen for shit! I’m telling you I need more time! Give me more fucking time!”

You two were silent for a moment. Rain came down in buckets while music drifted lazily from the house. Then suddenly he was kissing you - nearly bruising you with his mouth.

You didn’t know what the hell was happening - you assumed neither did he. He had hardly spoken to you in three months, he never touched you once in that time either. That’s why you had the radio on, you didn’t even care what the music was...you just needed something to fill the silence that consumed you both.

He bit the side of your neck, then sucked and pulled and nipped down to the base of your throat. You were crying - not from him, just from being entirely overwhelmed. “Jack,” you whimpered, holding onto him for dear life.

He was doing the same to you- his arm an iron vice around your waist. Nothing about this was sexual - it was just a desperate need to be close to you, to lose himself in the scent of your hair and warmth of your skin. To ease the icy ache that has settled in his veins. He needed to know you were still there, in order ground himself in reality again. Everything hurt so badly he needed just a moment of relief.

He carried you into the house and out of the rain- pushing you up against the wall. Your foot hit a figurine sitting on the window and knocked it to the floor, shattering it. He continued to kiss you, holding you up by your thighs - water dripping from you both and making a puddle on the wood floor.

When he realized you were crying, he forced himself to stop moving, face buried in your neck. His voice strained and his breaths heavy. “Say the word and I’ll stop……. just once and I’ll get in my truck and go.”

You shook your head, tears still freely flowing down your cheeks “stay.”

You felt him fumble with his belt and zipper while he sucked a mark into your neck. You gasped and held on tighter to his shoulders, squeezing your eyes shut. Until this point, you were almost certain that he was going to leave you. The thought of living without him seemed almost unbearable. Your back dug uncomfortably against the side of the windowsill as he pinned you against the wall.

The love you felt for him was dangerous, you knew it, for time ceased to move whenever he was with you. It was as if he had taken a piece of your soul that New Years eve. Everything seemed so unclear now, but the one thing that you were sure of was that you loved him. It didn’t matter what these next few months brought, all you wished was for him to be happy.

You felt yourself slipping and reached out, grasping at the drapes to steady yourself. Jack adjusted his grip on your thighs and bumped you up in his arms.

His voice was pained, and desperate as he spoke. “I’m here - I’m right here- It’s okay- you’re okay-” you weren’t sure if he was repeating this for your sake or for his. You let your head fall to his shoulder, thankful for the warmth he brought and the sound of his voice. Thankful because he was here with you now and you didn’t have to be alone.

A strangled gasp fell from his lips as he buried his face in your hair. His grip on you was nearly bruising at this point, but you didn't mind. Broad shoulders trembled under your fingertips and you suddenly realized that he was weeping.

Painful sobs ripped from his body one breath at a time, and you reached your hands up to cradle the back of his head; his coffee colored curls still damp from the rain.

The water on your clothing made you shiver in the cold air of the house.

While the radio kept on playing.

#Jack Daniels x you #Whiskey x you #Agent whiskey x Reader #Agent whiskey x you #Agent whiskey fanfic #Kingsmen Fanfiction #Pedro fanfic #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Pedro Pascal Fanfiction

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melancholydreadfuldream · 4 years ago

Text

Hell-bound with you

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Doctor x Reader

Summary: You are the unwilling companion of the Doctor.

Warning: ooc, plot holes as usual, dark!doctor, insanity, etc. You have been warned.

A/N: I hope this post show up in search result just fine. The part four of my other fic I posted at the end of last month just won’t show up in any search result, tags not working. I hope this one work okay.

I watched in amusement from my spot as Jack tried to summon the Doctor but failed instead, he kept getting her companion. I couldn't help but laughed at the old man expression when Jack kissed him in the mouth.

I was surprised when the old man, Graham, revealed that the Doctor is now a woman. Jack is giddy with excitement as he wanted to see the Doctor so much. But he kept pulling in the companion instead. Yaz and Ryan.

Eventually Jack realized that the judoon technology is the reason why he can't pull the Doctor to him. Personally, I was grateful that the Doctor is not here. I wouldn't want to catch his - i suppose now - her attention. I admit I am a bit curious about how she looks like. The Doctor's first time as a woman, I wonder how she will act.

My attention snapped back at Jack as he warned the companion about the lone cyberman. It was all very cryptic.

Turned out the companion has never encountered a cyberman before so they understandably are confused.

Both Jack and I had suffered together in the short time since we met and you know what they said about forming a close bond during a life and death situation. It makes us comrade.

Jack knew some stuff about me that I would never tell anyone. I am so grateful that I met him while stranded in this alternate universe.

Of course, it just my bad luck to have landed in a time period where cybermen overrun the world. I was lucky I met Jack. It would take me forever to sort thing out otherwise. I shuddered at the thought of being taken by cybermen for conversion.

I didn't know what to think of the companion because I didn't know of them. I didn't know of the newest incarnation of the Doctor being female either. There were rumor floating around about it but I missed her first season on the account of finding myself suddenly existed within the impossible DW universe.

I hated it. It wasn't fun. And I ended up ruining the Doctor's timeline. I had to run from him when he changed into that monster. Oh, I know he would come looking for me sooner or later. He would never let me go just like that. Misery loves company and all of that. Some part of him did blame me for changing him, I just know it.

But running away and found myself stranded in another DW universe isn’t exactly how I planned my escape. The upside of being here is that I’m finally free of that person.

I heard an amused chuckle within my mind and I frowned. Right, I guess technically I am still haunted by that person. I glared at the bow-tied figure that only I can see, a proof of my insanity. I tried to ignore him and his unwanted commentary on whatever it is Jack and I did.

This particular universe thankfully still follow the canon, I think. I don't know if it will be a blessing or a curse my escape being here, knowing my luck it will ended up as another curse. I do know one thing, this time I have to avoid the Doctor at all cost. It will be hard, I'm sure, as I felt it so many times before back then, someone pulling the string and play on me like a puppet. Of course, no one believe me, not even that person.

I didn't know the future of the Thirteenth Doctor but I will still be a threat to her should she realized what I am. That's what happened with that person. He insisted that I stay with him and everything has gone wrong ever since.

I tried not to think about that person and his now-never-happened future courtesy of me, of my presence, in his life.

"(Name)?"

I snapped out of my trance as Jack called out to me in concern.

"Is it him?"

I blinked when I realized I must have been talking out loud and thus gaining Jack and the companion’s attention. "I'm fine."

Jack gave me a look that said he didn't believe my bullshit.

I ignored him. I noticed the companion are staring at me as if I was insane. I held back a frustrated laugh. Well, I am insane, somewhat.

Jack introduced me to them. “This is (Name). She is with me.”

"Is she a friend of the Doctor too?" Graham asked Jack.

"Well..."

"No." I firmly said as I glared at him in warning. "Oh, just shut up." I glared at an empty space on my left.

The companion stared at me warily.

“err, did she just talk to an empty space?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah, she does that.” Jack replied, not taking his eyes off me.

I tried to focus on Jack and the companion. I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache forming.

Jack's frowned as he observed me. "She's...complicated." He suddenly yelled in pain as the nano-genes started to attack him. He complained very loudly.

I was worried for him. "It’s time. We should leave here, Jack." I said as I grabbed him. “You already did your part, warning them.”

"You are right but there is...” Jack groaned. “...one more thing, (Name), you are not coming with me."

"What?! What the hell are you talking about?" I punched his arms in annoyance.

Jack rubbed his arms and give me a look. "You should go with them and stay with the Doctor."

I was pissed. I thought he understand. "No. You..."

"I know what you think of her but I still think you would be safer with her than with me. Also, maybe she could help you with him." Jack replied, turning to glance at the space I have been staring at before despite not being able to see what I see.

"Like hell, I'm not going! And you can't make me!" I yelled petulantly.

The companion stood there looking confused at our argument.

Jack let out a sad smile. "I'm sorry, (Name)." He took my hand that is on his arm and let it go.

I blinked in confusion and annoyance. I was momentarily distracted and Jack took that opportunity to activate the vortex manipulator on my person and I suddenly blip out of the ship and found myself on Earth instead.

7777

I almost lost my balance as I landed harshly. I cursed loudly.

I saw the Doctor's companion materialized not too far from me.

"Son of a..." I growled. "That damn head jar!!" I cursed Jack. "Shut it!" I snapped on the empty space near me.

The companion stared at me warily.

I groaned in annoyance.

"We should go find the Doctor." Yaz suggested.

"Yeah, you guys go ahead. I'm out of here." I said.

"But I thought that Jack fellow said that you should stay with the Doctor?" Ryan asked.

"Ignore that cheeky bastard's words!" I said and then stopped myself. "Except about the cyberman. That was true. Alright, I'm leaving." I waved at them and left despite their protests.

Screw Jack. He is not the boss of me.

7777

I walked without a purpose as I ponder over what I have to do next now that Jack has abandoned me. Like hell, I’m sticking around to see the Doctor no matter how curious I am of the female Doctor.

“He’s right, you know, you would be safer if you stay with the other Me.” He said.

I glared at him. “And what? Risking of her turning out like you because of me?”

“I think you give yourself too much credit. I was always going to turn out this way sooner or later. Valeyard, remember?”

“But you are not the Valeyard.”

“Yet.”

“And that’s what make it worse. I did this to you. I turned you...”

“Victorious. That’s what I am, thanks to you. It wasn’t that bad.” He said with a shrug.

“You burned down planets!”

“I did that once in a while. You know this." He is referring to Gallifrey. "Besides, you know they deserves it.” He said as a dark expression crossed his features.

“We lost Clara. I wouldn’t call that victorious!!”

“And we avenged her.”

I was ashamed that it was the truth. I did help him to avenge Clara’s death. In fact, I was the one who urged him to do it because I couldn’t accept her death. They haven’t even done Trenzalore yet. And now they never will. Because of me, Bow-tie won’t even get a new set of regeneration. But considering how he turned out, am I doing the world a favor by limiting his life to his eleventh self? Now he will not get the chance to regenerate into Eyebrow. Or did I just make it worse? Like he implied, he is very well on his way into becoming the Valeyard.

“I am curious about the Doctor of this universe.” Victorious pondered. “I have never regenerated into a woman before. I was on my last regeneration right now."

I tensed at that. I kept reminding myself that the person in front of me is not quite real so even if he did figures out the truth, there is nothing he can do about it. No Clara, no new regeneration. Unless he made me fill her shoes, play her role so to speak on Trenzalore. I hope not. Well, I had escaped him, somewhat.

The real Victorious probably was too busy right now to ponder about the calling of Trenzalore. And knowing him now, he might actually let Trenzalore burns.

I think I bought enough time for myself so it might take him a while to locate me especially since I have a bio-damper ring on my person to hide the void stuff that apparently covered me when I first arrived in DW universe. With the ring, he won't be able to track me down easy. It also help hid my presence from the Doctor of this universe too.

I sighed as I stared at my 'companion', the one only I can see, an accidental result after some weird mind meld with the Doctor.

When I first took a glimpse of him the first time I was stranded in this alternate universe, I thought he was somehow in my head, then I beginning to question my sanity, creating a shadow figure of the Doctor in my headspace. Seemed like I could never be free of the Doctor. Part of me believed I deserved it, to be haunted by the Doctor that I ruined.

Sometimes I really thought he is the Doctor when he suddenly said things that sounded like something the Doctor will says. And then he is being all sarcastic with his unwanted commentary on everything I do and...meh I thought of him as a figment of my imagination designed as my personal demon to torture myself. But, weirdly he does know information that I could not possibly know, things that the Doctor or some other screaming genius might know but not little stupid, ordinary Me. There is no way if he is a hallucination created by me for him to know those complicated stuff. Anyway, thanks to that, Jack trusted me, I did save his life, both our life actually, by following the advice of the shadow Doctor.

Jack believe me albeit a bit reluctantly at first and eventually did trust me enough to watch each other back through hell and back. It was all very dramatic but also rewarding as we formed a friendship. Unfortunately, he's loyal to the Doctor hence he disbelieved me when I said I am bad for the Doctor, he still somewhat believe the Doctor is the answer to fix everything that could go wrong, even though he should know better.

I groaned as I ponder on what to do now. I understand the truth in Jack's words that I might need the Doctor of this universe help should Victorious able to track me down to this universe. But I am also right about my presence around the Doctor never bode well. So you see my dilemma?

Thankfully the Doctor and her companion never look for me. I guess she is not curious enough with me.

Back then as I watched the first two episode of season 6, I found it weird that bow-ties who supposedly adores children, didn't bother to look harder for little Melody Pond after she escaped the astronaut suit. Maybe there is some additional information about it from DW book or the audio-book but I never got my hands on them.

Anyway this is good. It would be troublesome if she did decided to track me down.

7777

I thought I covered my track very well but the time bounty hunters somehow able to track me down at some black market in some random planet. It was weird but it seemed the Tardis translation circuit still work on me even if I am not anywhere near the Tardis. Or maybe it is thanks to that annoying 'companion' of mine?

I'm following the advice of the shadow Doctor to find an equipment to, as he said he will indulge me for now, hide me better. I used my vortex manipulator given by River a long time ago at the Library. She taught me how to use it so that I won't accidentally kill myself while using it.

Anyway after I purchase the said equipment and before I could use it per the shadow Doctor's instruction, the hunters found me.

Honestly I hope the self defense lesson I got from River and then Jack would be enough to at least help me escape my pursuers. I thought I did good but they still found me.

That's when the shadow Doctor 'helpfully' told me that I had a tracking chip somewhere inside my body courtesy of the real him. That bastard. Putting a tracking chip without my knowledge or permission like I am some freaking pets.

I glared at him angrily.

He grinned in amusement. "Hey, technically it wasn't me who did it."

"Close enough..." I muttered.

He told me the equipment I purchase earlier should destroy the chip into dust inside me without harming me in the process. Removing the chip would be better but without the correct equipment and a professional medical knowledge, it would be too dangerous.

But before I could use it, they found me again. I was at some random abandoned building. One of them broke my wrist as I fought him. I screamed in pain.

"Hey, don't hurt her! He won't be pleased!"

"She won't stop struggling! She bites me!"

I groaned in pain as they pushed my whole body on the wet floor.

"She is not to be harmed in any way." Someone said. "The client is very specific about that one. He need her for something. He is willing to pay so much for her."

My eyes widened in fear as I realized they are not planning to take me back to Victorious. That would be even worst. Are their client some enemies of the Doctor who is trying to take me as hostage? Or do they after the knowledge I have of the Doctor? But there is no way someone could know. I was sure Victorious remove all threat on me.

I catches the glimpse of dark expression crossing the shadow Doctor's feature as he too listen to what the men had said.

"Who even is she? Why do they willing to pay so much for her?"

"Don't you know? She's the consort of that guy, the Doctor."

I rolled my eyes in disdain at that misinformation but made no move to correct them. There is no point.

"For real? But she is running from him? Why?"

"Have you been living under a rock? That man has gone insane. Who would in their right mind stay with him?"

"I heard the stories about him."

"Not stories."

"So, is it wise to betray him like this?"

"You assumed we got the job from him but we didn't. By the time we hand her over to the client and got our money, with this technology to cross over universe..." He glanced at the elaborate vortex manipulator on their wrists which you assumed they got from the said client. "we can make a new life in some other universe. He won't be able to find us."

The shadow Doctor chuckled coldly. "Whoever that client of their is, I know they are not stupid. To go after what is mine, they would have to take care loose end in order to remain undetected from me." He said as he observed the men. "That vortex manipulator probably has an expired date on it and more..."

He turned to look at me, kneeling before me with almost a bored look. "I did warned you that you would have been safer if you stay with the other me."

I glared at him. "Quit talking, do something." I hissed at him.

He smirked. "You didn't say please."

"Who is she talking with?" One of the men asked.

They hauled me up to face them.

"You are not very smart, are you?" I said with a smirk. "He is already here. The Doctor. Or should I say Victorious?"

They looked around nervously.

I pulled my sonic screwdriver, the one I stole from Victorious, and set out sonic sound, as instructed by him, that momentarily hurt everyone's ears but also caused some old hanging lamp to either explode or fell to the ground, causing chaos.

I ran immediately out of the building. Ignoring the growing pain in my wrist, I yelled at him to tell me how to use the equipment to destroy the chip. I moved the equipment to some spot of my neck and pulled the trigger.

I clamped my mouth as burst of hot fire pain filled me. I gasped as I fell to the ground. Tears filled my eyes. I felt so dizzy.

I distinctly heard him telling me to stay awake and ran. So I did albeit really slow.

Like I said before, someone or something seemed to be pulling the string on me because as I made my weak escape, I found myself face to face with the companion I met with Jack weeks ago and there is a woman with rainbow stripes on her clothing with them. The Doctor, my mind supplied.

Shit.

"It's you." Ryan whispered, seemingly surprised to see me.

"Doctor, she is the one we told you before. she was with Jack." Yaz explained.

The woman glanced at me in guarded curiosity. She walked toward me and opened her mouth to say something but I fainted right into her arms.

7777

I woke up inside the Tardis in the medical bay. How did I know that? He told me.

The Doctor, the female one, entered the room and smiled upon seeing that I already wake up.

I no longer feel any pain, not on my broken wrist and on my neck. I assumed she fixed that. And someone changed my wet dirty clothes with something comfortable.

I heard her yapping about the danger I put myself using the equipment she found with me. I didn't listen, still a bit too dizzy.

"Who are you?"

"(name)." I replied.

"Ok, (name), I'm the Doctor. My fam said you were with Jack and that he instructed you to stay with me?"

"He was wrong." I said bluntly. I forced myself to get up and stand up despite her protest. "I should leave."

"You can't. We are in the vortex. Also you were hurt. Who hurt you? Also who put a tracking chip inside you? You destroyed the chip using that equipment. Are you running from a prison? Did Jack broke you out of prison?"

I groaned and chuckled harshly. "You talk too much." I said as I clutched my pounding headache. "Prison, huh? I guess you could say that. Oh, shut up." I snapped at my right.

"Who are you talking with?" She observed me curiously. "The fam told me that..."

"I am a bit insane? That would be correct. Better stay away from me, doc." I said in derisive.

She glanced at me.

"Stop looking at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like I am some animal in a zoo."

"I am so sorry."

"For what?" I asked in confusion.

"For whoever hurt you like that." She whispered. "Yaz changed your clothes. She said you have scars on your arms, consistent with someone being restrained and being injected and also..."

"Stop." I glared at her menacingly. "That was private. None of your business."

She, thankfully, stopped talking about that topic. But she suddenly pulled my sonic screwdriver. "How did you get this?"

I took a deep breathe trying to calm myself over the fact that she and Yaz invaded my privacy. "It's mine."

"Not possible." She said firmly.

"Uh-oh, someone in trouble..." I heard him said in a teasing sing-song voice. I glared at him before turning to face her.

"Someone gave it to me." I lied. "Now give that back and let me leave." I demanded.

She shook her head as she took a step back. "Did you steal this?"

"Ding dong, she got it!" The shadow Doctor answered cheerfully much to my annoyance.

Fine, I'm going to give her some shock value. "River gave it to me, satisfied?"

The Doctor look shocked, her mouth dropped open. "You know River? River Song?"

"That was a low blow, (name)." The shadow Doctor whispered at me in disappointment.

"She was my friend." I spat. That wasn't a lie, technically. River was my friend but in the other universe, not in this one. "I'm sure you wouldn't know me, Doctor. She wouldn't talk about her friends with you. Mostly because you would not be interested."

The Doctor observed me, trying to spot the lie. She seemed satisfied to find none. But she is still suspicious though. "Why would she give you this?"

"For my protection. I will only know how to use it whenever I was in danger." That one is not a lie since the shadow Doctor only tell me how to use it whenever I need to escape danger.

She hummed at that, probably wondering if I ever misuse it. She didn't seem to keen of returning it though. At least she didn't confiscate the vortex manipulator.

"Jack vouched for me. Do you think he would send someone not trustworthy to you?" I said. The answer is yes, by the way, because that traitor Jack ignored my warning how I am not good for the Doctor's timeline. If I am to stay with her, predictably things will not be canon again and it will definitely be hell-bound.

The shadow Doctor chuckled at what I said.

The Doctor didn't say anything.

I raised an eyebrow. "I guess you don't trust Jack or do you only trust him when he is useful to you?" I asked in vicious tone. "Fine, keep the damn sonic screwdriver."

"Oh now you have done it. She is not going to let you leave now." The shadow Doctor helpfully informed. "That is my 'i-don't-trust-this-person-i-need-to-solve-what-she-is-hiding' look." He grinned gleefully.

I almost want to slap the jerk if not for the fact he is not really there so it is kinda pointless.

Resigned to the fact that I am stuck with the new Doctor, I am determined not to let her in my head. A mistake I made with bow-ties which in turn caused him to become Time Lord Victorious.

But I have no idea what the future hold for this version of Doctor and her companion. One thing for sure, the canon is about to go to hell, especially since I have no idea what to do and what to avoid doing.

"I think you should stay with me. I can help you with whoever after you. But I need you to trust me."

What a hypocrite. She doesn't even trust me. Why should I trust her?

"I don't want to intrude. Just dropped me back on earth at 2020." I said.

"Oh, bad year." The shadow Doctor supplied.

"I insist you stay here for a while. After all, isn't that what Jack want me to do? Welcome to the Tardis. It is..."

"I know what it is. River and Jack told me."

"Well then...if they trust you, I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt..." She smiled brightly. "Welcome aboard, (name). We are going to have adventure of the lifetimes."

If she think I would rejoice, she is sadly mistaken as I stared at her flatly, not impressed.

He chuckled at my expense.

The Doctor glanced at my unimpressed look, sighed. "Well, you are a tough one."

7777

And so I ended up becoming the Doctor's unwilling companion...again.

She re-introduced me with her fam and officially give me a room in the Tardis.

Yaz is wary of me but Ryan and Graham are nice and friendly.

And just like that I got pulled into their adventure. I tried to refused saying I'm feeling ill most of the time, preferring to stay behind but unfortunately the Doctor doesn't trust to leave me inside the Tardis.

Does she think I could drive the Tardis or something? Seriously...

7777

I was stuck in a nightmare. I was back with Victorious and he punishes me for escaping. He trapped me in a special room designed to punish me mentally. He always did know I am weak mentally. He was surprised that I could survive this long by luck alone.

