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hexonthepeach · 3 years ago

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dark & stormy 5: blue skies

summary: you’re a housekeeper in a seedy hotel working through the worst hurricane of the season when you’re invited to spend the evening with your two sexy but enigmatic co-workers. when you accidentally uncover their secret identities you're dragged into a darker world—one you may already know too well

pairing: jaehyun (nct) x johnny (nct) x fem!reader (code name: jenny)

genre: the late-70s/early-80s miami vice/nice guys/secret agent johnjae/reader au no one asked for or: a work of madness inspired by the infamous w korea shoot

word count: 11.6k of 63k

warnings: explicit sexual content (m/f, m/m, mmf threesome) [see chapters for detailed tags], dark themes, implied murder, drug-use (alcohol, quaaludes), drugging w/o consent, stalking, kidnapping (non-sexual), bondage, minor knifeplay/gunplay, slight age gap [y/n early 20s, jj late 20s/early 30s], y/n implied dark origins/criminal history (OC vibes but history left open for interpretation), sleep paralysis/nightmares, walk-on guest appearances from other nct members inc. sungtaro in later chapters

fic masterlist

read on AO3

chapter warnings: mild violence, descriptions of gore and suturing, a whole lotta angst, mild sir kink

“So a priest is drowning in the river when a boat comes along. No, no, the priest says, I don’t need help I have God on my side—”

The bells of the Duomo di Modena ring over the square, drowning out the next part of your partner’s joke. It’s just in time as the waiter brings your second espresso. You tuck your hair behind your ear, looking into your hand mirror, self-conscious not of the flyaways but the empty yellow cobblestone behind you.

“Grazie,” you say, adjusting your sunglasses to look over them at your partner in crime. “You’ve already told me this one before, Woo. God gets upset because he sent three boats.”

“Way to kill the punchline,” Jungwoo says dejectedly. He picks at his cornetto, long-lashed eyes flitting over you to fix on the waiter and offer them a smile. You give him a look of mock sympathy.

“You need to work on your repertoire,” you offer. “Maybe throw in a rabbi or a nun.”

“It’s not my fault you remember everything,” he says while scoping the town square behind you. “Know any jokes about nuns?”

At this hour in the morning foot traffic is at its peak, but more pigeons are navigating the entrance of a historic monument than passerbys. The Romanesque architecture reaching to the heavens seems altogether mundane when there’s tourists stepping around the cordoned blocks of stone to capture it in film.

“I promise if you have a fresh joke I’ll listen to it,” you offer as consolation.

“How about this one, it has a clown—“

“Is he me? Or the doctor?”

“No,” he sniffs, mock offended, crossing his impossibly long legs. “Maybe.”

You check your earpiece, thumbing the mic in your trenchcoat’s lapel. You leave it on, the dual echo of your partner’s mic catching the occasional car horn or loud conversation. That first sip of fine roast from the cup in your hand is enough to keep you breaking and running.

“Nervous?” Jungwoo catches you off guard, rosy lips splitting into a knowing grin.

“No,” you counter immediately, both knowing it’s a lie.

It wasn’t your fault you’d landed on the European continent with much less of a professional discipline than your previous missions. It wasn’t just that the stakes were higher, with you in charge of reconnaissance and intelligence gathering, but that you’d been sent without much of a lead.

While your partner was largely useless in physical combat he was more than talented at espionage. Agent Kim had talked you into and out of dozens of situations, and he had a nose for danger that had saved you before. But you couldn’t help but feel you were being thrown to the wolves.

The debriefing with the Deputy Director had been short and to the point: prevent the acquisition of a stolen asset at a drop somewhere in northern Italy. You’d chased leads though museums and hotels in Paris, even taken a short trip to the Alps, until a tip in Monaco. You'd been given the message while Jungwoo flirted with a Carabinieri to avoid being taken into custody at a murder scene you’d stumbled into.

“Find Guinivere stolen by a hippocampi.”

A cursory lead for research had landed you in Emilia-Romagna, conveniently the site of a festival and a scientific conference, and a cathedral with some odd Arthurian history you didn’t have time to dive into but had a gut feeling would work in your favor. You were beginning to think you’d chosen correctly.

“Eleven o’clock. The man with the newspaper he isn’t reading. He’s been at the same spot, eyeing the gate since Mass let out. I think he’ll move soon.”

“I see,” Jungwoo says, glancing over his shoulder for a moment before drinking from his Americano. “Need a scene?”

“Nothing too overt, please,” you say. You can’t help but be haunted by the incident involving a wig where he’d been dropped out of a casino by security, killing your conversation with your first lead in weeks.

“Got it,” he says with an easy smile. “You going to church?”

“Hopefully I don’t burst into flame the moment I walk in,” you sigh.

“I have a little something for you. For courage,” Jungwoo says, reaching into his inner jacket pocket. You watch as he performs a magic trick, pulling out a long length of scarf. The attention from the café residents around you is negligible but you blush all the same.

“You shouldn’t have,” you say, as he deftly folds the square of silk into a triangle. The leopard motif is immediately recognizable as an Yves Saint Laurent piece you’d eyed in Milan, pretending to be the kind of clientele who could afford it.

“For courage,” he says, reaching over the wrought-iron table and your forgotten pastry breakfast to tie it over your head and behind your high bun. “There, you look like Audrey in Charade now. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Do you know what’s wrong with you?” You ask him as he stands up.

“No, what?” He asks, puzzled. You let him realize you’re telling a joke by the way you pull down your sunglasses to wink at him.

“Nothing,” you quote, waiting for him to get it.

Jungwoo tips his black hat with a grin, not bothering to head for the exit of the cafe patio but instead simply walking over the low fence, making a beeline for the empty square. You finish your coffee, steeling your nerves and checking your surroundings in your pocket mirror before following in his wake.

It’s easy to become lost in the bustle, tourists mixing with the crowd leaving morning service. You keep your focus ahead but watch out of the corner of your eye as the slim man in black rounds your earlier target and stands besides him. He pulls something from his pocket and throws it on the ground.

Your cue to continue is a rush of wings as every bird in a 100-yard radius descends on a free breakfast.

“Good work,” you say into your hidden mic. “I’m going in.”

The cathedral is open between services but surprisingly empty except for a few parishioners and visitors. You cross yourself upon entering, taking a seat in the back and allowing yourself to bask in the impressive gothic vault and bare brick arches, leading to an apse illuminated in gold and quaint paintings of Christ, Mary, and saints.

Once you have your bearings you pretend to drop your purse, leaning down to scan the dark wooden benches for anything left beneath them. Within a few seconds you’ve caught sight of the steel briefcase—it was always a briefcase—towards the front and left.

“Your friend is bird-free,” Jungwoo’s musical voice is in your ear.

“Intercepting the package now,” you answer in a whisper.

“Looks like he has company.” The response spurs you to move faster, slipping out of your seat and rounding the columns so as to be out of the eyeline of the central nave. You’re almost to your goal when you see an uncharacteristic group of three men enter under the giant rose window, shadowed against the exterior.

Immediately you drop down and crawl to the case, startling an old woman sitting at the other end of the pew. You look up at her, startled, as you fight to undo the lock chaining it to a wooden leg, finally deciding to pick up the bench with a loud squeak and pull it to you.

“Scusi,” you whisper, moving past her knees and still crouched as you head towards the nearest exit on the north side. The door is right ahead of you but so is someone else, hidden in the dim corridor.

“Dove stai andando con quello?” You can see the short man reach into his jacket pocket and respond automatically: you bull rush him with the case, knocking him to the floor before turning on your heel and sprinting in the opposite direction.

“Fermala!” He calls out behind you but the other men have already split to chase, sidling down the rows and around the columns to cut off your escape. You knock down an iron candelabra to ward off the fastest of your pursuers, barreling out the massive south-side door and past the stone lions guarding the entrance.

“Fourth door, fourth door,” you repeat, veering right to head back towards the square. At the sound of the gate opening again you duck into another entryway. This side of the Duomo is much more busy, crowded with vendors and tourists.

“I’m on the north side, too much heat. Heading into the tower,“ Jungwoo says in the channel.

“It’s a little late to set up a lookout!” you hiss.

“I’ll cover you. Head to rendezvous point C.”

You bite your lip reflexively, pulling out the Beretta Compact in your trench pocket. You peer around the stone wall to see the thugs pausing a stone’s throw away, scanning the crowd. You duck back just as a shot rings out—chips of stone explode over your head, but not from the door. Two more men approach, shouting.

You’re effectively pincered. so you do the only sane thing under the circumstances and sprint into the crowded square, the second and third reports just as unnoticed over the band playing near the street.

A woman screams behind you but you can’t afford to look, knocking aside a number of people as you break free of the throng and past a row of cafes. You’re nearly taken out when the heel of your leather pump breaks in a cobblestone crack but it also saves you, another bullet zinging overhead. You turn to see the gunman aim again, raising your own weapon but two seconds too late—

He crumples to the ground without you having to fire.

“Nice shot,” you say, line of sight leading to the massive tower.

“Wish I could take credit for it.” You can hear the surprise in Jungwoo’s voice. There isn’t time to consider who else has your back, breaking off your other heel with a kick and streaking down the nearest alleyway crowded with crates and empty wine barrels. You’re catcalled by a number of delivery men sitting around smoking until you pull your gun on them.

“Can I get a ride?” you ask, Italian forgotten, commandeering the fastest looking of their scooters. You grip the case between your knees, twisting the throttle to zoom down the bumpy corridor towards the nearest road.

“Two cars in pursuit, black Mercedes, looks like they’re heading to—”

You can barely hear him over the irritating whine of the small engine, avoiding pedestrians as you break out onto a main thoroughfare trafficked with taxis. You don’t make it far before you hear the familiar rev of a car engine and horns honking, your pursuers weaving between cars to follow you.

You’d chosen your escape vehicle poorly but it did have one advantage—you bank off the road again and down a side street that turns out to be a stairway, teeth clacking as you hit each step and are yelled at with insults you save for later by an old man flattened against the wall.

“—not that direction!” Jungwoo says, but the only way out is through, holding on for dear life until you’ve finally spotted the windows of the street-level shops. You explode out of the alleyway and into traffic, swerving wildly to avoid colliding with another bicyclist. You end up in an intersection, the sound of horns exploding around you.

For a moment you’ve lost direction, facing back towards where you came from, and that’s when you see the familiar shape of a black car barreling down on you, just one block away. You head towards the next pedestrian side street but this one is at a standstill, forcing you to navigate parked cars and lose speed. Behind you the screech of tires indicates your pursuit is almost at an end—a bullet pinging into a rear windshield just two feet beside you.

“Come on, come on,” you mutter as you end up on the sidewalk, scattering people left and right and overturning carts. Somewhere nearby sirens pick up, sending your heart skyrocketing into your throat.

This was about to get much more messy, but you were trained for this, you think. You’re almost there, almost free—

A red sports car cuts off your path, swerving in such a tight turn you’re immediately braking and on your side. Luckily you weren’t going faster and the scooter is light but you’re thrown to the ground, case skidding along with you as you desperately hold on to it.

The passenger door swings open, revealing the absolute last person you want to see in that moment, as winded and battered as you are and on the verge of being riddled with gunfire.

“Hey babydoll. Need a ride?”

“Please, just pull over,” you say for the dozenth time. Outside the car windows the landscape is a yellow-green blur, each curve in the road making your head spin as Johnny takes them at breakneck speed. You’re being held hostage on your own operation, and as grateful as you are to be out of a firefight you’re only getting more angry by the minute.

“No one is following us now,” you say, “you can slow down. I need to get out of this car.”

“What are you going to do, hitchhike?” Johnny asks, more than a little sarcastically, his hand on the shifter. “Get friendly with the local livestock?”

“I said stop!”

You have to grip the dashboard, burning rubber as he brings the Ferrari Quattrovalvole from 140 kph to 0 in a matter of seconds. The screech of tires fades away until the ticking of the engine is the only sound.

“Well?” He asks, his gloved hands flexing on the wheel. “Happy now?”

“Get us off the road,” you say. “Please.”

Up ahead is a break in the crumbling stone wall fence and he pulls the car out of its wide spun-out turn, idling into the dusty entrance of an orchard. You fly out of the passenger seat well before the engine’s cut off, immediately dropped into the pink embrace of a pastoral fantasy—ancient cherry trees in full bloom.

A small band of sheep watch you curiously from down the row as you do the only thing you can to let out your frustration: you scream.

The sound echoes for what feels like miles. Once you’ve regained your composure you turn to find Johnny losing it, laughing like he’s seen the funniest thing in his life. His body shakes with suppressed laughter as he leans against the red roof of the sportscar, tall enough that it barely provides cover when you remove one of your ruined shoes and launch it at his head.

“Shut up!” you yell. Johnny barely manages to duck, doubling over.

“I won’t say a word.” He raises his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender once he’s through his fit. You throw your other shoe at him, going wide enough that he collapses again in mirth.

“I had it under control,” you say, no longer embarrassed. “I would have made it on my own.”

“I never doubted you,” he says, walking around the car. “Just figured you could use a faster way out.”

Johnny is dressed much more casually than you’d expect for the kind of asshole who could take a new Ferrari straight out of the factory: tight jeans and leather jacket over an incredibly loud Versace shirt . He lifts his Wayfarers to wipe the tears from his eyes, as always amused at your expense.

“If you didn’t doubt me then what in the hell are you doing here?” you shout. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Istanbul?”

You turn away from him to hide your expression. You didn’t mean to let on that you knew where he was. You certainly couldn’t let him know that you always knew where he was, thanks to your contacts in the Agency.

“Had a break in the schedule and a craving for Bolognese,” he says. You automatically register the smug tone in his voice and wish you had another shoe to throw.

“Did the Director tell you to come?” You ask, rounding on him again.

“Absolutely not.” He shakes his head, more seriously.

“It was his idea then.” The words feel like acid on your tongue.

Johnny doesn’t respond.

“You think I don’t know about you shadowing me in Mexico City? New York? Wasn’t Iceland enough for you?”

His face doesn’t give away anything but you watch his jaw shift, smile fading.

You continue, emboldened by finding blood and grit on your leg from where you’d skidded across the pavement.

“Is this how it’s going to be, then? You just conveniently pop up every time I’m on assignment like the world’s most unemployed superspies?”

“Listen—“

“You know who gets yelled at? Me!”

Your voice upsets the sheep not scared off by your scream, their belled necks ringing as they move out of range of your anger.

“Internal Security drilled me for an hour about going rogue, and I covered for you! I really thought I was compromised in Reykjavik. Do you know how hard it is to lose two dedicated agents on an island the size of Kentucky?”

“It was impressive,” he admits, not hiding that feline look of amusement.

“I bribed my way onto a fishing boat in a storm,” you yell, pacing in your ruined pantyhose. “They had to extract me from Finland. Qian thought I was defecting.”

“I’m sorry—“

“No. You’re not. You had no business being there,” You cut him off, voice shaking with unleashed anger. “I’m tired of being part of whatever twisted little game you’ve concocted. I’m not here to be your plaything. Or your damsel in distress.”

You pull your hand through your hair, relieved to find your scarf still there but realizing how wild you must look, raving on about your silly little adventures in avoidance.

Johnny is uncharacteristically quiet, eyes on the old road as he considers what to say next.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, finally. “I never thought of it as rescuing you. Or playing a game.”

He sounds so distant it makes you walk back a little of the anger that had been building in you. It’s been there since your first field assignment, when your instinct that you had an invisible tail had proven right. At first you’d chalked it up to standard oversight, but then it had happened again. And again. The fuse had finally caught when you’d been dressed down for it.

Surely you could have dealt with it sooner—you could have confronted him before you left for this trip. But old habits die hard, and you’d gone out of your way time and time again to dodge him.

“What was the reason, then?” You ask.

You watch him squint up at the cloudless sky, brushing back the black-dyed hair that’s fallen over his forehead.

“Professional curiosity.” He looks at you again, almost wistfully. “Chasing you around the globe wasn’t all my idea.”

“Of course,” you say, exasperated.

You knew who was really causing you grief in this scenario—Johnny would have just been dragged along. The certainty of it makes you feel guilty for venting your frustrations on him, but also a little heartsick.

You weren’t that important to him, after all. Just another fling.

The NCTA didn’t have a strict hierarchy but it was clear within a few months he was at the top of those in field action, if not actually in charge. As such, he was frequently brought in to do supervision on new agents or missions. An unavoidable eventuality in your case.

It had been so easy for him to slip into his role with you in the handful of unavoidable home office encounters. He’d been nothing but kind, willing to joke and flirt in his usual, offhand manner. Not once had he danced close to confrontation. You’d been grateful but it had nagged at you how little he seemed to care.

You remember the first time you’d been in a shared briefing, the sharp smell of his cologne from a few seats down triggering sense memories so potent you’d gone to smoke on the rooftop afterwards. Or your anniversary dinner last autumn when you’d brushed into him joining the others on your way to the coat check, finding yourself caught in his easy stare like a moth pinned to a board.

Every time you’d heard him laugh in another room, or seen him walking around with that maddening self-assurance on the way to another meeting, you’d felt like your entire world was spinning off-axis.

It had been a long time since you’d felt so small, back in a worn-out uniform with bleach burns on your knuckles. You didn’t like feeling that way, not after everything you’d been through to succeed in this new life.

“Are you putting down roots here or are you ready to go?” Johnny asks gently, breaking your reverie. He opens the passenger door for you.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask. You’re not letting your guard down, now.

“That was too coordinated of a situation to be bad luck on your part. Best to lay low for the next few days. I’ll take you up north to a safehouse and do the hand-off for you.”

He notes your pinched brow and continues, “We would have been called in regardless. This is above your paygrade.”

“What about Agent Kim?” You knew better than to abandon your partner, even if it seemed there wasn’t much you could do without help.

“He’ll be fine,” Johnny says, cracking a careful smile. “He has back-up.”

You feel the disdain twisting your face but he doesn’t say anything, pulling his sunglasses down again.

“It’s a long drive. Do you mind if we take it to speed?”

“Go as fast as you like,” you offer, slipping back into the plush leather seat and taking the time to brush off the bottoms of your feet to free them of crushed cherry blossoms before you close the door.

“Thank you,” the words slip from your mouth unbidden.

“For what?” He asks, incredulously.

You shrug. “For giving me a moment to think.”

You roll down the window to finally pay attention to your surroundings, lost in bird song and the light breeze sending pink confetti-like petals to the ground. “It really is beautiful here.”

“It is,” he says, leaning towards you, his arm brushing against your chest. You stiffen only to find he’s reached across you to pull the seatbelt tight, buckling it smoothly.

“You’re welcome.”

The engine purrs into life and you’re back on the way towards your destination, a new kind of tension keeping the words you wanted to say and the stray feelings of remorse buried deep inside of you.

Hours later finds you well out of the endless cycle of farmlands and vineyards, and back into a coastal city that you only recognize as Verona from signage and the maps you’d memorized. Buildings made of time-grayed stone blend into one another past your open window, the evening air redolent with spring flowers and the promise of rain.

The safe house is a narrow two-story number with a view of muddy river waters, illuminated gold by the setting sun and the warm glow from former gas lights. Johnny has already told you where to find the key and how to avoid the ancient landlady in the apartment below, but he doesn’t move from his seat even when you say your farewell.

You find yourself leaning down beside the car, unsure how to conclude.

“Will you be coming back?” you ask. You can’t hide the almost hopeful quality of the question, your heart racing in your chest.

His face is hidden to you in the dim light, hands gripping the wheel and shift stick again. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Thank you, again,” you say, in lieu of something more apologetic, or pleading.

“You’re right, you could have handled—”

“No,” you say quickly. “I’m glad you were here. I needed you—I mean, we needed you there.”

He seems to want to say something but after a pause he shakes his head, eyes on the road.

“I’ll see you back at HQ,” he says. “Get some rest.”

You step back and watch him drive away, feeling the first raindrops begin to spatter on to the warm stone beneath your feet. You’re soaked through by the time you remember to go inside.

It’s midnight when the pounding on your door begins and you rush to the heavy wooden door to open it, heart racing and gun hidden under a silk robe that had been part of the surprisingly stocked complement of the house.

Your spirits fall a little when you hear it’s a woman yelling in Italian–most of it unrecognizable but for some of the curse words you’d picked up in your travels.

“Oh mio dio,” the old woman says when you finally open the numerous locks. She appears to have been woken up, hair in curlers and just as similarly dressed for bed.

“Posso aiuturla?” You ask, hiding behind the door.

“Le tue scarpe,” she says, thrusting a glossy bag through the opening before making her way back down the stairs, lamenting just as loudly as she had through the door.

You place the delivery on the wooden table, next to the remnants of a cold dinner of meats and cheese and slightly stale bread, along with the bottle of Barolo you’d found in the en-suite kitchen.

There’s no label on the box but inside is a beautiful pair of handmade leather heels, the quality better than anything you’d buy even with your generous salary. You’re still burdened by the spendthrift nature of a survivor, not sure if such beautiful things are meant for you.

You try them on, not surprised when they fit perfectly.

Your grandmother had once told you never to give shoes as a gift, that the person would walk out of your life. Just a silly superstition, you thought, but it makes you quickly take them off, feeling a little dumb for walking around in them while mostly naked.

Another knock on the door has you back without a second thought, expecting to find the landlady.

The stranger darkening your doorway in a motorcycle helmet doesn’t wait, breaking through the unclosed locks to force his way in. You kick the door closed but it’s wrested open, and you reach behind you for anything that can save you.

“Y/N,” the person says, raising their hands.

The safety on your Beretta is already disengaged, finger taut on the trigger expecting the heavy pull of a double action. You don’t relax, putting space between you and the open door, the knife on the table calling just as surely as the gun in your hands.

Slowly, carefully, they remove their helmet.

You’d had a gut feeling just from their build but you gasp a little when you see the bruising on that familiar face, blood streaking the left side of his jaw.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, not lowering the weapon.

Jaehyun drips water onto the floor, hands still raised. He turns to close the door and lock it, as if forgetting you’re there, discarding his helmet on the table as he checks the window over the sink and closes the lacy curtains.

You lower the gun as you follow him around the old suite, struck dumb. Jaehyun turns off the bedroom light before closing the open balcony door, cutting off the white noise of rain outside.

“Were you followed?” You ask in a panicked tone—not just from the circumstances but because you’re alone with him in the tiny space, your eyes still adjusting to the lack of light.

“No,” he finally says, peering through the space in the drapes. His answer doesn’t instill you with confidence.

“What happened?”

You follow him into the tiny bathroom with its claw foot tub, watching as he turns out the light even though the only window is high-placed and just big enough for ventilation. The candle you’d lit for your bath still flickers on the shelf, allowing you to see the look of pain on his face in the mirror when he removes motorcycle jacket, revealing the familiar glossy crimson of blood soaking through his dress shirt.

“My god,” you exhale. “Sit down before you pass out.”

You can’t chide him for coming here instead of going to a hospital or a back-alley doctor; you know that’s out of the question in your line of work. Instead you set the gun down and retrieve the field medic bag from its usual place in the closet, sneezing from the dust that coats it.