I saw the laughing figure of a trickster, saying the joke is on me and...

I woke up to the concerned face of the Doctor, the female one.

I remembered now. I fell under the clutch of some wannabe gods from ancient Syria. They fed from people's nightmare.

The woman, Rakaya, glanced at me wickedly, saying I have some delicious nightmare.

The Doctor saves the day and able to trick the wannabe gods into eternal imprisonment.

At the end, as I sat with a blank expression on my face on the stairs at the console room, Yaz and Ryan approached me and asked if I want to talk about my nightmare.

I just said that I dreamed of being back in the room. They didn't push me for more. Yaz, being a police officer, probably suspected based on my scars, that the room was where I was imprisoned before.

7777

Darn it.

Despite my determination not to get attached with the Doctor and the fam, I failed. Damn adventures and dangers and excitements, it does bound us closer with each other. I saved them, they saved me.

"Admit it, you miss this, didn't you? The adventures, dangers, excitements?" The shadow Doctor teased me. "You got used to it already."

"what about you?" I asked him. "Do you miss being the Doctor? Saving people and planets instead of destroying them on a whim?"

He was silent. For once, he left me alone. I think I hurt his feeling despite him being a hallucination.

7777

Once I was almost taken by another bounty hunters, the Doctor rescued me and declared that I am under her protection and anyone who want to take me, will have to go through her first.

The oncoming storm expression on her face is enough to make them back off and I was left in peace.

The Doctor is not pleased that I still won't tell her the reason.

"You have your own secrets and I have mine. Respect that!"

"I can't protect you if you don't tell me the truth." The Doctor had said.

"Fine, let me leave. I can take care of myself!"

Both the Doctor and the shadow one snorted at me much to my anger.

The fam has to interfered with our arguments.

"Cool off, the both of you!" Yaz demanded.

Reluctant to leave for the next adventure but having no choice, I went with them. Another life-threatening incident passed with me rescuing Ryan, softened the Doctor and she apologies to me, sort of.

7777

It finally happened. As Jack warned, the lone cyberman has come.

The Doctor asked me the thing that the cyberman after so I told him about the cyberium. Jack did told me about it in passing. He was part of the alliance, after all. I guess he told me about it because he always planned to dump me at the Doctor. I admitted I hold a grudge against Jack for this still.

The Doctor took me with her but instructed the fam and the rest to stay put. She asked me more about cyberium. I honestly don't know anymore but she kept pressing me, taking her frustration at me.

To be honest, she frighten me at that moment, reminding me of Victorious.

From the way the Doctor reacted when she explained about cyberman to the other, the shadow Doctor concluded that she must have lost someone to the cyberman.

Bill Potts, my mind supplied. I knew she was supposed to be the Doctor's companion after Clara. Since Bill is not here anymore, I can only assume she is the one the Doctor lost.

The Doctor raced against time competing with the cyberman called Ashad to get the cyberium before him.

She eventually figured out the cyberium is possessing one of the residents in the house. She managed to trick the cyberium into leaving its current host.

The cyberium is attracted to the Doctor for a host much to my horror as she started to blurt out something the Time Lord Victorious would say.

I saw the shadow Doctor glanced at the other Doctor in amusement and curiosity. His eyes darkened with the lust for power. At that moment, he look so much like the real Victorious I have to believe he is truly him, not a pale imitation of him.

He turned to look at me as he finally notice the look of dread on my face. "You see? The Doctor has always headed to this..." He said with a chilling smile. "It wasn't you who turned me, dearest (name)."

"Get away..." I whispered in fear. I snapped out of it and yelled at the other Doctor, "Doctor, don't!" at the same time as Yaz.

Thankfully, the Doctor snapped out of it too.

The lone cyberman threaten to destroy the planet right that second if the Doctor refused him the cyberium.

Having no choice, the Doctor give its back to him. I have failed Jack. I know she has no choice but this meant Jack and the alliance would be in danger again.

As we returned to the Tardis, the Doctor made a plan to go after that asshat, I mean, Ashad.

She prepared some machinery in order to fight against the cybermen armies. At least she is confidence she could win this.

I planned to go with her to help and rescue Jack and then I am going to slap the hell out of him.

7777

Of course, things just don't worked as well as the Doctor planned. We are in the far future where the last of the human race located. I couldn't find Jack or the alliance.

We are overpowered by the cybermen and got separated from each other. I ended up with Yaz and Graham while the Doctor is with Ryan.

Somehow we ended up in cybership with the cybermen armies in the middle of waking up.

We are trapped. Everyone is panicking. I heard Yaz tried to talk to the other Doctor via an unreliable communication device.

I turned toward the shadow Doctor. "Do something!"

He turned to me with a chilling smile. "I have taught you before, right?"

I swallowed down my fear. "Please..."

He sighed as if what I am asking him is too troublesome.

I jumped when the steel door started to shake some more under the constant attack from the cybermen.

"You remembered when you were taken from me by the Division?" He suddenly asked.

I remembered it. I was taken, my mind half lobotomized in order to gain access on what I know of the Doctor. I woke up to everyone in the building died. I assumed Victorious did it.

"I could activated the physic bomb I planted inside you."

"What?!" This is the first time I heard this. "What the hell is that? Why do you insist of putting things in me?" I lost it at him. I am furious, wouldn't you be?

"(name)!" Yaz called out to me in concern but I ignored her and the rest who thought I finally lost my marble.

"Oh chill out, it won't kill you, well, only temporally." He said as he played with his nails.

"Bastard!"

"If I activated the psychic bomb, you and everyone in this ship will died, well not you obviously, and the cybermen but they will lost all function for roughly an hour or more. Enough time for you to escape, well, once you are resurrected that is." He said.

"What about them?"

"What about them?" He parroted. He shrugged. "Not my concern."

"The hell with that! Save them too!" I demanded.

"I warned you not to get attached..." He sounded bored now.

"Find another way!"

"Why should I?"

"Please. You are the Doctor."

"I'm not the Doctor anymore, remember?"

"Fine, you are victorious! So prove it!! Save them and be victorious over the cybermen!!" I screamed at him, tears of desperation filled my eyes.

He took a look at me and relents. "Fine."

I let out a shaky relieved breath at his answer.

He instructed me to tell the mechanic of the bunch with me to remove some electrical thingies to support enough for teleportation for all of us to escape.

"It is not enough!" The mechanic said. "Only enough for four and there are seven of us!"

"If only someone has a sonic screwdriver..." The shadow Doctor said mockingly. "Guess you have some decision to make, little (name), which four gets to escape with their life."

I cursed the other Doctor for taking the sonic from me. To my surprise, Yaz pulled a sonic screwdriver from her bag.

"She told me to give it back to you." Yaz explained.

My mouth dropped open in shock. I laughed in near hysterical and turned to the shadow Doctor with a grin. "Tell me."

He sighed in exasperation. "Fine."

I used the sonic as instructed, giving the teleportation enough power to transport all seven. "Go!" I instructed Yaz and Graham and the rest to go first.

"What about you?" Yaz demanded.

"I have one last thing to do." I turned to the shadow Doctor as everyone left the ship. "Do it."

He glanced at me with a look and smiled. "Being a martyr?"

"Buying them some time. They are far enough not to get affected by the psychic bomb, correct?"

"Correct."

"And you are the one who said I will survived it so not a martyr."

He hummed. "You sure?"

"Do it."

"As you wish."

Just as the door crashed open, I screamed as he filled my head with so much pain it triggered the bomb creating a pulse of energy that sweep the cybermen off their feet.

I clutched my heart as it was rudely stopped.

The last thing I saw is the shadow Doctor hovering over me, muttering something I couldn't hear.

"I only ask because triggering the bomb would send a signal directly to him..." He said. "He is coming, (name). I am coming."

7777

I slowly opened my eyes, found myself on the ground. "Oww..."

The Doctor and the fam are there, surprised to see me alive.

The Doctor scanned me with her sonic. "But...this is impossible." She blurted out. "You are only human, how can you...? You are immortal? Like Jack?"

"Ugh stop talking. Can I get some water please?" I pleaded.

Everyone stared at me weirdly but an old man thankfully gave me some water.

The Doctor still couldn't get over the fact that I survived and demanded to know what I have been hiding from him.

"Take it easy, doc, she did save our life." Graham said.

The Doctor relented.

"The cybermen..."

"Out of commission for now. How did you do that?" The Doctor asked.

"Tell you later."

She glanced at me. "You better." She said firmly before turned to Ko Sharmus who showed us to the Boundary and there a portal opened.

Both the Doctor and the shadow one blanched in horror when they recognized the ruins of Gallifrey.

And then some random guy leaped out of the portal.

"Master." I heard the Doctor spatted in disgust.

"What?" I accidentally yelled. Last time, to my knowledge, the Master is Missy, though? What happened to her?

"Like a pest...he just keep coming back, huh?" I heard the shadow Doctor said with a chuckle.

The Master demanded the Doctor to go with him. She refused at first. But when he threaten to kill the rest of us, she relented.

Reluctantly, she goes with the Master through the portal, instructing the rest of us to stay behind.

"Follow them." The shadow Doctor demanded.

I stared at him as if he has lost his mind.

"Do it!" The force of his words gave me headache.

"Oh, alright! Geez!" I glared at him in annoyance but did as I told and the pounding headache lessened just a bit.

Yaz and the other tried to stop me but I told them not to follow me.

The Doctor is enraged when she saw me. "What the hell? (name), get back out there!"

The Master is not pleased to see me either. "Control your pet, Doctor, or I will be forced to kill her."

I glared at the shadow Doctor at my predicament of having two very angry Time Lord. "I have no choice, okay!" I said to them.

The shadow Doctor chuckled and told me to say something for him intended for the Master.

"Like hell, I'm gonna say that. He is going to kill me." I refused as I glared at the empty space beside me much to the confusion of two still very angry Time Lord. He wanted me to call him by his name 'Koschei'. I clutched my head. "Oh, fine!!"

"You always have such a sort fuse, Koschei." I repeated word for word.

Both the Doctor and the Master flinched and glared at me suspiciously.

Great. Nice going. Is he planning to get myself killed?

"How do you know that name?" The Master demanded.

"He told me." I gesture to the empty space beside me.

The Master stared at the empty space before chuckled darkly. "Your pet has gone insane, Doctor?"

I stared at him flatly, trying to cover my fear. "The Doctor told me." which is the truth. "just not the Doctor you know." also truth since the Master technically never met bow-ties.

The Doctor stared at me in confusion.

"Yeah, don't care." The Master shrugged and pointed his gun at me as I raised my hand in surrender but the Doctor stood firmly in front of me, shielding me from him.

"Don't you dare." The Doctor hissed at him.

"You don't want to do that. Unless you want me stop both of your hearts." I said, more like repeating the shadow Doctor said.

"Are you threatening me?" The Master look pissed.

"(name), who are you talking with?" The Doctor turned around and grabbed both of my arms, demanding an answer out of me.

"I..." Is this it? Do I have to tell her the truth? I turned to look at the shadow Doctor. I swallowed down hard as I look at the Doctor and then at the Master. "To answer your question, yes, that was a threat. How do you think I made the cybermen lost his function, Doctor? I have a psychic bomb inside me, killing me would trigger it, would kill myself and stopped both of your hearts. So unless you want an early death, I suggest you temper yourself." I said as flat as possible.

Both Time Lords stared at me in shock.

"Psychic bomb? Who did that to you?" The Doctor demanded in concern and slight fear.

"The Doctor did." I said softly.

She released me as if stunned.

The Master curiously looked at me and the Doctor. "Oh fuck this, you ruined my moments, ape!"

"(name)..." The Doctor stared at me as if I grow two head suddenly.

"Come on you two, we need to be somewhere else right now!" The Master demanded.

The Doctor grabbed my hand and took me with her as the Master led us the ruin of the citadel.

As we entered the hall of matrix chamber, the Master suddenly hit me over the head, causing to collapse on the floor, losing my consciousness.

Both Doctor and the shadow Doctor are enraged at my behalf. The Master claimed he need her attention on him, not on her stupid pet.

7777

I woke up to huge commotion. The Master is yelling something at a hologram of Ashad and his armies, asking them what happened. We could heard explosion. He turned to the Doctor asking her what has she done but the Doctor claimed it wasn't her.

They were shouting at each other. Until a signal caught on his communication device.

"A signal. The four taps of two hearts." The Master suddenly said in confusion.

I glanced at those two as they started to bicker again. They are the last two Time Lords, so who was it that send him a signal?

My heart suddenly beats faster as dread filled me.

"The signal is getting close but something seemed to prevented it to come through..." the Doctor said as she pulled her sonic at the device that now emitting some sort of pulse. A portal suddenly appeared in the middle of the room.

I turned toward the shadow Doctor who look at me fondly. I couldn't decipher the meaning of it for a time. He suddenly started to fade away and my eyes widened as I suddenly have a realization.

"No!!" I shouted at both the Doctor and the Master trying to make them stop just as a pulse of energy exploded knocking all of us off our feet and I lost my consciousness once more.

7777

The portal opened. A man in bow-ties and dark purple suit stepped out of it.

The Doctor and the Master groaned on the floor. They looked up to see the newcomer.

The Doctor froze in shock when she saw her past-self. Her mouth dropped open.

He fixed his bow-ties with a grin. "Finally..." He turned and glanced at the other two Time Lords. "Hello there."

"Who the hell are you?" The Master asked.

"Victorious, at your service." He said, bowing mockingly at them.

The Doctor's face paled at the name. "But you can't be..."

"Oh? Why not?" He asked.

"You were me. And I never, he never..."

"You are the Doctor. Interesting." He said, eyes gleaming in excitement.

"You...are not me." The Doctor finally realized.

Victorious turned toward the unconscious human at the floor. His eyes softened considerably as he walked and squatted before the human, one hand gently removed the strand of hairs covering the face. "I guess even here, you couldn't escape a Me after all, huh?" he said. He sighed as he cradled the human into his arms. His forehead touches the human gently. "Seemed like you still keep some secret from me too..." He glanced at the Time Lady before him with a chilling smile before turning to look at his human again. "You bad, bad girl, what is to be done with this?"

A/N: I don’t know if there will be more. Maybe if inspiration hit, I will. Bear in mind, if I do write more, I might just add it in the same post instead of making another one so stay tunes? But for now, TTFN.

#doctor who x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who fanfiction #thirteenth doctor imagine #eleventh doctor imagine #shiefenwrites

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imo-chan-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

『 Waking up and finding you on your period | FKBU Headcanons 』

Characters: female!reader, Kambe Daisuke, Kato Haru

Tags/warnings: Fugou Keiji Balance: Unlimited (anime), 15+, mild sexual references, fluff, so much fluff, teensy bit of a daddy kink implied for Daisuke, bit of breeding link implied for Haru *COUGH*

⚠️ 15+ CONTENT! MINORS: PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT ⚠️

A/N: Guess who came on her period and was in dire need of some comfort from her best boys? That's right. Me. So I freaking wrote it. Here you go.

Despite the tags, it's like, 95% fluff, and even the sex is fluffy, and it's not even described. This is just pure wholesomeness. Thanks for reading! Please enjoy! Imo~

Kambe Daisuke

At first, when Daisuke sees the blood in the bed, he thinks you might be injured and worriedly wakes you up, asking if you're hurt with his hair down because he's been sleeping

As you wake, you feel the crushing pangs in your abdomen and shake your head

"That's not is," you say, embarrassed about the amount of blood staining the sheets

"I see," he says, deducing that you must have got your period in the night

He sounds as calm as ever, but he's actually genuinely relieved you haven't injured yourself

But he can see that you're in pain and he hates it serious daddy vibes

He carefully picks you up and carries you to the ensuite bathroom princess style, baby

"I'm sorry," you whimper into his chest

"There is nothing to be sorry for," he says firmly

His voice rumbles in your ears that deep, sultry voice, omg

When you reluctantly ask him if he's grossed out, he gives you a blank look

"Why should I be?" he asks. "It's perfectly natural."

"Yeah, but…"

He senses that you've experienced unpleasant situations with boyfriends in the past and can't help but feel fiercely protective and angered that they hurt you like that

"Any man who is 'grossed out' – as you put it – by something like this," he continues, entirely seriously, "does not deserve to be called a man."

He sits with you and helps you clean yourself as he draws the bath for you, having got his servants to fetch pain killers, sanitary products, and clear up the mess in the bedroom

You keep apologising for ruining the incredibly expensive, luxury bedding like so expensive, you want to die

But Daisuke keeps telling you not to worry about it, insisting that it can easily be replaced

He's literally already got HEUSC to order some new stuff

After you're clean, he helps you into the bath and gets in with you, sitting you between his legs, his arms around your body, and pulls you back against his chest

He insists you use all your favourite scents and products, planting little kisses on your neck and shoulders as he caresses the bubbles over your skin

He helps you get dressed into some of his comfy, oversized clothes and sits you down on the sofa he bought some after he wore Haru's, lmao

Come to the comfy side, we have hot guys

You grab hold of the back of his shirt when he turns to leave

When you ask him to stay with you, he immediately has tells HEUSC to clear his schedule for the day, calling in sick for work so he can do just that he must look after his princess

He can never say no to you

Hoodies and sweatpants all round

He has his chef make all your favourite foods and orders in whatever chocolates and treats you want

He even purchases a giant, expensive teddy with same-day delivery when you showed even the slightest interest in it we're talking a 2 metre plus bear, here

You spend the day curled up next to him in a cosy room, watching whatever movies, TV shows, K dramas, etc. you want

He probably has a cinema room in his house, okay? Don't @ me

Lots of cuddles and spooning hnng

He ignores any sexual urges he gets if he knows you're not in the mood

When you say you want a massage, he immediately goes to get HEUSC to call his private masseuse

When you ask him to do it instead, he's caught off guard and doesn't really have any idea what to do

He's hesitant and nervous, worried he might hurt you

But he eventually gets the idea, and feels proud of himself when you say it's helped relieve your cramps a little

Lots of hair stroking and back rubs

While you're asleep on his lap, he researches into dealing with period pain

He hates that his money can't buy you out of your pain entirely, but he's going to do the absolute best he can this sweet man, I can't

He makes sure he orders all sorts of high quality products, like super expensive heat pads, magnets, the best quality pads and tampons etc. so he's properly prepared next time best boy

While looking this stuff up, he reads that orgasms and sometimes even penetrative sex can help relieve cramps and pain, and immediately starts looking up how to go about it

When you wake up, he gets you some water and goes to ask you about what he read, but ends up a little too shy to, and vows to himself to bring it up next time

Which he does and it's adorable and hot at the same time??

And he really goes all out, focusing on you completely

You're glowing afterwards as you come down from your high, and he rests his forehead on yours

I'm dying, this is so cute. Why can't this be real?!?

Kato Haru

You wake up first, feeling your stomach sink at the all too familiar sensation of blood between your legs

You nervously turn to Haru and wake him up, but can't manage to get the words out

Haru knows exactly what's happened as soon as he sees it

He gives you a hug and a kiss and tells you it's okay, and to get out of the bed

He fetches you pain killers and hurries out to the convenience store to buy any other products you need

A range of different pads, tampons, a hot water bottle, more over-the-counter pain killers and medication, chocolate it's necessary, okay? Haru knows what's up

It's dishearteningly early in the morning and still dark out brave boy, best boy

He returns with the items as quickly as possible, smelling of a fresh, crisp morning, still panting a little from hurrying to get back to you I freaking can't, it's too cute

He starts cleaning the sheets as best he can, soaking them in the tub while you clean yourself up in the bathroom

He also prepares a quick meal or two for you in advance because he knows you'll feel too awful to do anything yourself today he's so knowledgeable and practical

#boyfriend material

Lots of small smiles, hugs, and forehead kisses to remind you that he's not mad, because he knows you're worrying about it

When you're all clean and the bedding is changed, he puts you back to bed with a hot water bottle and a blanket, kissing your forehead

He has to get ready for work

You want him to stay, but you know how strong his sense of duty is, and don't want to put him in the position where he has to choose

He kisses you softly before he leaves, saying he'll call you later on his break

You spend the whole day missing him while enjoying the food he lovingly prepared

You wait with your phone by you, watching the clock

When he calls and you hear his voice come though on the other end of the line, you sink under a wave of relief and finally start to relax

He asks you how you are, if you've been eating, tells you to eat that particular food you always leave, because it's good for you, damn it, and reminds you where things are in case you might need them, etc.

He says he loves you soft boi

You can hear Kamei in the background, poking fun at Haru – who pointedly reminds him who has a girlfriend and who doesn't rip Kamei

Daisuke's voice briefly drifts down the line, and Haru says he has to go

He says he loves you again, and you say it back

When he hangs up, it's suddenly very empty in the apartment

You hug a pillow all afternoon in place of him

It's late when he gets back, laden with groceries, the ingredients for your favourite meal, and a bouquet of small, pretty-looking flowers from the supermarket

You're immediately feeling better now that he's home, getting some colour back in your cheeks

You watch him cook up a storm in the kitchen he's so hot when he cooks, I can't

You always love his food, but it tastes so much better now that he's with you

After eating, you curl up together and watch TV

Lots of goofy grins and raspberries on your neck and tummy – anything to make you laugh and smile again

When you finally laugh, he leans in and says, "There it is."

Spooning yes, both of them

I like spooning, shut up

He can't help but get hard, and he apologises bashfully when you notice

You tell him it's okay wink wonk

He grins

"You know, I think I have a remedy for this affliction of yours," he says, nuzzling your neck with his nose

"Oh yeah? What's that?" you ask sceptically, sensing something mischievous is afoot

"I could always put a baby in you, free of charge," he says, only half joking as he nibbles on your earlobe getting steamyyy

"Babe, we're broke," you say, breaking out into a giggle

But you get down to it anyway because he freaking loves you and knows that you needs to be reminded of it right now

#imo chan imagines #fugou keiji balance: unlimited #the millionaire detective balance: unlimited #fkbu #imagine #headcanons #fkbu imagine #fkbu headcanons #kambe daisuke #kato haru #fkbu x reader #fluff #fkbu fluff

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cha-lyn · 4 years ago

Text

Bucky Takes a Hint

bearded + beefy!Bucky x poc + female!Reader

Warnings: profanity, blatant sexaul themes and metaphors, implied smut

A/N: All italics are 100% the geniusness of Cardi B and Megan thee Stallion’s WAP. It might add to the story if you listen to that while reading, i don’t fuckin’ know. Oh, and the spacing is weird thanks to my laptop. Also, If you asked to be tagged in all my stuff and i didn’t tag you plz holla at me. I’ll fix it.