You return to find him slumped against the sink, wet hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and blood.

“I’m going to need more light,” you say. You reach to flip the switch but are stopped by his hand on your back.

“It’s not bad,” he says. “Just looks bad.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you say, ripping off his ruined shirt. Underneath you find an ugly, deep gash through his shoulder blade, a graze by the looks of it–no exit or entry wounds, just a powder burn. Whatever he’d gotten into had happened in close quarters. You knew him well enough now that it had to have been a last resort.

“You idiot,” you say, cleaning the edges of the wound with an alcohol-soaked wad of gauze. “Why are you here?”

What possessed you to ride two hours in the rain just to bleed all over my bedroom? Is what you want to ask, but you hold your tongue.

A sharp sound escapes his teeth as you debride his wound without warning him, continuing once you have assurance he’s still conscious. You’re a little more careful as you dab at the exposed muscle, watching his back twitch with each touch, but he doesn’t complain again. He’s hunched over, almost penitent, as you work.

Jaehyun whispers something inaudible, and you have to lean in to hear him repeat it.

“Wanted to make sure . . .”

“You could have called, you know. This place has a secure line.”

“. . . I’m glad you’re okay,” he mumbles.

“Stay with me, there’s no way I can carry you,” you say loudly, throwing the ruined towel in the sink. “I’ll need to do sutures. Can you get to the bed first?”

It’s a fight to help him up, his mass so much bigger than you remember it, but you make it to the small bed, helping him remove his heavy boots before he collapses. The bed cover stains immediately, his clothing dripping watercolor pink patches into the old fabric.

Even if he isn’t in a position to fight you about it you throw your scarf over the nightstand light before clicking it back on. It’s your only illumination as you drink from the wine bottle to steady your hands. No training on banana peels could prepare you for your first attempt at stitches on living tissue, and as much as you think you’re prepared your first subject is too precious for trial.

“I don’t have a topical anesthetic in here,” you say, rummaging one last time through the bag for a vial to match the needles inside. “Can you handle it?”

His face is turned away from you, but you think he assents.

“I’m sorry,” you say, digging in with your silver hook.

Each pull of the needle through his dermis makes your spine tingle with sympathy, but you manage to close the wound. He endures the pain face-first in a pillow, not making a sound until you’re done and cleaning up your hands and the mess in the bathroom.

“Thanks,” Jaehyun says, finally, voice muffled.

“You’re going to want to get that restitched by a professional,” you say. “Turn over.”

You help him onto his side, checking the wounds on his drawn face and opting to treat them topically. Most of the blood you clean from his neck and chest appears to be from an unknown source. You don’t want to think about that–how much you’d give to have been by his side when he’d given them hell.

“Is Kim alright?” You ask. He blinks against the cotton swab you’re using to apply ointment to his cheek.

“Yeah,” he says. “He made it to the rendezvous.”

“Thank you,” you say, repositioning him to cover your shoddy work with dressings. His skin is soaked with sweat by the time you wrap another layer of gauze around it.

“I missed you,” he says, once you’ve met his eyes. They’re a little glassy but he seems awake, searching your face for a response. You don’t allow the words to touch you, just feeling them in your gut, like you’ve been weighed down with stones.

“I know,” you murmur. “So you and Johnny were there the whole time?”

“I missed you,” he repeats. You check his forehead for fever but he catches your hand, pulling it to his bare chest. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

You pick a crust of blood from under your fingernail, reaching for the wine bottle again.

“You’ve never scared me,” you say. Yes, you’re scared, right now–for different reasons. You know better than to show it.

“Why did you leave, then?” he asks.

You offer him the bottle rather than answer, turning your face away. You listen to him get up, propped against the pillows, and fight the flinch when his cold hand closes over yours to take it. His touch lingers after you’ve let go.

“It was easier than saying goodbye,” you admit. A tear leaks out of the corner of your eye, and you quickly wipe it away on your sleeve. “I’m sorry for stealing your watch.”

His fingers brush your cheek, bringing you back to look at him again. He’s a portrait of quiet regard in the half-light, lashes low over his dark eyes as he takes you in.

“Don’t apologize for that. I wanted to give you more.” Free of the blood you can see that creasing in his cheek where his dimple is, the one you’ve only seen when he was truly happy.

“I know.” You can’t fight the tears anymore, so you let them drip down your nose and onto the bedspread. “I couldn‘t. I can’t.”

That’s as honest as you can be, with him and with yourself. Trust was not something you’d ever had, not even with family, not with friends, and certainly not with a stranger you’d known mostly in your periphery for one summer.

You hadn’t lied when you’d said you wanted to know him better, but what you had hidden was even worse: you didn’t want him to know you. Not your weaknesses, or your loneliness. And certainly not the magnet-like pull you’d felt every time he was near, even when he was just a ghost on the edge of your world.

It was easier to pretend it was something physical, something temporary.

Something never to be spoken of again.

Your face is buried in your hands when he pulls you into a careful embrace, pulling you into the wedge between his head and uninjured shoulder. There’s a featherlight brush of lips on your temple, just the smallest gesture but it unburdens some of what’s been weighing you down for as long as you can remember.

“Can we start over?” He asks.

You let out a trembling breath, catching your tears before they can slip through to his collarbone. “Are you and Johnny going to let me be?”

“I didn’t . . .“ he begins. “Do you know why we got you into the Agency?”

“Just figured you wanted something more,” you say. Something I couldn’t give you, you think.

“We didn’t want you to feel like you were alone anymore.”

The feral part of you is clawing and spitting at the idea of being taken care of. You let the hand on your hair quiet her into submission, until you feel ready to speak again.

“I need to know that I belong here on my own terms, by my own merit.”

He sighs. “You do.”

“I mean it,” you say, sitting up to make your point. “I can’t be your . . .“

Your words die on your tongue. You’re shocked to see his eyes are as red as yours must be, his jaw ticking with emotion.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just wanted to be with you?”

The blood drains from your face as you watch him break. He covers his eyes, head knocking against the headboard as he tries to keep it together. You can't miss the tracks of wetness on his cheekbone, mingling with the rain and sweat that’s collected there.

Not once had you ever seen him this undone. The rawness of his emotion terrifies you.

“I felt so stupid,” he says, smiling ruefully beneath his arm. “You needed space but I didn’t know how . . . I guess I had this idea that if you had a choice you’d come back to me."

He swallows the thickness that's built up in his voice. "But you didn’t.”

The lump in your own throat isn’t going away anytime soon. You feel heavy, made of lead for how little you can react to him in this different kind of crisis.

“Every time I saw you it felt like I made it worse,” he says. “After that day at the shooting range I knew . . . ”

That day had never been one you could bury: the first and last time you’d spoken to him since Florida. You’d had plenty of warning on who would be your combat arms instructor in the first months of intensive training, and you’d gone to your assignment with the iron resolve to see the course through.

Jaehyun had been waiting for you, field-stripping an impressive, long-range rifle. The silhouette of his shoulders and his bent head against the green of the firing range were just as natural to your landscape as if he had been in that hotel room again, palm slapping against a malfunctioning TV. You'd stood there, as speechless and uncertain, waiting for him to turn around.

Toughen up, toughen up, toughen up. The words repeating in your head had done zero except distract you from the simplest thing you could have done: just say ‘hello.’ You’d watched the careful smile disappear from his closed mouth, replaced with cold politeness, and a part of you had gone with it.

You made mistake after mistake, occupied with even just the smallest changes of distance between you physically, unable to hide your distraction. He hadn’t reprimanded you. Maybe that was worse, seeing his face screw up with disappointment at every wide shot, repeating the same instruction in a flat voice.

The next day he was gone—a temporary reassignment the Deputy Director said, but one that never finished. You’d trained with Agent Nakamoto instead, grateful for the new teacher even if he was less forgiving in his own brand of quiet discipline.

“I was sure you hated me,” he says, voice strained. “But it was worth it. It felt like there was something broken inside of me, and the thought that you might be happy and safe fixed it.”

You shake your head, knowing the damage can’t be undone.

“I’m sorry for being your shadow." He sinks into the pillows, staring at the ceiling. "I can leave you alone, if that’s what you want. Johnny makes it look so easy, man, but he’s not okay either. He’s just better than me at hiding it—”

“I’ve never hated you,” you speak, at last, still stuck a few sentences prior. “I loved you.”

Jaehyun is unable to process the words, rolling over. “What?”

“I left because of that,” you're unable to repeat it. “That’s what scared me. Not you, not what happened.”

“But you—why . . .“

“I didn’t know you. Didn’t know what you saw in me. I still don’t believe it,” you say, getting up and putting distance between you so you don’t lose the slim shard of confidence behind your confession.

“I figured I’d get some relief in knowing what you really were like once I joined,” you admit. You pace, bare feet catching on cracked tile. “Like every awful thing I’d made up in my head to distance myself was true.”

Your fingernails are digging into your arms, trembling despite the solace of finally saying it out loud. You can’t look at him, eyes dry but your lip is chewed to stinging. Jaehyun is silent in that old, familiar way, emboldening you.

“The worst part is . . . I think you're actually a good person.”

Everyone had stories about him—even that asshole Donghyuck had showered Jaehyun in praise, once you’d earned his trust. The bitterness at hearing your ex-lover’s name had dwindled until you’d stopped leaving the room or—in Jungwoo’s case—asking for silence. You’d listened to every passing aside, every heroic yarn, registering the admiration and awe as if it was your first time encountering it.

All you’d found out was already there in your memory: his quiet perseverance and kindness, his odd sense of humor. He had a willingness to do the worst work for no reward, regardless of how much it distanced himself, unable to understand why it brought others closer.

All things you’d seen but willingly would have blinded yourself to if it meant you could move on.

“You weren’t my secret friend on a bus bench anymore. Or something more, you know. You were perfect and untouchable and larger than life and I was just . . . I’m just me.”

The words hang, growing more pathetic as you realize what you’ve said. There wasn’t another person on the planet that could make you question yourself that way. You feel more wrung out than the towel in the sink, and just as dirty.

“But that’s all I wanted,” Jaehyun says, right behind you. “Just you.”

You hadn’t even heard him get up. He’s so close the heat of his body feels like burning. He has a fever, you think, but before you can turn around he’s wrapped around you, face in your hair.

“Why?” You ask, voice tremulous.

“Because you trusted me, even when you shouldn’t have. You protected me.” His arms are tight around your own, practically crushing you. Somehow, you don’t feel trapped.

“Where do we go from here?” you ask aloud.

“Don’t know,” he says, head resting on your shoulder. “But I know that I . . .”

You reach up in reassurance, finding his forehead cold and clammy. In the time it takes for you to turn he’s somehow grown heavier, your knees buckling under the weight.

“You need to lie down,” you say, gently. “You’re going into shock.“

“I–” he says, eyes fluttering into his head. He collapses, taking you with him.

For once you’re grateful for the excruciating regimen the Agency has put you through—you manage to put up a fight before you reach the floor.

Jaehyun barely responds as you elevate his legs with a pillow, making you rush to the icebox for the emergency saline storage you hope isn't expired. Another day, another first: this time finding the vein in his death-pale arm so you can feed the IV line in.

You think it’s enough to abet the hypovolemic shock but you pick up the phone and dial the emergency code all the same. You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to him, and you’re sure Johnny wouldn’t let it rest for your natural lives, either.

Now that he's in repose you can tell it’s not just the trauma written on his face that's made him look so different. He's lost weight and his hair has grown out past his ears, messy over his forehead. He looks like a boy again. One you’d never know but might learn, in time, if he let you.

“I love you, too,” you finish for him, resting your cheek against his chest as you check his breathing, the slow but steady beat of his heart in your ear.

They called it the Tiger’s Den, and though you’d never been called up here before, you’d always known it was an inevitability. Like walking through the gates of Hell when you eventually met your end. Hell has to have some nice places, you think. Maybe you'd get a nice desk in Limbo.

You’re just beginning to feel at ease when the secretary in the spacious front office gives you a look like you’re meant for the deepest reaches.

She picks up the telephone, buzzing the interoffice. “Director? Juliet is here. Yes. Yes, I know. Of course, sir. Your 15:00 is postponed.”

She places the receiver down, leading you to the door and punching in an elaborate code.

“You can go in,” she nods. “Director Lee and Agent Suh are expecting you.”

You open the double doors into the office hesitantly, like you’re moving underwater. You’re immediately struck by how vast the space is, the late-afternoon sun outlining the topography of the city in gold past a wall of windows.

It's beautiful, you think, less sterile and brown than the rest of the headquarters—a testament to the mid-century period the Agency was founded in. The Director's taste is immediately obvious in the vibrant Joan Mitchell piece on the showcase wall behind his imposing and yet very empty desk.

You find the gray-haired man sitting casually at the conference table. He’s much younger than you expected, or it could just be the way he looks and is positioned: legs akimbo and leaned back.

Director Lee studies the projector feed in front of him, horn-rimmed glasses halfway down his nose, seeming to come back to reality only after you've made it a few feet away from him.

“Hello, sir,” you say, giving him a half bow. Keeping your attention on the agency head is the only possible distraction you have from the six-foot-something demon on the corner of your vision. You don't turn to acknowledge him, sure one look will break your manufactured calm.

“Hello, Y/N, so glad to finally meet you.” Director Lee’s voice is gentle, if a little distracted. He’s smaller than you expected, too, blinking up at you owlishly from where he sits in front of a pile of microfiche.

“It’s an honor, sir,” you say with utmost conviction, reaching out to take his slender hand in a polite handshake before dropping back.

“Agent Suh.” You nod in the other man’s direction, trying to remain neutral.

The attempt is futile, at best; Johnny is staring at you with his usual reserved but in-on-the-joke expression. You’re not surprised when he looks you up and down while nodding in return.

You’d prepared yourself for this meeting like it was going to be your last on earth, getting an emergency fitting of a black suit dress from one of the Agency’s recommended vendors. You know you look better than usual, but you can’t tell how he feels about it.

You size him up as surreptitiously as possible. Johnny is in a midnight navy three-piece, his longish bronze hair tucked back behind his ears. It's more than a little embarrassing to find yourself staring at him, pretending to study the schematics on the screen behind him.

“You two know each other, I hear?” Director Lee breaks the tension with little regard for either of you as he reads through pages.

“Yes, sir. Agent Suh was kind enough to provide my original referral. I wouldn’t be here without him,” you say. The double-meaning is underscored by your lips twitching.

You don't know what to expect but it certainly isn't the way Johnny immediately relaxes, smiling easily as he places a hand on the back of one of the replicate Eames chairs circling the polished wood table.

“Good to see you again, Jenny.”

The warmth in his eyes gives you pause. It didn’t look like he was expecting you to take a lashing—unless he found it funny. That had to be it, you think.

“Good, good. Moon speaks highly of your work, says you’re a natural.” The Director assesses you, finally. “Do you know why we called you in here?”

You wonder if this is a trick question, your carefully planned admission and apology forgotten.

“I expect it’s to go over our failure in Modena, sir.” You keep your voice and face clear of anxiety.

“Failure?” Director Lee looks at the other man quizzically.

Johnny only shrugs. “The intercept, sir.”

“Oh, you mean the firefight, in the middle of a packed city in broad daylight. The one with multiple casualties, including my best agent?" Director Lee doesn't have to raise his voice to instill terror in you, but it's clear he's directing his sarcasm at the other man in the room.

He pinches the bridge of his nose above his spectacles. “No, we reviewed that already. Agents Suh and Jeong have taken responsibility for compromising the mission and will be reprimanded accordingly.”

“Sir?” You sway a little in your heels, taken aback.

“Consider my report a formal apology, Agent L/N,” Johnny says, gesturing to the pile of paperwork in front of him. “We went off-plan without informing you in advance and were flagged by the other party.”

You stare at him, waiting for some continuation of the punchline.

“You and Agent Kim couldn’t have known what you were getting into,” he says. “Think of it like walking into a mousetrap set for a bear.”

“Kun give you an earful, I expect?” Director Lee asks, taking a drink from the delicate china cup in front of him.

“Yes, sir,” Johnny nods, solemnly. You see the twist at the corner of his mouth that indicates he's enjoying this.

“Good. Make sure Jae checks in with him once he’s discharged from Medical, otherwise he’ll send me another one of those awful memos.” Director Lee shudders visibly as he sets down his tea, turning to you.

As clouded as his expression is, he looks at you much more kindly. "You have nothing to be concerned about, L/N. Your quick thinking saved the day, we have what we need.”

You wish you could feel relieved but the reminder of Jaehyun’s stint in the hospital has you sinking into the polished granite floor.

It'd been over a week since you watched him loaded into the Agency’s emergency transport in the early hours before dawn. The lack of communication had worn you down but you’d also done little to move past it, only confirming he was safe. Medical was strictly off limits as part of the wing of research laboratories and you told yourself you didn't have the clearance, much less a valid reason, to check in on him.

You were getting good at lying to yourself, these days.

“Thank you, sir,” you say. “I appreciate your trust—“

“Oh yes, so why you’re here,” Director Lee stands up and looks awkwardly around, searching the table for something before flitting to his desk.

Johnny turns away, coughing to cover his amusement.

“Here we are,” the older man says, pulling something from his briefcase and offering it to you across a surface covered in oddities and stacks of files.

“We don’t have much by way of ceremony here for promotion to acting field agent status, but this should do. Congratulations, Agent Y/N.” Director Lee nods at you, his small face pleased. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you, sir,” you say, opening the case. You stare at the silver and black timepiece inside, stomach twisting. It’s a similar make to one you’d traded in at a Miami pawn shop almost two years ago, smaller and elegant enough for your build. You already know what the custom engraving on the back will look like but you don't take it out, feeling empty.

“You’re going to want to run by the lab and have Dr. Huang help set it up, it being a new model and all.” The Director checks his own watch, shutting his briefcase. “Sorry. I have a previous appointment I'm already late for."

Your shock of not being berated but rather being graduated now shifts to something you're far less sure you can handle.

"Agent Suh will fill you in on the next mission,“ he says, buzzing past you.

“Is Deputy Director Moon joining us?” You ask aloud, already knowing the answer.

“He’ll no longer be your point person,” Director Lee says, waving off your offered closing handshake from ten feet away. “Feel free to use the office for as long as you need.”

“We’ll be out of your hair in no time,” you blurt out in his wake, watching him dart through the doors you’d just come through. As much as you’d imagined your first meeting with the Director going differently you’re unsurprised by his departure; it was common knowledge he kept an impossibly busy schedule.

“Have a seat,” Johnny says once the massive room is empty. You turn back to him slowly, watching him as you take your place at the table, choosing an empty chair far from the Director’s.

“It’s good to see you, too, sir,” you say. He doesn’t respond to the affectation, his profile colored black-and-white by the plans projected on the massive screen behind him.

“Have any questions about Italy?” Johnny asks. He slides a folder across the table to you with a flick of his wrist, still standing.

“No, sir. Is there anything mission-critical I missed in the debrief?”

“Nothing that won’t cover,” he says, nodding at the file. Some of the tenseness you feel slips away.

“How are you doing, Y/N?”

The question catches you off-guard, drawing your attention away from the xerocopy.

No one has asked you anything personal in your time in basic field training, you certainly didn’t expect that level of disclosure now. It’s not like he’s asking it with the tone of someone who knows your answer. No, you suspect he’s probing for an honest reply.

“More than fine,” you say after catching your breath. “I like it here, sir.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He smiles. You can tell it’s not in his eyes by the lack of creasing at their corners. It should feel strange to be able to read him so well after so long, but even in Italy you’d sensed it—a familiarity that no formality could kill.

“Do you have any questions?” he asks, deliberately.

It’s so subtle, the way his eyes drop to your mouth and then back up again, but your heart skips a beat as if he’d touched you with a look. More than a touch—like he’d run his hand down your face. You quash that impulse as quickly as you can, trying to focus.

“No, sir,” you say. Your heartbeat feels like it’s louder than the hum of electricity from the projector. “Do you . . . do we need to go over anything?”

Johnny moves across from you, bisected by distorted gray lines. He picks up a dossier, nodding at its twin within your reach. “Nothing that isn’t mission-critical.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Stop calling me ‘sir’,” he says, voice suddenly cold.

You blink up at him, again frozen mid-scan of the report. His usual air of joviality is gone and replaced with displeasure. This is new to you, and not altogether unwelcome.

“My promotion couldn’t have been that good,” you venture. “Sir.”

Johnny crosses his arms, suit straining against the tension in his wide shoulders. “Now who’s playing games?”

Heat flares in your cheeks. The words slip out of your mouth before you can calm down. “Did you lie about compromising the mission in Modena?”

“No,” he says, flatly. You give him a withering look, waiting for him to laugh it off or at your expense, but he’s just as stiff as before. “Scouts honor.”

“Good,” you sigh.

“Good? Not going to throw another shoe at my head for almost ruining your first op?"

You don’t have a response, looking down at your feet to escape his scrutiny. This is why you hadn’t wanted to be placed with him so many times before–you felt like an open book in front of him, incapable of hiding how you felt.

“I don’t think I can do this.” Your thoughts are unfiltered as you shift in your seat.

“A mission brief or . . .”

“Work with you.” You know the words hit him hard, but the blow circles back to you. Guilt immediately wells up inside you, fizzling the rage you've begun to feel. Out of the corner of your eye you see him drop the file, hand running through his hair.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.” He waits for your response before continuing, but your tongue is firmly tied. “If it’s about what happened before, I can promise that it isn’t going to affect any working relationship–”

“It’s not about that,” you blurt out. “I just don’t think I’m a good fit for this team.”

His eyes narrow. “I hate to break it to you, but there’s only one team for active field agents. And you’re on it now.”

“I can ask for a reassignment,” you say lightly, moving to get up. ”I’ll put a petition in with the Director tonight.”

“Running away, again?” It’s not the barb that makes you stop but the way Johnny says it, more bitter than cruel. You find yourself wishing it was the latter, so you could be angry at him, at anyone but yourself.

“Please just sit down.” He exhales loudly.

“I’m not running . . .“ you begin, unconvinced by your own words.

“Consider it an order, then,” he says, quietly. “I’m still your supervising agent, for as long as that lasts.”

You comply, hands gripping the arms of your chair to keep it from rolling back.

“I promise I’ll make the transfer request, myself, if it’s necessary.” Johnny paces around the table, leaning against it a reasonable distance away. “But you have to tell me why.”

Because you can barely concentrate when he’s around? Because you have to remember how to breathe when he’s in the same room? None of it is acceptable even without your line of work, where distraction is deadly. That professional distance had been there before and you know he can maintain it.

It’s all down to you.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? You can’t even be mad at him for the right reasons, that coal-like lump in your chest not squashed pride or indignation. The more you try to stoke it the more you understand how petty it really is.

The one time in your life where you’re required to pretend to be someone else, the one thing you’re good at, and you can’t be. Instead you’re an exposed nerve, unable to meet the eyes of the person standing next to you. You realize he’s turned the projector off when the only sound in the room is the ticking of the watch on the desk, somehow loud beneath the closed lid.

“I just don’t want to be a liability,” you say.

“You’re not a liability.” Johnny sounds bemused. “We don’t bring liabilities on as assets.”

“You watched over me–”

“As hard as it is for you to believe, it is standard operating procedure to observe and grade new agents.”

“Then why did you pull strings to get me here?” you snap.

He shifts uncomfortably. “Is that what this is about?”

He picks up the box from the table, before your stare can burn a hole in it. “So you think this is a consolation prize?”

You wait a spell, mostly to keep from erupting at him but also because now that he’s within reach the anger is bleeding into a different kind of intensity inside of you.

“Did you ask the Director to promote me?” you interrogate him.

“You’re not going to believe me even if I say ‘no’, are you?”

You don’t have to answer. You don’t think you could without slipping.

“Give me your hand,” Johnny says. You don’t know how to respond until he leans forward to lift your arm from the chair with surprisingly little force for how rigid you feel.

"Yes, we helped you get into the NCTA. Yes, I've monitored your progress at every step.”

He waits until you relax to continue, as if he’s afraid you’re a bird that will take wing. “But that’s the extent of it. As much as I wanted to help you, I kept my hands clean. Except for convincing Moon to stay on as your handler. I don’t think you understand how much work that was.”

That surprises you, but you catch yourself before you can look up at him quizzically.

“He was always meant to be a temporary assignment. Older agents like that, he’s more at home doing dirty work than being stuck in an office."

He lays the watch cuff over your wrist, snapping the clasp shut, not letting go even after it’s securely weighed down by it.

“I’m sorry if you felt like you didn’t earn this. Because you can be assured there's nothing I could say or do that got you this," he says, tone softening. "That was all you."

His grip changes carefully, a long-fingered hand enclosing your own. That livewire current you expect in touching him for the first time in years isn't numbing at all. No, your head is buzzing with errant thoughts, heart flip-flopping in your chest.

“Now do you still want to leave?” he asks.

You shake your head slightly, mouth dry.

“Since we’re going to be on the same team from now on, do you think you can try trusting me?” Johnny asks, gently.

You realize you haven’t exhaled yet, long after you find your answer.

“I trust you.” You’re surprised by how easy it is to say it.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“I don’t . . .” you muster the courage to be honest. “I really don’t trust myself.”

“You earned this,” he says, squeezing your fingers assuringly.

“That’s not what I mean.” Your voice cracks. You glance up to find him watching curiously, relaxed and half-seated against the table beside you. Surely he can feel it, if he can’t see it–the way you’re vibrating in his grasp.

“Why don’t you tell me?” He asks, his thumb running over the back of your hand in lazy circles.

“Because I’m not sure if that would be appropriate, sir.”

Your eyes go wide as you realize your verbal slip, pulling back but unable to escape as he holds your wrist firmly, tugging. It’s easy for him to hoist you up, and you catch yourself with a hand on his chest before you can stumble into him.

Just like that, you’re a magnet flipped in the right direction.

You don’t move away, and he doesn’t either, long enough that you can feel his heart pounding beneath the layers of tweed and dress shirt and muscle, the way his breathing is just as quick as yours.

Jaehyun was right, you think. He was better at hiding it.

“Look at me,” he says, a fingertip tapping underneath your chin.

You tilt your chin upwards, meeting his gaze, melting into what you see there—a reflection of your own nervous expectation, colored not just by desire but something much, much more enticing.

“Whatever you’re thinking right now, I just need you to know one thing,” Johnny says, breath washing warm across your forehead. “You can only call me that if you want to.”

Do you want to try . . . ? echoes from a million miles and minutes ago, when he’d had you feeling just as vulnerable sitting on a hotel bed, playing games for children. The difference now is that you don’t feel small, anymore.

This time, you know what you want. And you aren't going to let the invitation you see written plainly in his face go unanswered.

You rise up on your toes, heels leaving the floor as you do the one thing you’ve tried to avoid since you’d first seen him again: you kiss him.

As desperate as you feel, you take your time, letting your buried emotions translate into your exploration of his plush mouth. You don’t sense any hesitation when his lips part and allow you in. You wrap a hand around his neck, bending him down until his grip finds your waist, helping you reach him.

You stay like that for awhile, calves aching by the time you slide down him, tongue wetting your bottom lip as if to taste the sweetness of him there. His pupils are dilated, cheeks flushed, but otherwise he’s still patient beneath you, waiting for your next move with an almost shy half-smile.

“Is that what you want, sir?” You glide your hand beneath his vest, feeling his pulse quicken and his breath stutter.

"You don’t want me to answer that here,” Johnny muses, back to holding onto the table behind him. You can see the whites around his knuckles, feel how he’s poised as if to keep from caging you in.

“Why?” You move your hands to his tie, caressing the dark red fabric.

He leans in conspiratorially, brushing your ear as he whispers into it. “The Director likes to record his meetings.”

The rush of excitement guiding you fizzles into mortification. You pull back only to feel the tug of his teeth on your earlobe, making you yelp in surprise.

“I thought that didn’t bother you?” He laughs as you glare up at him.

“It didn’t bother me before.”

“We should probably find a place to talk about this,” he offers, voice a purr under your fingertips. “Why don’t we go get a drink to celebrate?”

“I’d like that,” you say, before tugging him down by his tie. “After.”

This second time you meet neither of you are holding back. His hands are in your hair to keep your teeth from colliding, tongue licking into your mouth. You don’t realize you’re halfway up his frame until he’s hoisted you off him, dropping you on the table.

You’re closer to eye level here, but his attack subsides—nose nudging yours as he kisses your face, smearing your carefully-applied lipstick. Some of it has transferred to his own mouth, making you wonder what it would look like elsewhere.

"This was not what I was expecting when you walked in this room." He says, containing himself.

Johnny's palms are flat on the table as he pushes against it between your legs, probably getting more relief than what you are with your ass deep in the sharp cardboard edges of a pile of slides.

"This isn't me forgiving you for Italy," you say, scooting forward to wrap your legs around his hips. "You can make it up to me."

He loosens his tie, but you stop him from taking it off, kissing his neck and tentatively licking the sweat that's beaded under his starched collar.

“I’m going to need a verbal affirmation that you want to continue,” Johnny says with bated breath.

“Is that agency speak for ‘covering your ass'?’” you whisper, too turned on to be annoyed.

“No, babydoll,” he says, throatily. “It means I’m going to fuck you right here and right now unless you tell me otherwise.”

“Please fuck me, sir,” you say, reaching for his belt.

“God you have no idea how much I missed you.”

It doesn’t take long for his words to catch up to you in deed, neither of you bothering to undress, exploring each other under layers of clothing. He stifles a groan when he finds you're already soaked through the expensive silk underwear you'd worn expecting your own funeral.

“You sure you want a quick–”

The sudden chime of the door breach stops you both, frozen mid-makeout, and you have all of a few seconds before there’s a rush of air as the office entry blows inward.

“Sir, I told you there’s a very important meeting happening,” an unfamiliar male voice rings out from the other room, in the wake of the man who walks in.

“And I told you, I left the discovery file here this morning and it can’t wait–” Kim Doyoung makes it in a few brisk steps before he freezes, registering the scene with appropriate horror.

“Oh for the love of god, not again.” The lawyer hides his face with his briefcase, red to his dark hairline.

“Again?” you hiss.

“Not me!” Johnny protests under his breath, fighting to zip his pants back up.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see this,” Kim says loudly, still shielding himself as he rushes to the Director’s desk to retrieve a thick, green file.

You bury your face in Johnny’s suit jacket, appalled. “I’m going to be fired. On my first day . . .”

“Hey Doyoung,” Johnny says, startling you both. “Remind me what the employee contract–”

“Clause 10(b) of Interoffice Relations,” the other man says automatically, regretting it instantly. “Really, Suh? We eat on that table!”

You see the devilish glint in Johnny’s eye and cover his mouth before he can say another word.

“Thank you, sir,” you call out.

“I expect a Consensual Relationship Agreement on my desk by tomorrow morning, Agent,” he says, icily. The door slams shut with a shudder, leaving you both a mess of laughter and relief.

“What’s the odds on that happening to us a third time?” you ask, but Johnny is already retrieving one of your shoes from the carpet, slipping it back on from where he’s kneeling on the floor.

“You like them?” he asks. You brush the hair from his forehead, admiring the view.

“My favorite pair,” you say.

“Time for that drink, then?”

“After,” he kisses your calf before standing up and offering his hand. “I know someone else who'd like to congratulate you.”

previous > next

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #jaehyun smut #johnny suh smut #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #johnny scenarios #jaehyun scenarios #johnjae x reader #nct x reader #nct reader insert #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #nct fic #nct 127 fic #ncta au

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shesawriter39049 · 4 years ago

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|UNWRAP ME|M|

CHEEKY SNEAK PEEK #2

Pairing : Jimin X Reader (Ft a lil Tae)

“There’s a bow on my panties because my ass is a present!”

About- Honestly, you were just trying to prep gift bags for your company’s holiday party! But Jimins stressed, and needs a little brain reset sooo….I guess we’re prepping gift bags later!

Or- The company has quite a few deadlines to hit before you guys close for the holiday! Jimin’s in charge of talent and everybody’s fucking up…but in your line of work it’s a domino affect! So if his crew falls behind ultimately everybody’s behind! Hints Jimin’s stress and frustration....

WC: Sneak peek (1k)

WARNINGS: (FULL THING): Teasing, light edging, dirty talk, top/bottom OC, top/power bottom Jimin, hand restraints, unprotected sex, over stimulation, fingering (F receiving), biting/marking kink, VERY light degration kink (he playfully calls her a “little bitch/slut” once) light come play, light spanking

FINAL NOTE: This is a stand alone smut drabble within my OT7 poly universe called “7 DEEP”. Short AU SUMMARY: Your husband Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in an open relationship with! P.S. If you’re new here Kookie joins the party a little later….

*Pierced Jimin/Red haired “Dope” Era Jimin meets 2020 Jimin!?

*Also it should go without being said but Jimin, IS Westernized, he’s from LA in this ffs!

*I’m a perfectionist and re-worked the entire smut scene which is why the post is late, I felt bad and decided to drop this cheeky little sneak peek!

______________________________________________________

“You can do this shit in your sleep, this was just a curveball you weren’t expecting so it knocked you off your square a little. There’s nothing wrong with that, it doesn’t make you any less capable of doing your job!” The words hushed off your lips as you started to leave little butterfly kisses up the side of his neck. Lacing your lips and teeth around the lobe just enough to tease. A sharp breath catches in his chest, as he reclines his neck to give you more room to work while his palm flexed against your ass. Welcoming the much needed distraction “We got this, you just need to step back, breathe...regroup and refocus.”

You watch his mouth open in protest and now it’s your turn to shut him up “So, we’re down two models shit sucks, but dwelling on it won’t suddenly make their test results change! So now what’s our next move? Business strategy 101 baby let’s go!“ There’s a blatant challenge within your delivery!

“But I -“

“Jimin. Park!” The grip you hold on the hair at the nape of his neck tightens until you hear him hiss! Eyes fighting to stay open, mouth parting reflectivity. ”Breath, regroup...and refocus...”

He sighs around a moan, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s annoyed. Realizing it’s a lost cause because he knows damn well this isn’t a game he can win. “Yes, ma’am” There’s a whole lotta crass laced within that but you’ll take it I guess!

“Thank you!” Responding with the same bitchy little attitude you received! It is the time of year for giving after all! Batting your lashes up in his direction, far too innocent for your attitude! Pressing a couple quick but firm kiss to those pouty lips of his!

“Right, well, in the office, we get various incentives as motivation right? Whether that be gift cards, free dinners, bonuses..” Jimin murmurs right into your mouth, though the topic seems casual his voice is lower, taunting and huskier than usual. “So what’s mine tonight Mrs. Kim Hmm? Breath fanning against your lips, almost able to taste the remnants of liquor and cinnamon on your tongue. “What do I get as an incentive to regroup and refocus?”

Ohhh so now he’s the one challenging you...and your always down to play ....

Reaching over to take a languid sip of your cocktail, finger's trickling down his thighs as you appraise him from over the brim of your glass.

“Well Mr. Park, I'm sure you're very much aware just by looking around the room that one of my main love languages is gifts! Whether that be giving or receiving…..’ Voice dropping down to a purr, and there’s a little smirk playing on your lips that’s speaking volumes, as you shift off his lap....standing between his thighs, placing your drink aside.

“Not to mention it is that time of year after all is it not?” Slowly, tugging the shirt over your head, spine sitting in an exaggerated arch as you do so! Showcasing a matching red bra that’s completely mesh! The faint shadows from your nipples poking through the fabric and Jimin’s breath hitches within his throat! “Time for giving, putting others first, being selfless...the full nine…”

“Yeah” He’s winded already....Tongue darting out to wet his lips, though his throats suddenly what’s feeling painfully dry!

Delicately roaming your hands up your frame. Starting at your waist, slowly venturing up to caress the swell of your breast, dipping over your shoulders. Trickling up the side of your neck, and ending with your fingers tangled within your hair.

“Fucking hell….baby…” He whispers low and thick, almost as if he really wasn’t speaking for you to hear, as if he was just simply enamored!

You hum approvingly, lips curling into a smirk, teasingly trickling your hands down your sides before turning around whipping your hair over your shoulder in the process, swaying towards the obnoxious 10ft tall Christmas tree placed right in front of your wall of windows and Jimin’s mouth runs dry!

“I don’t know if you’ve even noticed all the presents Santa's already left for us this year….I guess we must’ve been exceptionally nice or something!”Pointing to the various wrapped boxes cascaded along the ground and your delivery is far too innocent for the pure chaos your erupting within this room right now!

Jimin’s gaze instantly darkens and it’s straight primal, he wants to unravel you in every sense of the word! Shamelessly he allows himself continue drinking you in from head to toe and god fucking dammit Y/n! Your ass literally looks like it belongs under the tree, the way the lace and ruffles frame the swell of your cheeks, the cute little rhinestone sitting between the exaggerated bow resting right in the center! Let's also not forget the main selling factor again...there crochless..which also means assless.. So in conclusion there's all of like 3 tiny pieces of fabric covering or I guess I should say not covering your ass and It’s just….

Inhaling sharply, biting down on the swell of his lip, soothing a palm up his length which is already straight throbbing beneath his fingers! Idly stroking himself in an attempt to relieve a little tension, which is duly noted because you're already over here doing the most!

Not missing the way you wiggle your ass a little whilst while apparently finding the need to adjust a couple of ornaments. Because of course, that was necessary... “Did your parents ever let you open a gift of two early Jimin?” Peering over your shoulder in feigned curiosity, brow titled in his direction.

“No, which fuckin sucked because I’m really impatient” Jimin already sounds breathless and throaty with pure need, you keep fucking around and he’s going to tackle your ass.

Literally.

A low hum flutters through your chest as you gracefully slide to the floor, right next to said obnoxious tree. Landing on your knees, feet tucked beneath your ass which again looks like a whole ass present at the moment.

Bow and all you're literally sitting right where you belong!

“Come here…” Head lolling to the side, signaling him closer with the flick of a finger “Since you had such a shitty day I’ll let you pick one gift to open early, if I were you’d I’d pick that pick box to the left...I think that’s from yoon.”

Patience is a virtue...one that Jimin does not have.....

#Jimin #Jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin x you #park jimin #park jimin smut #park jimin x reader #bts #bts smut #bts au #bts poly #bts poly au #kpop #kpop smut #jimin au #park jimin au

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lizisshortforlizard · 3 years ago

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Living Dangerously - Chapter 8

Jurassic Park’s animal handlers: none of them ever mentioned by name in Michael Crichton’s original novel. Who were they? What were their lives like on Isla Nublar? Did any of them survive the disaster?

A year in the life of those responsible for the care of the dinosaurs. Many people would kill to have their jobs.

But would they die for it?

Jurassic Park novel/Jurassic Park film (1993)

Viewpoint: 3rd person female OC

Warnings: language! F-bombs!

Word count: ~14.1k (8 Chapters) [incomplete]

Tagging: @howlingmadlady (if you want added send me a message!)

Read on Ao3

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

Contagious - Y&T

“Oh, hey! Look at those!” Lizzy pointed as they walked closer to the Jeeps. “Now those are smart.”

The two vehicles were painted in solid khaki-grey all over. Apart from a couple of mud splats (it was the rainy season) they were still shiny and new. Lizzy didn’t think she’d ever seen a new Jeep before in her life. As far as she was concerned they came straight out of the factory in a used state. Jeff’s was at least 30 years old, but had to be a entirely different vehicle by this point, since everything had been replaced at least once.

She had her first pang of homesickness, thinking about that wrecker, lovingly nicknamed Edith. She was full of bullet holes and you could see through her floor to the dusty earth in places but Jeff still swore she was the most reliable thing in his life. Lizzy wished she’d rang him earlier instead, as her first outgoing from Isla Nublar. He was the one that had got her there, after all, and he’d be desperate to know what she thought of Muldoon. Now she’d had time to stew, she felt terrible for blowing up at Simon. That wasn’t how her first day was meant to start. It would have been better not calling. She pushed the thought from her mind. Eh, he’s probably gotten over it already. I should do the same.

“They’re pretty neat.” Isaac confirmed. “I don’t think that Wrangler model’s available in the States yet. Custom colour too. Ugh, bet they’re manual though…”

Ahead of them Tom had caught up with Richardson and had just said something that was making him roar with laughter.

Old Boys Club. Lizzy thought to herself. Non-white, non-male need not apply. It’s always the same.

She looked back at Kathy and Isaac and jerked her head meaningfully in the other direction.

“You wanna go with Muldoon?” Kathy asked her with a raised eyebrow.

“Please!” Bollocks to Richardson, I’m not going in his Jeep.

“So you can flirt some more?” Kathy slyly added.

“What?” Lizzy turned around to grin at her. “Oh, shut up Baker!”

“You’re spoken for, missy.” Kathy caught up and prodded her ribs. “Not too friendly or he’ll get the wrong idea. C’mon Isaac-“

“I’m not flirting!” Lizzy insisted. If she was, he’d definitely know about it. But that was so inappropriate, no matter how well they got on. Besides, she was engaged, and he had a good ten years on her, at least. No danger of anything happening.

“Then what the heck was that?!” Kathy hissed from over her shoulder as they walked towards the Jeep with the number 10 on it.

“Friendly banter. I know his type.”

“Looks like you’re his type.” Kathy muttered as she and Isaac headed to the back end of the vehicle. It was pretty clear to them who would be sitting up front.

Lizzy didn’t wait for an invitation, she just opened the passenger side door and hopped in, scrambling to get onto the chair.

Muldoon was already in the driver’s seat. “You don’t want to go with Richardson?”

“No thank you. I think he’s had enough of me for today.”

“And I haven’t?”

“Oh, ha-ha. Tom and his pals are going with him anyway. Full house.”

“Listen, don’t aggravate him too much if you want the Herbivores job, all of you. That’s his side of things. I deal with the Carnivores.”

“You’re joking.” Lizzy wondered if she shouldn’t be gunning for the other team instead. “Right, guess we’ll see what happens then, but I may have already blown my chances. Oops.”

“Thank you for the heads up.” Kathy said quietly. It kind of sucked, she didn’t want to be in competition with her new friends, but she really wanted the Team Leader job.

“That’s alright. Baker, isn’t it? You’re from the Smithsonian Park? Big cats?”

Wow, well-remembered. “Yep, I’m the jaguar expert.” She said proudly.

“M-hmm. Noted.”

Lizzy turned around and gave her a thumbs up and her characteristic goofy grin. Kathy smiled back in spite of herself. I might get the Carnivores Leader job after all.

Kathy hadn’t totally made up her mind about Lizzy, she was an acquired taste. Pretty loud. Even cockier. But she had to give the girl props for choosing to sit with them at breakfast instead of muscling in with the popular kids. And it couldn’t do any harm to stay close to the only other woman in the group, especially when she already had a good rapport with one of those dishing out promotions.

Hey, she was charming and had a cute accent, even if she had absolutely no filter between her head and her mouth. Oh, and maybe she’d need help planning her wedding, that could be fun. Wonder if she’s got all her bridesmaids allocated already…I might do some muscling in of my own.

Kathy was still musing to herself, about to shut the Jeep door behind her when a hand appeared on the frame, keeping it firmly held open. She looked up and almost groaned out loud, her heart sinking.

“Other Wrangler’s full so I volunteered to come along with you guys instead. Katie, isn’t it?” Tom drawled, standing in front of her with a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face.

“It’s Kathy.” She replied flatly. You knew that, asshole.

She heard Lizzy muttering something uncomplimentary from up front, and felt Isaac slumping down in his seat. Nobody was happy about Tom joining them.

“Kathy, of course. Scooch over sweetheart.”

She couldn’t really say no, so ended up squished between Isaac and Tom, neither of whom were the smallest guys in the world. This ride suddenly got a whole lot more tense.

***

As they moved off Lizzy was opening the glove compartment and checking inside the doors and on the central console, chattering endlessly about how she’d never been in such a new Jeep before and ”oh, hey! Found the binoculars!”

“Do you mind?” Muldoon interrupted her stream of consciousness.

“Not at all. This is weird, it’s clean.”

“And you’ll be expected to keep it that way, as much as possible. Can you see over the dash alright?”

“Of course I can, what the-“ she stopped and sighed. “Heightist. So rude.”

“You are pret-ty small.” Tom said. “Both of you ladies are.”

Both Kathy and Lizzy opted to ignore him and instead were now taking in their surroundings. The jungle noises had swelled around them, closing them in. Richardson’s Jeep was ahead of theirs and had taken the left fork in the track. It was a surprise to all when they ended up taking the right.

“We aren’t following them?” Tom asked.

“We’re taking the interesting route.” Muldoon replied. “This time of day, we’ll see more movement.”

Lizzy was literally on the edge of her seat. She couldn’t wait to finally see the livestock, Hammond’s genetically-modified creatures.

Further down the road Muldoon stopped the Jeep, leaving the engine running and turned to Lizzy. “Your turn.”

“Sah-weet.” She unbuckled her seatbelt.

“Hey, how come she gets to drive?” Tom protested.

“If any of you three know how to drive a manual you’re welcome to take over.”

Silence from the back seats.

“Then you better learn fast. I suggest you ask Armstrong to show you or you’ll be walking around the island instead.”

Okay, that’s smart. Really smart. Maybe Tom will listen to him, make him see that he’s not above asking for help.

“Can’t be that hard…” Tom muttered.

“They all drive manuals in the UK, don’t have many automatics.” Isaac explained to fill the gap while Muldoon was out of the Jeep.

Lizzy clambered over the gearstick to the drivers side and buckled in again. She tried to find the pedals with her feet but she was pressing down on thin air. She sheepishly looked at Muldoon and rolled the seat closer, adjusting the mirrors too before putting the Jeep into gear.

“Bloody Hell, it’ll take me ages to get that right again.”

“If it was going to be a problem, they should have put a minimum height on the job description.” She fired back at him.

“You must be this tall to ride.” Said Kathy from the back. Lizzy glanced at her in the rearview mirror just to see her smirking.