Word count: 963

*not edited. barely proofread.

- - -

It’s Avenger karaoke night, one of Bucky’s least favorites. Well, most days he hated so that wasn’t saying much. Thor is there so everyone-- even Bucky and Steve-- is at least buzzed. He’s bored though,slightly annoyed with how much fun everyone else is having. His eyes frequently find you.

You’re in those little grey sleep shorts that show off the roundness of your ass and Brooklyn Nets long sleeve tee. So basically, in Bucky’s eyes, you looked fine as hell.

Bucky has a bit of a crush on you. More than that really. He’ll never admit it even though you flirt with him blatantly and frequently-- because he doesn’t quite think he deserves someone like you. You’re bright and kind and graceful in everything you do. But you’re also so very fierce and strong and ruthless on the battlefield. And you always smelled like shea butter and lavender, reminding him of calm days in Wakanda. You’re the opposite of him in every way.

So he thinks.

You have a giant ass crush on Bucky Barnes. Even has he broods in the corner nursing his Asgardian liquor. He’s beefy and grumpy, but he’s quietly witty, too. You watch him on missions and Damn. It’s like a bullet studded ballet how he moves. Not to mention that arm. The fuckin’ arm.

You have a hunch that he might have similar feelings. You catch him looking at you while you’re working out, while you’re kicking bad guy ass in the field, but also when you’ve just woken up and your shoving waffle in your face, hair still a mess and spilling out of your satin sleep scarf. You’ve thought a lot about why your obvious repeated flirting hasn’t caused him to crack, but you haven’t figured it out yet.

But tonight on this very karaoke night, you’re gonna change all that. Usually you sing 2000s pop or 1990s R&B only. Tonight you’re trying to send a message though, so you're singing something different.

“Okay, okay,” Sam coughs after another round of shots, “Who’s up next?!” You bolt up, teetering just a little. Sam grins, “What song?”

You skip over and whisper your choice in his ear.

Sam’s eyes go a little wide. “Shit. If you say so.” He pulls up the song and you head to the center of the room.

The hook starts:

Whore’s in this house

There’s some whores in this house

You start to sing.

Steve goes red. Natasha whoops. Peter hides his face in a pillow. Sam’s grinning and shaking his head. Tony is cackling and Thor’s brow is furrowed as he tries to catch up with all the strange metaphors. Wanda’s mouth hits the floor. Bucky doesn’t react, but his eyes are locked on you. You’re twirling your hips and flipping your hair. You’re only looking at Bucky.

Spit in my mouth, look in my eyes

This pussy is wet, come take a dive

You drop to the floor, pushing your chest out, mic-free hand falling between your legs. Natasha and Wanda start throwing Monopoly money at you, but you only have eyes for one person.

Tie me up like I'm surprised

Let's roleplay, I'll wear a disguise

I want you to park that big Mack truck right in this little garage

Make it cream, make me scream

You’re thrusting your hips out with almost every other word. Bucky blinks very slowly, which isn’t enough for you. You lock eyes with your target and you lick and bite your lips for the next verse, intent on making yourself very clear.

He got a beard, well, I'm tryna wet it

I let him taste it, now he diabetic

You abandon the mic and drop down to your knees, crawling in his direction. Bucky doesn’t move. You get to him, basically in a child's pose, kneeling in front of him, gyrating your hips to the lyrics.

I don't wanna spit, I wanna gulp

I wanna gag, I wanna choke

I want you to touch that lil' dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat

Bucky’s eyes narrowed at you, like a predator locked on its prey. Very subtly he licks his lips and that's all the confirmation you were looking for.

Smirking, you turn and stand shaking and rolling your ass as you continue to lip sync. Finally you take a page right out of Cardi and Megan’s book and hit the splits. The room roars with cheers that you ignore as you look over your shoulder at Bucky. With Cardi’s final WAP, WAP, WAPs, you bounce your split ass on the floor.

The final hook of the song fades out and the claps and cheers get louder.

“DAMN! Where did you learn to do all that?” Wanda praises, “Better yet when can you teach me?!”

You throw your head back and laugh, “Whenever you want babe. Who’s next?”

Tony scoffs, “I’d hate to be anyone who follows that amazing performance.”

Turns out nobody wanted to follow you, so one by one as the pretzels and brownies dwindled down, so did the company. Until it was just you and Bucky.

After a few minutes of sexually tense silence, you stood and stretched. “I’m headed to bed. G’night Buck.”

You don't even hear him get up and then he’s behind you, turning you by your hips and backing you into a wall. He just stares down at you, which for anyone else might’ve been creepy, but it’s just what you wanted.

“What’s up Buck? Something on your mind?”

“Yea.” His warm breath tickles your face and makes your pussy clench.

“Yea. So do something about it then.”

Bucky’s eyes go dark and he gets to ensuring that your wet ass pussy is as advertised.

- - -

taglist: @thefridgeismybestie @basically-introverted

#Bucky Barnes #bucky one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes one shot #wap #cardi b #megan thee stallion #MCU fanfiction #bucky x poc #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfic

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years ago

Note

do you have any teasing fics? i like all of them but virgin sherlock being teased is sO CUTE.

Hey Nonny!

Ahh, I don’t have any properly TAGGED as such, but I will use this opportunity to post up the next set of Virgin Sherlock fics I have, because you mentioned you like it as much as I do, and I’ve a lot more than I thought I did, so YES, I have Virgin Sherlock fics, and guess what? It’s a Part two!! :D Part one is linked below! I hope you enjoy what I have for you!!

And as always, friends, if you have a virgin Sherlock fic, OR any with teasing John (I think Nonny means “teasing” in the “making fun of” sense, not the “would you just blow me already” sense XD), please feel free to add them!!

VIRGIN SHERLOCK Pt. 2

See also:

Virgin Sherlock Pt 1

Virginlock (Alexx’s List)

Untouched by KittieHill (E, 3,239 w., 1 Ch. || Kissing, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, Body Worship, Sherlock’s Scars Mentioned, Masturbation, PWP, Rimming) – Sherlock leaked a lot. John had never needed lubricant. John loved watching it, had once spent an entire afternoon edging Sherlock so he could watch as the thick precome drip, drip, dripped onto Sherlock's belly.

It Isn’t Strange Until You Think About It by ivyblossom (T, 4,596 w., 1 Ch. || For A Case, First Time, First Person John POV) – John tells the truth about how it happened. For some reason, "it's for a case" always seems to do the trick.

My First, My Only, and My Forever by vintagelilacs (E, 6,220 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum, John’s Scar, Sherlock POV, Body Worship, Fingering, Bottomlock, Promise of Forever / Proposals, Misunderstanding, First Kiss/Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity Kink, Seduction) – Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He was missing a vital piece of data, he was sure. John had been looking at him oddly ever since they left Buckingham Palace, and the ensuing incident with Irene Adler had only exacerbated his erratic behaviour. What was it? Why would he care that Sherlock was a virgin? There was nothing reminiscent of mockery or pity in his gaze. And then it hit him. John Watson was aroused.

Time on my hands by Mildredandbobbin (M, 7,179 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S3, One Night Stands, Mutual Pining, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Sexual Exploration / Discovery, Desperation, Body Worship) – Virginity’s a construct, a concept—what does losing one’s virginity entail for a gay man anyway? Sherlock wants to fill that particular gap in his knowledge but John won’t, can’t, never will assist and there’s only so much desperately unspoken pining even Sherlock can take.

The doctor is in by PlainJane (E, 7,581 w., 1 Ch. || Omegaverse || Sex Therapist, Anal, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock is a young alpha with an aversion to his cycle. John is a gender medicine specialist. Nothing could possibly go wrong... Part 1 of Doctors and detectives

I can’t pretend by Salambo06 (E, 7,692 w., 1 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Victor Trevor, Jealous John, Miscommunications, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Anal, BJs) – They had arrived more than a hour ago, and the moment they had walked inside the hotel reception, John had understood why Sherlock hadn’t wanted to come. Two men, posh suits and expensive watches on their wrists, had come to greet them with sharp remarks and badly hidden mockery, and John had seen red. Sherlock hadn’t said anything, mostly ignoring the two men entirely, and without thinking twice about it, John had slid an arm around Sherlock’s waist and introduced himself as his husband.

Sometimes When We Touch by kedgeree (M, 7,755 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, First Kiss/Time, Inappropriate Giggling, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Virgin Sherlock, John Whump, Touching) – John might be touching Sherlock a little more often than is strictly necessary. Sherlock probably hasn't even noticed. Right...?

Just Like That by sussexbound (E, 8,442 w., 1 Ch. || First Time/Kiss, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, French Kissing, Anal, Emotional Lovemaking, Enthusiastic Consent, Tenderness, Crying John, Bathing/Washing, Insecure John, Toplock) – John doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants. Oh dear god, how he wants. For the first time in what feels like years he WANTS.

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

The shape of the world around us by Salambo06 (E, 15,058 w., 5 Ch. || Lumberjack John / Botanist Sherlock, Different First Meeting, John Has a Beard, Light Case Fic, Flirting, First Kiss / Time, Masturbation, Love at First Sight, Horny Sherlock, John’s Bum, Bottomlock, Tenderness, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Shy Sherlock, Sexual Fantasies) – Looking through the bush, Sherlock felt his heartbeat quicken as a man passed in front of him. Sherlock frowned, trying to get a closer look despite the bush. The man was wearing a red plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, and Sherlock couldn't take his eyes off the man’s arms. Muscular, slightly tanned with golden hairs along his forearms. For some unknown reason, Sherlock found himself imagining them around his waist, holding him tightly. Closing his eyes for the briefest second, Sherlock shook his head. Opening his eyes and looking back to where the man stood only a moment prior, he found himself alone. Great, now his only chance to find his way back to town was gone. “Why are you wearing a suit?”

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

An Acquired Taste by kinklock (E, 31,059 w., 4 Ch. || Vampires AU || Vampire Sherlock, Misunderstandings, Bat!Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Humour, Magical Realism, Fluff and Angst, Blood Drinking, Holmes Family, Slow Burn) – At Montague Street when Sherlock was forced to sate his body’s needs, he was at least able to wander about the flat as much as he pleased. At Baker Street, it was mini-bags in a mini-fridge and bedroom confinement.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

In the Still of the Night by SilentAuror (E, 42,234 w., 1 Ch. || S4 Fix It / Post-S4, Sherlock POV, Angst, Drama, Romance, Virgin Sherlock, Awkwardness, Misunderstandings / Miscommunications, Case Fic, Travelling, Pining) – As locals on the Northeastern coast begin to report UFO sightings, life at Baker Street becomes significantly awkward as John brings up his desire for more than friendship and Sherlock refuses him. They embark on the investigation from the confines of the tiny cottage Mycroft has rented for them, attempting to navigate both the clues of the case as well as their own inability to communicate...

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Never Change a Running System by Lorelei_Lee (E, 54,246 w., 18 Ch. || Pre-TRF, Romance, Humour, Drama, Sex Toys, Anal, Rimming, Masturbation, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Public Sex, First Kiss / Time, Virgin Sherlock / Loss of Virginity, Accidental Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Experiments, Naive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Straight With an Exception John, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock discovers his sexuality – with far-reaching consequences for John.

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock, BAMF John) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

The Book of Silence by SilentAuror (E, 60,056 w., 2 Ch. || S4 Fix It / Post S4, Virgin Sherlock, Rosie / Parentlock, Domesticity, Fluff, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, First Person POV) – As spring blooms in London, John and Sherlock begin to take new cases and cautiously negotiate this new phase of life with John living at Baker Street again. Despite how well it's all going, John struggles to forgive himself for the way he treated Sherlock following Mary’s death as well as trying to figure out how to finally put his long-time feelings for Sherlock into words. Part 1 of The Book of Silence/Rosa Felicia

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || Alternate Future AU || , Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #virgin sherlock #my fic recs #Anonymous

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pinepickled-om · 4 years ago

Text

Tree Fucking

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Arbor/Ayano, implied Michael/Arbor

Tags: Penis in vagina sex, anal sex, butt plugs, multiple orgasms, tree fucking, pegging.

Read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29370810

Ayano giggles as she runs through the hallway, her goal similar to that she had had around a month ago. She was going to sneak into Arbor's room. A part of her knew this was a bad idea- she'd gotten off easy last time, and she had no clue when the man's patience would run thin- but she couldn't resist. There was so much about him she didn't know, and a certain event had gotten her so painfully curious.

It was no secret that Arbor had a holy bond with an angel- no, the angel. Ayano didn't quite know when it had happened, but one day Arbor had intricate roses in the shape of hands that touched upside-down cross tattoos going up his arm and around his shoulder, curling around his chest, where a mural of four hands gently cradled his heart. It was a stunning piece of work, and one that Arbor had no qualms about showing off- not that he'd ever had such a thing as qualms.

But that in itself is not what had her curious

Michael made periodic visits to the Devildom to visit his human, and during that time Arbor acted... strangely. For one thing, he actually woke up early and put effort into his clothes. Ayano, who was responsible for waking the man up every morning so they wouldn't be late, knew that Arbor was no fan of waking up. Unlike any normal person, who would be half awake and moan and groan until finally getting up, Arbor would stay asleep completely. She knew, from asking Lucifer and Solomon, that Arbor would need to be conscious on some level to be able to keep his protection spells from going off on her- an explanation as to why the tree incident had happened when it did and not any other morning Ayano went to wake him- so she also knew that the man just ignored her when she came to wake him.

That was incredibly frustrating.

So lately, Ayano had taken to trying to get a reaction out of him in different ways- some that would likely have people calling her a creep or whatever- but that she did anyway. In the past three weeks, she would slowly climb over him in his bed, lifting her skirt so she could sit right on his crotch with only the fabric of his pants and her thin panties keeping their skin separate. Ayano would then grind down on it, trying to slowly wake his cock up if the rest of the man wouldn't. She had heard about men and boys having morning wood, and was counting on that to aid her quest- but of course, even in his sleep(?) Arbor made her work for it.

Her cunt would be soaking through her panties and leaving a wet stain on his pants by the time she felt that telltale twitch- but by then, there was no point. She had been on the verge of cumming, the stimulation from her own movements and the amount of time- close to half an hour- that it took to get that small reaction doing her no favors. She was about to pull off and recuperate herself before trying again, intent on working Arbor with her hand until she felt less sensitive- but the man had, of course, been awake.

Broad hands firmly grasped her hips and began grinding her relentlessly on his half hard cock, Arbor grinning lazily up at her as she moaned and yelped at the sudden onslaught. Arbor was moving faster than she had, moving her wet, sensitive folds over his cock at a steady and quick pace until she was cumming around the half-an-inch he was grinding her on. He then proceeded to drag her down onto the bed, back to his chest, and humped her ass until he came. Then went right back to sleep.

So there she would lay, covered in her own cum and some of Arbor's, marinating in Arbor's iron grip as he cuddled close to her neck. The man was insufferable with just how unphased he always was. She was sure that nothing in the three realms could make him move against his whim- but then the day came when Michael visited. Ayano had walked into Arbor's room to find him braiding his hair in deft movements, red locks in contrast to his usual green that went down to his knees being braided into a tight four-plait. He was wearing something other than scruffy sweatpants and the open uniform jacket (without the shirt, of course) for the first time since Ayano had met him.

Instead, he wore a pink and white corset-vest, over his bare skin it seemed, a good amount of cleavage on top, and as her eyes naturally strayed down- was that lace? Arbor had a natural habit of wearing his pants low on the hips, and just above the waistline of- baby pink pants???- could be seen white lace. Usually, Ayano would expect to see the black band of his underwear there, but lace? She was very confused and very turned on- but she had a feeling that the lace wasn't for her. The pants were also tighter than what he usually wore, outlining his toned legs and leading down perfectly to his black heeled boots- wait, since when did Arbor own those- with rose detailing on the back.

He was stunning.

Arbor had, of course, noticed her.

"I'm truly sorry, little bird. I can't have some morning fun with you today." He said, sounding tired. Arbor looked tired too, now that Ayano was able to tear her eyes away from his ass and look at his face. He had deep eyebags, and an air of exhaustion around him that Ayano hadn't seen before. Arbor was usually a sleepy guy, but this.... Ayano didn't know how to describe it. Nevertheless, Arbor finished his braid, bent down to give Ayano a peck on the cheek, and left with a few parting words.

"Don't be too sad while I'm gone. Willow here can keep you company, just remember the safe word and you can stop it at any time. It’s marshmello."

And Ayano was left alone for the day. She couldn't stop thinking about Arbor's deep green eyes, pools of expensive gold in their depths, lined with eyeliner. Ayano didn't know she had a thing for Arbor in normally feminine clothing, but it did things to her like never before. The delicate pink of his pants and corset, the deep red of his heeled boots, the vibrancy of his golden eyeliner that made him so much more intense than he usually was. Ayano wished that she had been able to get down and at least suck his cock before he'd left.

She considered using the tree to get off for a little while, but shoved the thought out of her mind. Ayano still needed to go to class, after all- just because Arbor got a free pass and could defend himself against Lucifer's wrath doesn't mean Ayano could. Though even still, she does take a break during lunch to visit a certain professor who was always willing to entertain her.

But she couldn't stand it. In her mind's eye, Arbor's impeccable fashion and sharp eyeliner still burned underneath her lids, and she needed to see it. If he had this much, then there must be more. And she also had the dire need to confirm that Arbor owned lace. It was a primal need, almost. She also knew that she would see Arbor in that lace, no matter how that needed to happen.

Thus she found herself barefoot in Arbor's forest room once more, wandering around his bed looking for anything like a wardrobe.

It occurred to her, as she finally sat down on the petals that made up his bed- blue, this time- that she had no chance of finding it. Ayano remembered the first time she'd snuck into Arbor's room, how he'd opened the tree to reveal little alcoves. Who's to say he didn't do that with his clothing as well? The spellbook he'd given her had no information on how to open trees, so using magic of her own was out of the question.

She sighed, looking at the orange light of sunset as they illuminated the blue petals of the willow. It was getting late, and Ayano would need to go to dinner first. She flopped down on Arbor's mattress, intent to wait until someone went looking for her, and then fell asleep…

She awoke to nearly full darkness, only silver light filtering through the petals reminding her of where she was. Ayano blinked blearily for a few seconds, and then turned. The reason she'd been awoken was right there.

At some point, she'd been shifted to the furthest end of the bed, and the mattress of petals had dipped... due to Arbor being carefully laid down as Michael kissed him. Ayano withheld a gasp, not hard since she was still half conscious, and could only watch mesmerized as Arbor easily opened for the angel, submissive in a way Ayano had never seen him.

Michael was gently undressing the human as Arbor only smiled happily up at the angel, toned legs still clad in that baby pink lazily draped over the angel's shoulders. Michael was equally as tender, vibrant blue eyes raking over Arbor's form as more and more of his skin was revealed, until finally Arbor was naked under him. Ayano was slowly starting to wake up more, but kept her breathing even and slow as to not alert the two men.

She didn't know why they were just doing it right here in her presence- maybe a deliberate move on Michael's part to say that Arbor is taken, maybe they just didn't care. Either way, seeing how Arbor's hole was already stretched open so Michael could immediately fit his cock- he had to have prepared beforehand. Maybe even that morning, before Ayano had come... maybe he'd had a plug in his ass that for all of her staring she hadn't been able to see.

The thought was already sending zings of pleasure straight to her cunt.

Ayano fell asleep halfway through, and awoke just as they were finishing. Arbor's head was thrown back, hands gripping the sheets as he came, and Ayano could almost feel every shudder that went through his body. Michael caught the cum from Arbor's cock, lapping it up as Arbor watched with a fucked out face. Ayano had never seen him like that- nothing she'd done had made him look that way.

As Michael thrust a few more times and came inside Arbor, Ayano had a perfect view- that is, to watch Michael's cock pump semen into her fuck buddy and track the little bit that dripped out and down the cleft of Arbor's ass. Michael stilled, and gently stroked Arbor's face as he cooed sweet nothings in the humans ear, until the man fell asleep. Michael gently laid down on top of the man, careful not to crush the human under his weight, still firmly seated in Arbor's ass. Just as Ayano began to drift back to sleep, those blue eyes that were so vibrant it hurt to look at them snapped to her small form, and before Ayano knew it, it was morning and she was waking up in her bed.

Ayano was so incredibly horny as she made her daily trip to Arbor's room, intent on waking him up for real this time so they could fuck properly. Arbor was sleeping on his side when she walked in, clothed as he usually was when he slept- no Michael in sight. She breathed a sigh of relief and gently pushed Arbor into his back, noting in relief that trees didn't immediately grab her and fuck her cunt silly. At least she knew Arbor was awake now.

She carefully sat down on Arbor's crotch, jerking a little. Ayano had foregone panties today, wanting to feel Arbor's cock for real- and so she slowly slid Arbor's pants off as well, and ground her cunt over the underside of his cock.

It didn't give her an immediate reaction, but Ayano couldn't bring herself to care. She'd been tortured with dreams of being fucked ruthlessly all night, yet hadn't been able to cum once. Even when she'd woken up and tried to get st least one out, she hadn't been able to. With that memory in mind, Ayano lined up Arbor's cock to her hole, slamming down all the way with a lewd slap, whimpering loudly at the feeling.

Arbor's cock was perfect, really. Thicker at the base, as though made to rub against her sweet spot with every thrust. Wonderfully curved, a good length, and the feeling it was like nothing she'd felt before.

Ayano found herself perched over Arbor as though a dog, hands groping his chest as she fucked herself on his cock, moaning loudly and obscenely as it rubbed against her sweet spot so right that she felt she was going crazy for how much she needed to cum right then and there.

Ayano flopped down onto his chest, lining up her own ample breasts with Arbor's and began pinching their nipples together, moaning loudly and wiggling her but at the overwhelming pleasure, piercing her hole on Arbor's cock faster and faster. She needed to cum, needed to feel that sweet release only Arbor could give- and at this point she was begging for it.