“Go right here.” Muldoon instructed her.

There wasn’t a right turn to take. Lizzy slowed down and looked harder, she could just about see tyre tracks imprinted in the earth, disappearing into the grass at the side of the track.

“Off-road. Nice.” And she swung the wheel in the direction of the tracks.

Now that she was sitting in front of Tom, there was a familiar tapping that had appeared on the back of her chair, like he had done during orientation. God, he is so annoying. She had to say something or she was going to burst.

“Tom?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“Can you stop kicking my seat…please? I need to concentrate and you’re distracting me.”

“Sure, just a habit I have. All you had to do was ask.”

Not even an apology, payback for her getting to drive first.

Muldoon apparently felt the need to defuse the tension: “When will you be leaving us short-staffed for the wedding?” He asked Lizzy, a touch resentfully, Kathy thought. Maybe she was imagining it. They’d literally just met, not even an hour ago. How could he be put out by something like that?

“What wedding?” Lizzy was lost. What in the Hell was he on about? Was someone back in Africa getting married?

There was a soft smack as Kathy quietly slapped her own forehead. “He means your wedding!”

“Oh!” Lizzy snorted. “Right, my wedding. We don’t have a date yet.”

“How long have you been engaged, Lizzy?” Kathy piped up.

“Five years in December.”

“No way! I’d have nailed that sucker down long ago! What’s the hold up?”

“Just-“ Lizzy stared forwards out of the windscreen. “-I don’t know if I want to get married in New York.”

“Oh, but New York’s great whatever season you choose! You could have the Plaza hotel, the library-“ Kathy gasped. “Oh my God, Lizzy! The Museum of Natural History does weddings! That’s perfect for you!”

“Yeah, we’ve looked at all of them…” Lizzy murmured, seeming thoroughly disinterested. She was thinking about their argument that morning. They’d yelled at each other. They never yelled before, no matter how hopping mad she got.

Muldoon glanced sideways at her. Her bottom lip was sticking out and she looked fed up. He had a pretty good measure of her already. Sounded to him it wasn’t that she couldn’t decide where to have the wedding, it was more like she didn’t want to get married at all.

“Will Simon come and visit you here?” Kathy wasn’t done.

“I hope so.”

“You could have the wedding on the island? I’ll be your bridesmaid?” Kathy said hopefully.

“We’ll see.” Lizzy gave her a tight smile in the mirror.

Muldoon picked up the radio off the dash. “Arnold?”

“…receiving?” Lizzy heard the familiar voice of the cigarette man.

“Any signs of life?”

“…keep going where you’re going. They’re close.”

Everyone started craning their necks, looking around for the mysterious animals. There was silence for a few minutes while they continued their journey, emerging out into a large open field with a few clusters of trees. They must be at a low point of the island. They appeared to be in a valley, with green slopes rising up around them.

It was beautiful. Would have been beautiful, if not for the pain in the ass who was once again pummelling the back of her seat with his boots.

“Right, that does it!” Lizzy hit the brakes and spun around. “Stop kicking my seat this instant or I’ll deck you, ya cun-“ She froze. The look on Tom’s face was pure deer-in-headlights. She’d only seen it once before, when a student had fallen behind and ended up coming face-to-face with a water buffalo. Do. Not. Move. She’d warned. Move and you’re dead.

“Tom? What is it? What’s wrong?” She whispered. “Can I turn around?” Kathy and Isaac had the exact same expression. Eyes like dinner plates.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I guess so. What is that?” Tom sounded awestruck.

“It’s alright, some of our livestock has made themselves known. And watch your language, Armstrong.” Muldoon told her off as she shifted forward slowly. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take Kennedy’s side if you give him a black eye.”

“I didn’t actually say anything ba- Fucking hell!”

“Christ, why did I bother?” Muldoon said, mostly to himself.

Lizzy got a shock when she faced forward again. She thought that she had accidentally slammed the brakes on dangerously close to a tree trunk. But she could have sworn it wasn’t there before she’d laid into Tom.

Then the tree trunk moved.

Elephant! That was her first instinct. But the silhouette was all wrong. Too long. Too close to the ground.

No, not an elephant.

That was, unless she was very much mistaken…

What she was looking at didn’t fit any modern classification of an animal.

What have you done Hammond?

“Everything alright?” Muldoon asked casually, seemingly very pleased she’d been rendered mute.

Lizzy’s mouth slowly dropped open. “Yeah, sure, fine. That’s a dinosaur?” She felt like her soul had just ascended out of her body. It sounded ridiculous to even think it, let alone say it.

“Well spotted.”

How the Hell can he be so calm about this!

Kathy was Hail Marying from the back seat while Isaac was quietly murmuring shit every few seconds.

Tom meanwhile was silent, he and Lizzy exchanged looks in the rearview mirror, their battle over the seat forgotten. They were both on even footing of what in God’s name is happening on this island?, a moment of solidarity in their shared confusion before it was game on once again.

Lizzy just started giggling. She didn’t know what else to do. “Well, I honestly never would have guessed that. Fair play, Hammond. Amazing.”

“They’re not bad. This one is a hadrosaur.”

“Hadrosaur.” Lizzy repeated, sounding it out. It looked and moved just like a massive, grey cow. Reptilian, but obviously warm-blooded.

“That’s real? As in really real? Not an animatronic?” Kathy was doubtful.

“Looks pretty real to me. Why would they need animal handlers for robots?” Isaac said as they all watched the hadrosaur bend its neck and chew slowly on some vegetation.

“Authenticity or something. I dunno, man…like at DisneyWorld…�� Kathy muttered back. “They do bits.”

“Get closer.” Muldoon released the handbrake for Lizzy and they slowly rolled closer.

“It’s safe, right? That’s a big animal.” Tom was wary.

“I’d tell her if it wasn’t. They aren’t bothered by the Jeeps.” He responded, a bit tersely.

Lizzy crept the Wrangler forward, engine purring. Sure enough, the hadrosaur paid no heed. They were so close she could see the pattern of scales on its dry skin, see its ribcage moving and nostrils flaring as it breathed. Definitely real.

“Amazing.” She said again. “Seems a shame they’re going to let people in here, but I guess they have to make a profit somehow.”

The scientist in her was wistful. These animals should be studied first. How accurate were they compared to the fossil record? Herd behaviour, did they exhibit dominance hierarchies? Her brain was ticking over. Maybe I’m not going to be known for my work with elephants after all…

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as they trundled along. “This is a herbivore, you also have carnivores.”

“Right.” Muldoon confirmed, not giving anything away.

Lizzy sighed and pressed the matter. “So what carnivores do you have?”

“You know what a tyrannosaur is?”

She did indeed. She’d seen the skeleton at the Natural History museum, the display label swam into view in her mind. Tyrannosaurus rex, tyrant lizard.

Lizzy exhaled quickly, shaking her head.

“Shut the f-“

***

Thanks for reading!

Notes at end of the Prologue!

I didn’t get the Jeep colour wrong - it’s on purpose and very relevant to a later chapter. If you’ve read the book there’s one sentence that gives it away…the paintwork was changed after an…incident ;)

#my writing #my fanfiction #jurassic park fanfiction #welcome to jurassic park #robert muldoon x female oc #jurassic park oc #jurassic park female oc #eventual romance #eventual smut #living dangerously #robert muldoon #ray arnold #jurassic park

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brave-clarice · 4 years ago

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“Clarice” Liveblog: Episode 1

Here are my extremely unfashionably late takes! They’re long, so strap in if you want.

okay, I genuinely thought the scenes in Gumb’s basement were ripped from the film for a second. extremely well done.

I both appreciate that they’re acknowledging the Bureau-mandated psych eval Clarice would have to go through (not sure she’d have to have another one a year later?)...

...but I sure wish they hadn’t chosen to open this show in a therapy-like session. it’s going to be subject to enough NBC comparisons as it is.

gosh, Rebecca Breeds is so pretty, and in the same almost, idk, elfin kind of way Jodie Foster is.

“Bride of Frankenstein”! a novel reference! and a Hannibal Lecter reference even though they can’t use his name! I’m excited

I was afraid of this part, though--everyone’s going to call her “Clarice” aren’t they?

it’s very significant that in the books, Hannibal is virtually alone in using her first name to address her; even Ardelia calls her “Starling.” but of course this series chose “Clarice” as its title, so...

“the checkout lady at the Safeway asked me to autograph a melon” omg

so Clarice has supposedly been “mandated” to see an FBI therapist for an entire year? hmm.

tbh, this feels kind of like a proxy for Hannibal’s scenes in the movie, especially with the therapist calling her “Clarice.” not sure if I dig it.

“...given that your last therapist was an inmate” Hannibal reference #2!

they’re explicitly talking about Hannibal without being able to name him and it’s hilarious, frustrating, and immensely satisfying all at once.

there’s no way to avoid talking about him altogether without being disingenuous to Clarice’s eventual character arc, so I’m glad they’re ripping off the band-aid early

“you let that relationship be intimate” Yeah, Clarice and Hannibal’s relationship IS intimate and YOU! SHOULD! SAY IT!!!

it’s kind of ridiculous for this guy/the show not to acknowledge that little trainee Clarice was sent to see Hannibal by someone who should’ve known better. That Crawford was doing it with the intention to save lives doesn’t mean he didn’t use the shit out of Clarice.

that’s not to take away her agency or minimize the choices she made after she met Hannibal. She wouldn’t have been in a position to make those choices if Crawford hadn’t arranged it, though.

even if they don’t have the rights to Crawford’s name, either (I have to assume that’s the case) couldn’t they at least mention this??

“hasn’t seen her own family in years” Are they actually going to address Clarice’s maybe-dead-maybe-not mother (depending on the canon they adopt, book or film) and possible siblings??? Please tell me they are!

Clarice’s “egregious” PTSD doesn’t have much to do with Buffalo Bill ofc, and this therapist seems to be making excuses to be the first in a long line of men getting in the way of Clarice’s career goals...

...which she recognizes and confronts him about. Call him out!!!

*Anthony Hopkins voice* That’s my girl.

the way she’s been written in this scene gives me a lot of hope going forward! she’s funny, she doesn’t take any sexist bullshit, she’s calm and polite but you get a glimpse of the rage underneath.

wow, they promoted Senator Martin to Attorney General!

the opening credits (if you can even call them that) are a let-down, though

she has her beads!

can anyone who’s not Hannibal please stop calling her Clarice

wonder if they’re going to touch on any of the extreme tension that existed between Senator Martin and Clarice in the novel? they didn’t interact in the movie, but in the book, Martin is under intense stress, and it doesn’t go smoothly.

of course in “Hannibal,” Martin invites her to “ride horses,” so they obviously reconciled after Catherine’s rescue and kept in some kind of touch.

and speak of the devil: horses! (and Catherine)

“I can’t have a reputation, I’ve only done it once” Thank you for being the voice of reason, Clarice.

“Paul Krendler” *ugly screaming commences*

“you don’t have any people, Clarice” Aaand that’s the plot of the Hannibal novel!

looks like they even gave her the ring Jodie’s Clarice wears!

oh yeah, this Krendler looks like a sumbitch if I ever saw one. No one will ever be as perfectly cast as the dude in Silence imo, but a much better fit than Ray Liotta.

“small carat, but it’s a sweet ring” A very in-character observation probably directly informed by her comments about nail polish in Silence.

she mentions this victim’s nail polish (!) being “tasteful,” and I shrieked a little again.

I understand it’s necessary for Krendler to be a douche, but there’s not even going to be any payoff for the audience (or Clarice) when Hannibal eats him, so boo.

wait...wait, why aren’t Clarice and Ardelia in their Alexandria duplex? They’re not just best friends, they’re roommates! For the entire seven-year story! GIVE ME THE DUPLEX!!!

BUT points for Ardelia bringing Clarice a treat, since she was always leaving her candy bars in the Silence book!

Clarice interacting with the washer/dryer is a nice nod to the books, too.

speaking of... “What did we learn in the laundry room back at Quantico?” For some reason this line made me actually cry, I guess because this whole episode has been such a love letter to something I love so dearly, and it’s making me emotional.

FIRST PRINCIPLES!

DESPERATELY RANDOM!!!

wow, the men in Clarice’s new office giving her lotion as a hazing “welcome” gift is awful, and now I’m just mad (which is the point of the scene ofc).

so this ex-military OC is the John Brigham stand-in, I take it?

if that means John Brigham won’t be here, No Thanks.

Clarice telling him she’ll drive...a tribute to Dana “Why Do You Always Have to Drive?” Scully, perhaps (who was herself inspired by Clarice) as well as a nod to Clarice’s love of cars?

“Why do they call you the bride of Frankenstein?” Sorry, I don’t have the legal rights to tell you about my last intimate relationship.

“Already on my way to West Virginia Granny Witch” Look, this show could crash and burn from this scene on, and it would still have been worth it just for these first 25 minutes.

I like that Clarice is shown wanting to help people, and the scene of her with the baby is a nice call-back to the eventual shoot-out at the beginning of “Hannibal”...but I hope they don’t try to domesticate her too much. Clarice needs her hard edges. To be tough (reasonably so)--a cub growing into its big cat’s claws.

also, somehow I doubt that Miss Valedictorian spent her six years in the Lutheran home “changing a lot of diapers,” but sure, okay. If her siblings are alive in this, she might have changed their diapers!

even though Krendler’s a real dickwad so far, he’s not slimy enough for me. Needs more grease.

“I got a call from your therapist who’s concerned that you might genuinely flip out” I really do not like this subplot Sam-I-Am. Aren’t the huge glass ceiling/Boys’ Club obstacles enough?

seriously, though, I know Hannibal tells her that the metaphorical lambs will come back--at the end of Silence, though, she’s at some kind of temporary peace, not in danger of “flipping out” any time soon.

if Esquivel really is our Brigham stand-in, I’ve got...problems with that. He was Clarice’s teacher and became her friend, not some Krendler double-agent. (Also worried they’re setting him up as a love interest for her which...eesh, no thanks.)

and sorry, I actually hate that Catherine kept Precious the dog in this.

I have no problem with Catherine being a character, or with her interacting with Clarice...that said, I don’t know if her being shown as severely traumatized and reaching out to Clarice as a form of emotional lifeline is...a good idea?

I understand the symbolism of Catherine’s smashed mirror, but...smashed mirrors are already a Thing in this series (albeit not Clarice’s chapter in it), and that’s all I can think of here.

Catherine’s a victim of unthinkable trauma. Nevertheless...she’s talking to the woman who saved her life. Who risked death to do it. I just don’t like the way this scene is written. Apparently, in this show’s canon, Catherine hasn’t gotten the help she needs. But Clarice isn’t her therapist, and it’s upsetting to have Catherine being all “I’ll never be safe and neither will you.”

how does Catherine remember “the mannequins, the autopsy table”?? And why is she throwing them in Clarice’s face?

I’m going to stop talking about this scene now because it’s making me angry and a little upset, which is maybe the point? I just don’t think it’s written well. If Catherine’s going to be a recurring character, I hope she’s shown getting professional, medical help.

Clarice finding the victim’s papers in the box of pads is a direct callback to her finding the photos in the jewelry box in Silence. Nice.

let’s agree that Hannibal and Crawford are both in Ardelia’s (too-cutesy-for-me) book

another nice little X-Files homage?

I have some qualms about that big climax, but...meh. It was capital-F Fine.

Yikes, this is a full week late. Thanks for reading this entirely-too-long post through to the end, if you’re still here!

To sum up my thoughts...

The Good:

the visual connections to the Silence film (that green coat/blue knit scarf combo in particular)

Rebecca Breeds’ performance overall so far

Clarice’s strong writing/characterization

her sense of humor and her inclination to call out bullshit

maybe it was just me, but I also got a sense of Hannibal’s influence on her in some of her dialogue--her blunt observations--and I love it

Ardelia Mapp

the repeated in-your-face references to Hannibal Lecter

the respectful, non-exploitative way the victims were treated by the narrative.

let’s just say, not all Harris-inspired shows managed to do this. :)

the many, many allusions to the novel

“you let that relationship be INTIMATE” !!!

The Bad:

the near-constant implication that all Clarice’s trauma stems from her experiences in Gumb’s basement

I just don’t understand this one...it’s not supported by the text imo

the “Clarice-is-a-psychological-loose-canon” subplot

almost everyone calling her “Clarice”

NO DUPLEX IN ALEXANDRIA! Boo!

Esquivel maybe replacing Brigham

the narrative choices they’ve made surrounding Catherine so far.

Seriously: please let Catherine seek/get help instead of screaming “HELP ME” at Clarice, who after all risked her own life to save Catherine’s, over the phone.

The Ugly: Paul Krendler, lol. Confession time: I also don’t care for the way they’ve styled her hair. Not sure why it bugs me, it just...does.

Overall, I’m thrilled to death with this. I was so afraid it would be disappointing, so even if it’s not a five-star episode (and pilots rarely are), it’s a great beginning! It’s beyond amazing to see our girl on the screen again. Just this hour-long episode did her character way more justice than the entire Hannibal film. Despite its shortcomings, it’s such a loving homage to characters and a story that mean a lot to me, and I love it just for that.

Going forward, I’d like to see more of Clarice as a person. Her hobbies and interests--cars, sharpshooting, running, fashion magazines stuffed under her bed, horseback riding, her total inability to cook...anything would do. I of course want to see more of her with Ardelia. I want to hear more about her backstory and find out which version of it (truly orphaned when her father dies or sent away by her mother) they’ll choose to explore. And while we all agree that this show is about Clarice and she don’t need no man, I won’t lie: I’d gobble up more sly references to Hannibal. He’s her endgame, after all.

I’d also like to really see the warrior underneath. There are flashes of her in the last twenty minutes of this episode. But Clarice Starling is a big cat, she’s a warrior, she’s between iron and silver. I’d hate for her to spend most of this show doe-eyed and traumatized. I want her to be ferocious, to see the woman who’s a match for the monster.

Krendler needs to get nastier. He should make us feel like we need to shower. In the novels, he wants to use Clarice--only for her body. And when she won’t allow him to, he takes his revenge. That’s what makes him so particularly awful. Let’s amp him up here.

And finally...maybe I’ll appreciate Catherine’s scene more on a second watch. Maybe I’m not being sensitive enough to her trauma, her struggles. But I didn’t like the way that scene was staged or scripted, and I didn’t like the suggestion that she just hasn’t gotten help after a year and is subsequently taking her pain out on Clarice on some level. I hope future episodes handle this subplot, and her character, a bit better.

Please let me know if you guys would like me to do another of these monstrosities for the next episode. (I promise it won’t take me an entire week this time!) And thank you again for reading!!!

#Clarice Starling #clarice #cbs clarice #rebecca breeds #media [cbs show]#char [clarice starling]#I'm sorry again about how amazingly late this is heh #you've probably all watched and processed by now and have moved on to Episode 2 but I am slow

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meigh-day · 4 years ago

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Obligation (Tendou x Reader) - Part 14

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Title: Obligation

Pairing: Mafia AU Tendou x F!Reader

Characters: Includes characters from both Shiratorizawa and Seijoh/Some OC background characters

Includes: Swearing, Guns, Knives, Violence, Blood, Torture

Status: Complete

Word Count: 1.4k

Previous Next

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"Hanamaki, Matsuwaka is looking for you." The light haired man who had slapped you turned away, facing the door where where a younger man stood expectantly. The new arrival glanced over at you a moment, an impassive look on his face, before turning back to Hanamaki. "Already? Fuck, he's impatient." The young man pivoted in the doorway and disappeared into the hallway while Hanamaki turned his eyes back your way. "You better hope that crazy bastard shows up soon. Next time I won't stop him..." He jerked his head to the side, shifting his gaze the same way, causing you to glance over as well. Shido had his gaze fixed on you. The dark haired man watched you like he was a starving animal, he wanted to devour you, to pull you apart piece by piece just to see what was inside. He looked unhinged, light grey eyes burning through you as his tongue slowly trailed across his lips.

"I'm telling you the truth! You're just wasting your time. Tendou doesn't give a shit what happens to me." You direct your wide eyes back at Hanamaki, imploring him to believe you, uncaring that you were still crying. He raised his brows a moment, amusement clear in his expression as he lets out a chuckle.

"For your sake, you better hope your wrong." With those parting words he turned and left. Shido gradually followed out after him, reluctant to leave you alone. The room felt too large and too small all at once, suffocating you while it swallowed you up. Aside from you and the chair you were sat in, it was empty. There were no windows, only the door leading out and the too bright fluorescent lights that hung above you. The walls were an unremarkable shade of grey, the floor a simple linoleum, no doubt chosen due to how easy it was to clean. You were sure yours wasn't the first blood to make a mess on the floor, and it wouldn't be the last. The pain in your head and hand were still very much present, both throbbing with each frantic beat of your heart.

You had no idea what time it was, or even what day it was. How long had you been missing for? You'd been conscience for a few hours but you'd also spent quite awhile drugged up and comatose. Had anyone noticed you were gone? Someone would eventually notice you were missing, at the very least you had a bi-weekly meeting and if you didn't show up they'd come looking for you. Even so, would anyone actually care that you'd just up and vanished? The men who were here earlier had been using your phone to take pictures or something, maybe filming. There was little doubt they'd end up sending that off to prove you were with them and alive. The Shiratorizawa Group wouldn't let a slight of this magnitude go unanswered. Even if you were a nobody, you still belonged to them, you were intended for someone important within their organization. You felt your chin tremble as you continued to spiraled downwards, allowing each dreary thought to linger in your mind. No one was going to care that it was you that was missing, they'd care that something of theirs had been taken. No more and no less. You had been reduced to a piece of property, a troublesome one at that.

Tears continued to fall, sliding down your cheeks, leaving trails through the dried blood surrounding your mouth and chin before dripping down onto your chest. You already felt like a constant source of pain for Tendou, a reminder that he couldn't be with the person he cared about. Now your stupidity had led to you being kidnapped, tied up in a trap like a piece of bait. The last thing you had wanted was to cause trouble for them, for him, but that's exactly what had happened. Deep heavy sobs wracked your body, every dark thought impaling themselves in your heart and mind. Left alone to struggle against your own mind, you continued to weep until you felt empty, until all you could do was stare ahead with a hollow expression.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed since you'd been abandoned but a soft click drew your vacant eyes towards the door in time to see it swing open. A large, broad figure, passes through the doorway, momentarily taking up most of the open space. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, offering you an amiable smile as his gaze settles on your battered figure.

"Looks like Hanamaki and Shido did a number on you. Bastards." He strides further into the room, coming to a stop a short distance away. The smile he'd plastered on his face was probably meant to be charming and warm, a beacon of reassurance to help lure you out of the pit of despair you'd fallen into. Unfazed by the pretentious gesture, you simply track him with distant eyes. "I'm not really supposed to be here but I wanted to come check on you now that they finally left." He paused, waiting expectantly for you to sat something but when you remained tight-lipped he continued. "Do you want a drink or something? I'm sure I can scrounge something up for ya." His hands slide into the front pockets of his dark pants, casually rocking back and forth on his feet, eagerly waiting.