And of course Arbor heard.

Before she knew it, Ayano was flipped nearly upside down as Arbor's cock drove deeper into her, nearly rearranging her insides and driving her mad with the pleasure as he grinned sadistically down at her. Ayano's legs were spread wide, on perfect display for Arbor- and the man didn't hesitate.

He slapped Ayano's clit, picking up the pace of his cock fucking her sloppy cunt and laughing as she cried out, tongue peaking through her lips lewdly and eyes rolling back in her head. Arbor slapped her sensitive nub again and again, teasing her all the while as she neared her orgasm.

"Does the little bird like watching private moments? I'm sure you enjoyed the little show last night, since your sloppy cunt is so needy for me. I was almost insulted, you know. No foreplay? Almost crass. But then again, I suppose I've been ignoring my little cockslut now have I?"

"Poor thing..." he whispered, bringing his hands down to cruelly twist her nipples. Ayano cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure that was driving her insane. With the final twist to her nipples she came around Arbor's cock, cunt spasming wildly around his girth. He didn't stop for one moment, no he thrust even faster into her wet cunt like a depraved animal. Or maybe Ayano was projecting- she was desperately moving her hips to meet his thrusts, after all.

"Look at you, so desperate. I can't believe I neglected this needy cunt for so long. There there, I've got you." Arbor cooed, harshly slapping Ayano's clit as the words left his lips. Ayano could only pant and moan lewdly each time the hand came down on her sensitive nub, feeling another orgasm mount quickly.

As one hand mercilessly slapped her cunt and another came down to roughly grope at her breast and pinch her nipples, Ayano came once more, squirting all over Arbor's chest and herself. She cried out and screamed in pleasured pain when Arbor didn't slow down or stop for a second, fucking her through until Ayano sobbed a moan as she felt his hot cum fill her up.

"There. Now since you were so naughty, you get a five minute break before I fuck you again. Hold your cunt open in the meanwhile, if you close it i make you cum until you pass out and then give you to the tree."

Ayano sobbed from the oversensitivity, nevertheless spreading her legs and holding the folds of her cunt open, moaning when Arbor's cum gushed out of her hole. She panted lewdly, trying to catch her breath while still in an exposed pose. She knew Arbor could just stuff his fat cock in her cunt at any time and she'd need to take it- she'd been a naughty little bird after all.

Ayano was so tired from the fucking that she didn't notice Arbor walk away- but she noticed when he came back.

Arbor was wearing a lace bralette, pure white in color, and it matched the lace panties he wore- that had a hole for his cock to go through. Ayano drooled at the sight, eyes going up to Arbor's face- and gasped as she saw those striking eyes lined with black markings. She was so shocked and turned on that she moved one hand from where it held her cunt open to rub at her clit- and Arbor pounced.

Ayano's legs were immediately bound by tree branches, lifting her almost completely off the bed save for her shoulders and head, her oversensitive cunt filled with that terribly familiar branch and it immediately began thrusting, no rhyme or reason to it, only using her for it's pleasure. Meanwhile, Arbor came around, and put his lace clad butt right over Ayano's face, cock prodding her lips. She had just taken it in her mouth, lips shaking with every animalistic thrust the branch did, and then screamed when Arbor's warm, wet mouth wrapped around her clit.

Arbor left her no time to recuperate, thrusting his cock deep into her throat as he lapped at her clit. Ayano could only watch, nearly going cross eyed as she hyperfocused on Arbor's firm ass bouncing right in front of her face as his fat cock used her throat for his pleasure. His hole was filled with a large buttplug, the jewel on it's tip lewdly bouncing around. Ayano came yet another time, screaming around Arbor's relentless cock and cunt clenching around the branch that was fucking her stupid. Arbor was also now sucking her clit, only taking her orgasm to new heights as she trashed.

Ayano could only lay there as her cunt was abused by the tree, throat filled to the brim with Arbor's cock, clit being sucked and licked, and eyes full of Arbor's pert, lace covered ass.

Ayano couldn't take it anymore. Her cunt had almost permanently stretched to the size of the branch, and her hips were involuntarily twitching to shove further into Arbor's mouth. Her own mouth was occupied with his cock, the taste of it all the way in the back of her throat, and she nearly choked when she moaned. Lewd sounds wouldn't stop falling from her lips, and her eyes were trained on the bejeweled butt plug, partially obscured by lace, buried deep in Arbor's ass and bouncing around as he shoved his cock into her mouth. Arbor stilled momentarily as he came down her throat, his balls pressing down on her face as he buried himself deep in her hot mouth. She acted quickly.

Luckily her hands were still free and the branch had stilled while Arbor ground his cock into her mouth, seemingly intent on filling her up with his cum from both ends. With a burst of strength she didn't know she had, she shoved Arbor's hips upward and before the other man could react, she tore the butt plug from his ass and forced her tongue in- deep satisfaction flowed through her when she hear Arbor give a surprised moan. It was short lived, however, as Ayano then came with a new force, seeing stars and moaning, all the while desperately lapping and licking into Arbor's hole. She could taste the residue of cum in his ass- Michael's, she presumed- and it only served to turn her on more.

Arbor grunted at the sudden intrusion, peering over his shoulder to watch Ayano. He had a closed off expression, and she worried he didn't like it, or worse. Just as she was about to tear herself from his hole- fuck she wanted to eat him out for days- Arbor's expression smoothed out and he grinned mischievously down at her.

"Does the little bird think she's entitled to such a thing when she's been so naughty? Shame on her..." He cooed, pulling his lace-clad ass away from her face. Ayano let out a desperate whine, reaching her hands up to keep him seated on her face, but a branch came around to wrap around her wrists and pinned them above her head, another winding around her neck. Ayano stilled immediately, and a sense of emptiness overcame her as the branch in her cunt pulled out. She whined again, looking up at Arbor with pleading eyes, but the man ignored her. He reached around to pick up the butt plug, and (unfortunately) pushed it back into his waiting hole- and that thing was practically sucked in. Ayano couldn't help but drool a bit, and she made a promise to herself to fuck this mans ass silly.

Arbor had other ideas.

Ayano was flipped completely upright off the bed by the branches Arbor sat on the bed facing her, green-gold eyes raking over her naked form. Ayano felt her own cum drip uncomfortably drip down her thighs, faster than usual since the branches were holding her spread eagle. Arbor tilted his head, and then turned around, getting on his hands and knees. Ayano's breath hitched, involuntarily bucking against the branches- to no avail, of course. She watched with growing anticipation as a branch lowered from the tree- and this one was different than the others. It was a deep pink, fleshy, and dripping with some sort of liquid. As it neared Arbor's lace-covered ass, the man pulled the butt plug out of his ass- and in one hard thrust, the branch went in 6 inches.

Ayano moaned along with Arbor, fucked out cunt twitching and clenching in interest as she watched Arbor's arms tremble, before completely giving way under him. His ass remained in the air, pierced on the fleshy branch, and his head was buried in the petals, hands gripping fistfuls as he groaned in pleasure. Ayano's heart was pounding a mile in a minute. She wanted to hear more of those deep, needy moans- but she couldn't watch the beautiful sight for long. Three identical branches were approaching her.

One thrust 7 inches into her stretched pussy, and Ayano felt like she'd been set on fire. She came immediately, sobbing as her cunt gave harsh spasms around the thick, tingly feeling of the branch. The second one came up to her mouth and shoved in so deep Ayano was sure it could release it's sap directly into her stomach. It wriggled around in her throat, the branch in her cunt doing the same, and Ayano nearly screamed from the intense pleasure. Her nipples were hard and aching, breasts craving attention. The final branch had disappeared from her view- and it was now prodding at her tight ass.

Ayano whined in a panic around the branch in her throat, but she could only stay still as it breached the tight rim. Just as it began pushing it’s impressive girth inside, more of the tree’s sap was released into her stomach- and she noticed a certain effect immediately. Colors became sharper, her senses went into overdrive, and more importantly, it seemed that all of her pain receptors had been turned off- and her pleasure receptors had been turned up to the max. With each inch of the branch that penetrated her ass, her cunt squeezed, wringing pleasured moan after pleasured moan from the exhausted woman. All three of her holes were being used by the tree, and she was being rocked back and forth in time to the limb thrusting into Arbor’s ass. She cried out as the branch ‘bottomed out’, cumming hard and fast. She had lost count of how many times it had been now, only that the pleasure seemed to intensify with each round, turning her into a desperate, needy cockslut.

All at once, another branch wound around her hips and began forming a mound just above her clit - and then a dildo began growing out of it. Sensing what was to come, Ayano whined and moaned desperately, jerking her hips against the branches hold in an attempt to speed along the process. Finally, finally, she was lined up to Arbor’s hole and the branch that had been occupying it slithered out, and Ayano was thrust in. She cried out along with Arbor, and the two branches in her sopping wet pussy and ass began a brutal pace, using the force and speed of their thrusts alone to force Ayano into Arbor’s ass again and again. His pleasured moans were like music to her ears, and she found herself cumming again and again, nearly screaming as her tits were played with by more branches, driving her insane. She could only babble mindless pleading and praise around the thick limb in her mouth, quieting immediately when more sap was released into her by all three limbs, nearly distending her stomach with how much there was.

Ayano’s cunt gave one more valiant squirt and Arbor came along with her, their moans filling the otherwise quiet air of his room. Ayano whimpered when the branches finally pulled out, leaving her achingly empty and clenching weakly around air. Arbor sighed in contentment and flicked his wrist, causing Ayano to be slowly lowered next to him on the bed.

“Rest. Then aftercare.” He mumbled, and Ayano couldn’t agree more, even if she was leaking all over his bed. She used the last of the strength that hadn’t been duly fucked out of her to reach around and grab Arbor’s ass, squeezing it like a stress ball. The sorcerer only chuckled, and it was that sound that lulled Ayano to sleep.

#obey me oc #obey me mc #thirsts 💥#ayano/arbor #het smut #tree smut #my writing #pine's writing #fic

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plethora-of-imagines · 5 years ago

Text

Can Never Escape Her Love

AN: I’m back from finals. I don’t currently have anything else written but more things will follow without over 2 weeks passing by now that I have more time. This is a darker fic, so please read the warnings!

Word Count: 3868

Warnings: very very light suggestive/citrus, manipulation, thought monitoring, suicide idealization, self harm/suicide attempt, unhealthy relationship

Description: She reminds you so much of your Doctor that you ache. There is only one way to escape her now.

Tag List: @c-s-stars @queerconfusionthings (let me know if you want me to keep you on the list for everything O!)

Warm arms found their way around your waist, pulling you closer to a warm body. Your entire being relaxed as you bleary opened your eyes to try and see who it was. Mhhh it was the Doctor, or at least you think it was. You were too tried to open your eyes fully but the strong arms around you had to belong to the Doctor. Who else could they belong to? You felt safe and warm. Must be the Doctor. She was the only one who made you feel so completely content like this.

"Doc," your voice was sleepy as you nuzzled further into her embrace.

Of all the wonders of the universe being in her arms was your favorite. If it was possible you would never leave her embrace.

"Hmm suppose I can overlook you calling me Doc right now. You're practically still asleep. And you're so pliant and cuddly."

You drifted off not really registering her words. Her hands were working to soothe you, rubbing circles into your skin and brushing through your hair. It was nice and sleep came back to you with ease.

You woke up completely relaxed on top of someone's body. You didn't remember falling asleep in someone's arms. So who were you laying on top of? Your face scrunched up in confusion but your body stayed practically boneless. You were too comfortable to ruin it by tensing up at the moment.

"Good morning treasure," she made the word treasure sound like a possessive caress.

Your entire body stiffened to the point that you were shaking. It was her. Why wouldn't she leave you alone? You hated it when she took advantage of the fact that she reminded you so much of the Doctor. Your Doctor, who you missed with your whole being. So much that at times you physically ached.

Her hand pressed forcefully against your temple. Your body went slack becoming putty that she could mold to her desires. You hated it. Yet your body refused to listen to your mind and remained responseless to your internal struggle to try and move away. Even worse was that you were starting to get used to her manipulating your body telepathically.

At least she left your thoughts alone, for the most part. She would get angry sometimes at your thoughts but she never tried to stop you from thinking. It was unavoidable that she would get angry when she was almost constantly in your head. You knew what she wanted more than anything else. She wanted you to love her of your own free will. She didn’t mind manipulating situations to bring you closer to thinking of her fondly, but she would never manipulate your thoughts to make you think you loved her.

It was her only redeeming quality. That and her unwillingness to cause you any physical pain.

"There we go. All relaxed again. Isn't this better treasure?"

She brought your face up for a kiss. It was a soft and sweet kiss. The kind that you had loved receiving from the Doctor during the rare sleepy mornings where she was content to stay still for a while. Now it made your heartache.

You felt sick. This woman that had replaced the Doctor in your life was much more content to stay still and hold you in her embrace. To do any of the things you had yearned for. But all you wanted was your Doctor back. All fast pace, never staying still. Always on the move to see the next new wonder the universe had to offer.

A small noise from the TARDIS stole her attention. Her face scrunched up at whatever she had been told. Even the way her face scrunched was identical. It wasn’t fair. She was so similar yet so very frighteningly different. You had lost count of the people she had killed.

"It appears we have an uninvited guest. Let's go greet them shall we?"

She pulled you out of bed with her, changing from holding you in her arms to holding your hand with ease. You had no opportunity to escape her grasp. At this point, you never bothered to struggle. She wasn’t against overpowering you in order to keep you where she wanted you. It wasn’t worth the effort.

"Don't bother with getting dressed my treasure. They won't be here long," the growl in her voice spoke of danger and death for whoever had dared to interrupt her time in bed with you.

You let her pull you out of the room still wearing only the lingerie she had forced you into the day before. Perhaps forced was the wrong word, coerced would be better. She loved to give you the illusion of choice. You could put on the white, frilly lingerie she had chosen for you, or she could destroy the next planet the TARDIS landed on. You had chosen to put it on.

The lingerie gave you a pure, angelic look. It also embarrassed you immensely to be seen in it, even if just by her. Which was probably one of the reasons she had you wear it. While she wanted you to be comfortable she wanted you to not be able to leave more. You were a lot less likely to try and escape the TARDIS if you would be doing so in lingerie. It was an added incentive to stay in the TARDIS, to stay with her.

Not that the TARDIS would open her doors to even give you the chance to escape. The TARDIS had made it clear that she would side with her and not you. The most the TARDIS would do for you now was make a comforting sound while you cried. Of course, that was only until she was able to reach you to comfort you. Having been told by the TARDIS that you were upset. Constantly monitored by both the living ship and the woman who owned her.

The doors to the TARDIS opened to let this "guest" in the moment the two of you entered the console room. Another thing that had stayed the same in design but was so very different.

The console room had always been warm when the Doctor was here. It had been rare for the room to reflect anger or despair. Now it was always darkly lit up in red, a sign of the woman’s anger with the universe. The only bright spot in the darkness of the room was where you stood. You were always bathed in light when you entered the room. It made you feel uncomfortable to be under this- this spotlight. She always poetically compared it to you being the only star in the vast, harshness of space. You were the only light in her universe. She would do anything to keep you in her orbit. It scared you to think of the atrocities she would commit to keep you close.

You could feel the stare of this "guest" on you as you keep your eyes on the floor. It felt strange to have someone else's eyes on you. You had been isolated for so long. Looking into the eyes of whoever she was about to kill was all you could do for them now. They deserved that much from you. It had been a very long time since you had tried to get her to spare someone. There was no chance of her letting whoever had dared to get this close to the TARDIS and try to get inside live. When you finally forced yourself to look up you couldn't contain yourself from your joyous exclamation.

"Jack!"

He could help you! He could end this living nightmare of being loved by this twisted facsimile of the Doctor.

"Well don't you look like an angel from the heavens!"

You blushed at his overly flirtatious tone. For a moment you had forgotten you were standing before him in nothing but frilly lingerie. You had been so happy to see someone who could help you leave that you had forgotten you weren’t alone. That was a mistake. You could practically hear the sneer she made.

She wasn't happy to see him. In fact, he may have made her even less pleased with his existence by openly flirting with you. Something you wouldn’t have thought possible before this moment.

"I suggest you keep your eyes to yourself unless you want me to rip them out and keep them in a jar."

"Oof. I had heard you changed Doc but I didn't quite believe it,” how Jack could keep his tone light and casual was beyond you.

You felt the blood drain from your face at the look she gave him. She hated being called Doctor. She had killed people for even implying she was the Doctor. She only tolerated you calling her Doctor because she loved you. She saw your confusion as unavoidable. She was still kind to you, only to you. Always conscientious of your comfort and safety. Of course, you would struggle to understand that the Doctor was dead and gone when she showered you in kindness, love, and affection just like the Doctor had- before she had been destroyed. They even looked the same, well except for the hair.

She had let the Doctor’s hair grow out from its short bob. The length leading past her shoulders, ending just above her chest. Something had happened to it to change it from its bright sunny blond to a dull brunette. You didn’t think she dyed it? But you had no idea how else the color could have changed. She hadn’t regenerated. Her body was still the same as when she had been your Doctor. Something that made your life so much harder and brought you so much grief. How could you look at her with hate when she looked like the person you had loved most in the universe?

"Jack... you've made a mistake coming to bother me. I might have left you alone. You're such an eyesore, I would have preferred to ignore your continued existence,” her voice was scathing as she ranted. At times her words could burn someone before she had the chance to burn their skin. “But no. You had to come and harass me."

The TARDIS doors closed with a slam that made you jump. She moved with quick precision around the console. Leaving you to stand alone bathed in light. She was methodical and efficient. There was no whimsical flair to her piloting now. You were terrified to know where she was bringing you. How she planned to kill Jack. She would kill Jack- it was as fixed a decision as he was a fixed point in time.

You looked at Jack to plead with him to leave. He needed to leave before she killed him. He had a vortex manipulator, he had a chance of escaping! The words died in your throat. His eyes were stern and set. Nothing would change his mind on whatever he had planned. You had to hope that she didn't find a way to kill him permanently. If anyone could end his immortality it would be her.

The TARDIS materialized.

With a snap of her fingers, the doors threw themselves open. The TARDIS was in the vacuum of space. Empty except for the light of distant stars. It must have been longer than you thought it had been since you had looked out into pure space. There was a hazy glow near the bottom of the door that you couldn’t remember seeing before. While it would be a horrible way to die- out in the vacuum of space. There was still a chance that Jack could be picked up by a roaming spaceship soon. If for some reason he couldn’t rely on his vortex manipulator. It was too much to hope that she would neglect to take care of it before she left him for certain death numerous times over.

Jack didn’t even look behind him to see what was outside the open doors.

“Smart choice to not turn your back on me. I would have stabbed you in the back before throwing you out into the star the TARDIS is above.”

Oh. That was why you could see a bright haze. It was a star. You tried not to think about what that could mean for Jack.

“I wonder, dear Jack if your mind will still be intact in thousands of years when this star finally dies and you can remain alive for more than a few moments?”

She didn’t let the two of you avoid thinking about what she was going to do. She stalked towards him until her face was mere inches from his. Gripping his arm, nails digging into his vortex manipulator and skin. His skin bleed from the punctures she caused before she tore his vortex manipulator off and threw it out into the star below.

“Can’t leave you with that cheating bit of tech. Don’t worry if your mind is still there when I come back to check on your mental state! I will have thought of a better way to permanently get rid of you by then.”

Jack didn’t break eye contact with you throughout the whole encounter. He stared into your eyes. Expression grim. You nodded as subtly as you could. If she had any idea of what the two of you were planing, what you were agreeing to she would put a stop to it. You understood. There was only one escape left for you.

In the moments that she threw him out of the TARDIS into the star below he acted. He pulled the gun out of nowhere. It didn’t matter to you where it had been kept. All that mattered was giving him a clear shot at you. It had to be quick. You took serval steps forward. Careful to move in a predictable way so that he didn’t mess up the shot. The noise of the gun firing was strangely quiet in comparison to her scream when she realized that you were going to be shot.

She was moving towards you before you even felt the bullet pierce your skin. You almost didn’t feel it enter your side.

Your side.

He missed.

He MISSED.

HE MISSED.

He missed.

You were dying but that wasn’t good enough. If you were still alive then she wouldn’t let you die. She wouldn’t let you escape her like this. She would never let you leave her. Jack had failed to kill you. You wouldn’t get to escape with his help. You likely would never get an opportunity to escape again.

She rushed over to you where you laid on the console room floor. You could see the golden glow beginning underneath the surface of her skin. You tried to thrash away from her. Even going as far as to try and press near the wound to try and get your blood to leave your body faster. You needed to die before she stopped you! It was hopeless to think you would succeed but you had to try.

You couldn’t get away. Her arms tightened around you. It hurt but it was very effective in stopping you from struggling. Pulling you into her embrace she shifted you so that she could hold you still with one arm. This was why you normally never fought her. She was so much stronger than you. The golden glow moved to the surface of her skin, reaching out. Like it was sentient, aching to be released.

A single hand hovered over the gunshot wound. The golden tendrils leaping from her hand to your skin. It reminded you of stardust trying to form into a new star. The skin it caressed welded itself back together as if it had never been harmed.

Her hovering hand pressed into the open wound bringing a strangled, pained noise passed your lips. She didn’t hesitate to shove her hand into your body. Your vision went white with the pain you were in. You didn’t even try to hold back your screams. She hated it when you were hurt so maybe your screams would stop this torture.

“Shhhh. Sh. Sh. Shhh,” she shushed you as she wiggled her fingers around inside of you. “I know it hurts but it will be over soon treasure. I just need to get the bullet out of you before I make it all better.”

Her fingers stopped moving around wildly inside of you. Once they had stilled she began to slowly remove her hand from inside of your side. You wanted her to hurry up and remove her hand. It hurt! Everything hurt! You just wanted this to be over.

Your body went limp in her arms once her hand was resting over top of your wound. You hadn’t even realized that your body had been tensed until it no longer was.

The soft glow of her hands as they healed you felt nice. It still burned but not as intensely as having her hand inside of your body had. In comparison, the burning of your cells as they regrew was relaxing.

“There we go all better.”