"No."

Your short but definite refusal had him twitching, the warm smile on his face slowly turning colder, his teeth baring slightly. "My oh my, so quick to refuse my generous offer. And after I came all the way over here to see you." He let out a sigh and began moving towards the back of the room, his footsteps leading him out of your line of sight. Suddenly you can feel him, his breath heating the side of your neck as he whispers against your ear, his voice was low and sinister. "Don't worry. I'll make sure your more agreeable next time." Something stabs into the base of your neck causing you to jolt in your restraints. The man comes into view a moment later, a wicked smile on his lips. "Have a nice nap. I'll be back soon, doll." You try to focus on him as he leaves the room but you already felt yourself fading away, the last thing you heard was the click of the door as it closed.

"Tatsuo?" A voice calls down the corridor as the blonde man closes the door behind him. He hadn't been lying, he really wasn't supposed to be in here. His was meant to be on the other side of the building but he couldn't get you out of his mind. The way your soft lips had parted so easily under his strong grip, how your warm soft tongue had felt against his finger, it was so depraved, so lewd and he needed more. The drugs he'd given you would have you dead to the world for awhile, long enough for him to make an appearance where he was meant to be, long enough for him to come back before the shot wore off completely. He wanted nothing more than to catch you while the drugs were just starting to wear off. That was when you'd be in the perfect state, you'd be still pliant but also conscience, it was no fun if you weren't at least somewhat cognizant. Tatsuo wanted to leave his mark on you, to stain you with his impression so deeply that you could never forget him.

"What the hell are you doing all the way over here? Kyotani is gonna have your head if he finds out you wandered away from your post again..." Tatsuo glowered at the man before him, annoyed at being spotted.

"God your such a fucking nag Yuda." He stepped up close to him, voice lowering as a menacing smile spread across his thin lips. "If I had a wife like you, I'd break her neck just for some peace and quiet."

Yuda opted not to reply, simply watching as the large blonde man scowled at him before walking away. It was no secret that Tatsuo was a creep, even in a group of callous, seasoned killers he was considered a deviant. Known for his disturbing and brutal treatment of women, he hadn't been a first choice to go along and fetch you but they'd had no choice with the short notice they'd been given to put together a plan and a team. Now it looked like he might have taken a liking to you and, if they weren't careful, Tatsuo would break you before they finished the job.

#tendou x reader #tendou #tendou satori #tendou mafia #haikyuu #haikyuu mafia

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theonewiththefanfics · 6 years ago

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Limited Space (one-shot)

Synopsys: One room. Two beds. But will both of them be used?

Pairing: Tom Holland x f!Reader; OC!Juliet (Reader’s character’s name)

Genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, like blink and you’ll miss it

Warnings: like one swear word I think :D

Word count: 3739

“Y/N.” “Yes, Jimmy?” she dramatically flipped her head to the side causing her hair to swish which made everyone laugh a bit at her antics. “When you found out you weren’t going to be in ‘Civil War’ with these guys, and Tony was going to get a new protegee in Spider-Man, what were your thoughts? Did you kinda go up to Kevin Feige and ask if he was replacing you?” “Funnily enough,” Y/N pointed at Tom, “when we first met on the carpet for ‘Civil War’ that was the first thing he said. “Please don’t think I’m replacing you!”" she imitated his London accent though quite badly making everyone chuckle, and Tom had to bite his lip to keep the smile at bay. “If I’m being genuine –“ she continued, “I was just terrified I was gonna be fired. Cause after ‘Age of Ultron’ where it turns out the Hulk took the plane to space and ended up in Sakaar, I thought that’s what would happen to me. And I was pumped,” Y/N emphasized the word, “but like, Mark and I were keeping in non-stop contact while it was leading up to Phase 3 announcements, 'cause neither of us had any idea what was happening to our characters. And when it was announced Hulk would be in 'Ragnarok', yet for me, it was radio silence, and then Spidey flipped into the ‘Civil War’ trailer… I-“ she laughed, “I kinda started sweating.” Robert patted her knee as Y/N made a motion of ‘cooling off’ with her hand. “And then for like two more weeks, there was nothing. Mark knew zip, though that was a smart decision on Marvel's part.” “Is he still not trusted by anyone?” Jimmy chuckled, and Robert rolled his eyes. “Listen,” the legend started, “everyone loves him, and he’s such a kind person. Whenever something slips past those loose lips,” he looked over his tinted glasses at Tom as well, “it’s never from a malicious place. Like those two are just excited and want to share that with the world, but when you stream the first fifteen minutes of the movie on your Instagram… you kinda lose the access to the secrets.” The audience erupted into laughter as did Y/N. She had gone to the 'Ragnarok' premiere to support her friends, and the movie and clearly remembered the woman poking Mark in the back and angrily whispering for him to turn off the Instagram Live that was still going. At the afterparty, for the first twenty minutes, that’s what everyone was talking about. “And what about you, Tom?” Jimmy brought the conversation back on track. “When you found out you’d be in Civil War but had no contact with Y/N or Juliet in this case what was your first thought?” “I was really scared that she’d hate me,” Tom laughed rubbing his neck and looked at Y/N, who waved him off. “ ‘Cause Tony’s and Juliet’s relationship is one of the strongest in the MCU, and now that he’s recruited Peter, I was genuinely terrified. Especially of her fans, like they are passionate about Juliet, which I totally get. I just hoped that she’d be nice and accepting when we did meet and got to work together.”

Y/N rolled her head to the side and looked at Tom. “And am I as scary as you thought I’d be?” “In the mornings, horrifying,” Tom sassed, and Y/N slapped his shoulder with mock hurt on her face while Robert exclaimed a ‘watch it, kid, that’s my daughter! I might be dead, but I’ll come back to haunt your ass.’ “Did you kinda help him fit into the dynamic of everything?” Jimmy continued on, and Y/N looked at Tom. “Not really, no,” she shook her head. “He just fit in so perfectly on his own, that nobody had to do anything. Sure, like helping out with the scenes and advice like that as peers, yeah. But there was no ‘here’s Tom. Now be friends’ kind of a thing. And in the end, I was off in space, and they were kicking Cap’s ass back on Earth.” Someone in the audience hollered a ‘Team Iron Man’ making Robert blow a kiss in the person’s direction. Given how he wasn't with them to promote Marvel anymore and was there for the re:MARS initiative, it was nice for all of them to catch up. “Honestly,” he piped up, “I couldn’t wait for Infinity War and then Endgame, to film with this one, and then see us on the big screen reunited,” he affectionately ruffled Y/N’s hair. “Me too,” she smiled, “though, when we saw Spidey and Iron Man interacting with the Guardians, yet no Juliet, I started to think maybe it was just like a mock scene that wouldn't end up being used. 'Cause by that point, everyone knew she was rolling with the Space Avengers, and maybe it was just to throw everyone off. But filming it was a really amazing experience, ‘cause Juliet hadn’t seen her father for what now,” she looked at Robert for confirmation, “three-four years? And suddenly they meet again, but he has a new protegee and stuff. It was interesting to see how the dynamic would evolve, and how she’d feel about Peter. As evident in the movie – she kinda liked him.” “So, no rivalry between the two of you?” Jimmy motioned with his hand. And Tom placed his head on Y/N’s shoulder making the audience aww. “None whatsoever.” “Good answer,” she patted his head. “I’ve trained you well.” But as everyone laughed, Y/N was completely unaware of how Tom’s heart galloped in his chest from that small touch and show of affection. Fuck, he was in deep.

***

“Ugh,” Y/N groaned putting a hand against her back and stretching, feeling the air between her vertebra pop. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.” Robert gently patted her shoulder. “You and me, kid, but we know we can’t. Chris will kill us if we miss the barbecue.” “Which one?” Tom asked, dropping his suitcase on the floor. “Pratt? Evans? Hemsworth? Pine?” Robert cocked his eyebrow. “Since when did we have Pine?” Tom shrugged his shoulders. “Zoe is slowly collecting all of them. And honestly, I wouldn’t be that surprised if they had some sort of a Chris-convention.” “Chrisvention?” Y/N quirked her eyebrow settling on the arm of the couch. “Chris-con?” Tom offered. She snorted. “That just sounds like crisscross.” Robert rolled his eyes removing his glasses and placing them on the mantlepiece. He had invited the two youngsters to stay with him since they both were like his kids, especially after having known Y/N for almost a decade, and now having taken the young Brit under his wing, he didn’t want the two to sleep in hotels if he could offer the comfort of his own house. “Okay, you two, off to bed,” Robert clapped his hands interrupting the weird conversation they were having and shooed them up the stairs having grabbed Y/N’s suitcase much to her grumbling that she could do it herself. “Now, the other guestroom is under renovation so you’ll be sharing. Two beds, one bathroom, unfortunately. Need you to be up bright and early so we could get to Renner’s. And no funny business!” “Ok, Bobert!” They heard a high-pitched whine of ‘stop calling me that!’ as he retreated before a door closed shut, leaving the two with their eyes rolling and heads shaking. “I swear, he’s such a diva,” Y/N joked bringing her suitcase in and dropping it on top of the bed. “The Marvel fame’s really gotten to his head.” “I know!” Tom exasperated in that same ‘I don’t actually mean it’ tone. “It’s like – chill it, Rob!” Y/N snorted and zipped open her bag pulling out a set of pyjamas consisting of an incredibly old and stained shirt with some shorts. “Rob?” “I know,” he wrinkled his nose. “Regretted that as soon as I said it.” She hummed listening to how Tom unpacked a few of his things and gentle music erupted all around them when he hooked his phone to the speaker. “Any requests, m’lady?” he said in a very much so overly exaggerated British accent which Y/N didn’t think was possible, seeing as he was, well, already British. “Why yes, I do actually,” she spun around, her bag of toiletries pressed against her chest as if it was her palm. “Let it be ‘Bowling for Soup’ – ‘Here’s Your Fricking Song’.” Tom bowed and typed in the name. “As the lady wishes.” With the upbeat track of late 2000s punk-rock, Y/N skipped to the bathroom and started to get ready for the night. Without even thinking the two had engaged in a sing-along, and she even held her toothbrush as a microphone. “I get drunk and you get pissed!” she screamed, and Tom responded, “You start dreaming I don’t exist!” “I say yes, and you say no!” Without missing a beat, he sang, “Like Katy Perry says, you’re Hot and Cold!” “With all the shit that we’ve been through, this the best that I can do!” they sang in unison, Y/N almost choking on her toothpaste. “Can I still get lucky tonight?” Cackling she entered the bedroom and bowed in front of Tom. “The bathroom’s all yours, kind sir.” The pure happiness on Y/N’s face was a sight Tom never wanted to forget. It was just the way her Y/E/C eyes lit up, that sparked his own joy and released a horde of butterflies to trash around his stomach. Venturing away from Y/N he released a shaky breath and looked at himself in the mirror. “Pull yourself together,” Tom muttered to his reflection as if the counterpart could actually take charge and calm him down. The music still played switching from one song to another as he brushed his teeth and washed his face from all the makeup that had been caked on his skin for the show. With satisfaction, Tom watched as the beige and brown colours went down the drain with the running water, freeing him from its confines and bringing back his own face Sure, there were impurities. Acne spots, little pimples pushing to the surface, a scar here or there. Usually, when he was around people without them covered, Tom could feel a bit insecure, as if each and every person had a magnifying glass to their eye and were focusing in on just those things. But with the people he was comfortable with, the people he trusted and loved, there was none of that because more likely than not, he had seen them in that same kind of state. Or in Y/N’s case, with her face covered by a white spot-treatment mask making her look like a weird version of a Dalmatian. She was sat against the bed’s headboard with a book in her lap (her usual state) and sweet melodic music Tom recognized to be the soundtrack for ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ wafted around her. “Getting in the mood?” he asked moving to rest on his own bed, acting as if his heart wasn’t beating a mile a minute. “Kinda,” Y/N muttered through pursed lips. “In the movie, the scene where Tristan and Yvaine are up in the clouds they spent so much more time with the Captain, where in here,” she pointed with her chin to the pages of ‘Stardust’, “it’s barely been two pages, and they’re already off. And his name isn’t even Shakespeare!” “What outrage!” Tom mocked and received a pillow in the face for that, phone dropping to his lap. “Rude much?” he threw it back, but Y/N easily caught it. “Captain Shakespeare is my favourite character!” “And you still have the movie to see him in,” Tom’s eyebrow rose. She had nothing but a groan as her response. Y/N read for a bit more while he distracted himself with social media, but it wasn’t long when she placed a candy wrapper as her bookmark and turned off the bedside lamp. “ ‘Night, Tom,” Y/N yawned and hugged a pillow closer to her chest. “ ‘Night, Y/N,” he replied, watching her relaxed features for a bit, before residing to the night himself. Nothing but the moon and stars twinkled outside, illuminating the bedroom with a pale-ish glow, and while he waited for sleep to claim him, Tom watched Y/N rest, her body cast over with the moonlight making him think she was some sort of a princess from a fairytale under a spell, and the glimmer was showing him the way to break the curse. The dead silence of the night was interrupted by his soft voice uttering her name. “Y/N?” “Yeah?” “Are you awake?” She snorted and turned on her back. “Given how I just responded to you, yeah. I’d say I’m awake.” “I dunno,” Tom chuckled. “You could be sleep talking.” “Then I must be a pretty bomb-ass coherent sleep talker,” he saw her put a hand behind her head. “What’s up?” “I can’t sleep.” "Why not?” “ ‘S just… I dunno… It’s stupid…” “Well, it’s not that stupid if you’re losing sleep over it,” Y/N propped herself on her elbow to get a better look at Tom. Even in the complete darkness, she could distinguish the worry in his face and what seemed to be embarrassment. “I won’t judge.” With one last huff, Tom relented. “It’s just when we were in England doing press, I could go home, and sleep, and Tess always slept next to me. I dunno… I just guess I miss something warm to cuddle next to… told you it was stupid.” “No,” came Y/N’s instant response. “It’s not stupid at all. If you wanna hear something stupid, is that when I first got the role of Juliet, which was my first role like ever, I slept in Evans’s trailer for like three weeks, 'cause he had Dodger with him, and I had forgotten Huks home. Took a while for it to arrive, so I had to improvise.” She saw his eyebrow raise. “Huks?” “It’s a plushie husky. Couldn’t go to sleep without it… in fact, I still have worse sleep if it’s not with me than when it is. So, no. I don’t think missing Tessa or her cuddling with you is a stupid reason to be unable to fall asleep.” Tom just wanted to scream out that it was the most adorable thing ever, and that Y/N had to stop before his heart did, but before he could even mutter that her reason wasn’t stupid either, she managed to speak up first. “Do you maybe wanna sleep next to me? Not in a weird kinda way, just… you know… you said you miss something warm next to you...” “Are you sure? ‘Cause I don’t want you to d-“ “Stop worrying and get under the covers,” Y/N hissed but she was smiling as she did so, waving him to come to her bed. “Though, I do have to warn you – I’m a very violent sleeper,” she said scooting to the side. “How does… that work?” “It means,” she grunted pushing a bit further to the edge and settling down as Tom slipped beneath her bedding, “that I might just, unconsciously kick you, and no matter how far you sleep from me, you’ll end up either on the very edge of the bed or on the floor.” “Also,” Y/N extended a hand, “this is you promising not to sue me for whatever damages my sleeping-self might cause you. A broken nose or a rib – awake me is not at fault.” Tom clasped her hand and sighed. “And here I was getting ready to cash in.” “Sucks to be you then, cause this deal is unbreakable,” she shrugged and gave him one last smile before turning her back to the man and giving a ‘goodnight’. “Goodnight,” Tom muttered to her already softly breathing form, but he himself couldn’t find rest. Although he thought it might actually help him to have something warm to sleep next to, it seemed like his brain was going into overdrive, and his heart was about to collapse. She stirred for a second and rolled over to face him, making his breath hitch. Y/N was so close to him that he wouldn’t even need to stretch his hand to caress her face. “You’re so beautiful,” Tom whispered looking at Y/N’s closed eyes. And unbeknownst to him, her heart almost exploded because although she looked like she was dead asleep, a twitch in her body had jolted her awake, and now she was very much so alert. “I wish I could tell you this while you’re awake… or just in general, I wish I could just grow a pair and do it, but I guess this’ll have to do for the time being. You’re so, so beautiful,” his thumb brushed over her cheekbone, and Y/N had to suppress the hitch of her breath. “And I don’t just mean how you look ‘cause fuck, darling you are a dream… marvellous… but your mind… your heart… the first time we met I thought I’d have a panic attack because you looked at me so softly, I felt my mind go numb and everything just tuned out of focus.” “And then we got to know one another more,” he released a barely-there sigh, but Y/N still heard it, “and I couldn’t help myself. I started to fall for you. You had a boyfriend at the time, so I knew I had zero chances, but it didn’t matter to me. I was giving my heart to you every day bit by bit, and it didn’t even matter if you broke it or not, ‘cause it was already yours to do as you pleased.” Tom released a bitter chuckle, and Y/N could feel him shake his head. “But still somehow I’m too much of a coward and a twat to say how I feel despite it being almost four years, despite both of us being single.” She felt his gaze roam her face and tried her hardest not to flutter her eyelashes. “I guess I’m just too afraid to lose you. In any kind of capacity. I’d rather have you as a friend than not at all… that I couldn’t take…” That was the thought that made his heart clench the most, and tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. One of the biggest fears, when it came to relationships and friendships he had, was, if he told her how he felt, that Y/N would just shove him out of her life completely. So he surrendered himself to loving her from afar. And he let her love him her own way. It was better than nothing. Quickly before they to dropped to the pillow, Tom wiped the tears away and finally settled for the night, the weight pressing on him lifted if only for a moment before it would come crashing down in the morning. But Y/N had other plans. “Do you mean that?” her voice trembled, and Tom’s eyes shot open to see her already looking up at him “Y-Y/N? I thought you were asleep.” “Answer the question, Holland,” she murmured sliding her hand up to the nape of his neck and pulling his face closer. “Do you mean what you said?” “Yes,” the word was a breathless whisper as his forehead now rested on hers. “I mean every. Single. Word. I am in love with you.” And she needed nothing more than to nudge his head away, brush her nose against his and press their lips together. The two practically sagged against one another with relief that the kiss was reciprocated. Y/N’s hands had gently woven to tangle up in Tom’s chocolate locks, both to feel the softness of them and to pull him closer, while one of his palms had settled on her waist and the other was cupping her cheek, his thumb gently stroking the side of her face. But something just had to ruin the mood, and it was Tom’s laughing. “What?” Y/N pulled back annoyed and frustrated because that one kiss was just not enough after almost two years of her own pent up emotions. “Robert said no funny business,” he giggled. Her eyebrow quirked up. “And?” “And this is funny business.” “Oh my god,” she groaned, chuckled and slipped out of the bed. “You’re a literal child.” Smacking a pillow over his face, which Tom easily caught Y/N bounded over to the bed he had been previously occupied and slipped under its covers. “Wait, no, come back!” he whined reaching over the end of the bed, flopping down on his belly with an extended hand. “Please,” and he gave such an adorable pout that it almost broke Y/N, but no. She crossed her arms and put her nose up in the air. “Nope,” she shook her head, but even in the pitch-black darkness, Tom could see the smile she tried to suppress. “You thought it was funny kissing me, so no kisses or cuddles.” “Please?” “No.” “Please?” his voice increased with each syllable. “No.” And then Tom rolled onto his back and pouted, giving Y/N the best puppy-dog eyes in the world. Like if there existed a contest for that kind of a thing, he’d totally get the prize. “Please come back to bed and cuddle with me?” She couldn’t say no anymore. She never could and never will be able to say no, and that’s when a realization hit her – he had Y/N completely wrapped around his finger, but she didn’t mind that. If the kiss and his warm arms wrapping around her waist was what greeted her when she clambered back under the sheets, and his steady heartbeat lulled her to sleep, she didn’t mind being wrapped around his finger at all. And truthfully, with how huge the grin was that spread across Tom’s face as he kissed her forehead ‘goodnight’ this time for real, neither was he too upset how wrapped around her finger he was. In the morning he had to remember to say ‘thank you’ to RDJ for the limited space he had in his house. And although he did wake up with a sore in his ribs where Y/N had accidentally kneed him during the night, he had never been happier about a predicament in his life. After all, it’s what gave him the chance to speak his heart.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan@nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @wishingforahome @pizzarollpatrol @desir-ae

A/N: should I do like a part two of the next day????????

P.S. what did ya think?

P.S.S. my tags are always open. just drop a message :)

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jjkpls · 5 years ago

Text

(y)our name 2 - one (m)

> genre : fluff, angst, light smut

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> total words : 6.7k

> warnings/content : friends to lovers, unrequited love, slice of life; a LOT of cursing, oc is... chaotic, thirsty, panicked; Bad Editing Le Retour™

You could not look any less serious. With your badly dried hair, your face glazing from the cream you just applied in a rush and your whole frame, vibrating in childish excitement. “You know what, Guk? We can decide to make it weird or we can decide to be two grownups, responsible and smart and like reliable and- and be like 'Well yeah we had sex, whatever, it’s not gonna change anything!'”

There's a heavy silence blaring in the hallway. You're too ecstatic to let it affect you but still, you wish he'd appear a little less impenetrable. He's not giving you anything to work with. And even though you can't imagine any other alternative than the one you just suggested, he has to confirm he's willing to go along. “Right?” You're defying him with your gaze, hands attached to your waist, head tilted to the side. The smile stretching your lips grow less natural and more rigid. Jungkook simply shrugs, shifting about on his feet.

“I guess you’re right.” He says but he doesn't look like he means it. He looks preoccupied. And a thought, disturbing, invades your mind. Something is burdening him. And from the frown on his adorable face, it's at least mildly serious.

“Are you okay?” You’re pouting as you ask, not meaning to tender him the way you do but you can see his troubled heart all over, in his stance, in his giant eyes. You feel bad for being the idiot concerned about that night when there is something wrong with him. Anything could have happened during those excruciatingly long and testing three weeks. Your merciless dumb ass may have missed a drama in your favourite boy’s life and the fact that you could have actually let it happen breaks your heart. “Is something wrong?”

He gazes at you, wide-eyed. They’re shining with a curious apprehension. It’s as if he wants to say something. The tiny tremble of his lips hints there is something, just right there, at the tip of his tongue. A simple little push would have the words out. “Tell me.”

Instead, he shakes his head, one of his hands rising to mess with the already chaotic pile of dark locks. “S'nothing. I’m good.”

“Jungkook.” He’s already down a few steps, his back turned to you. “You’re not gonna tell me?” There’s a tiny little edge in your voice, as if your heart's been wounded. It brings him to spin around to peek your way. You’re not that stupid. You know three weeks of break in a friendship that has, in almost a decade and a half, never had any before, must impact it somehow. You detest the idea. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know.” He says, softly. He seems all tiny, hunched over as he is, several stairs down.

“Still, you’re not gonna say?” He looks up from his shoes. There's this contemplating pout on his mouth. Again, he looks like he's debating internally.