The kiss she pressed against your side where the wound had been would have made you smile if she was still your Doctor. You were so tired that you couldn’t find anything in yourself but indifference at the action. It was a blessing to not be missing the Doctor at the moment. A part of you knew that you should still be upset that your last hope of escape had failed. But you were so tired that you just didn't care. You just wanted to sleep.

“Let’s get you to the medbay so you can rest treasure.”

Rising off the floor with you in her arms she carried you out of the console room and down the hall. The TARDIS didn't bother to move the room closer. You were completely healed and in no current danger of dying so there was no need. The further away you were from the TARDIS’s doors the better in both of their minds. You almost drifted off to sleep in her arms before she spoke.

“As much as I hate him Jack has pointed out something very important to me,” she dipped her head to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You are too vulnerable. Even if I were to keep you in my arms for eternity there would still be a risk of you dying. The whole universe is my enemy now and they will eventually kill you.”

She kicked the door to the medbay open. Gently. You supposed she had entered your mind to know how exhausted you were and didn’t want to make too much noise and disturb you. She carried you over to a soft bed laying you down with care. You were so tired, so tired. Was this what the Doctor had felt like after regenerating? You understood now why she had passed out in the middle of a crisis. You felt like you could pass out any minute now. She tucked you in and you were almost grateful. The warmth was a comfort to your sore and cold body.

“You could die so easily. I’ve lost so many people,” her voice sounded haunted, it sent a chill down your spine.

She noticed and tucked you in more securely. Moving to grab something from a nearby cabinet. You thought perhaps another blanket but she seemed empty-handed when she came back. Maybe she just needed a moment to try and compose herself. You were too tied to care that much.

“One day I’m going to lose you. To old age, at someone else’s hands,” her voice cracked as if at any moment tears would spill from her eyes.

You hadn’t known she was capable of crying anymore. You did your best to not let it inspire sympathy from you. She had committed so many atrocities. Destroyed more planets than the Master ever had. You couldn’t let yourself feel bad for her. But you were so tired and she reminded you so much of your Doctor.

“Unless I make you like me -timeless- I will lose you too.”

The cruel smile she gave you was your only warning. She probably thought it was reassuring. Moving quick as a viper she injected something into you. It felt cold. Like ice freezing you in place. You wanted more than anything to throw yourself off the bed and run far away into the heart of the TARDIS. But you couldn’t move an inch. Your breath hitched. You were at her mercy and she didn’t have any.

“Small temporary paralysis drug. I need to keep you still so I can work.”

“Please. Please Val-,” you choked down the sobs that desperately wanted to escape as you realized what she was going to do to you. “Valeyard. Don’t do this to me. I don’t want this. Please. I- I- I don’t want this.”

Sobs left your body. Had you been capable of moving you would have been shaking with the intensity of your cries. She was going to make you immortal like her. Completely timeless. You would never escape her. You would never die. She tenderly brushed your hair away from your face. Wiping away your tears for a few moments. Your tears didn’t stop, they just kept spilling from your eyes.

“Normally I would give you anything you desired in the universe my treasure. I would never refuse you anything. Except this. The only thing I refuse to give you. A way to leave me.”

She pulled away so that she could get what she needed so that you would be with her forever. You tried with all your might to move. To flee this fate. Nothing changed- you were still frozen to the spot. The gold color of the syringe she brought over was so bright it was blinding. Like looking into the sun.

“While it may not be a gift you want right now you’ll thank me for it eventually. You’ll never age. Never die!” She was trying to reassure you but all that you felt was growing dread as more tears streamed down your face. “You won’t even have to deal with a face change. I wouldn’t make you suffer through an identity crisis like that my treasure.”

Once it was injected into your veins you felt violently sick. Your insides twisted to the point that you were sure that her hands were inside you again. Twisting your organs to wring out the liquid they held. You screamed in pain. Everything hurt. Everything burned! You just wanted it to stop!

The Valeyard lifted you up from the bed, slipping in behind you. Holding you and trying to comfort you with her touch. You couldn’t hear her voice over your screams but it didn’t matter the Valeyard just spoke into your mind instead. Soft coos and sweet words meant to comfort you.

Everything was okay. Nothing would ever hurt you again. She would love you forever, her dear treasure.

You would never be able to escape her now.

#valeyard!13 x reader #13th doctor x reader

58 notes · View notes

hopewritcs · 4 years ago

Text

shipwrecked. four.

pairing: tony stark x f!reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: au based on the film overboard ( both the 1987 and the 2018 versions influenced this ). y/n is a widowed mother of four children, who works constantly to make ends meet, and relies on her friends and family to help out with her children. all the while she’s still working toward her own goal of publishing a novel. y/n is working at a “last minute emergency” party on a yacht where she meets tony who seems to believe that since it’s his boat, he can order her around like any other person who works for him. let’s just say their first meeting does not go well, as it ends with y/n in the water and a laughing tony topside on the yacht. their second meeting? oh, thanks to a bump on the head and a case of amnesia, it’s all going to go according to plan ( she hopes ).

notes: okay so i just decided to start watching all the mcu movies from the beginning and it’s brought me back to this fic. i know i sometimes take eons to update, but i really appreciate all the love and support for my fics i’ve seen. i hope you all enjoy this as much as i enjoy writing it. -- also, just a reminder that joanna is 12 going on 13, kate & dean are 9, and leo is 6.

trigger(s): amnesia

masterlist: here

shipwrecked tag list: @and-drew-101, @witheringblooddemon, @hulksmashin-bannerpackin ( if you want to be added to the tag list, send me a message !! )

Having Tony around was making your life both easier and more difficult. You had more free time, as you now had someone to split the house chores with--the ones that the kids couldn’t do for their weekly chore wheel like making meals and prepping lunches--which you spent working on the novel you’d been writing for years. It was a pet project you’d started working on when you were pregnant with the twins, you never expected it to amount to anything other than something you liked passing time by doing.

After your husband’s death it was something you’d turned to and worked on it in the late hours of the night when you couldn’t sleep. It was turning into something of a memoir, based on personal experiences but with fictional characters. It was nowhere near what you’d originally thought the work of fiction to be, but it had helped so much writing it.

You worked out a schedule with Lenore and Billie for yourself and Tony to make sure one of you was always home when the kids were leaving in the morning or coming home after school--completely ending your dependence on the babysitter you used to hire, thankfully since it saved you money.

However, you’d also say your life was more difficult to control with Tony in the picture since every time a personal question popped up, it took you by surprise.

He was still dealing with amnesia, and struggling to remember who he was on top of the family you two had--even if that part was technically a lie, he was doing his best. The first couple of times the questions were simple enough.

“Do I like strawberries?” / “Do we have family meals every day?” / “When are the kids birthdays?” / “How did we meet?”

Every question was usually followed by a sigh as he’d mutter, “I hate that I can’t remember anything.” Which only broke your heart a little bit further every time you heard him say it.

Sure, you played the part of struggling marriage well. It wasn’t hard, since you could classify your feelings for Tony more along the lines of hate than anything else at the beginning. It was supposed to be a means to an end.

But, as time went on, you started to feel something. You and Tony started to connect, and you saw how he was with the kids and it made your heart flutter. This was never something you expected to happen again, but the house almost started to feel like home.

Within the first couple of days, Tony seemed much happier too. Where at first Tony would quietly observe everybody during family meals and not say much, after the first few days Tony was leading conversations and participating in them often.

Tony surprised you by writing little notes down. You found a couple loose sheets of paper in the coffee table drawer with lists of things. One list included things that needed to be fixed around the house--you knew they all needed to be done, especially the dish washer, but you hadn’t had the time or money to hire someone to do anything--and there were also sheets for you and the kids. Notes in Tony’s stark scrawling pen about each of you; birthdays, favorite things, things he noticed, questions he wanted to ask.

You’d made sure to put the papers back how you found them, not wanting Tony to know he’d been caught. Maybe it was also for yourself to make sure you kept some distance.

Tony was not your husband.

You ignored just how often, after only just a week, you’d need to remind yourself of this fact.

A week into living with Tony, the family had really begun a routine. It was like you all fit together. You’d gotten a couple of text updates from Billie, pictures of Tony at work at the garage.

At first, you showed them to Lenore and the two of you laughed about it. After a while, you started to save them just for yourself.

“You like him!” Lenore exclaimed one morning, barging into your office with two cups of coffee.

You turned your head from the computer and looked at your friend, shaking your head, “Good morning to you too, crazy.”

“Come on, tell me you don’t feel something for him.” Lenore said, placing a cup of coffee in front of you and raising her eyebrows. “I mean, he’s been living at the house for a week now. You spend all your time with him. He’s a natural with the kids, and Billie says he’s doing great with the cars.”

“Your point? Because none of that points to me liking him in the way you’re implying.” You sighed, tapping on the desk as you grabbed the cup of coffee and took a sip. After a long pause you continued to speak, “Do I find him exponentially less irritating than originally thought? Yes. But I do not like him. This isn’t middle school, we’re not at a sleepover talking about our crushes anymore.”

Lenore was still looking at you with a smirk that said I don’t believe a word you’re saying. “You’re telling me you have no feelings for him? None whatsoever?”

“Yes, Len. I really don’t have feelings for him--how could I, I don’t even know who he is. Better yet, he doesn’t even know who he really is! Is this all something because he doesn’t remember what made him be a jerk? Is it some side affect of the amnesia? I don’t know.”

“Oh, so you want to like him.” She was actually giggling at your comment, which made you more irritated than you’d been at her original accusation.

Maybe she was right, you wanted to like Tony. If not in the way Lenore was implying, you wanted to like him and feel more comfortable around him. But there was a part of you that still held onto the first interaction you had. The interaction you had with the real Tony.

“Sweetie, it’s okay. You’re allowed to want to like somebody else, it’s been--”

You threw your hands up to stop her from continuing her thought, shaking your head. “Don’t go there.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, but it’s true. If you want to like someone, you can. It’s not going to change anything that happened before.”

“Lenore, I love you, but can I just get back to work? I’ve got to be home early today. I don’t want to have this conversation with you today, or ever frankly. Until there’s someone real in the picture.”

Lenore shook her head and turned back to leave your office, but not before looking at you and saying one last piece of mind. “Tony is real.”

You ignored it, because she was wrong. Everything that Tony had been was lost to him with the amnesia. This Tony, the fake husband you’d been living with, he wasn’t real.

You couldn’t let him be real, couldn’t allow your feelings to cloud your judgement.

So, it was easier--better for you and everyone else--to just pretend like you felt nothing for him.

Tony was already home when you arrived, which shouldn’t have surprised you. In fact, Tony being home wasn’t what surprised you as you walked through the front door. What surprised you was what Tony was doing.

He was on the kitchen floor with Kate by his side, the two of them working on the dishwasher. That was what made you stop in your tracks, the front door closing behind you as you stepped into the house.

Kate was curled up in the floor with Tony, the door of the dishwasher on the floor on the opposite side of them, as they went back and forth handing each other tools and whispering about what needed to be done next.

You knew you should leave them be, let the two of them work on the dishwasher--even if you worried they might make it worse. Though, since the machine wasn’t working to begin with, could anything really be worse than that?

Except, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the front doorway, watching the two of them at work.

Kate had been the quietest of your children, even before you had lost your husband, but you could tell how excited she was to be working on this project. Even if she was whispering with Tony, you could see how her eyes brightened as they spoke and tinkered with the machine. You moved around the room quietly, trying not to disturb the two of them--though with every step further into the house, it seemed as though the two of them had no idea you were in the room.

You tucked your purse into it’s usual spot, doing what you did when you got home from work every day and took off your shoes and hung up the coat you’d been wearing.

Even after all of this movement when you turned back around, the two of them hadn’t moved more than a couple of inches. Clearly they had no idea they had an audience to their little workshop.

Taking your cellphone out of your pocket, you snapped a couple of pictures from a distance, looking at the way Tony worked and how he seemed to talk Kate through what to do instead of just doing it himself.

This was not what you’d expected.

Oh boy, you were in trouble.

“Mom, you’re home early too!” Leo exclaimed, coming from the stairs and running to greet you with a hug. Dean followed behind him, holding onto books.

“Hi sweetie.” You bent down and gave your youngest a kiss on the cheek and brushed back his hair from his eyes as you continued to speak. “Are you guys working on school stuff?”

“Dean’s been helping me with stuff for the spelling test I have on Monday.” Leo nodded, pointing to his brother with a grin.

“Oh yeah?” You walked over to Dean and turned your attention back to Leo. “What do you think, is he gonna ace the test?”

“If he would pay attention instead of running around the house, maybe.” Dean said with a shrug, gesturing for his brother to come back up the stairs and study some more.

“I thought I heard the door, so I wanted to see if it was Jo coming home or if it was Mom!” Leo exclaimed, racing over to Dean with a frown on his face. “And I am too doing good. You’re just c-r-a-n-k-y, cranky.” Leo stuck his tongue out at his brother and then ran back up the stairs, leaving Dean to chase after him.

You were almost laughing at their antics until you realized what Leo had said and you walked towards the staircase shouting up at the two of them--even if you knew it wasn’t going to reach their ears as you heard their bedroom door close, “Wait--what do you mean Jo coming home? Is she out? She didn’t call and ask first!” You were already tugging your phone out of your pocket in order to call your daughter, halfway through finding her phone number in your contacts when you heard someone else speak.

“She wanted to go to the movies with some friends when I picked the kids up from school. I thought it would be okay, she said Ryan’s mom would drop her off in time for dinner.” Tony explained, still on the floor with Kate, but he was sitting upright now and looking to put the door back on the dishwasher.

“What? You thought it was okay? That’s my kid, Tony.” You sighed, shaking your head as you walked toward the kitchen, your arms crossed as you looked at him angrily.

“You know what, Y/N?” Tony sighed, running a hand over his face as he turned his attention completely to you, “You keep saying my kids. They’re ours, aren’t they? So maybe you could trust me with our kids.”

And there it was. The one part of this whole secret you hated.

You dropped to one of the seats at the kitchen table and sighed, putting your hands in your lap and looking down. You didn’t want to fight. You hated that you got so angry so quickly--if it was any other situation, you wouldn’t have been so mad at Joanna--but it was only natural since you were still going back and forth about trusting Tony. He was proving to be trustworthy, but the back of your mind was replaying him push you off the yacht every time you wanted to completely trust him. Besides, you’d asked Joanna to stay home and watch the younger kids, so she’d betrayed your trust.

He was right though, for everything he believed the kids were both of yours. You couldn’t fault him.

It was a long and admittedly tense pause as you looked between your hands clasped together in your lap and at your “husband”. It was going to be hard to explain that technically, both of you were right in this instance. You couldn’t explain why without giving everything away. So you settled for sighing again, shaking your head and speaking softly. It was clear from your tone that you were still angry, but you wanted the argument to be over with. “I just...if it happens again, text me. You have to let me know where she’s going to be.”

“You’re right. I-I should have called you first to ask. I’m sorry.” Tony stood up and walked to the kitchen table to take a seat beside you, putting his hands on top of yours as he looked at you.

“I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have said that the way I did.” You admitted softly, looking at his hands on top of yours. It felt weird and comforting all at once.

“No, you were right, they’re not just your kids or my kids. So I shouldn’t have told Jo it was alright when I hadn’t spoken to you first.”

You turned your gaze back up to look at Tony and offered him a half smile, shrugging your shoulders. You flipped your hands in his so that you were holding his hands instead of letting his rest on top of yours. “Next time we’ll both know better, then.”

Tony nodded, smiling back at you and then standing up. “Alright. Not to change the subject--but to change the subject, our youngest daughter and I have been working since we got home from school and we’re pretty sure that we’ve fixed the dishwasher problem.” Tony tugged on your hands and you stood up, following him the couple of steps to the dishwasher and he left you by the counter so he could sit back with Kate. “Isn’t that right kid?”

Kate nodded, grinning as she turned to look at you. “Daddy says I’m a natural with mechanics and machines!”

“Are you sure? We could have called a professional to get this fixed. Are you sure it’s gonna work?” You were worried, simply because you didn’t have the money in order to pay to get it fixed, and you didn’t know what was going to happen when they turned the machine on.

Kate however, was unfazed, standing up and walking over to you with a grin on her face. “Uh, duh, it’s gonna work! Dad’s super talented with this stuff.”

“So are you, kid.” Tony grinned back at her, holding up the door to the dishwasher and nudging her. “Now, if you’re done convincing mom that the dishwasher will work, you wanna help your dad put the finishing touch back on. Then we can do a test run.”

Kate looked at you, like she was waiting for your answer so you nodded and nudged her back to the dishwasher where she happily helped Tony put everything back together. He held the door in place while he talked through Kate screwing everything back in position.

Oh hell, you were really in deep.

When Joanna came home, in time for dinner that you and Tony had both cooked together, you decided you were going to take her aside to talk with her about everything that had happened. You’d calmed down a lot since you originally found out, but you still wanted to have a conversation with her about everything that had happened. In the end, while the pair of you worked on dinner, you’d told Tony that you were going to ground your oldest daughter given how she’d not told you where she was going or who she was going to be with and only told Tony. He agreed, simply because this was your punishment--though he did point out that he thought it was a little too harsh for the young girl.

However, you waited until after dinner to have the conversation.

Tony knew you were going to have a talk with Joanna, just nodded his head and let you go off with her as he cleared the table, telling the other kids that they should grab the ice cream from the freezer for dessert.

You led Jo out to the front yard and walked over to your car with her. Once you were far enough from the front door you rounded on your daughter and looked at her. “What did we talk about?”

“Uh, what do you mean?” she asked, crossing her arms and looking at you like she had no idea what you were talking about.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know exactly what you did, Joanna. You asked Tony if you could go to the movies and left your brothers and sister home with him.” You exclaimed, managing to keep your voice down low enough so no one would overhear.

“So what? I think he’s a decent guy, mom. I mean, you talked about him being an arrogant ass--”

“Language!”

“And yet he’s been great with us. He’s nothing like what you said he was, mom!” Your daughter shook her head, like she couldn’t believe what she’d heard you describe Tony as.

If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t disagree with her. This Tony was different than the one you’d originally met the other week on the yacht, and it was getting harder to see what everything was like originally.

Yet still, your argument still stood, “He’s got amnesia, Jo. He doesn’t remember what he was like!”

“Well maybe this is the kind of guy he would have been anyway. Maybe he just needed to get hit in the head for it to happen! Don’t you trust him?”

“Do I trust him? That’s not the point, Jo. The point of this is that I asked you to watch out for the kids and you blatantly disregarded what I asked you to do.” You explained, shaking your head. “Honey, it doesn’t matter if I trust him or not. I asked you to do something, and I expected you to do it. You’re grounded, for the next two weeks. School, home, and after school activities only.”

“Mom! That’s totally unfair.”

“Unfair? What’s unfair is I had no idea where my daughter was when I got home today. What’s unfair is that you didn’t text me, or call me, and ask if you could go to the movies. What’s unfair is that I was worried sick about where you were.”

Jo rolled her eyes, “Would you have even said yes if I asked?”

“Maybe I would have, but that’s not what we’re talking about. You scared me today. I need to know where you are.”

“This is so stupid.” Joanna sighed, turning around and walking back towards the front door.

“Watch your tone.” You called after her, following her back to the house and walking into the front door. “Apologize to Tony.” You whispered to Joanna as you went into the kitchen to help the kids get their ice creams ready to eat.

Joanna followed you to where the kids were and looked at Tony, shuffling on her feet as she cleared her throat to get his attention, “I’m sorry. I should have told you to call mom, cause she’s in control of everyone’s life and can’t imagine anybody saying something without her permission.”

“Joanna!” you exclaimed, turning around to look at her.

“Hey, Jo. Watch your tone, and apologize to your mother right now.” Tony said. He didn’t like the way she implied that, since he knew that it wasn’t your intention. You had just worried about her, and wanted to make sure she was alright.

“Why should I?” Jo crossed her arms and glared at you from her place by the kitchen table. “It’s not like I can go anywhere, I’m grounded because of her!”

“Enough.” Tony spoke firmly, with a shake of his head. “That’s enough, Joanna. She has every right to be worried about you and where you were. Apologize and go up to your room now.”

“Ugh, whatever. I’m sorry, I guess.” Joanna sighed and turned around, walking up the stairs.

The rest of the kitchen was quiet, with the kids not wanting to say anything and neither you nor Tony saying anything else on the subject. The tension in the kitchen was awkward, as the five of you continued to make ice cream sundaes in silence for a while.

You hadn’t expected Tony to stand up for you like that. In fact, there were a lot of things you were still learning.

But you didn’t want to think of that, because deep down you worried about the day Tony’s memory would come back and what that would mean for you, and the kids, and him.

You were, without a doubt, in trouble.

But, hey, the dishwasher worked perfectly now. Maybe that was a sign that things were going to be alright after all.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark au #pre iron man i #tony stark x y/n #tony stark imagine #shipwrecked

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thethoughtsfromthreeam · 5 years ago

Text

California

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x OC

Warnings: Mentions of bodily harm, implied sexy times

A/N: A reminder that Parts 11 and 12 run concurrently from different view points. I love this chapter and it was almost cathartic to write it. While obviously this is all fiction, I think we can all follow Shirley’s lead in this chapter and show ourselves a little love.

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List: @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5] [PART 6] [PART 7] [PART 8] [PART 9] [PART 10] [PART 11]

Part 12

Forgiveness

Several hours after she killed Agent Port, now known as Kirsch, Shirley spent time with Dr. Orange talking about the ordeal. She found herself worried that she felt no remorse over killing someone. If anything, she felt like she could kick up her heels and dance a jig with Merlin. Was she an unfeeling monster like him at heart?

“No.” Said Dr. Orange. “Five years ago, you experienced a severe trauma and while you may have gotten your life back, a little part of it was still held captive by the experience. Knowing he was still out there has been dogging you this entire time. He’s gone and now you’re free.”

“Free.”

“Yes, free. As a therapist I should tell you differently, but I think I can bend the rules just this once. Shirley, you did the right thing by killing him. You saved more lives, your actions will give comfort to the families and co-workers of the agents missing or dead, and for the love of god, you’re free to live your life without fear.”