“If- It’s not important. If I need to, I will, ok?” Your heart stings. But you want to trust him.

“You promise?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, biting a smile back. “I don’t need to, you already know.” Grinning you jump on the step next to him, wrapping with great difficulty an arm around his shoulders, you lead him down the stairs.

You're rambling loud in the resonating hallway about how you spent the whole night watching your favourite zombie movies in prevision of the day you're about to spend. He doesn't need to hear you say it all as he already knows. His phone along with him didn't have any sleep last night, as you kept sending him messages of extreme importance regarding all the technics and strategies you were actively learning watching the films and how useful they were all going to be for the zombie apocalypse-themed escape game you had made reservations for.

You are so excited, you can't contain yourself. Finding him back after having missed him so much and for so long, you just can't accept to spend any more time without him. Which is ridiculous. You two would have to get back to your lives and go to work for starters, but not now. Now you've dumped your shift on your kindest colleague at work, quite last minute, so you could have the whole day with Jungkook. Planning on going to that escape game you two had been talking about for months, making a checklist of all the places you could visit afterwards to eat and take pretty pictures if he wanted to, adding a list of the potentially interesting movies now in theater if you still have time left. Yes, you really did miss him. You don't want to say it out loud as it's been said enough the night before, but you hope he knows from how hard you hug his arm against your heart that you're still overwhelmed by the joy brought from him filling the staggering void in your chest again as if he'd never left it.

Your phone lights up on a too-familiar face and a name you feel too uncomfortable to pronounce out loud. It’s Namjoon. Again. You see Jungkook’s eyes catch it before you turn it off, and they divert awkwardly as if terrified to meet your own. Your heart stings again. Like a sharp scorching needle piercing through the thing. You can’t bear the awkwardness. You used to be able to talk about anything. Even some things that require litres of liquid courage and lead to consequences such as burning ears and heavy sweating. But never anything has just been brushed over. The realization that something is installing itself between you hits. A new norm, where some subjects must remain unmentioned. It’s horrifying so quickly you blurt out, “We broke up!” Jungkook looks up from his bubble tea, eyes large like saucers.

“Yeah, I heard so. From Jimin.” He doesn’t ask for more information and it’s upsetting. You want him to know he can ask anything. Anything that is yours, anything that is you is his too.

He should know it all.

“It’s just- he is- he is not an asshole but I don’t know, I guess we didn’t agree on everything. He wanted me to choose between you and him.” Your eyebrows raise, head shaking in remaining disbelief. He had some nerves. You felt bad momentarily because it meant Namjoon believed your relationship to be strong enough to face this kind of ultimatum. But he was so rude about it! So rude and assertive, it didn’t even give you the willing to clarify things up with him, to sort things out, consider a compromise. As if you’d ever sincerely only dare think about giving up Jungkook for anyone or anything else. You would never.

Jungkook smiles around the straw he's gnawing on and you chuckle. You're sharing the same mischievous glance you used to when younger, you would find some shenanigans to ditch a third party you were not inclined to stay with so you two could play and be yourselves exclusively together. Like a secret handshake, you have your secret smile. There you know you'll be fine.

After some time, he feels comfortable enough to bring Namjoon back to the conversation. It's just to apologize again about what happened. He doesn't leave on any more information, any answer to the burning question you've carried with you since the incident but you decide to not push it. It was fucking weird, this whole mess of a situation. So unlike him to hit someone. So unlike you to turn your back on him as if there would ever be a valid reason for you to stop loving him. A piece of the puzzle is missing, however, you trust him with it. Surely, he'll give it to you one day and that's fine.

You're cutting the calm quietness surrounding you with a sudden burst of giggles. He squints at you, eyebrows frowned as if he already knows and it makes you laugh harder.

“Shut up!” He groans while trying to reach for your phone on the table. Your reflexes are cat-like though, and before he knows it, the hilarious video you shot today of him, fighting incredibly poorly a zombie, plays for the two of you to enjoy. He's screaming so loud, cursing a bunch of profanities you've never heard him say, and when his ass hits the ground without the actor touching him you're throwing your head back, crying in hilarity. It's been torturing you for the past two hours. Each time your brain starts to putter, the video comes knocking and you just can't help the bubbling mess to rumble from your chest. You only stop when he starts to threaten you, saying he is going to leave and head home.

You really don't want to go home. Or more like, you don't mind going home but he has to come and stay with you. Why couldn't you have been born as Siamese twins?

Sticking the lollipop out of his mouth, he winces in pure disgust, “That'd be horrible!”

“What? Why? It'd be awesome! We'd be stuck to each other all the time!” Which is an enchanting thought -maybe it needs to be precise. You're sure he thinks the same. The grimace intensifying on his face is just comedy.

“We'd be siblings, by the way. Not best friends. That wouldn't work.”

“Let's hot glue the shit out of our hips so we can test this theory out!”

“What are you even-” You don't interrupt him, he does himself, deeming it's pointless. Halting his steps, sighing deep and loud as he stares down at you like you're crazy. Maybe you've turned a little bit insane. That's what too much Jungkook and sugar do to you: you're sincerely considering the whole hot-glueing thing. “Ok. You're going to bed.” It's a gasp that answers him and like a dad who knows how to handle his misbehaving child, he cuts you off before you even get to say anything.

“___, it’s 3 am. Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“I start at 5 pm!” You pester, hitting the ground with your foot.

“Still. Don’t be ridiculous. You need sleep.” His huge eyes blink slowly, his face contorting weirdly as he contains a yawn. He's the one who needs sleep but-

“But-”

“You really did miss me, huh?”

He's all smug eyebrow-dance and wiggly shoulders so you decide to simply be honest, that'll shut him off. “Of course I did!” He tsks, not having expected this as he stares off the distance, looking anywhere but you. You pout, hitting his ugly sneakers with your own boots. “Why do you keep wearing those things?” The offending bulky things are daring you to criticize them further.

“You don’t know fashion.”

“Oh is that fashion? Ok, I guess I really don’t know then.” When you look up at him, grinning, he has that look on. Head slightly tilted to the side, tight-lipped smile, the one that pinches the skin around his mouth into a tiny dot, eyes looking soft but implacable. It’s the look he has when he’s telling you off and it makes you whine indignantly. “I don’t wanna go home yet.”

“But you will.” He decides, sticking the lollipop back against the inside of his cheek, gaze all ominous before he's throwing you on his shoulders. You'd scream if it were not the middle of the night and you didn't mind having people calling the police on you two for night fuss.

It's not the end anyway. You're dramatic and greedy because it feels natural to be in these circumstances but you know you two will be fine. You should let him go home to sleep without fearing losing him again.

There's no doubt in your mind. Still, instead of your brain to sink in the happiness and let you fall peacefully asleep on your two ears, the uncooperative thing just wouldn't let you rest. Keeping you wide awake and alert, bringing thoughts way too joy-filled to not render you giddy and fidgety.

I guess it wasn’t that terrible. It wasn’t bad at all. You did apprehend it. Not only were you two to start hanging out again after a pause that felt like an eternity, but you had also to do so after spending the night that you did together. It seemed easy enough on his part. Maybe because he seemed already preoccupied with something else. Either way, it went smoothly. Like riding a bike. Something you never just stop knowing how to do. Jungkook and you, it’s natural. It’s pure fated affection, there’s no place for any lagging. This you confirmed today.

As the days pass, the routine reinstalls itself, with morning breakfasts shared, impromptu hellos, and stray kitties pictures sent out throughout the day.

It feels wonderful. You can appreciate what you used to have with a whole new level of intensity. It’s like hovering over the Earth on a candy cloud. You’re not lucky, you’re blessed, gifted. Nothing is that upsetting. Nothing is that tiring. Everything fixes before it even breaks because there’s Jungkook and the happiness he brings everywhere along with him.

You’re not that bad at being cool about the whole one-night thing. Not as good as him but still good enough. You manage to prevent anything potentially compromising to slip, refract any impulsive gesture towards his arms or his chest or his thighs even. You do end up blushing furiously sometimes when an unexpected careless babe falls through his lips, or when he mutters your name quietly to bring your attention to him and the breathless calls from this one night remind themselves to you. And of course, it would be like this. How could it not? How could you just say each other’s name so casually when you heard them being moaned by the other the way you did. That’s what you think. But he doesn’t seem on the same page as you. And that puzzles you. Not greatly, you know him to be more used to unattached sexual affections, but still.

How could he not be affected when you’re pretty sure you screamed his name? That’s the other thing about the fateful night and its consequences, the more time passes the less you remember every detail of it, and you dread it. You wish it would stay intact, untouched in your head, as grandiose as it was when it happened.

It’s worrying. How obsessed you are about the incident. But not for the reasons one could expect.

Your friendship is not at stake per se. Or maybe it is in a way, and that’s why you’re not presenting yourself to him with those thoughts.

It’s not about Jungkook or more so, it’s less about the feelings you adorn for him, and more about his skills. Because he does have skills. You have no idea where they come from. If he’s spent years secretly attending sexology seminars or if he was born an incubus and for some reasons you knew nothing about that, point of the matter is: he blew your mind. He ruined you, opened up a door inside you had no idea was there and it felt so good during and after, that you find yourself feeling miserable at the idea that maybe, you won’t ever fall upon a lover like him.

Namjoon was fine. He didn’t have the best stamina and was a bit too stiff to plant and bloom passion as intense as Jungkook managed to in few minutes but he was ok. Taehyung was fine too. Perhaps tending to be a bit selfish, forgetting to give back if you didn’t remind him but for the most part decent -he did have a huge shrine that wasn’t so handy in practice but still managed to entice you and make you squirm before you realized that, except for pain and discomfort, the hugeness of it didn’t bring much more.

And that’s the thing that annoys you the most: they used to be good. They used to be in your mind more than good enough. You didn’t question the possibility of having more. It was alright. You didn’t come each time. You never came more than once in one encounter. But it was fine for your standards. You didn’t know any better, that there could be more to it. Now Jungkook swirled in, wrecked you, leaving you a satisfyingly empty shell lain in a puddle of your own arousal and that’s the mind-blowing sex you want to have for the rest of your life. The thought that maybe he is one exceptionally proficient guy, member of a very rare and exclusive club of fucking abnormally phenomenal lovers that has the secret access to a secret magic to Orgasms -with a capital O because what you thought to identify as orgasms before definitely are not the same things as what you experienced with your best friend- it’s depressing and horrifying and makes you want to start a fucking riot against the universe and maybe against men for not all being as good. Because they should. Fuck, there would be no more cheating partners, no more lonely solo underdogs, eternal peace in the world if everyone dared be as good of a lover as Jungkook.

Maybe you’re over exaggerating. Maybe. Probably not.

How, how in the hell are you supposed to just brush that memory like a simple anecdote, marking your history like any other tiny souvenir would, like that first time he cried in front of you right after he scratched his hands falling from his skateboard and you had kissed it better, or that time he lied for you so you wouldn’t get your ass beaten by your parents after having skipped two classes to go make out behind the school with Kim Seokjin.

Well, you can’t. It’s impossible. And at first, it’s fine. It just means you spend a little more time in the shower, you're a little slower at work because you have to constantly bring your brain back to the task ahead, you’re overall a little more angsty and every time you meet up with Jungkook, there’s a little apprehension. It’s a little less 'I can’t wait to see that dumbass’ cute face even though he might bully me for not having showered', and a little more 'I’m going to meet with my good old friend who happens to be the man who fucked my brains out that one time, so maybe I should put on that skirt'.

The permanent tension doesn’t last that long. He’s too much like he’s always been. You’re too happy with him like you’ve always been.

Things go along as they should. You repress actively your deviant brain, decide you’re going to get over him because he is not the only man on this fucking Earth and there’s no way, there’s no fucking way -it’d be too unfair- he is the only good man worthy of your time.

Soon you realize that in fact, he is. In a way or another, by some curious black magic or something, he managed to make himself the only man left on this Earth. What a dick, you think. Because now he’s gotten back to his life, his awesome life of an awesome dude, unbothered, untroubled by whatever the fuck happened when you, on the other hand, are all broken.

There's this thing about you. You used to fall a bit in love with every person you’d see when you'd be single. There would be this tall guy with his beanie low on his forehead pushing his fringe in his eyes, reading some manga on the train, and you’d start making up a sweet history for him and you’d wish he’d look up for a second and fall in love with you too. But he’d leave without noticing you and then this young woman would walk in with a dude on her toes. She’d look saddened while the guy would look annoyed and you’d start thinking about where you’d like to take that girl out and what cute pet name she’d like you to give her when you’re not even into girls -allegedly. You’re desperate for love. You’ve always been. Which could be surprising as instead of having a childhood deprived of it as often have the people who grow to be very demanding when it comes to affection, you were spoiled with it. Instead of curing you, the force-feed love rendered you addicted and you've always wanted more. More people to meet and discover and adore. Rarely enough. Except when you’re in a relationship. You’re not simply loyal you’re fully invested. You want to be good, to be the best, bring the most. You know how to direct all your time and attention and aspiration on one person without wanting to look away.

And that’s what you need again. Maybe. Someone to prove you that sex is not it all. You never thought that before stupid Jungkook but now, you're questioning it. He did break you. You think constantly about it, not wondering what compliment that one stranger like to hear, what place that other stranger would love you to make them discover, you're wondering if they could make you feel good. If their bodies would be as hard and hot as Jungkook's. If their sexes could fill you up and stretch you, hard and right the way his did. And fuck Jungkook because not only did he change your way of considering people -which is fucked up, by the way, you feel like a creep every time you catch yourself doing it-, he made them all uninteresting. None, even in fantasy, do it for you. You don’t want them to touch you. You don’t want to touch them. You wonder what’s under their clothes without really wanting to know. That’s not that surprising. You’ve always been a very emotional person and perhaps it’s just not something for you. Perhaps you can’t fuck without affection. But at the same time, it’s what you want, it’s what you need. Just purely wild and relieving sex.

It’s the reason why you end up grabbing your phone, tapping your passcode in a fury because the print sensory thingy won't work and you’re already pissed enough as it is. Wrist hurting, breathing laboured, pussy quivering uselessly around nothing, you quickly get to your chat log with Jungkook. You’re mad. It’s the umpteenth time that you try to get yourself off and end up on the verge of crying from frustration because you can, physically, feel yourself craving for a cock to fill you up -possibly his. It’s the worst feeling. A degree of desperation like you never have felt before. And it is insane because never in a million years could you have imagined that sometimes a woman, and you of all, could have your cunt yearning for something that bad. It’s like it builds and builds, not phenomenal but seemingly good enough, and then it snaps but as you come, you feel the lacking spoiling completely your already low-quality orgasm. One of the worst experience of your life. You’re enraged and delirious from the dissatisfaction and that’s why you end up sending him this message:

you : thinking bout u

Read. Right away. There are the three little dots blinking on the screen, your brain adds a mental drumroll to accompany it. And then they disappear. Five minutes pass, you’re dying, feel like your pussy might catch a cold staying open like that -which is quite dumb and lewd but you’re so upset, you spent so much energy on attempting to get off that you can’t even get yourself to roll over to the side (it’s not even like he’s going to teleport himself there and just slip inside at any instant). The dots don’t come back so you decide to text him again, a bit more apprehensively.

you : do u think about me?

jungkook : are you making a YouTube video?

You’re confused for a while, reading multiple times the text over, simply not getting it until the phone vibrates again in your palm.

jungkook : like a lyric prank

Ah.

you : Ah no. And why would I chose a song from 2009 to do that

jungkook : It’s not 2009 and cause you’re lame like that

This is absolutely not going the way you planned, you think finally closing your legs together. Then you remember that you didn't plan shit.

you : 😐

jungkook : What do you want anyway? Why aren’t you sleeping

jungkook : ?

you : I just told you

jungkook : I don’t know what you mean

Is he messing with you? Or does he sincerely not know? Fuck, you hate texting. You never know what the person on the other line genuinely means. You're not being a coward tonight though, so you send:

you : You said to tell you if I ever think about you

The torturous three musketeers are back, cackling right in your face as you stare, for an eternity, wishing for something, anything, to replace them. It’s outrageously long. It’s like he’s typing his eulogy or something. Until the dots are replaced but by worst than any text, no text at all. They disappear and nothing else comes through. The embarrassment is so overwhelming, your body finds the strength to fully wince, your legs jerking up to your chest and your whole body falling sideways from just the cringe. What a fucking idiot. Your face buried in the pillow, you wail and groan in emotional pain. Then it shakes again, the cellphone, the cursed object you shouldn’t be allowed to own. You grab it with your eyes shut close, terrified at what the screen has to show you. When you gather the courage to look, you frown: it’s a link. A URL you don’t recognize. You tap on it, gnawing nervously on your lip as Safari takes forever to load the page and once it's done, and the title of the page appears, you wish it wouldn’t have loaded at all. Fucking hell. You’re going to die. You’re dying of embarrassment tonight, it’s decided.

'69 Best Masturbation Tips for Female Orgasm'. It’s an article about masturbation. He sent you that. To help probably. Because he doesn’t want to do it himself and doesn't know how to say it. Of fucking course he doesn’t want to and oh-my-fucking-god how could you have been so fucking stupid.

you : Sorry

There are the dots again but you can’t bear to see them again so quickly you type a desperate:

you : I’m really sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. Sorry sorry JK please just forget I said anything sorry good nighttt 😅 😅

It’s the worst moment of your entire life. And this thought, the thought that it’s so terrible, nothing will ever compete for that title, is the sole reason why you decide to not suffocate yourself to death in your pillows. The worst just happened.

You’ll just avoid him. For a few days. If he lets you. He probably will. The poor guy is probably feeling even more awkward than you. You were acting so normal, regular platonic friendliness and suddenly he learns that you’ve been lurking over his ass for all this time. For fuck's sake. You’re the worst. There's a tiny voice in your head that's not a bitch and keeps telling you that a couple of days would suffice and eventually your cheeks’ crimson will reduce and progressively the whole thing will be lost in your memory like those events that sometimes fade so far away, you’re not even sure if they were ever real or simple dreams. Except this one is a fucking nightmare and as you toss and turn around relentlessly for the whole night you’re sure you won’t ever forget it did happen and the shame that you felt.

And you’re wrong about that. Because as you wake up the next morning after having successfully fallen asleep for an hour around 6 am, the memory is blurry. It’s flimsy. The burning devastating emotions are gone like they hardly ever existed and you can sigh in relief as you stretch out of bed, body sore and rusted but mind fresh and enthusiastic. You feel like you’ve just woken up from a power nap -you know the fatigue will strike you half-dead later, around 10 am or 2 pm, you’re not sure yet-, feeling positive and wanting to move the world with how productive you feel like being today.

And then your initial hypothesis is proven right. As you reach for your phone by rote, meaning to check the time and your notifications as you usually do, you fall upon the text Jungkook sent you right after you shut your phone off, the night before.

jungkook : It’s okay

That’s it. Hell befalls once again on your stupid self. It’s like last night, all over again. Your eyes well up, aiming to fill up the tenuous rivers dried up on your cheeks. You fall on your face back in bed, yelling full-on in your mattress. It’s horrible. It’s horrible. It’s horrible.

“Are you okay?!” You hear Eun ask from the other side of the wall. Her voice is all hoarse from sleep and now you feel even worse for having woken her up with your idiocy. Stupid and selfish you are.

“Yes, sorry!” There’s a loud thump as you assume she lets herself fall back to sleep. You’re glad she’s too tired to register the tremble in your voice and the obvious desperation even you could decipher.

'It’s okay' with no emoji, no nothing. The emptiest text you’ve ever received. It’s worse than one of those 'ok' assholes send sometimes as an answer to a long invested text. You know what it means. It means it is not okay. He is too sweet to tell you off the way he should or wants to. He knows you’re not an inconsiderate bitch and that you will read through the pixels with this simple two words that it is not okay, he’s not interested and he feels bad but that’s just how things are.

The alarm of your phone rings loud. You’re reminded of your stupid duty you’re supposed to attend to: your job. You feel like a teenager again. Well, in reality, you never really stopped feeling like one. When something would happen, you expected the whole world to stop for you to deal with it. You were too spoiled as a kid. People would actually stop. You remember walking down the playground, eager to play at something but not knowing what and sauntering about looking out for your different options and all the kids, no matter what they were busy playing at would stop and stare, sharing quick nods of approval before one of them, one for each group, would walk up to you and try to convince you to stay with them. Everybody liked you at the time, everybody always loved you without you completely realizing, only occasionally would you suspect it with a sheepish mischievous smile hidden in the corner of your lips.

And now you’re twenty-three and someone, the person who’s supposedly is always cherishing you, doesn’t want you. Which is fair. Fair enough. You’re friends and it’s weird for him, you get it. But he said that you could call him whenever you thought about him. He said it. And he said something else. You can’t remember properly now but you remember what you thought at the time: that he was suggesting you’d do it again. That happened. Whatever the exact terms were, he did hint at wanting other times to happen. Then again, he did say a lot of things that night. And obviously, those were spurred in the heat of the moment. You guess he’s smooth along with being talented. His words are part of the whole thing and for good reasons, it works like a charm.

But, therefore, of fucking course, you’d take it seriously. Of course, it’d take roots in your weak mind and bloom into invading, overpowering desires.

You’re pissed at him now, you realize as you struggle to apply mascara from how much your hand is shaking. You’re angry because he is the asshole behind all that. Even if he did not do it on purpose, he’s made you like that, fucking obsessing over his fucking dick like it’s the only one left and you’re meant to save humanity from extinction. He didn’t have to be that good to you. And why would he say those stuff if he didn’t mean them? That’s fucking sick. And why does he not want you anyway? He didn’t have a problem with you being best friends the first time. He sure enjoyed it, right?

Right?

Your memory is hazy.

You’re not sure if you just made it all up from the pleasure you were experiencing. He is good. But maybe you suck? Maybe he just went along and concluded with you because he was too sweet to back up and stop in the middle of the course of action but in fact, he didn’t enjoy it. You didn’t do a lot, that much is true. You didn’t feel too bad about it before because you were sure he still had his fair share of pleasure but now that you’re not sure, now that you consider the idea that maybe your brain affected the real turn of events to spare your ego and feed that magical experience you had, you feel like shit. It must be it. With all those girls, beautiful, liberated you’ve seen him with over the years, he must have had expected and wanted more. He didn’t end up that talented with no one to practice with. And there you were, awkward potato who couldn’t keep the lights on -which apparently was such a big deal-, way more inexperienced than you thought yourself to be, giving him the worst sex of his life. Of fucking course, he wouldn’t want to do it again.

It’s decided you’re never meeting him again. It’s not his fault. It’s yours. You suck balls. Or rather you don’t and that’s the issue.

Fuck. This is so embarrassing. It's been a couple of hours since the curse text he's sent, and you don't feel any better. If only you could focus on those dumb coffee orders and forget about your stupid pussy for a second.

It’s a little easier after a few mistaken cups of weird lattes, when your manager, perched like an owl on a bar stool, starts staring at you like she’s about to fly to you and bite your head off.

It gets harder when you finish your shift and your mind is left to think about him again and the atrocious humiliation. You’re cringing the whole ride home. Having to stop yourself from growling out loud in frustration, not wanting to freak people out by making them think you’re rabid or something. And it turns the hardest when you have to walk past his door and ignore it, when it’s right fucking there, to quickly flee in your apartment. You’re sweating and shaking once you’re inside, pressing yourself against the door, praising the barrier protecting your ego from him.

Wow. That’s insane but you don’t want to see him ever again. Or at least not until it quiets down. It’s too much. You know there shouldn’t be a seat for shame in your friendship but you can’t help it. It’s just Jungkook but it’s also the best lover you’ve ever had and, you can't deny it anymore, an extremely attractive man. And you’ve humiliated yourself in front of that man.

It’s the reason behind your avoiding him. You don’t even take the time to think about it and try to rationalize, think about what he might be feeling, think about the implications of your action, about how childish you’re being, you just do it.

At first, it’s a blast. Knowing you would work hard to precisely avoid him makes it more bearable for your existence. You don’t wake up with an awful tummy ache and a migraine just considering having to talk to him and act fine and casual as if you’re not dying inside. You won’t see him so it’s fine. It requires a little effort though. A little checking the area for safety with an unsuspecting Eun. A little hustling as you have to steal all of your colleagues' early shifts so that you don’t have to be home for breakfast and see him land in your living-room to eat with you. A little stealth when you have to come home as you do in the early afternoons and you don’t know for sure if he’s not working from home, eagerly tending the ear to try and catch you coming home. His ear is very sharp and you know when you don’t pay attention and are loud climbing up the stairs, he can hear you from his apartment. He told you before that he recognizes the sound of your stepping, different from Eun’s and that’s how he knows you’re home safe when you get off work at ungodly hours of the night, and knows to send you a sweet encouraging text when he hears you leave ungodly early.

It’s because of those messages that you start feeling too bad to handle. The first time, in a panic, you had answered the text with a raccoon gif. He responded with a sympathetic laughing emoji and you decided you sucked faking casualty and would simply restrain yourself from answering his morning texts. It’s been cleared out already that you should not be allowed to use a fucking cellphone.

He's too powerful though. The kindness of his texts and the guilt you’re facing directly proportionate to it adds to the fact that you miss him. It’s been five days and you miss him immensely. It’s when Eun who asks why the boys haven’t been around in so long that you realize you’re really being a bitch. He deserves better than that. Therefore, laying down on the sofa, legs propped on the armchair, naked feet shaking in anxiety in the air, you pick up your phone because you never learn apparently.

you : you wanna have a ““““spooky””””” movie night? Netflix put up the scream movies + pizzas

It's natural enough. Doesn't mention anything risky and that's perfect.

jungkook : I’m in busan rn

you : What? Why are you in Busan?

you : And since when?

jungkook : Two days. I’m coming home tomorrow night

jungkook : For a seminar

jungkook : And you would know if you were not so busy avoiding me

Well, here goes the not-mentioning-anything.

Another quirk of yours: when your mind is set on something, hardly anything can make your aim waver.

you : *gasp* I don’t appreciate being called out like that

Nicely played.

jungkook : Don’t care

But he's going to be difficult.

you : 😐 😐

jungkook : Are you embarrassed about the other night? That’s fucking dumb

you : You fucking dumb

jungkook : Why are you so embarrassed? I told you it’s fine

you : But it’s not though. I feel terrible still

jungkook : There’s no reason everybody gets horny

you : But I rubbed it in your face when clearly you don’t want it I’m verysorry

jungkook : Stop apologizing

And again, as always, it just goes smoothly. You don't understand this. It used to be so simple being friends with him. But lately, it's like everything is a challenge. You always doubt before being proven that yes, things are like they've always been. You have no reason to doubt your friendship, nor him. The weight lifted off of your chest feels incredible as it leaves, bringing a few relief tears to the corner of your right eye. It's the end of it, at last.

jungkook : who said I don’t want it

a/n : yes, it’s happening, (y)our name is back. Way sooner than expected but it’s kookie’s bday so i felt i had to give him another chance. So, there should be 2 other chapters to follow, all in reader’s pov. I’d really like to know what you guys think. I feel like it’s too messy (it took me a while to write and i’ve been feeling stressed out so i think it transpires too much). in any case, i really hope you enjoyed, i know a lot of you anticipated a sequel so i hope i don’t disappoint. i’ll try to have the second part up next week-end. until then, peace out boys scout!

& a happy birthday to our angel, please bid your well wishes hard enough so they can reach him.

Hugs and kisses and love to you all. 💜

▲ Comment ‘tag’ if you want to be tagged when I post the next part! ▲

#btssmutclub #gukkienet #btswriterscollective #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #my writing

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vicunaburger · 5 years ago

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Admittedly, I’m Hard to See

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical Chapters: 9/? Pairing: Beetlejuice x OC (Holidae) The Players: Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz, Holidae Bell Word Count: 1,604 Warnings: M for Language and Suggestive Content

Notes: ...you all knew going into this it was slow burn, yeah? ....right??

Chapter 9 - In Which Closeness is a Matter of Perspective

“Lyddy, when I said I would help you with the art show, I meant things like… carrying equipment. Or getting props. Maybe picking up extra film.” Holidae subtly tried to adjust the position of her foot, pins and needles already crawling along her skin. “Being a model is not on that list.”

Lydia walked over, kicking Holidae’s foot back into place, “You are helping. Hold still, you keep twitching and get all blurry.”

Infinitely thankful that they were quite alone in the cemetery that afternoon, Holidae muttered under breath, trying her best to hold the poses as Lydia commanded them. She was wrapped in several layers of sheer black organza, designed to mimic a sort of mourning gown with a bit of wedding charm thrown in for flavor. The result was surprisingly effective, but did nothing to stave off the cold autumn weather, and Holidae could already feel her extremities freezing over. She did promise Lydia she would help her a photo shoot, and she learned a valuable lesson about not trusting the small photographer as far as she could throw her.

“I think my fingers are frozen. They’re blue,” Holidae leaned against the nearby headstone for support.

“So are your lips, now hush.” Lydia maneuvered herself around the other girl, the camera shutter firing rapidly. “Lean back like you’re just overwhelmed with grief.”

“I’m overwhelmed with something,” Holidae tried to do as she was told, dipping her body backwards as far as she could. “This good?”

“More.” Another series of clicks.

Holidae wobbled, catching herself on the headstone, “I don’t bend that much.”

“Try,” Lydia came over and tried to balance her friend, who promptly caught her funny bone on the granite grave marker.

“Fuck you, you try!” Holidae hissed in pain, rubbing her elbow furiously. “Or you best pay a chiropractor.”

Lydia went back to her equipment, fiddling around with some different lenses, and giving Holidae a much needed break before they tried again. This wasn’t the first time she had roped her friend into posing for her photos, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last despite protests from the model. No matter what Lydia would try and get her to do, or how she would dress her up, Holidae would just go along with it. It was like having a doll to dress-up and torture in creative ways.

The only request Holidae ever made was that her face never be in full view, and Lydia always respected her wish. Whether it be a large hat brim, or in today’s case a veil, Holidae was kept away from curious eyes. The truth of the matter was Holidae was embarrassed of her looks, and always had been. Self-esteem was a rough, bumpy road to traverse; and there were good and bad days.

It was a touchy subject, and Lydia never pushed it.

Lydia tapped her fingernails on her camera bag, trying to think of a solution to the posing problem. After a few minutes, she let out an ah-ha, getting up and brushing some leaves off of her skirt. In one quick breath, she spoke her ghostly best friend’s name three times in a row, summoning him outside of the house for a change.

Beetlejuice looked happier than he’d been in a while, smiling ear to ear, and picking up the small girl with a twirl, “Lyds! We’re in a graveyard! What’s the special occasion? Someone die? Someone needing to die? Picking out a good plot? Don’t get one by a tree or the roots will get all gnarly and stick into your casket.”

Laughing as he set her down, she shook her head, “No, I need a favor, but nothing that major.”

He stuck his hands in his overcoat pockets, looking like a noir film detective, “Anything for you, babes.”

“I need you to bend Holidae over,” Lydia said pointing over to the woman desperately trying to warm herself up.

BJ did a double take so hard there was an audible crack of his neck, “…do what now?”

“Balance issues. If you go over there and help, I can get the pose I want and you won’t show up in the picture. It’ll look super cool, trust me. Just go over and she’ll explain what I want.” Lydia waved him away, unconcerned with her phrasing.

There was a moment of hesitation on Beetlejuice’s part; not really sure if this whole thing was a setup in some way that would get him banished forever, or something worse. Well, if Lydia wanted him to be a helpful little demon, who was he to argue with such an opportunity.

Humming to himself, he flourished his stroll over to Holidae with a spin, “Oh, what have we here? Getting all dressed up just for me, Holly-hock? I just adore the shade of blue on your skin.”

Holidae tried to straighten herself up, covering the more see-through parts of the draping with her arms, “W-what are you doing o-out h-here? Fuck it’s cold.”

Beej pulled her tight against him, “Body heat is the best solution of hypothermia, right?”

“Not when you’re an ice cube!” She shivered, torn between accepting his offer and freezing to death right then and there.

“Hey! Less flirting, more posing!” Lydia barked at the two of them. “Save that stuff for indoors, it’s gross. He’s there to hold you up so you don’t bash your head open on the rock.”

“Lydia, you say one more word and I’m throwing your camera off the bridge.” Holidae pried herself out of his arms, readjusting him so that he would support her back. “If you drop me, you’re dead.”

Beej snickered, giving her flesh a hard pinch, “Already dead, baby.”

“Smartass.” Holidae grit her teeth, but bent back with her arms splayed our behind her, “And I am fully aware that you’re getting a good view of my cleavage, so don’t even start with me.”

“I am getting Lyds the best birthday gift this year,” Beetlejuice made a very obvious show of studying Holidae’s chest.

Over the next hour, Lydia would move her two companions in different ways, getting the most out of the fact BJ wouldn’t show up in the film. It saved a lot of money on expensive photo editing programs; but it was also just a fun way to spend the afternoon together in a new environment. When things would get too serious, Beetlejuice would make some face at Holidae to get her laughing, ruining the next few shots Lydia took until they could compose themselves. Or, at least Lydia was claiming they were ruined.

She wasn’t about to tell them the truth: those candid shots were not being deleted off her camera.

During one of their breaks, Holidae sat herself down on a blanket Lydia had spread out her camera equipment on to keep it from getting dirty, holding her knees to her chest in efforts to keep warm. Without warning, something was dropped onto her head, mussing her hair as she pulled it down. It was a dirty, ratty grey coat. Stained and stitched together in odd places, carrying the heavy scent of tobacco and musty earth.

Strangely enough, it was warmer than she thought it would be, and she wrapped it around her body as best she could, “You might want to wash this once in a while. Maybe just spot clean.”

Beetlejuice flopped down next to her, digging a pack of smokes from the coat pocket, “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it back. Ungrateful.”

She shook her head, burying herself deeper into the oversized clothing, “No no, I want it. I was just offering a suggestion. Thank you for not letting me freeze, I mean it. Honest.”

He took a long drag, the smoke hanging in the air due to the weather, “Eh, dying is what it is. Done it twice, not that exciting.”

Holidae looked around at the tombstones surrounding them, “Do you think these people would have the same opinion? What if they died doing something exciting?”

“I really don’t feel like digging them up and asking,” He shrugged, holding the cigarette between his teeth. “So what’s Lydia gonna do with all these photos anyway? Seems weird.”

“She keeps telling me she has a theme, but doesn’t want to jinx it with discussion and negative thoughts. I swear, she takes after her stepmother more than she wants to admit.” She picked at the blades of grass by her feet, “I just put up the pictures when they’re done.”

“Well, since she can’t have me as a model, at least she has something decent to work with.” He flipped the edge of the coat up, peeking at her sheer dress. “You’re not as beautiful and sexy as I am, but then again, nobody is.”

Holidae scooted backwards, tucking the coat back tight around her, “Hey, you’ll let the heat out! And good on you for self-confidence, but calling yourself sexy all the time is weird.”

Beetlejuice grabbed her by the ankles, dragging her back toward him, “Are you saying I’m not sexy?”

She was getting tangled in the coat, looking like an unhappy caterpillar, “No, I said that calling yourself sexy is weird. I would really appreciate you listening when I talk to you, Juice. I don’t just say things to hear myself prattle on.”

With a truly maniacal laugh, Beetlejuice jumped up, picking up Holidae in a bridal-style carry, and spun her around with a flourish. “Youuuuu think I’m sexy. You think I’m seeeexy~”

He set her back on her feet, leaving her to balance herself after all the spinning, and ran over to find Lydia.

“Lyds! Lyds, listen listen listen~ you’re friend said I’m sexy. Now you have to take back all those times you said I was only referring to myself as a sexual being to hide the fact that I have a lack of positive self esteem from a childhood borne of neglect. HA! Wait. Why are you running from me? Lydia!”

Writing Tags: @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @ashemspirit

#beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice x self insert #writing time #beetlejuice x oc

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reddie-fangirl24 · 5 years ago

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Abyss Part 1 (A Reddie/Abyss Crossover)

Note: For anyone who has not seen the ‘89 film The Abyss, this scene is based off on the climatic drowning scene in the film. I had to write this crossover with Reddie. I hope you enjoy! Part 2 will hopefully be posted within the week.

Splashing through the frigid Pacific waters flooding into their compact submarine, Eddie and Richie did whatever they could do to stop the immense leak from pouring into what was once their safe world from the dangers of the ocean.

“Deep Blue Sea to Base, come in! Do you read me?” Eddie sounded over the radio once more. “We are quickly taking on water! I repeat we are taking on water at an immense pace!”

“You really think they’re going to answer if you enhance your vocabulary?” Richie teased. It was mainly to lighten the mood. The frigid water searing against his bare skin felt like knives shooting into him. Those survivors from the Titanic weren’t exaggerating.

Eddie sighed, ready to give in. “There’s no answer!”

“We’re flooding like a son of a bitch!” Richie announced stating the obvious. A foot of water already made its home inside the submarine.

“I’ve noticed,” Eddie noted with a sneer. Fortunately for Eddie, he couldn’t feel the freezing climate because of his wetsuit. He was well prepared for everything.

As Richie studied the wall trying to find where the water was coming in, he nervously looked at Eddie who was also in a panic. Oh, he hated worrying him. The doctors had warned Eddie to take it easy right after his life-threatening injury. That was the whole reason why Eddie decided to begin a whole different career choice that Richie never knew about. That was one of the best things about reuniting and getting to be with Eddie. He had so much more to learn.

“I didn’t know those rocks were going to be around the corner!” He apologized to Eddie.

His heart fell into the pit of his stomach. His latest screw up really messed everything up this time. For Eddie. He had everything he’d been searching for. The greatest job opportunity, along with studying with some of the greatest marine biologists and even viewing sights so glorious for one’s eyes.

When Eddie had asked the Losers Club to come and witness a free open look at what his job was like, none of them could refuse, including Richie. Eddie loved his job so much that he wouldn’t be home until later at night, sometimes after Richie was finished with one of his performances. And that was late.

Richie knew he should have just left Eddie alone instead of begging for him to take him along on his next adventure under the sea. He couldn’t help it. That’s what happened when you missed someone you loved. It wasn’t easy almost witnessing someone you love almost die in front of you.

“Neither did I, Rich,” Eddie responded, turning to look at him with this gigantic grin. He wasn’t at all bitter. Although Richie couldn’t tell if he was covering it all up just for his sake. “Nobody has explored these parts yet. We were first!”

For a brief second, Eddie’s glimmering expression distracted Richie. That was also the reason for the accident. They were exploring a new and different world. Together.

Just then, a dozen electrical sparks shot out from the side of the sub, flying dangerously close to Richie. The lights flickered, and went out for good, leaving the lovers in darkness.

Immediately, Eddie picked up a flashlight and shined it on Richie. “Are you okay?” Eddie asked worriedly.

“Yeah, the stupid water must’ve fouled up the wires! I didn’t do anything!”

Eddie sighed and smiled tenderly at his love. “Rich, I don’t care about this fucking submarine. Just tell me how you are so I can breathe, please?”

Richie smiled warmly at the comment. It eased some of his tension. “Yeah. I’m okay. Are you?”

“Fine.”

More and more seawater poured into the submarine with no signs of stopping. Looking out the small ocular window Eddie squinted and caught sight of the rig. They were quite some distance away.

“You think they’d come after us?” Richie asked, his voice sounding unusually distressed.

“That’s what I’m trying to estimate! It’s sixty to seventy yards away. But it’s going to take them a while to find us!” Eddie stared into the back of the sub. The amount of water was increasing at a quicker pace than expected. The best option was to stop the flooding and fast.

“Do you see where it’s coming in from?” Eddie asked Richie, shining the light into the dim room, stepping into the back of the sub with Richie.

“Behind this panel!” Richie grunted trying to remove it. Unfortunately, the panel was glued to the wall and wouldn’t budge. Not only that but Richie was getting soaked from the splashing water. It was tough to see with water sloshing onto his glasses.

“I wonder if we have any tools to help remove it.” Eddie wondered. He shined his light all around and started walking into the wheel room again. Everything on the ground was already underwater. The most random thought came to Eddie’s mind. Were fish looking in on them right now? They were the abnormalities to them.

An immense splash caught Eddie’s attention. Turning around, Richie had fallen back into the water completely soaking himself from head to toe. Luckily, his glasses didn’t fly off. He must have tried too hard to tare the panel off.

“Fuck!” Richie screamed, spitting out seawater. He punched the panel with his fist as if to punish it.

Eddie reached out placing a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder. “Richie, stop! That never works and you know it! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“‘K!” Richie responded bitterly, flipping his wet hair out of his face. Eddie finally noticed that Richie was shivering all over, and his teeth were even chattering. Not to mention, his hands were turning blue!

Putting the flashlight on a nearby shelf, Eddie took Richie’s hands and immediately rubbed them together creating friction. How could he forget that they were in waters below freezing?

“We need to get you out of here! Why on earth did you wear shorts?” Eddie scolded.

“Crashing into rocks and flooding the sub wasn’t on the list!”

“Then you should have at least accepted a wetsuit!”

“Your marine biologist group only supplied us with one scuba tank! I’m not the only one who should be reprimanded for bein’ unprepared!” Richie did make a point there. As smart as most of these scientists were they were quite aloof.

Eddie’s mind raced in a million different directions trying to come up with a plan. From the looks of it, they didn’t have much time. The sub was now flooded up to their waists and rising. Richie was shivering and shivering, continuing to swear under his breath. His breath was even starting to race. Not a good sign.

Shaking off the cold, Richie grabbed the nearby scuba tank and threw it around Eddie’s back. “You swim back to the rig!” he ordered.

Eddie refused it, lightly pushing it away, and shaking his head. “It’s at least an eight-minute swim each way! If I went then you’d be…” Eddie cut himself off. They both knew the dire consequences of what would happen. Richie’s throat closed up. Eddie had an exact idea of what memory Richie was thinking about. Reluctantly, Richie slowly nodded, accepting the fact.

“We have to figure something out together!” Eddie persuaded.

Richie moved to hook Eddie into his scuba tank. “Let’s get you set first!”

Just then Eddie had an idea. He grabbed at the zipper holding his suit together. “No, you put this on!”

“No, keep it on!” Richie frustratingly implored, zipping Eddie back up. Now Eddie was going to be difficult?

“You’re a better swimmer!”

“And you’re not! You need this more than I do!” Richie argued. Eddie couldn’t argue with that. Swimming was not his forte. Well, it used to be when he was a kid. Deepwater swimming was a challenge for him after the injury. Most simple tasks were. Only part of his spine was hit much relief to the doctors who told him that he could have been paralyzed. Thank God, he didn’t.

Without another struggle (which was impossible in Eddie’s case) Richie finally strapped the scuba tank over Eddie’s back. “We need to think of the most logical option right now and we’re running out of time!” Eddie urged. Their heads were close to touching the ceiling now.

“Eds, every idea p-people have come up with is crazy! There is no-no such thing as logic! F-Fuck logic!” Richie was so cold that he could hardly form words anymore.

“Then what do you propose we do!” Eddie shouted, his temper rising.

Richie shivered. He could hardly even think now. Then he stared darkly at the water, eerily quiet for a second, until meeting Eddie’s eyes. Eddie frowned, fearful of the fear etched in Richie’s blue eyes. In all the years Eddie had known Richie he never witnessed a look like that.

The next thing Eddie knew Richie took his hands, hugging them tightly. “L-Listen, listen, Eds,” Richie urged as gently as he could, trying to speak coherently. “Do you t-trust me?”

Those words. “Yes. Yes, of course, I do, Richie!”

“And I trust you,” Richie admitted earnestly. He then stared into his lover’s enamoring brown eyes and placed his cold hand on Eddie’s cheek. It was enough to make Eddie shiver. But he leaned into it, enjoying the gentle touch. “Y-You remember when you told me that story about h-how some guy was-was pulled out of the water after drowning? He wasn’t even breathing and had no pulse. But, paramedics brought him back to life. Do you r-remember how long that was?”

“Ten minutes,” Eddie responded, utterly confused.

“And it takes eight minutes to swim up to the rig!”

Eddie’s blood ran cold, finally understanding what Richie was getting at. He shook his head furiously. “No… no, no!”

“Yes! Yes, it’s our only option! I drown, you t-tow me back to the rig, and then you can revive me. R-Raise me from the dead!”

As insane as Richie’s plan sounded they were running out of options. Tears fell from Eddie’s eyes. This mission was only to explore ocean life. He wanted to go back to looking at all the fish and different creatures inhabiting the bottom of the ocean. And Richie marveling over the sights made him so happy. He just wanted to come along to see what his job was like. And then Eddie realized how little time he’d spent with his boyfriend lately, all because he loved his job wanting to spend more time researching and watching marine life. They’d only been together for not only two years.

Not only two years...

“Christ, Richie… this is insane…”

“Tell me about it!”

“What if…”

Richie cut Eddie off with a searing kiss easing their tension. Neither resisted the heated love. For all they knew it was possible that it was their last.

In a split second, Richie grabbed Eddie’s helmet floating nearby and threw it over Eddie’s head. “You can do this, Eddie! You can do anything!” Richie encouraged, locking his helmet into place. The water surrounded all around Eddie’s head as he became a part of the water, ducking under the surface.

The last of Richie’s air was a tiny space. The poor man choked, coughing, and sputtering. His hands hit the ceiling, screaming from the frigid pain. Tears spilled down Eddie’s face feeling so helpless as he watched Richie thrashing about, struggling. Due to his soundproof helmet, Eddie could not hear any of Richie’s heart-wrenching screams.

“God, why did I think of this stupid fucking idea?!” Richie screamed, accusing himself for coming up with literally one of the worst ideas ever. Right when he was cut off from air, Richie ducked under the water, already struggling, unprepared to hold his breath.