Shirley’s eyes teared up because she knew what Dr. Orange was saying was right. She had been living, but not really. She never left HQ alone on the rare moments she did leave, she was granted permission not to be sent to another office, and she turned the library into her life. Even her interactions with her friends and Jack were stunted, limited by the weight of her scars and the man on the run who caused them. Now, she could be herself again. A fully bloomed flower. A sunshiny Marigold.

They talked at little longer and after a long hug, Shirley left the office feeling pounds lighter. Free.

---***---

Several Days Later

The sun pouring into the bedroom nudged Shirley awake and she slowly opened her eyes. For the first time in years, waking up felt truly pleasurable and she remembered what it meant to feel rested. She shifted a bit before stretching like a cat. Jack’s arm tightened around her waist, but he never woke up and she could feel his even breaths against her neck. She laid in bed a little longer before she got up. Jack mumbled in his sleep but rolled over to his back and quieted down again.

She padded across the room to begin her morning routine, the same one she had since she moved into their apartment. Gathering her clothes to dress elsewhere so Jack wouldn’t see her scarred body, she went into the bathroom to clean up. After washing her face and brushing her teeth and hair, she began to strip out of the long pajamas that she slept in.

As she bent over to take off her pants, her eye caught her reflection in the mirror. She noticed the scars along her chest were faded to almost nothing, small specks of silver as if a fairy kissed her and left marks. She surprised herself at the thought – so opposite of how she saw those scars all these years. Kiss marks on her chest made her think of something completely different.

“Moonshine, you are killing me in that dress.” Jack groaned. The wrap dress she wore was simple enough, almost knee length with three quarter sleeves. A modest number in purple with white flowers dotted all over it.

“This dress? You’ve seen more skin than this before.” She laughed even as he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her flush against him. He bent down and kissed the laughter from her mouth and she gently placed her hands on his forearms. When he lifted his head, they were both panting, with want pooling heavy in both their stomachs.

“I could fuck you in this dress right here.” She sighed as his lips made their way down her neck and to her cleavage. She rested her cheek against the top of his head and moaned a little. They had to leave soon, but she didn’t want to move. She loved it when Jack kissed her, touched her. It made her feel alive.

“Jack, baby. I’ll let you fuck me every day in this dress when I get home from California. But we got to go, we don’t want to be late for lunch. Champ wants the meeting to start on time and I need to prep before I leave tonight. The case can’t wait.” He groaned slightly before kissing back up the path he forged and for good measure, kissed her again on the lips.

“You’re free.” She whispered to herself. She stripped off the rest of her clothing and as she stood there in just her underwear, she forced her eyes to really look at her body. The one she had hidden away from everyone, even Jack. It took many long months before she let him touch her intimately again, but rarely fully naked or in the light. And even then, she still flinched at his touch and sometimes found herself fretting over Jack’s opinion of her body despite never been given a reason to do so. The brain convinces us of the strangest things.

She turned her body this way and that, looking at healed scars. Most of the back of her was covered in a network of scarred skin that had been burned in the explosion. But after so many years, the skin had softened and didn’t look nearly as horrible as she remembered. God, how long had it been since she really looked at herself? The long scar along her hip was barely visible and she really couldn’t be certain where they had cut her open to insert the stabilizing rods in her ribs.

Had she really spent so much time fearing her own body that she completely ignored the healing of it? The thought sobered her greatly. All these years and she never once forgave herself for surviving. She never once celebrated her body as it healed from devastating trauma.

Today would end that.

---***---

She stood in front of the floor length mirror and started with her toes, wiggling them. She smiled, she always thought she had cute toes and looking at them, they still were. Her eyes dragged up to her ankles and then her calves. She smiled wider when she saw a small round scar on the side of her left calf. It was her first one after her cousin accidentally shot her in the leg with a BB gun when she was four.

“Boone, I told you not to point that damn thing in the house!” Aunt Lisa hollered through the kitchen. “If you don’t take that back to the damn shed, I’m gonna toss it into the damn landfill.”

“Okay, momma, no need to get huffy!” Boone rolled his eyes and started to turn when he tripped, fell, and dropped the gun. It went off, pinging against the stove and hitting Marigold, who was sitting on the table, in the leg. She started to wail at the pain and began screaming when she saw the blood.

Aunt Lisa turned around in horror as Marigold’s mother soothed her child. Lisa’s eyes narrowed and she whipped her head around to look at her idiot son. Boone took one look at his mother and ran out of the house screaming.

Shirley quietly giggled at the memory. Her cousin was such a ridiculous creature and when she wanted to be silly, she’d recreate the scene for her friends. She turned the memory over in her mind before moving on.

There were her knees and her thighs. They were softer these days, like everything else about her. She wasn’t young anymore and stationary work was more her speed. But they were strong and for a moment she had a memory of Jack’s head being cradled between them. Her breath caught in her throat.

She kept going, looking at her hips and the swell of her mound under her panties. She lightly touched herself and thought of all the times she woke up with Jack’s head laying on this very spot, snoring softly while his hands curled lightly around her hips. He would claim he never slept better than on those nights.

Higher her eyes went to her soften belly, rounded and almost cute. Her waist was as straight as a board as it always had been, but Jack didn’t care. He loved wrapping his arms around it when they hugged or slept side by side in bed. She could almost feel his touch and her breath hitched again.

Her eyes dragged upwards to her breasts, where more of those little silver scars dotted her skin. Like her stomach and thighs, there was a new softness that had settle there. She decided the softness more was suited to her than it had ever been. She thought of the time Jack ghosted his fingertips along her skin, tracing circles until her nipples peaked and she was breathless with want. When he stopped touching her, she nearly cried, but gasped when he replaced his hands with his mouth. She remembered her eyes opening wide with shock and pleasure, taking in the deep blue Wyoming sky above her. She felt as if heaven settled all around her that day.

Grinning now, she scraped her eyes to her neck, where the scars wrapped around from the back. She touched the skin and felt saddened at the loss of surface feeling. She had loved it when Jack lightly placed his lips against the side of her neck and around to the back. But the scaring was lighter and if there had been no wrinkling of the skin, one would never know she had been burned there.

Shirley held out her arms and looked at the three treated cuts on her left arm. Cuts that would also heal quietly back into nothing. The slightly scarred skin of her upper arms smoothed out into her delicate hands. She always had small hands, but they were capable. Capable enough to kill a man. Her eyes flew back to her face a moment, but she felt nothing. It was a moment in time and now it was gone. She reminded herself that these same hands built her beloved library and were cradled by her friends in dark hours. These hands were full of tenderness when they’d lightly skim across Jack’s face and down his neck and even lower. He loved her hands, they brought him to ecstasy many times over.

She looked back at her face. She had the comfortable softness of a woman in her thirties, where time reminded her of a life lived and yet of all the time left to live. That she will live because she is here, breathing and alive. She was convinced her face even looked more radiant than it ever had, realizing that she carried the weight of worry on it for so long. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle at the thought. They looked upwards after a moment.

Her hair was always a mousy brown, but this morning the sun highlighted the many silver strands that wove through it. Most women avoided grays like the plague, but she ran her hands through her hair and smiled. She loved them because she couldn’t wait to go grey – a salt and pepper look would better fit her than the current brown every could. But she loved all of it, it was long and soft to the touch. Jack could run his fingers through it for hours and she’d never tell him to stop.

She stepped back and looked at herself in the mirror again. Wrapping her arms around her waist and dropping her chin to her chest, Shirley closed her eyes, giving herself the hug she deserved so much. Digging deep into herself, she banished negative thoughts about her body.

“I love you.”

#agent whiskey #jack daniels #pedro pascal #kingsman: the golden circle #fanfic #agent whiskey x oc #agent whiskey x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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outroshooky · 5 years ago

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the aces up your sleeve | jjk

this is the third time i’ve posted this fic; let’s hope tumblr’s tags decide to actually show the post this time.

⇢ genre: series; part 2 of simmer down and pucker up (friendswithbenefits!au, friendstolovers!au)

⇢ pairing: jeon jeongguk x unnamed oc

⇢ word count: 12.05k

⇢ warnings: heavy angst (excessive drinking, hangovers, foul language, unhealthy coping mechanisms, jeongguk lets his heart get ahead of his head), implied and also brief smut, fluff. vomit tw. there are some darker themes here, read with caution

⇢ a/n: i started working on this fic five months ago to the day i finished it. 12,057 words and so many hours later, it’s done. i hope you enjoy aces as much as i enjoyed writing it, and a special kudos to all of the people who’ve helped along the way- @a-heart-full-of-javert and @yoonsgiggle for reading revision after revision and being my number one supporters always, and those mutuals whose feedback helped hone this piece (@pvrpletae @taeholic, and any other friends i missed). also, a nod to @genderfluid-jaredkleinmann, because anything is possible with twenty bucks and a metro card. thank you, thank you, thank you for all of your love!

“Come home with me,” she whispers. “We’ll figure out the specifics later.”

“‘m okay with that.”

He stumbles with her to her apartment building, ignoring the questioning glances and stares of strangers. He looks up at her and thinks she’s never been more beautiful, not even when she’s naked and writhing under him. He wants to immortalize this forever- her features glowing in the soft light of dawn, her arm supporting him, keeping him steady. He still believes he doesn’t deserve her, but oddly enough, he can’t find it in himself to worry too much, because he believes in her so, so much more. They’ll figure out the specifics later.

It’s cold, he thinks.

The air is chilly as it kisses his bare arms, burns his sore throat as he inhales, exhales. Breath after breath passing through his lungs, every single intake of sweet oxygen a reminder that he is still here; he hasn’t yet drunk himself to death. Everything is still a little fuzzy at the edges, something he attributes to the entire bottle of Delas Cotes Du Ventoux he’d downed on top of a vodka shot or two. He’ll apologize to his liver once he’s completely sober.

Step after step, his beat-up sneakers plod over an endless concrete plain. Exhaustion wears on him; he can’t even bring himself to avoid the gray gum stains, and every so often his foot sticks just a half-second longer to the pavement.

Jeon Jeongguk has seen sunrise after sunrise limping home after a night of indulgence, and yet something about this one is different.

Reds and pinks and oranges blot the sky like the misshapen wine stains on his t-shirt, a celestial canvas that, to his foggy brain, must’ve only been painted by God himself. God, an entity he’s never believed to be real, yet he’s never felt more spiritual hunched over and crawling home in yesterday’s clothes and tomorrow’s promises. There must be a god, some sort of master puppeteer defying the impossible and stringing together the inevitable, because there’s an arm around Jeongguk’s shoulders keeping him grounded and good fucking god, it’s her.

Her.

There’s no other word for her, no other name that can possibly summon that raw, unbridled feeling that resides deep in his chest. Rather than the term defining her, she defines it all on her own. She brings a new meaning to a normal, ordinary, everyday word that isn’t near worthy enough to refer to a personal succubus, midnight companion, best friend. His succubus, companion, friend.

Salmon and peach pour over the piercing tops of the skyscrapers, leaking color onto the endless streets, monotonous in their grid-like ways. The same convenience stores, sex shops, traffic lights direct the flow of cars that cough and sputter like the smoke wisping from grates in the asphalt. Life goes on, and yet above, seemingly unnoticed, is a display of Elysian grace, empyrean beauty. Light seeps into a world of mist and twilight, and it paints over her skin too, illuminating her from the side. Her, a divinity in her own right, with two feet on the ground and five slender fingers in his own.

I must be dreaming, Jeongguk thinks. Dreaming, because the sun is oozing over the horizon like a lazy yolk and for once, he’s thinking straight. Dreaming, because this is the drunkest he’s ever been in his entire life, yet he’s never seen it like it is now, laid out before him. His cards are on the table and his heart is on his sleeve, whipping free and loose in the wind that tousles his already-messy hair. Dreaming, because he’s having a divine revelation that men of old have only when the life is seeping from their bones, and as far as he’s concerned, he still has years ahead of him. Fuck it, he could die tomorrow but he wouldn’t care; it’s as if he found the very essence of life itself, and it lies not in the cracked-egg sky nor in the lazy plumes of smoke, not in empty alcohol bottles nor bodies slotting together in twisted sheets. It lies in the only one who matters, the smart mouth who stumbled into his life when she tripped up the stairs and her books flew into the backs of his tweenage ankles.

Her.

Maybe Jeongguk is still drunk. Maybe he’s high too, lost in the clouds of delirium and pacificity. Maybe he’ll wake up in a mess of blankets and dirty laundry, noon’s glow filtering in through the kitchen window. Maybe it's the weariness that bears down on him like a train, pulling at his tired limbs and drooping eyelids, weighing on his shoulders with a divinely brutal burden.

And yet Jeongguk stumbles on through the fog, ignoring the looks of faces unknown. He stumbles on, trusting fate and God and the bleary, bleached world that seems so full of color now. The world is gray through cracked eyelids as he stares at slab after slab of concrete, dull only until he can tear his vision to the masterpiece that paints the heavens up above. Has it always been this beautiful? Or has he just never been able to look up and see it?

He mulls the question over as his feet move with a will of their own, pondering over and over until he finds himself in an apartment he’s only ever known in darkness. His shoes slip off, his shirt comes over his head; he's handed sweatpants and boxers and her fingers dance over his bare skin like she's known it all her life. Jeongguk’s head lolls and rests against her shoulder, and it's only then that she speaks, murmurs for him to stay awake with her just a little while longer. He's pretty sure his eyes are already shut by the time his body hits the mattress, and he sinks into a five-hundred thread count haven of her conditioner and her perfume.

Every fiber of Jeongguk’s body aches, with exhaustion or emotion he’s not quite sure. He’s wrapped in sheets that smell like her, but something is missing. His eyelids crack open to see her retreat from the bedside, and he extends one arm as if reaching for a lifeline. A drowning man, the life preserver skimming away across the waves. “Please-”

“Jeongguk...” She hesitates.

“Please just stay with me, please,” he pleads. “Just hold me.”

Maybe it’s the rasp in his voice that makes her pause; it doesn’t even sound like his own. Maybe it’s his frame, broken and small in an ocean of blankets. Maybe it’s the fact that in one night, her entire world has been thrown upside down without any way of making out what’s right and what’s wrong.

She takes a step forward.

Then another.

“Please stay,” He whispers.

Maybe it’s just him.

By the time she eases herself down next to him, he’s already snoring quietly, the shipwrecked victim clutching desperately to his life raft. Yet as hard as she tries, her tired eyes refuse to rest, mind working, thinking, processing. What else can she do?

And so she lets herself go a little, and then a little more until she’s sinking into the warm feeling that envelops her heart, cradles her soul. For the boy she loves is curled into her, head on her chest, and oddly enough, it’s in the midst of the chaos where she finally finds peace.

Mortal fucking agony.

The only three words that Jeongguk can summon when his sticky eyelids slit open and the light, airy feeling of sleep fades to be replaced with what feels like just about every cell in his body painfully throbbing as one. His head is spinning, limbs trembling, bile threatening to rise in his throat, bitter on a thick tongue.

It couldn’t possibly be worse than this. This is, without a doubt, the worst hangover he has ever had.

Thank god it’s still dark outsi-

The blankets are ripped off of his head, and Jeongguk screeches as the pain in his head intensifies to a nearly unbearable degree. Bright light floods the room, casting warmth and comfort across a neatly kept apartment, the eggshell walls doing their absolute best to reflect the sunshine. He swears the sun itself is driving a railroad spike through his skull, and he wonders what he ever did to personally offend a massive ball of burning gas hundreds of thousands of miles away.

“Morning, sunshine!” A folded towel smacks him in the face next, perches on his head. “Time to get up!”

“What the actual fuck?” Jeongguk groans, rolling over and wrapping his arms around the towel. At least when it covers his eyes, he’s back in the dark.

“Oh, I think not, Gukkie. It’s four in the afternoon. You’re getting your lazy ass out of my bed and showering, because you smell like a personal minibar and puke.” The towel is wrenched out of his hands, and he whines in complaint. She chuckles. “I never knew you were such a baby.”

“Fine, fine, I’m getting up,” he pushes himself to a sitting position, scrubbing at his eyes with deadweight arms. “Where the hell is my shirt?”

“In the wash, along with the rest of your shit.” She pauses. “Shampoo and soap are in the shower caddy, towel and washcloth are right next to you.”

He pokes his tongue in his cheek, stares up at her standing over him through squinted slits. “Do I have a choice?”

She folds her arms. “Absolutely not.”

He stands, gathers the things she’s laid out for him, wanders around her bed. He’s closing over the bathroom door when he sighs, winces as a particularly agonizing wave of pain rolls through his head. “Oh, fuck me.”

“For the record, I have!”

His only response is the squeaking of the shower handle and the rush of water pitter-pattering a familiar melody.

The first thing Jeongguk is greeted with when he emerges from the sauna of a bathroom is the smell of scrambled eggs. The second is something burning, and that’s when the fire alarm goes off.

“Oh, shut up!”

He leans against the doorframe with his ears plugged, watching her bat at the detector with a damp hand towel, waving at the ceiling furiously. “Need some help there?” he asks when it finally quiets.

“Oh hey, you look a little more alive. Smell a lot better too.” She scrapes the eggs out of the pan, dresses them next to two pieces of blackened charcoal that he assumed to have once been toast. She can’t admit to either of them just how good he looks in a plain white tee, lanky frame drowning, and so she slides the plate across the table without a second glance. Jeongguk tucks one leg under him as he settles, reaches for the salt and pepper. “Find everything satisfactory?”

“Water pressure could use some work.” He gestures with his fork. “Whose clothes are these?”

She shrugs. “My ex’s.”

“Excuse me?” Jeongguk coughs. “I thought it’s been months since you’ve seen-”

“It has been,” she busies herself at the sink. “He left them here.”

“And you never got rid of them?”

She scrubs particularly hard at a bit of grizzle on a dirtied plate. “That’s a waste of a forty-five dollar shirt.”

He takes a bite, chews. “To each their own.”

Silence falls thick and heavy. Jeongguk swallows, clears his throat. Says her name, and when her eyes meet his, something in his chest hitches. “Thank you.” He pauses. “Really, I mean that. Thank you for everything.”

She freezes, water still pouring down her hands, soap bubbles swirling, leaking into the drain. Silence.

His heart thumps once. Twice.

“Jeongguk, what are we?”

It’s like a cavity has opened up inside of him, chasm splitting far and wide, and inside is roiling emotion, waves crashing and cascading with abandon. He isn’t sure if he’s about to vomit or weep- perhaps the former, because his head is still pounding, but his own heartbeat outweighs the drum thudding in his skull. “What do you mean?”

The knife she’s holding slips from her fingers, clatters against the basin of the sink. “What do you mean, ‘what do you mean’? You nearly drink yourself to death and I’m the one who goes out and saves your sorry ass, coincidentally the same person you’re fucking on the weekends, by the way. Are you just going to casually play off what happened last night? God Jeongguk, you’ve got to be shitting me!”

It’s easier to push people away when you’re about to crack, because they don’t have to watch you fragment into pieces that you can’t even hope to put back together without slicing your own palms into ribbons. It’s easier to watch your own blood run than see the ink of the ones you love stain a blank page crimson. She can’t breathe; her page isn’t blank, there’s scribbles all over in black and blue and now they’re running maroon. Messages embedded in gestures and actions, and she grips the edge of the sink white-knuckled. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

It’s foggy, misty in his head, the memories of last night. Concrete smooth under his fingertips, sacred confessions in a city of sin, but what did he confess? It’s blurred at the edges; her face is reflected in the surface of a still pool, but when he summons answers, he’s only left with more questions.

Her voice is a mere whisper, broken and raw. “Please don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

He rises from the table. “Tell me what I’ve forgotten.”

It’s a few steps to cross the kitchen, to see her trembling, still clutching onto the worn sponge. Silence is an old friend by now, sickening quiet, and the tumbling waves inside him threaten to break forth, gushing like a flood. He reaches out to touch her and she jerks away.

“What did I do?” he begs.

Silence.

“Did we fuck?”

Nothing.

“Please tell me, I don’t even know what I di-”

“There are no fucked-up people in this world,” her voice is shaking. “Just good people who do very, very fucked up things.”

Jeongguk freezes, arm outstretched to touch her, fingers stilling.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” her voice cracks, and she bends over the sink, head between her arms. “If you can remember what it is you even said in the first place.”

“What did I say?” he nearly whispers.

Her shoulders shake and she’s crying now. It’s killing him to see this, killing him that he’s destroying her and he doesn’t even know how he possibly drove a knife through her back. When she speaks, her voice is so soft, he can barely catch each word. “‘You told me you fucked up, and you broke the rule,’” She quotes, pauses. “‘And now it’s my turn. I fucked up,’” she sniffles. “‘I broke the rule.’” Oh god, please don’t finish the sentence. Please- “‘I love you.’”

Ringing.

Pounding.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Air filtering through his lungs, but it’s as if there’s a vice crushing him, squeezing every ounce of oxygen from his fragile body.

Confessions are told behind closed curtains, doors locked with the intentions of secrecy and intimacy, spilling the worst of your intentions to the holiest of the holy. They penetrate the curtain, the wall between you and your savior, separating human and divine with shame, guilt, the need to atone, repent for the one who’s given their everything for you. In the ultimate act of love, you’ve been saved from what you fear the most, blood spilled on fine sand, pierced by nails and a spear. Nails and a spear, except this time it’s vices and virtues, and tears prick at his eyes like thorns brushing skin.

“That’s what you did, Jeongguk.”

You knew?

For so long.

“You told me you love me and I told you I love you, too.”

She cries quietly, hiccups jerking her small frame.

Jeongguk wishes he could say something, do something to stop the agony. But it’s all his fault and his head is spinning still; he wants to comfort her, protect her from the torment she’s locked in, except he’s the one that’s spurred on the waves, and now she’s desperately trying to stay afloat.

Slowly, he reaches out to her. A life preserver, something, anything to help. His fingertips brush the top of her head, and he’s forever shocked by how soft her hair is, like flaxen strands of silk.

It’s coming back to him now, in bits and pieces. Her sweatshirt, bundled in his arms, his only protection against the biting cold. The world spinning in black and neon and twilight gray until a face comes into view. Her face.

His hand strokes the top of her head, slowly, stiffly. She leans back the slightest into his touch.

His savior. His sins, laid out for the sheep to bear. He had to go and fall in love with the one thing he couldn’t touch, couldn’t have, couldn’t attach himself to.

“I’m so sorry.” The words pale in contrast to the situation no matter how much magnitude they carry, and his voice cracks. It’s too heavy for her to bear alone.

She reaches out to him, for him, and in an instant he’s pulled her against his chest, and she’s sobbing. The lamb’s back has broken, and there’s nothing left.

Her fingers twist in his shirt, face buried in his shoulder as he strokes her hair, lowering onto one knee and then the other. When he eases himself into a sitting position, she collapses with him and he cradles her close, like she’ll fragment any second if he lets go. Perhaps she will.

He rests his head on top of hers as she finally lets herself feel the stress of trying to keep it all together for him. He traces patterns on her arms, her thighs, her knees and her calves, lets her shake and tremble and break against him. He doesn’t care how much she’ll cut his palms, if he’ll even have any left by the time he’s done piecing her together. She’s worth it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into her hair. “You deserve better than this.”

“Don’t,” she croaks, screws her eyes tighter. “Don’t push me away with an excuse like that when I’m crying in your arms on my kitchen floor.”

“Okay,” Jeongguk says. “I won’t.”

And so he doesn’t.

He holds her until she has no tears left, until her face is blotchy and her cheeks are damp. She doesn’t see the way he weeps too, his forehead against her own, eyelids fluttered shut. I love you. The statement doesn’t burst forth from his chest, but leaks like the sunrise filtering over the tops of jagged skyscrapers, oozing like the warmth of a yolk, spilling the reality he can’t hide from anymore.

The dying sunlight casts the room in dusky reds and yellows, patchy opals and milky blues. The day is coming to a close, but he feels like it’s just begun.

He noses at her cheek, watching as she blinks up at him through tired, sticky eyes. “You asked what we are.”

“And what are we?”

Jeongguk hopes he’s being reassuring. “We are whatever you want us to be.”

She snorts. “So specific, coming from the guy known for running from his problems.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

“Somehow you ended up making more sense when you were drunk, Jeongguk.”

“No, I-” He sighs. “So we’re in love with each other. We’re best friends that fuck on the weekends when they’re stressed, and we’re in love with each other. And I- I think I’d like this- us- to happen more often.”

“So you’re saying you want to hold me as I cry on my kitchen floor every day? Jesus Christ, I know you’re secretly a sappy bastard, but even t-”

“I’m saying I want to hold you like this more often, minus the tears,” Jeongguk interrupts. “I’m saying I want us to happen more often.” He stops for a moment when he sees her brows furrow, her face soften. “I’m saying that I want to eat shitty takeout with you on Tuesday nights and watch Finding Nemo as many times as you want to, because I know you love animated movies and Nemo is your favorite. I’m saying I want to kiss you before I fall asleep at night, and this time I’m not kissing your neck, I’m kissing your lips because I’m tired of being ashamed of kissing you, any part of you, when I know you’re not mine. I’m saying I want to argue and drink dollar store wine and forget about it all in the morning. I’m saying that I want to say I love you and not be afraid of it. Or be afraid to show it.” His fingers tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “Did you not believe me when I told you while I was drunk?”

“To be fair, you told me and then threw up on the sidewalk,” she remarks dryly, cheeks shimmering with wetness. “Your vomit had more conviction than your over-emotional drunk self did.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Just let me love you, Jesus Christ.”

“That’s more trouble than it’s worth.” She sniffles.

His heart twists. “We’ve come this far.”

“You still haven’t answered my question. What are we?”

He lets his heartbeat echo in his ears once, twice before he responds. “Let me prove it to you.”

“Prove it to me?” She lifts her head from his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “I’m sorry, do I need to bring up my previous rant about how I’m the one who goes out and saves you when you attempt to murder your liver? You have a lot of proving to do, Guk-”

“Let me take you out on a date.”

And then it all goes quiet.

It’s like someone’s pressed pause on an old VHS tape, playing quietly on an old television. The room is dim with afternoon light slipping lower, furniture and faces illuminated with a soft golden glow. Everything is frozen; it’s as if he’s watching from outside the screen as her face freezes in an expression of pure shock. A Renaissance painting, perhaps- Boy Nearly Shits Himself Hoping Fuckbuddy Doesn’t Leave Him, Jeon, 1591.

She can’t do anything but gape at him, mouth moving and jaw working, except no sound comes out. When she does find her voice a few seconds later, all she can splutter out is every other syllable, spewing consonants at him until he holds up a hand. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay, I just- I dunno, I figured that’s what guys do when they wanna impress a girl-” She’s talking with her hands now, gesticulating wildly, still unable to formulate an actual word. “-I’m sorry, if you say no, I’m not gonna push-”

“Jeongguk, would you shut up and listen to me?”

“Oh look, you’re actually intelligible now.”

“I’m not saying no.”

It’s his turn to freeze in shock, eyes wide, his arms still around her going rigid. “So what are you saying?”

She hesitates. “Well, I’m not saying yes either.”

His mouth goes dry. “W-what?”

“Look, Jeongguk, I-” she pauses, buries her face back in his chest because there she doesn’t have to worry. It’s a familiar patch of skin; she knows every birthmark and freckle, and she traces the constellations over his shirt with one finger. “I don’t know yet. I need to think about it.”

Anxiety, growing in his mind like so many vines, overgrown and flourishing, creeping into his thoughts and constricting his throat. He swallows hard, resists the desperate urge to pull her closer. A drowning man and his life preserver. “I can’t blame you for that.”

“Thank you for understanding,” she murmurs. Her lips brush his chest over his shirt and for a moment he’s in a dark bedroom, hands gripping her curves, whispering sin in her ear as she grinds on his lap, a whimpering mess. Not now.

He cracks a small smile somehow, squeezes her hip gently. “I try.”

“Guk?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you just hold me for a while?”

Forget for a while that she’s not yours.

His hands slide under her legs as he lifts her up seemingly effortlessly, carries her through the kitchen into her bedroom, settling down on the bed next to her. He opens his arms and she crawls to him like she has so many times before, except this time there’s no post-sex haze, no panting of breath nor eyes that shine with a certain satisfied, mischievous look. It’s just her and him, as she settles between his legs with her head on his chest and he traces gentle, slow circles on her back. Neither of them will admit just how comfortable it is, just how right it feels- nor will they admit that it’s happened before, and indeed Jeongguk does his best to push the thought out of his mind. Live in the now. You may never get to do this again.

And so he calms her until her breathing slows to an even rhythm, and she drifts off peacefully into a deep, calm sleep.

jeon jeongguk: so

jeon jeongguk: did u think about it

Read, 2:23pm. Yeah I did.

jeon jeongguk: aaaaand?

Read, 2:24pm.

jeon jeongguk: cricket cricket

Read, 2:36pm.

jeon jeongguk: i feel like i should be playing the jeopardy theme song rn

jeon jeongguk: do do do do do do do

jeon jeongguk: do do do do DO do do do do do

Read, 2:37pm. You’re so irritating.

jeon jeongguk: ty

jeon jeongguk: it’s a talent ive perfected

jeon jeongguk: especially with u

jeon jeongguk: anyways

jeon jeongguk: im picking u up on friday at 3 outside ur apartment building

jeon jeongguk: be there or u have to eat my ass for a week

Read, 2:38pm. I never knew you were into that.

jeon jeongguk: there r a lot of things u don’t know about me

jeon jeongguk: but

jeon jeongguk: if u see me friday at 3

jeon jeongguk: u’ll get to find out

jeon jeongguk: it’ll be lit

Read, 2:41pm. Please never use that word again in my presence.

jeon jeongguk: ur no fun

Read, 2:43pm. img.jpg

jeon jeongguk: sending an uno reverse card does not change that fact

Read, 2:43. I’m at work; my break just ended. See you Friday.

jeon jeongguk: peace

A date.

It’s Thursday night and she’s still trying to wrap her head around it.

A date.

With Jeon Jeongguk.

The person whom she refused to kiss on the cheek in middle school, scrunching her nose because he was a boy and he was gross. The person who caught her when she tripped and fell in high school at the ice skating rink, likely saving her from a broken ankle, but certainly not a busted ego. Also the person who she fucked a handful of times. Okay, more than a handful.

An actual fucking date, with all of the romantic aspects thrown into the dish, rather than garnished on top with a mockery of true aesthetic design. No more dancing around the truth, no way to fuck it out in the comforts of a messy bed and hazy midnight vision. Real consequences to be felt… as if none of their behavior had had consequences already.

Oh my god, I can’t do this, she thinks.

What is she even supposed to wear?

Jeongguk, what should I wear tomorrow?

jeon jeongguk: um

jeon jeongguk: probably clothes

jeon jeongguk: for once

Read, 10:14pm. You’re an actual dick.

jeon jeongguk: is now an appropriate time for me to send my own uno card

jeon jeongguk: anyways wear something nice but like

jeon jeongguk: not ridiculously nice y’know

Read, 10:14pm. That’s… incredibly unhelpful.

jeon jeongguk: don’t wear a wedding gown but don’t wear a t shirt n booty shorts

jeon jeongguk: even tho u look good in a t shirt n booty shorts

Read, 10:15pm. When have you ever seen me in a t-shirt and booty shorts?

You know what, don’t answer that question. I’ll figure it out. Ty

jeon jeongguk: bye

She tosses her phone to the bed and frowns, flips through the clothes hangers in her closet, pauses to finger a shirt sleeve. What could he even have to offer on a date? Where would he take her? Would they stay in? Go out? What could you offer to impress someone who’s seen every facet of you growing up and knows you inside and out whether or not either of you like to admit it?

Is she enough?

She shakes her head. She can’t be thinking like this before the date’s even happened.

She’d just have to wait and see.

Oh, how she hated waiting.

At 2:47pm on Friday afternoon, her phone buzzed.

jeon jeongguk: leaving now bc traffic, be there in 15

Read, 2:47pm. See you in a few.

At 2:59pm, a black four-door pulled up in front of her apartment building, and at 3:01pm, she pulled open the passenger’s door and slid inside.

“Hey,” Jeongguk said, taking the car out of park. “What’s good?”

“Only you could begin a date by saying ‘what’s good’,” she teased, shifting the buckle so it fell comfortably across her shoulder. “And for the record, I’m good, thanks.”

A smile tinged his lips as he spared a glance across the car, looking her up and down. “A leather jacket and combat boots. You look more than good.”

It was her turn to appreciate him- lean thighs clad in tight-fitting black jeans; off-white dress shirt tucked neatly at the waist, rolled at the elbows, unbuttoned at the collar. “As do you.” She snickered, elbowing him. “I didn’t even know you owned anything other than monochome tee shirts.”

Jeongguk raised an eyebrow, sparing a quick glance over his shoulder before merging into traffic. “Again, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

She glanced over at him, tongue in cheek. “Care to tell me about them?”

He smirked, foot tapping the brake. “Oh, you’ll find out in time. Oh, and speaking of time-” he checked his watch. “-we have a long drive ahead of us. Aux cord is yours.”

“Did you really just give me the aux cord? So I can play my, oh, how did you put it- ‘shitty ass spawn of country music and dollar-store trap’?”

“Old Town Road is not real music, don’t you dare tell me otherwise-”

“Mm, but you gave me the cord-” she teased, swinging it around her index finger. “It’s my radio now, country boy.”

“Can we compromise with Post Malone?” Jeongguk begged, a hint of a whine in his voice. “Beerbongs and bentleys is where it’s at, plus I’d rather claw out my ears than hear ‘I got the horses in the back’ one more time-”

“Done,” she tapped at her phone, and as the opening chords of Sugar Wraith sang through the car speakers, they both visibly relaxed.

Perhaps she’d been anxious for absolutely nothing. It all felt the same here in his Jeep, like every day by his side had been before he’d turned a cold shoulder and disappeared for months. Nothing new, everything familiar, too familiar.

Had it been this easy to be with him all along?

By the end of the first half hour, Jeongguk had rapped more than half of the album, and she was impressed by the fact that his singing voice wasn’t, as she’d assumed in the past, absolute shit. “When were you going to tell me you can sing better than an autotuned Post can?”

He raised and lowered one shoulder, hand comfortable on the rim of the wheel. He looked so damn fine, effortless with a sharp jawline and a gentle smile. “I’m not that good. I can carry a tune and that’s about it.”

“Lies, Gukkie. You have a lovely voice.”

She noticed a hint of pink in his cheeks.

By the end of the first hour, the impenetrable rows of buildings had faded to flat land and open road. She gazed out the window, elbow propped up on the sill, and Jeongguk allowed himself a look at her. Not a hair out of place, finely polished, not too much makeup. Perfect. So utterly, wonderfully perfect.

He wondered when she would ask how much longer, and five minutes after the first hour, she answered his question. “Are you planning to take me on a romantic roadside picnic, Guk?”

“And if I was?” he hummed quietly to the melody filtering through the speakers.

“You wouldn’t drive an hour out of the city to do so; this is the person who walks everywhere, god forbid his bicycle leave his apartment.”

“You’re right,” he affirmed. “Just a half hour more. I think.”

“You think? What happens if we get stuck out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“I have twenty bucks and a working Metrocard, we’ll be fine.”

“We’re not even in the city!”

“Shhhh.”

At an hour and twenty-eight minutes exactly, the car slowed, bumping along as Jeongguk pulled into a parking lot that was more dirt than asphalt. She’d dozed off about twenty minutes ago, cheek smushed against the seatbelt, and his heart glows warm when he parks and finally looks over at her. His hand finds its way to hers, and he rubs the back of it gently. “We’re here.”

She wakes slowly, eyelids fluttering in a moment of confusion, and his thumb rubs over her knuckles. “Where-” She sees him smiling, and she’s instantly alert. “Oh no.”

He lets her hand fall with a final squeeze. “Oh yes.”

“I don’t trust you,” she chuckles breathlessly. “Where the actual fuck are we, Je-”

The rest of her statement is cut off by Jeongguk hopping the few inches from the lip of his Wrangler to the ground, and when he circles the car to collect her, her face is scrunched in confusion. “You drove thirty miles outside of the city for this run-down shack of a restaurant? It’s barely anything Gukkie, are you sure we’re in the right place?”

He turns to regard the one-story restaurant, pop-up roof signs peeling in their age, before nodding firmly, decisively. “I’m sure.”

She follows him inside, mumbling something about being assaulted by the dinner crowd, and Jeongguk strolls up to the maître d′ like he’s done this every day of his life. Maybe it’s the over-starched dress shirt. He swears it’s hugging his frame just a little too tight.

She misses the reservation name, spoken too softly and too quickly for her to hear, but she has no reason to suspect anything, not even when they settle at a corner table set with two places and a vase of four roses. She’s handed a menu, which she accepts with a polite word of thanks, and it’s when she sees the name of the restaurant in bright block font at the top of the page that she pauses. In one moment, the oxygen drains from her lungs, and the past comes alive before her eyes like a film reel, rewound for his and her pleasure.

She’s frozen across the table, lights dancing in her eyes in neon hues, flickering in her irises, countless bursts of color in pink and green and yellow. When he glances up to ask if she’d like to order appetizers, he swears he can hear her heart explode in her chest, crashing and roaring and perhaps aching just a little, too. His own beats just a little bit faster when he sees tears glimmer in her eyes, pinprick stars in her cosmos. “Jeongguk, how did you-”

“Find the only Moonlight Diner in three hundred fifty miles?” He relaxes, nudges the table leg with the toe of his shoe. “Turns out there’s only two in a thousand mile radius. One of which is at home, the other of which is, well- here.”

“Y-you-” she can barely get the words out, so overwhelmed is she with nostalgia and heartache and just a little bit of relief. “You found our childhood diner chain and you brought me here on a fucking date, Jeongguk, I-”

Her hands tremble on the corners of the menu as Jeongguk makes incredibly awkward eye contact with the impending waitress, who turns on her heel when she sees the scene in front of her. Something in his throat seizes with anxiety. “Is this okay? Did I do something wrong? Fuck, I-”

“Jeongguk, shut the actual fuck up and let me bask in the fact that you did this for me,” she chokes out. “We spent how many years going to this diner back home, having french fry sword fights, spraying each other with ketchup, truth or dare rounds involving coleslaw in your-”

“I try to forget the colesaw incident,” Jeongguk winces. “But- But is it okay? I-” He squeezes the edge of the sickly green leather seat, white-knuckled. “I’m not crossing any boundaries?”

“I swear to god,” she’s crying now, out of her control, but for the first time in so long it’s a good kind of cry, and she curses her tendency to cry for him at the drop of a hat. “How the fuck- you know what, I don’t even want to know how you came up with this or what else you have planned. You son of a bitch, I love you.”

Jeongguk bites his lip. “That’s the most contradictory sentence I’ve ever heard, but I’ll take your word for it.”

She sniffles, wipes her eyes on the back of her hand. He passes her a napkin, and she dabs at her face. “Are you getting the bacon cheeseburger? With extra bacon and ketchup on the side, because you know I’m going to steal some?”

“Yes,” he admits gently. “That was the general plan.”

She smiles through her tears, chokes out a laugh. “Nothing’s changed, has it Jeongguk?”

He’s starting to well up now, eyes shining with pride and adoration and remembering, because he remembers now. He remembers what it’s like to joke, to laugh, to love without the vices of the everyday world surrounding him. It’s been so long since the feeling bubbled up in his throat; a memory flashes before his eyes of dancing in the rain, and just like the flow of water down a storm drain, it’s gone before he can grab it, explore it. It’s okay, let it go, he thinks. There’s a more important memory he needs to make here with her, and as she reaches for her fork to playfully poke his arm, he finds himself falling in love with her all over again.

It is with full bellies and warming hearts that the two leave the run-down diner, clutching strawberry milkshakes and reveling in memories long-forgotten. There’s a bounce in her step and he’s beaming like the moonlight that lies silver across the breadth of the parking lot, shines off of the hood of his worn-out car. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt alive like this, without the help of his vices. He had thought he never would again.

He slides into the driver’s seat, pulling the door closed behind him, and she hops into the passenger’s side. “Home, now?”

“I mean, if you really want to.” He buckles himself in. “But there’s one more place I wanna take you.”

Her teeth shine bright as she smiles. “Where to, Gukkie?”

His heart flutters at the use of the nickname. “You’ll see.”

As the moonlight stretches long across the cracked road and his hand finds hers on the center console, Jeongguk turns the car back towards the city, heart beating just a bit faster than before.

Flat land rolls, tumbling end over end into buildings that grow longer and taller until the city envelopes the single black Jeep. The ride is spent in a comfortable silence, her thumb running over his knuckles, lazily playing with his fingers. She doesn’t miss the smile that graces his face, the way his eyes gleam with the nebulae of a thousand swirling galaxies. She wouldn’t mind getting lost in them more often.

He marvels at how small her fingers are, how easy it is for two of them to wrap around merely one of his. He wonders what it would be like to kiss each knuckle, treating each with care before they fall asleep with interlocked hands and limbs, and for the first time, he doesn’t feel guilty about imagining the possibilities.

A few blocks before her apartment, Jeongguk pulls over and parks. The sidewalks throng at this hour, individual faces blurring in the crowds, and when they meet around the front of the car, she takes his arm. “Are you absolutely positive you didn't just bring me home?” She teases.

“Nope,” he gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “There’s one more place we’re going, promise.”

He knows the way by heart, the place he discovered three months ago by accident that had ignited a little-known nostalgic streak in him. It’s a right on 65th West and a left on 15th North, go straight four blocks (five?) and a right on 53rd and then it’s there in front of him in all of its childhood glory. He pats his pocket, makes sure its contents are still intact.

“We’re here,” Jeongguk announces.

“A playground,” she murmurs.

“Do you know why?” He asks.

“Where would we go after the diner?” She laughs quietly, disbelievingly. “The playground.”

“It’s got the three swings and everything,” he offers. “And the little ship’s bow with the climbing nets.”

“I can’t believe you.” She stands on her toes and kisses his cheek. His skin tingles where her lips press. “You’re incredible.”

“I’m really not,” he answers shyly. “I just think about these things is all.”

“Hey.” She pokes his ribs, a hint of teasing in her voice, and she’s off in a flash. “You’re it!”

“You- Get back here!” Jeongguk staggers back and then lunges forward, sprinting after her, past the monkey bars and the climbing wall. The playground is deserted save them, two fully-grown adults playing a chaotic game of tag, and he can’t even stop to think how ridiculous it may look to onlookers. He realizes then that he doesn’t care, because she’s within arms reach, nearly his, just a little bit farther, and he reaches just an inch more and snags her by the waist.

She trips over her own feet and tumbles, bringing him down with her, but he rolls to take the brunt of the fall. Loose stones on the colored rubber dig into his back and she’s heavy on his chest, but he’s breathless with laughter and her teeth flash as she too dissolves into giggles. His ribs ache as he wraps an arm around her, but it’s a good sort of ache, and as she hoists herself to her elbows resting over him, a loose lock of her hair brushes against his cheek.

“You’re such a brat,” He teases, his tongue poking his cheek.

“You’re such an dunce,” She responds, head tilting cockily.

“Dunce? When’s the last time anyone said dunce? Come on, you can come up with something better than that!” He pokes her ribs and she squeaks. “Asshole, thrice-cursed bastard, son of a fu-”

“Enough out of you,” she kids. “I’m not feeling creative today.”

“What if I was?” He lets his head fall back, tresses flopping messily on his forehead. “How about douchebag? Dickwad? Bi-”

“Shut up!”

“Make me.”

“And how would I go about that, hm?” Her fingers walk up his chest.

“Like this.” And in a rush of movement and fear and elation, Jeongguk closes the distance between her lips and his own, the oxygen draining from his lungs as he presses a kiss to her mouth.

It’s as if the entire world has stopped to take a breath with him, the rustling of the trees and the creaking of the swings frozen in a moment of infinitesimal, earth-shattering stillness. Her lips are soft against his; she tastes like strawberry Chapstick and vanilla milkshake, a drug on his tongue like any other. His hand is at the base of her spine and hers is at the back of his head, threaded through his hair. He is drunk and sober all at once, dizzy yet alert of a thousand sensations at once; he can feel her exhale and the way her weight shifts on his hips and the way her nose grazes his when he pulls away.

Her breath is faint on Jeongguk’s lips, a rush of dizzying intimacy, and then she’s pressing her lips to his, mouthing at their soft plush; he snags her bottom lip between his teeth as his fingers tuck under her jacket, settle against the curve of her side, crave the warmth of her skin against his.

Her fingers twist, the long, shaggy locks knotting around the slender digits as her nails meet his scalp and he groans from the feeling.

He sighs her name against her mouth, held sacred in the coveted pause of the universe, and when her eyes flutter open, he is locked into the emotion that sings so freely from her dark pupils. It entrances him, ensnares him in her web, a siren singing from her rock. He is utterly transfixed by her, and when she blinks once, twice, the haze is lifted. He is suddenly aware of the leaves scraping the ground, the slightly colder air that settles over them as wispy clouds roll in front of the moon. He leans in just a little bit, hoping to get that much closer, desperately chasing the high, but a finger to his lips stills him.

“Hi,” he says, breathy and unbelieving.

“Hey you.” There’s a smile on her face, but it’s matched by an expression he can’t quite read. His hand trails down her arm and she hesitates. “Guk, I-” she begins, stops.

“What is it, baby?” His fingers dance down her spine, settle at the base.

“Jeongguk, I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship yet.”

And that’s when his world comes crashing down.

“I just- I don’t know if I can do this yet. I don’t know if I can be who you need me to be right now. I can’t come find you every time you get yourself shitfaced and need someone to bring you home.” She rolls onto one elbow, pushes herself into a sitting position next to him; his arm slips to the side. “I’m sorry.”

“Is that what this is about?” He too sits upright, matches her position. “My habits are the make-or-break for you?”

“That’s not what I said,” she gently corrects. “Because I know you told me that you want to get clean, you don’t want me to be embarrassed of you, and I’m not, Jeongguk. I’m really not. But I don’t think I am who you need in a girlfriend. You deserve someone who’s going to be able to give you time, and right now that’s one thing I don’t have.”

“Who do you think I need in a girlfriend, then? I don’t ‘need’ anybody except for you. You don’t see what I see,” he insists, gesturing widely. “You’re brilliant and warm and you’ve got everything ahead of you. I don’t even deserve you but I want you. Can’t you see? I’d do anything for you.” His cheeks heat; his arms fall. “Is casual fucking easier for you than a relationship because you don’t have to dedicate time to it?”

Her own face flushes in the dim moonlight, rosy hues darkening the apples of her cheeks. “That’s not true and you know it, Jeongguk. What about all the times you stayed over till morning? Or I stayed over your apartment for two days straight? I’m trying to be honest with you, I really am.” There’s hurt in her voice but the blood rushing in his ears drowns out the world around him, the pit in his stomach swallowing every good feeling. “I’m telling you the truth not because I want to hurt you, but because I don’t want you chasing a ghost of something for the rest of your life.”

“But you love me back,” he sounds small even to his own ears. “You love me back.”

“I do.” She takes his larger hand in two of hers. “I love you Jeongguk, so fucking much, but right now I don’t know if I’m ready for us.”

“But what about tonight? What about this? The diner, the playground? You can’t tell me you didn’t feel something,” he begs. “I felt something.”

“I did feel something, yes,” she admits. “Tonight with you was incredible, Guk. You didn’t have to do any of it, but you did anyways.”

“I did it all for you. Can’t you see that?” Jeongguk stands, shoulders tensing, heart breaking. “Can’t you see what I would do for you and more? Can’t you see what I want to do for you? I’ll buy you a dozen roses every day, I’ll raze a mountain, I’ll be whoever you want me to be if you’d just let me fucking love you!” He doesn’t even realize he’s shouting until the sound of his voice rings down the deserted block, and then it sinks in that he shouted at her. She’s shaking just enough for him to notice, and when guilt sinks its needle teeth into his gut, he deflates.

“I’m trying to protect you, Guk.” She stands too, head bowed, refusing to make eye contact. He hates himself for doing this to her. “My only hope is that you’ll realize that soon.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s okay.” She smiles, but it’s painfully empty. She takes a step towards him, pats his arm. “I know the way to my apartment from here. Get home safe, Jeongguk.”

He can’t even bring himself to offer to walk her home, for it’s as if he blinks once and he’s alone, standing firmly planted in the middle of an urban playground, the swings creaking a faint melody as the street light winks a dull amber above him. He reaches into his coat pocket and withdraws a single red rose, examining the crushed petals, mangled from the impact of her having fallen on top of him.

She loves me. She loves me not.

Jeongguk runs his thumb across the stem, wincing as he snags the digit on a thorn.

She loves me not.

For the first time in what feels like forever, her phone is silent.

It doesn’t sigh with a seductive feminine air, the sound of his ringtone slicing through her apartment with a piercingly high-pitched moan. It probably made the neighbors raise an eyebrow on quiet mornings, but they kept her up with the sounds of their late-night trysts anyway. She guessed it was only fair.

Hey Guk, hope you’ve been doing alright. Call me tonight if you get a chance, I finally got around to watching Santa Clarita Diet and wow, you weren’t kidding when you said it’s oddly wholesome as fuck.

One day turns into two, and then three. The first post she sees on Jeongguk’s social media is of a blurry red cup in a filmy haze that is all too familiar, and a fire burns low in her gut.

Hey uh, so my shower head came off and I don’t know how to reattach it. Any advice?

P.S., I should note. In regards to the last text, it came off randomly, not because I sat on it or something. Seriously.

The second is of scraped palms and grinding bodies, heavy trap music blasting from a car stereo, bass thumping wildly. Four days turns into a week, then a week and a half.

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Look at this dog I just saw on the subway. It’s dressed as Marilyn Monroe. I’m not shitting you. I found the costume on Amazon for $25.

The third involves a crowd of strangers and a beer keg, and she doesn’t care to describe it in any further detail.

Hi Jeongguk, I haven’t heard from you in a little while and wanted to ask if you’re doing alright. If you don’t want to hear from me, please just tell me and I’ll stop texting you.

Nothing.

He knows she’s seen his posts. He most certainly knows how they make her feel, too. He knows the game they play, for provocation is an old friend of theirs, made known in the pictures and videos he displays for the world to see. Bad habits, it seems, are easier to slip back into than to break after all.

Then, at the two-and-a-half week mark, late in the evening when she’s perched on the couch in pajamas and a face mask, she sees it.

A blurry photo, taken in a dark bedroom, flash illuminating a bare back, navy sheets twisted around the lower torso. Hair cascading down a pillow, pulled to the side just enough for a violet bruise to be visible, blossoming on the side of the mystery woman’s neck.

The candle flame dancing in her belly ignites into a fucking wildfire.

Before she can even think, she’s sent the text.

You asshole. I fucking hate you.

She doesn’t know if she’d prefer a response or utter silence.

Turns out, she gets the latter.

A month without him hurts.

As quickly as he’d tripped and fallen back into her life, Jeongguk was gone. Ten words out of her mouth and he’s fled back into the world he promised her he’d claw his way out of. The danger of betting your stakes on one person is that when they inevitably fall through, you’ll come crashing down even harder than anticipated. And he bet just about everything on her.

She throws herself into work, doing her best to forget. It’s hard, however, when everything reminds her of him. When a hooded stranger brushes past her on the subway, sandalwood and sage graze her nostrils; suddenly she’s wrapped in bedsheets, surrounded by cologne and the musk of sex. Instant ramen is a reminder of shitty rom-coms on snowy Tuesday nights and the warmth of a blanket covering tangled legs. Even an Overwatch figurine brings back endless numbers, countless statistics that were rattled off at the mere mention of the O-word. She misses him even more acutely than before.

Jeongguk seems to have made quick work of the past, the chronicles of his new present documented in late-night Snapchat trysts. She sees one, two, three girls decorating his page, and yet they last one post and never appear again. She wonders if they’re merely even just for show.

She gave up hope that week, the fourth week without him. The boy she loved, the man who slotted so easily into her life despite their differences. He was gone, having fled the scene of the crime with the evidence bag, leaving the splintered fragments of her heart behind. And he did so without a second thought.

It was so easy for her to hate him. It was so easy for her to burn the Polaroid photographs they’d taken together, to delete text messages and the playful reminders he set on her phone, to cut out every single scrap of evidence she had that he ever existed. It was so easy to scrub the physical reminders from her surroundings like blood from dirtied fingernails.

And yet, she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Jeongguk wasn’t the easily hated type. At least, not to her.

He had so much of her that he took for granted. The sides that she revealed of herself to him, the only one who even knew they existed, could never be taken back. Whether he liked it or not, he had held her in the palm of his hands, cradling her like a bird with a broken wing. And when it came down to things, he dropped her without a second thought.

After all they’d been through, she couldn’t bring herself to do the same.

That just wasn’t her way.

Bent over the sink, she brushes a strand of hair out of her face with a soapy glove, doubling her attention on a greasy pan.

Some said she forgave too easily. Some said she was too quick to leap to the defenses of others, too trusting in those who had access to her heart. She had always struggled to go against the grain, push back against the very thing that resonated deep in the marrow of her bones. Whether she could help it or not, it was simply who she was, for better or for worse, deep down at her core. It was, at least, who she thought she was.

She scrubs harder at a troublesome crumb of grizzle.

She wasn’t so sure anymore.

3:14am.

She stretches, blinks wearily, squints at the clock on the nightstand table.

She must’ve been imagining things.

Her eyes flutter shut, chasing the alluring clutches of sweet, blessed slumber.

SLAM!

“What the fuck- goddamnit.”

It must be the neighbors’ headboard again.

SLAM!

Her eyes shoot open, because there’s another, more primal sound that accompanies the earth-shattering noise that seems to be emanating from the opposite side of her apartment.

She throws the sheets back, inching across her apartment. Every impact against her front door sounds, to her groggy self, like a bass drum amplified to fill every nook and cranny of her skull. Surely, every neighboring suite would be awoken by the noise, wondering what could 31 could possibly be doing awake at this hour, and why it sounded like a rhinoceros was throwing a temper tantrum in the hallway.

She edges her way to the door, peers through the hole to inspect the contents of the hallway, but nothing seems out of place.

That is, save the choked, heart-wrenching sob that vibrates through the thin wall.

Her fingers close around the doorknob and she pulls, revealing an empty corridor, darkened and silent.

She looks right, and all is quiet.

She looks left, squints a little, and there’s a standing figure slumped against the wall, fingers gripping the chipped doorframe, head braced against the plaster.

“‘M sorry,” are the first words that tumble in a rush out of Jeongguk’s mouth, slurred and heavy.

She moves to close the door over, slowly so that she doesn’t accidentally slam his fingers in the gap, but he shifts to extend one leg, effectively trapping the door open. “Please-”

“Jeongguk-”

“Please,” he looks up at her for the first time, the utter brokenness in his eyes trapping her heart in her throat. His cheeks are stained with tracks of moisture, tears rolling from his waterline as he slumps. “Please.”

The microcosmoi in his pupils swirl, miniature galaxies that are flecked with dappled brown and raven black, eddy with agony and the deepest ache. They speak to her own, the conflict of her heart haunting her inner landscape, and she sighs, hating herself, hating this all-too familiar scene. “No matter where you start, you always end up back here.”

“No matter where I start, you always end up fucking with me somehow,” he exhales, alcohol-tinged breath fanning her face. She barely recoils.

“I thought you said last time was the last time.”

“‘M not as drunk as last time.”

“That doesn’t change a thing and you know it, Jeon Jeongguk.”

“Take me in again, maybe I’ll r’member it this time.” He shudders, hand relaxing on the frame, knees buckling.

She catches him as he lurches forward, arms linking around his waist to support him, stepping backwards into her apartment and stumbling to the couch, where she deposits him into the cushions with a huff. “You know, you’re lucky I didn’t leave you outside. I didn’t want the neighbors calling the cops on you.”

“And if they did?” An audible thump emanates as his head hits the back of the couch, lolling aimlessly. “You’d bail me out an’ways.”

“You don’t know that,” she hisses, dragging the garbage pail to the couch from its ready position by the refrigerator.

“May be drunk but ’m not stupid,” he breathes, running a hand through the tangled strands of hair that frame his damp face, spill over his brow. “Love makes people do things they wouldn’ admit to in front of God himself.”

“And when did you get so religious?”

“There’s something spiritual about this,” he gestures to the empty room, legs splayed. “The high an’ then the fall. It’s too good to be true an’ then you’ve got a taste and it’s all you want, over and over, ‘til it all comes crashin’ down and then cold reality fuckin’ hits an’ it stings like a motherfuckin’ bitch.”

She stares down at him. “You do it to yourself when you try to drown out the pain. We either learn how to cope or bury it deep down until it rears its head again and then you’re back where you started. Maybe it’s time you tried coping instead of pretending that your hurt doesn’t exist.”

“An’ why do I d’serve that after all the hurt ‘ve dealt you?” His jawline catches the faint light of the corner lamp, casting his profile in shadow.

“Because you’re a human being, Guk? You’re human like the rest of us, the same flesh and blood.” She kneels at his feet, hand cautiously brushing his knee, then settling. He intakes harshly, shuddering.

“‘M so fucked up an’ you know that an’ you stay. An’ that’s why you won’ date me, ‘cause of this. Disgustin’, fuckin’ asshole me-”

“Jeongguk, you know that’s-”

“‘M so fucked up an’ you know that an’ you stay ‘cause you love me, but you won’ confess to God,” his chest heaves and she stands over him, grabs the pail. “You won’ ‘fess to the one who really matters.”

“Who really matters then? God or you?” She shakes her head. “If you think other people need to see us together for the way I feel about you to be validated, you’re completely wrong.”

“Then why do you hide me?” He stifles a sob with the back of his hand, fresh tears threatening to spill.

Her careful ministrations on his knee pause. “Because I like having you to myself,” she confesses quietly.

“We’ve n’ver been a thing,” his gaze fixes steadily on her face. “N’ver been a real thing.”

“We’ve always been exclusive, though.” She gently squeezes his thigh. “I know you, Jeongguk. And I know that deep down, you commit even if you won’t open your mouth and tell me. I was your first just as you were mine.”

He goes to say something but pauses, eyes wide, face white. Without pause, she lifts the pail and he grabs at the base, burying his face in the mouth and retching. Her fingers brush his hair back from his face, the dampness of his skin clinging to hers, and his whole body shudders in dry heaves. He spits one final time and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “‘Ve been yours from the start.”

“I know, Guk.”

“An’ you never though’ to ask?”

Her eyes flicker to the tear in one cushion, the white stuffing a stark contrast to the dark couch. “I did.”

“An’?”

“You can’t just casually ask your best friend if they’ve been in love with you for your entire lives.”

“We n’ver kept much from each other an’ways.”

Her fingers pause in his hair. “If that’s the case, then answer me something.”

His grip around the bucket tightens.

She inhales once, twice. “Jeongguk, are you running from us?”

His jaw flexes, stiffens.

Her voice lowers. “If we never kept much from each other, why are you running away from this, right now?”

“Shu’ up,” he hisses.

She withdraws her hand; his bangs tumble in his eyes and he tosses his head. “You’re afraid of us, Guk,” she challenged. “You’re afraid of something that’s too good to be true, so you bury the way you feel because it’s easier than admitting you’re afraid of losing your best friend when shit goes south. You’re afraid of throwing everything we have away because one of us will inevitably fuck up, but you don’t have the security of knowing if we’ll make it through. So rather than give your heart away as one whole, you divide it up, partition it off, let me see bits and pieces while keeping the rest under lock and key. But Jeongguk, I’ve seen you. I’ve seen your heart bleed and sing and grieve and I’ve seen it love, too. I know you better than anyone else does. You don’t have to run from me.”

A moment of silence, weighted and thick, hangs low like fog.

When a horrible sob tears its way from his throat, she’s right there to hold him, let him wrap an arm around her waist and bury his face in her pajama shirt. Once again her hands find his hair, working out the knots in a manner she hopes is soothing. “You don’t have to be afraid of us, Jeongguk. You don’t need my validation to know that what we have is real.”

Words spill from the crumpled figure, alcohol seeping from the mouth of the bottle. “I love you,” he blubbers. “Love you so much.”

“I love you,” she assures. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please don’,” he gasps. His hands cup her face with a tenderness only found in late nights, when the world is quiet and they have only the moon for company.

“I won’t.” She places her own over his before continuing, “You thought I turned you down because your habits are the ‘make-or-break’ for me. But Jeongguk, you were wrong. You weren’t ready then, and neither was I.”

He looks up at her, brows furrowing in confusion. “But my sorry drunk as’ is ready now?”

“You’re not afraid anymore.” Her arms link around his neck and she coughs once. “Neither of us is afraid anymore.”

When he says her name, she looks down, gaze meeting his. The warmth of her clasped hands heats the back of his neck; the strands of his hair brush her knuckles, and she toys with the clasp of the chain he wears. “‘M sorry.”

“It’s okay, Guk.”

“‘S really not. ‘M sorry for ignorin’ you an’ yellin’ at you back at the playground an’ jus’ generally being an’ asshole. Includin’ showin’ up at yer ‘partment an’ makin’ a scene.”

“It’s okay.” A tinge of a smile pulls at the corner of her mouth. “Thank you for the apology.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “You deserve that an’ so much more.”

She sees in his face the want to kiss her, and when he moves to reach her, she pulls away. “Please kiss me when you don’t reek of puke and Hennessy.”

He nods once. “Okay.”

She sighs, hands sliding to his shoulders, feeling the muscle flex under her fingertips as he trails his hands down her hips. “So it looks like we’re back to where we started.”

“Yeah,” he huffs, setting the pail down. “Goin’ in circles is our specialty, I guess.”

“Wanna try moving in a straight line for once?”

“Ar’ you sayin’ that ‘cause it’s like, four-thirty in the mornin’ and you wanna go back to bed?”

“Well, not completely.” She nudges the bucket away with one foot, the smell beginning to permeate the room. “I guess it’s my turn to ask again. What are we?”

A corner of his mouth tugs with a hint of familiarity. “Wha’d’you wan’ us to be?” “Together,” she says hesitantly, then more firmly. “Together, this time.”

“Together. I like that word.” His ministrations on her thighs, soft nondescript patterns traced by adoring fingers, spark heat under her skin.

“But Jeongguk-” she cuts herself off, then begins again. “Jeongguk, there’s gonna need to be some boundaries set.”

“Wha’d’you mean?” He hums.

“Well for starters, we’re going to need to communicate. Like, actually talk about the way we feel instead of just fucking it out, you know?”

“Done,” he says with way more confidence then she feels. She attributes it to the fact that he’s still utterly wasted.

“It’s not just that, Guk. You can’t run away from this boyfriend thing, and you can’t get completely shitfaced if we have a fight, because then I’ll be the one holding you as you cough your lungs up and then you’ll feel guilty and the whole thing will just repeat itself.”

Jeongguk waves his hand. “‘Ll figure it all out in the morning.”

And with a squeak, she’s hauled onto Jeongguk’s lap, his arms tightening around her as he gazes up at her and for the first time in a very, very long time, feels wholly and completely okay. “Can I kiss you if I brush my teeth firs’?”

“No, gross ass. And this isn’t really a figure it out later kind of thing-”

“Baby,” He hopes he sounds reassuring. “‘Ve gotten this far, right? An’ we’ll get farther, and we’ll figure it out, an’ whatever happens happens, you know?”

“I can’t tell if this is sober you trying to be wise or drunk you trying to be prophetic. Either way, it’s not working.”

“‘Ll figure it out.” He tries to imbue as much warmth and understanding into his voice as humanly possible. To Jeongguk’s ears, he sounds like an angel. To hers, he slurs every other syllable.

“Jeongguk…” she wavers.

“Promise.” He crosses his heart and hooks his pinky finger in the air, waiting for hers just like, she remembers, they used to do in the treehouse in his backyard whenever they made a pact that was supposed to last the rest of their lives.

She swallows her worry back and blinks, exhaustion tugging its subtle pull on her eyelids. “We will talk about this in the morning.”

“Talk, talk, talk. The firs’ thing ‘m doing in the morning is kissing you real soft an’ slow, because ‘ve got you to myself now, and ‘m gonna revel in it as much ‘s I can.” Jeongguk flexes his pinky. “C’mon. Promise.”

Her digit wraps around his as she murmurs, “Promise.”

His teeth glint as he smiles, a real, slightly loopy Jeongguk smile. “You’re precious.”

She taps the bridge of his nose. “You’re so drunk.”

“I know,” his eyes are glassy and he almost warbles. “I may be drunk righ’ now, but you’re beautiful even when ’m sober.”

She wrinkles her nose in faux disappointment. “That is no way to treat your brand-new girlfriend, Mister Jeon.”

“Girlfriend?” He relaxes into the couch, limbs limp, then sits up and moves to stand. “Jus’ fuckin’ marry me already, baby. Les’ get married-”

She pushes on his chest with ease and he falls without concern. “Ab-so-lutely not, good sir.”

His hands dance down her body to quickly grope her ass. “Why not?” Jeongguk squeaks as her nimble fingers slide down his chest, playfully pinching his nipple. “Fuckin’ love it when you call me sir.”

“I thought you preferred daddy. Besides, you gotta get past boyfriend status first, mister I’m-only-married-to-my-Twitch-Prime-subscription.”

“Tha’ was like, fifteen years ago.”

“Days,” she corrects.

“Whatever. Fuck, you’re an angel,” he groans.

“Not quite. I don’t think angel will be the name that comes to mind in the morning when you’re hungover as fuck. Again.”

“Last time this happens. Promise this time.” He kneads her thigh, causing warmth to blossom in her chest.

She leans forward to plant a kiss on his forehead. “We’ll see.”

Jeongguk suddenly wrinkles his nose. “Baby, wha’s that?”

“What do you m- Guk, did you knock over the garbage pail?”

“Oh fuck, uh-”

She clambors off of his lap, side-stepping the offending mess. “I’m about to clean an entire gut’s worth of cognac-infused vomit off of my living room floor. You’re really, really lucky that we’re back on unofficially-but-now-officially-dating terms, because let me tell you- wait, did you get it on the rug, too?”

“Y’know, is’ not too late to change those terms.”

“Shut up and go get me the spray bottle under the sink.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you always this obedient? You’re holding out on me in the bedroom.”

Jeongguk winks at her from across the apartment, sliding a casual arm behind his head. “Only for you, baby. Only for you.”

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