Water was such a unique world from all the rest. No sound. Just a liquid world surrounding you. With no air. Eddie had a clear visual of Richie’s contoured, scared expression while all Richie could make out was a complete blur. That’s what his vision was like without his glasses. Though he could just make out Eddie’s brown eyes.

Richie reached out, holding Eddie’s arms, practically squeezing the life out of him. Eddie held him back doing whatever he could do to comfort his boyfriend. Words lodged inside his throat, unable to say anything. What could he say?

Richie hugged Eddie feeling himself slowly succumbing to no oxygen. It hurt. How it hurt. This was going to be quite the story to tell. No, he didn’t want Eddie to know about this part. If he lived… God, if he lived he would make Eddie invent a machine to erase all memories that were nightmares.

Hold me, Eddie. I’m so scared!

Eddie felt Richie’s body convulse right under him until he noticed a string of bubbles.

And then… nothing.

#Reddie #It Chapter 2 #It Movie #Reddie Fanfiction #The Abyss #Crossover #Richie Tozier #Eddie Kaspbrak #The Losers Club #It 2017 #Lovers #sacrifice

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shesawriter39049 · 5 years ago

Text

|Touch Me, Tease Me| M|

SMUT/ A LIL ANGST

(Gif not related...he just looks...good. like..fuck.)

Pairing : Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon eats you out the minute you walk in the door because well...that’s the kinda husband he is!

Or- Jimin text’s Namjoon to brace him for the mood you’ll more than likely be in after a day full of drama and finally firing the front desk receptionist! Which essentially red for him to make you come hard AF and then feed you....OH, and You guys invite Yoongi over to talk about the Tae and Kookie “Thing”

WARNINGS: Oral/ Fingering/Light dirty talk/ Cum play/Light spit play/Over stimulation(M/F)/Pet names/Hand jobs/Body worshiping/ Is nipple play a thing?????/ (Also it’s not said but it’s somewhat obvious the OC is prob ovulating, since shes super emotional, and overly sensitive rn)

Note: This is a stand alone smut drabble within my OT7 poly universe called “7 DEEP”. Short AU SUMMARY: Your husband Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in an open relationship with!

WC:5.7K

Song Reference: Case Ft Foxy Brown “Touch Me Tease Me”

Final note: This is apart of a series, and this can be read as a stand alone..since it’s 90% smut lol however some of the references you won’t understand...

~~~~~

......Your tired...it’s been a long ass day.... “Baby?” Namjoon’s voice rings through your apartment the minute the door opens, though you can’t physically see him you still feel that honey-coated baritone run down your spine as it bounces off every wall. You close the door behind you with a heavy sigh, leaning against it letting as if your life depended on it, eyes fluttering shut immediately, more so mentally drained than anything else!

“Yea?” Your response comes out dryer than intended but you know Namjoon knows you well enough to not even be phased by it. You hear his feet patter into the foyer, still not bothering to open your eyes yet, everything just feels so damn heavy that even that alone seems exhausting!

Until eventually you start to feel the steam radiating off his body, followed by the owe so familiar scent of pine and vanilla...His allergies have been killing him lately so he opted to work from home today instead...clearly fresh out the shower.

The weight shifts against the door as he braces his hands on either side of your head, leaning down to nose at your face like a cat. Leaning into his touch as he works his way down your neck, even as gentle as his touch currently is you still feel it everywhere...everything just feels extremely sensitive today! Silently coaxing you to open your eyes, only to be met by those sharp, beautiful brown orbs of his...skin still holding a slight sheen over is tattooed chest..hair damp, face flushed. Nothing discrete in the ways yours eyes greedily unravel his body...not that there's much to unravel anyway. He's only wearing joggers for fucks sake.

Namjoon lets out a low hum, as he places a couple kisses along the hinge of your jaw “I heard someone had a shitty ass day….” He phrases it more of a statement than a question as he nips at your skin, leaning down to press a lingering kiss on the side of your neck as he unties your jacket. Soothing his hands down your arms as he helps you step out of it..letting it fall where it may. Lacing your arms around his neck, releasing a breath that you didn't even know you were holding, but that’s what he does to you. Effortlessly, he puts your mind and body at ease...you feel his breath ghost over your hair, hot, wet, wanting, the grip he holds on your waist seems to be the only thing keeping you remotely grounded right now! Titling your chin upwards silently,asking and he gives it to you, because of course he does, this man can't deny you a damn thing even if he tried.

He gently brings your lips together, coaxing your mouth open in a way that has you moaning out instantly, letting your hands slide down his sides gripping his waist. Once his lips touch yours there's no other way to describe the feeling except relief, utter fuckin relief, slips through every cell in your body as you both sigh into it. Realistically you know, everything will be okay, you know it’s just one bad day, but for some reason right now...it just feels heavy every thing just feels fucking heavy and you really just need this..you need him!

Namjoon lets a hand trickle up your back until it meets the nape of your beck, taking an almost possessive grip to keep you in place as he deepens the kiss. Your suddenly feeling really desperate and to be honest you don’t quite know why, however your clawing at your husband's chest like your touch starved knowing damn well your far from it. Namjoon has always been a very..versatile lover..theirs time and place, he doesn't need to always be in “Daddy dom mode”, and he knows you like the back of his hand. Well aware you need some kind of anchor, some form of control right now after the day you just had so he lets you take it. He lets you lick into his mouth as you please and he swallows every moan that slips past your lips as he rocks his hips into yours making your knees weak and your chest feel like it’s caving in on itself.

However no matter how desperate you feel right now, the kiss doesn't add to your state of arousal….it calms your mind...slowing all the gears down. Your body on the other hand, is a completely, different story it has a mind of its own . not that you blame it, not when you have a half naked Namjoon Kim pressed flush against you, caging you against the door!

You swear your apartment feels at least 10 degrees hotter than it was when you walked in, suddenly Namjoon is impatiently tugging at your dress. Alternating between stretching it and balling it into a fist. “This... fuckin dress” You instantly knew he wanted skin on skin, so you gave it too him. Pulling back just enough so he can tug your dress over your head leaving you in front of him in nothing but your bra, panties and high heels. “What do you need, baby?” He pants into your mouth “Just tell me what it is and I’ll give it to you…” Without responding you tug him closer, caging him between your thighs and the 6 inches on your feet putting the two of you damn near at eye level for once!

You don’t actually respond initially, however the way your entire body deflated into the door just says it all.... And that’s what snaps him out of his lush clouded haze for a moment. I mean yeah he wants to rip you apart..but this isn't about him, it was never about him. So, he steps back, and you damn near whine at the lack of contact, but you silently watch, as he cocks his head to the side taking a moment to look at you. I mean really look...and …he coos lightly, reaching up to thumb at your jaw, swallowing hard, breath a little uneven.

“Your tired” He notes gingerly as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and you try to smile but it doesn't quite work.

“I am, baby, mentally more than anything else…” It’s not like there’s been one catastrophic thing that’s taken place...it’s also not like you haven’t been through way worse. Your hormones are just fucking with you hard today, on top of the fact that there’s just a lot going on. Firing Jordan before you even know if the new hire is really gonna show up! This underlying tension between Tae and Kook that you can already tell Yoongi’s gonna get sucked into which will not end well! There’s nothing he hates more than petty drama...then there’s the Spectrum launch in Vegas next month….it’s just...yeah..yeah!

He nods knowing full well the chaos running through your mind, hating that you look like your handling the load for both of you though….

“We don’t have to do anything, I can run you a bath, we can cuddle, I can even chill out here and give you your space...I just…” Gripping your face in the palm of his hands with a deep sigh, eyes clearly uneasy by the blatant strain in yours “I need your mind to slow down a little ...yeah need!” Answering the unasked question within your gaze “I don't- you know you can always talk to me right?!” Thick brows furrowing in the center of his face “ I don’t care how busy I am...always ..” Squeezing your face to emphasize the point “Did I-did I do something? Are we okay?” The way he staggers over his words, timid and faint as if he thinks he’s the problem is just….

Ohhh Joonie baby! Leaning in to press your forehead flush against his...trying to latch onto some of his energy, because it;s always 10 times calmer than yours....

“Were fuckin solid baby” Tilting your head upwards to kiss him, quick but firm! “There’s just a lot on my mind...including you...constantly…” You offer the strongest smile you can muster “But your far from the issue” Eyes locking with his “And no, I don’t wanna move, I don’t want space, just want you-“

“You got me…” He cuts you off instantly taking your hands in his, feeling how they are scrambling along his skin. Your all over the damn place, almost frantically as if your afraid he’s going to evaporate! So he opts to guide the pads of your fingers along his chest, stomach…

“I just want you to touch me,until I forget about everything and everybody else. Just touch me baby, make me feel good….that’s all I need” The last words hushed off your lips as if the two of you were in a room full!

He looks down at you, with the perfect combination of lust and love... “Yeah, yeah, I’ll always make you feel good baby…” Your almost breathless once his lips find the curve of your neck again, heading towards your shoulder blade. His touch is tender, soft, gentle…. “Always be your escape from the rest of the world whenever you need me to me…” Namjoon gives you a soft dimpled smile,that has your chest clinching painfully tight, and the way his body shielded yours it was almost as if he was hiding you from everyone else. You felt safe, in his arms like this ``Let me take care of you tonight.”

Namjoon doesn't phrase it as a question because he knows how badly you need this. However his delivery is soft enough not to make you feel...forced...

You nod somewhat breathlessly, to be honest you’ve never been good at being completely pliant, and no, everything isin’t always a dom/ sub dynamic but it's still rare you just lay there and “receive” without giving something in return! Your hands are still all over the place though, like you don’t know how to just be taken care of. As if you feel as though you have to be doing something! Which only makes him lean in and kiss you again, harder, deeper, trying to slow you down...trying to slow your mind down...

The slow languid slide of his tongue against yours, leaning in to press his forehead to your temple. While you both try to catch your breath, “Breathe, it’s just you and me….I got you…” .

“I know” You nod pressing your body as tight to Namjoon’s as you can, your minds a hazy fucking mess but you know you want him, all over you and then some. Your tired and you just wanna be touched, sometimes you forget how addicted you truly are for the feeling of Namjoon’s mouth against your own. Especially during moments like this, when it’s soft, determined, heavy, when you can tell he's pouring everything he has into it...putting every ounce of his beaning to that kiss as if that's all he has to give! “I know…” You echo again, more so for your own sanity than anyone else's.

You can’t help but start to rock against him and you instantly feel Namjoon’s cock flesh against your inner thigh. He’s getting harder by the second as his hands claw down your back and your skin feels like it’s scorching hot beneath the pads of his fingers. It’s like he knows what your thinking too, the minute you feel him pulsing against you “Don’t worry about me, this aint about me…” He mumbles between kisses, those skillful lips of his latch onto your jaw “There’s no way in hell I could ever see you standing in front of me and not be hard as fuck, but I’m not worried about me and my needs right now….so tell me what you want baby…”

“Namjoon” You whine, mind and body feeling completely overwhelmed “I can’t even think straight right now I just want…”

Namjoon just smirks as he kisses you again, tongue hot and heavy against your bottom lip as he licks at the seam “Then don’t think, just let me have you, let me do what I want, what you need.. ” Sliding his hands down your back until his palms land on your ass and he squeezes tight, rocking your hips forward with a moan, and this man never fails to knock the air straight out of your lungs! As you hum out a poor excuse for a response “Can I do that baby? Can I just take care of you and make you feel good?”

“Let me in...” The words hushed against your lips and damn near knocked the wind out of you in the process, because you knew he didn't just mean sexually...he meant in every sense of the word.

‘Fuck” Whines form your lips as you suck Namjoons between your teeth, the word “Yes” hushes off your tongue so faint he barley hears you! He pulls back slowly, leaning down to run his nose along your jaw, tailing the path with his tongue, then leaving an array of open mouth kisses right beneath. Namjoon can feel you continiously rock your hips down against his thigh and he can’t help but smile against your skin, tensing the muscle to add to the stimulation “Taste me...” You finally implore voice completely wrecked with need!

He moans against your neck “Mm yeah?You wanna feel my tongue all over your pussy baby? You wanna come on my face?” “This man had the sexiest bedroom eyes you’d ever seen, biting down on his bottom lip…hips slowly grinding down into you. “Yeah, your coming all over it face” Rehprahasing it as a statement as opposed to a question and you feel goosebumps breakout along every inch of your skin.

Namjoon leans back down crashing your lips together, he’s kissing you with a purpose now! It was a little messy, more tongue than skill on both ends at this point not that either of you cared. Hands roaming up your body, as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. Before moving down to sprinkle kisses over your neck, down your jaw, where he starts sucking at your skin. Clearly leaving marks that you and your concealer would have fun covering tomorrow but you could care less! Every time he sucks your skin between those skilled lips of his you let out a muffled sigh, which filtered into a deep needy moan that and your husbands skin felt like it was burning from the inside out!

It’s a mixture of a kiss and a nuzzle as he works his way down your body, eyes flicking up, hazy and heavy watching every reaction. Moaning in unison as your whines fill the apartment the more he marks you, the more he takes his time exploring and cherishing your body as if it’s his sole purpose on this earth. As if his cock isint hard as fuck and throbbing in his pants right now.

Reaching behind you to unclasp your bra, tossing it to the side, letting out a sasatifed hum once he notices how hard your nipples already are. Leaning forward to just blow along your aerola until your hissing and squrimng beneath him. Namjoon grazes your nipples with his lips, and your already arching into his mouth before he even laces his tongue around the bud. Chasing the pleasure which only has Namjoon moaning against you even louder, your loud needy, and making a mess in your panties and you can’t even get yourself to care. Not when your husband's lips and tongue keep repeatedly grazing over your aerola to the point where you actually feel like you could come. The way he’s taking his time to suction each bud between his lips has your thighs are shaking!

“Fuck, my babies so sensitive today…”

You barely even acknowledge the statement your already so far gone, especially once he takes one nipple between his mouth, toying it with his tongue while flicking the other with his index finger and thumb. It has you shaking, gasping, and shuddering, back arching wordlessly asking for more.. Everything just feels like too much and not enough all at the same damn time!

“Baby” Namjoon whispers almost awestruck upon sliding his hands between your thighs, feeling how wet you are, a deep, moan slips from the back of his throat. “Fuck”

Namjoon’s lips finally started to paint a trail south and god he knows how to rip you apart with his tongue you were already a damn mess! Finally making his way further down, kicking and sucking a path down your stomach. Eventually dropping down to his knees, the site of those big brown eyes gazing up at you, lids heavy, completely blown out, that alone already had you feeling light headed!

You can feel him smiling against your skin, dimples and all as he kisses at your lower stomach, loving the ways the muscles contract beneath his lips. “Your so fuckin gorgeous …” He coos’s against your skin, as he hooks his fingers around the side of your panties. “Relax” Breaths again your skin and you gasp spreading your legs on command.

Forehead resting against your stomach, while his hands kneaded at your thighs, planting open mouth kisses right above your center. Goosebumps appearing in the wake of his lips, you could feel him smirking against your skin from how antsy you are! Already well aware of how bad your body was screaming for him at this point. Sucking down on the area, leaving a bouquet of bruises behind for you to look down at and relive all over again .

“Namjoon please…”You plead, rocking your hips forward, until he tugs at the seam of your panties, effortlessly ripping the thin lace apart. The slight pain from the coarse fabric dragging against your skin, accompanied by your husband's blatant desier to give you what you want has you moaning even harder.

“Holy shit” The moment he slid your panties hit the ground and your arousal hit his nose, the scent rippes a pained moan from his throat. If you didn't know any better you'd swear his mouth was watering once he tricked his fingers between your lips that were literally running down his hand. Pulling back much to your dismay only to lock his gaze with yours as he slowly sucks them between his lips one by one! The sight of him ,devouring your juices off of his fingers felt like enough to make you cum right there. Moaning against his hand as if you were the best thing he tasted all damn day. “God, taste so good baby”

You can feel his breath right against your pussy and it’s already making a muffled whine slip past your lips before he really even dose anything. Sliding his index finger in slowly ,going knuckle deep all in one notion, curling it upward until the thick diamond encrusted band on his finger was flicking against your clit! There's already intense pressure building in the pit of your stomach as you try to steady yourself against the door. The slick sound of him teasing up your center had your ears burning. “Babyyyy “ his face almost reflecting pain as he watched how wet you were for him and only him . The way your juices were just dripping down your inner thighs, looking, back at you as if he just wanted to slide in right then and there. But as he said, this wasn;t about him….this was all about his baby, and she asked for him to taste her...so that’s all he cared about!

“Jooon ...please” Eyes heavy as you glanced down at him whining …shifting your hips against his hands .

“You don’t gotta beg…” Leaning down to blow against your clit “At least not today” God, he looked like the perfect combination of an angel and the damn devil as he smirked up at you.

“Fuck, well just put your tongue on my clit and make me cum plea-a-oh fuck” Finally letting his tongue go where you’ve been aching for him, sliding up and down your slit slowly, and your body felt like it was on fire! The noise you let out once you feel Namjoons tongue hot and wet against you should be utterly embarrassing. But you could give less than a damn, he;s licking around the head of your clit in a way that has your toes curling against the sole of your shoes. Your body was hypersensitive today, every time his tongue touched you it felt like it was enough for you to come! Like he’s been edging you for hours and he just. Fucking. Started!

Namjoon pushing his tongue past your entrance, joining his fingers and your eyes fall shit , grip tightening on the doorknob, as bolts of pleasure rip through your veins. Your already sweating. The feeling of his tongue burning deep inside you rocking in tune with his fingers, the wet obscene sounds that fill your apart, you fuckin live for it! Everything just felt hot,your clit was already rock hard and your thighs were wavering like a leaf in the wind! The 6 inches on the bottom of your shoes are no longer working in your favor, not trusting your legs to support yourself, and clearly neither did he so he shifted our body seamlessly, wrapping your legs around his shoulders. Propping you up, so he could bury his face right where you wanted him and he was deep. He had you at the perfect angle to actually engulf his tongue within your entrance, just teasing your walls enough to have them trying to clench around the muscle!

You drop your head against the door, if you weren’t so far gone it would probably hurt, “Oh, my god, baby push your fingers in deeper” You choke on a moan and it feels like your entire body is trying to coil in on itself as your husband dose exactly as you ask. Wrapping his lips back around your clit, sucking in, moaning against your skin sending what felt like vibrations through your entire body. Pushing his fingers in as deep as possible, curling them alongside his tongue just enough to hit the soft right spot that he can find with his eyes closed at this point. The sensation rips through every cell in your body and your suddenly teetering over the edge almost embarrassingly fast.

“Your not gonna last ” He kept his face close as he spoke every word sent your body shaking harder than the next. It wasn’t even meant to be arrogant,or condensing this time, to be honest he was more so speaking to himself than anyone..almost in awe!

“No— fuck, I’m not but please don’t stop, keep going I need it- need you-fuck” The words fell from your lips in a combination of a plea and a whine as you nuzzled your fingers in those dark chocolate locks of his!.He already knew what you needed..to be pushed past you limits...overwork your muscles until they just kinda..shut down...until your mind shut down!

“I’m right here,I got you” Namjoon promised, letting your gaze meet and you struggled to focus, especially with him looking at you like that. Your lips parted, gasping slightly

“That’s it baby. Enjoy it. God, making such a fuckin mess too…” You can feel yourself almost pushing your heat right into his face at this point your so damn needy! Namjoon moans, blunt nails digging into your ass to keep you in place.

“My baby’s feelin good huh?” Namjoon’s voice is somewhat strained, setting deeper and husker than usual and goddamn

A strangled groan laves your throat that I guess can be considered a coked out moan, there wasn't much talking from that point on. You told Namjoon you wanted to be too overwhelmed to think and that’s exactly what you were! Your apartment filled with nothing but heavy moans, accompanied by the sound of his name leaving your throat at numerous octaves...

He keeps one arm wrapped around your waist to make sure you don’t fall, and though you asked for three, I don't think you were really ready, especially once he tries to spread them out slightly. And you actually scream, literally this is why you'll probably not be offered a lease renewal in a couple months. Your loud….

“Yeah, yeah...there you go....” Namjoon can tell that your right there, so he moves back to suck your clit back into his mouth your thighs instinctively go right around his neck. Almost as if your trying to suffocate him, and obviously you aren’t it;s just a lot...the pressures a lot..your body dosen’t quite know what to do.

Namjoon growls low, and theirs no other way to describe the sound except primal, possessive, and it’s so fucking sexy. “Stop...” Eyes glaring up in your direction, tone calm yet..stern...he may not be in daddy mode but ugh...he always is daddy . You whine but do as he says, far to gone to even be a smart ass right now, and you feel him hum around you! The vibrations hush against your skin. Scissoring his fingers in and out at a relentless pace, he told you he wasn't in the mood to make you beg and he meant it. The sound of his palm smacking against your lips, only grew louder the wetter you got, your own arousal making his hand almost stick to your skin. There was a slight sting, from the bulk of his rings, including his wedding band smacking against your skin yet that only had you moaning even louder. The rough contrast between his smooth stealthy fingers and the thick metal fucking you open!

It was like he could feel that your body was getting use to the rhythm, you were stilll shaking, however you wouldn’t jerk and twitch as hard anymore...so clearly he decided....fuck that! Sliding out and using his index and middle finger to spread your lips apart, just enough to let him attack the tip of your clit as he needed. Sucking hard, as if he was trying to swallow you whole! Pursing his lips to spit right on the bud, not that you needed it just because he loved you messy! Flicking and rolling his tongue against the most sensitive area of your body , and you felt your walls start to contract, around, fuck imagination at this point because his fingers weren’t in you but it didn't matter!

“Baby….fuck- “ Head lolling back to hit the door even harder this time. Fuck you’re gonna have a migraine, your moans are growing louder, gaze heavy, lightheaded as your eyes slowly met the back of your head.

Once he had you in his mouth on you like this,in a way that had you shaking, whining, desperate... he slid his fingers back inside you, curling them in and out. Thumb, teasing at your rim, circling the entrance just enough to have you arching into it, silently begging for more though you really couldn’t handle it right now. Probing that rigid patch tucked between your pulsing heat, your walls damn near suffocating his fingers. Every time he tried to pull out, you sucked him right back in, alternating between rolling his tongue against your clit, and sucking down on it. Those lips of his where relentless, treating your clit as if it was a straw and was the thing thats what sent your body over the edge!.You felt your body start to shake, and twitch in his grasp and yet he still didn't release your clit from his mouth even as you came, hard. You knew you had to be running down his faced at this point, and he fucking loved it.

You suddenly felt his eyes on you, and you forced yourself to lookd down at him, as he silently asked for permission to keep going....not even remotely trusting your voice! So, you just tightened the grip you held on his hair, pushing his head back down and Namjoon moaned so loud you almost thought he came.

“Nam-Joonnnnn” Choked from your lungs, eyes squeezing back shut...as his tongue started caressing your lips. Slowly rolling his neck head first into your pussy as if he was giving you a deep passionate kiss..fuck I mean, I guess he was.Is it possible to make love to someones clit with your tongue?! Because if soo...that’s exactly what it felt like Namjoon was doing!

He gradually slowed down his pace, not pulling away completely just yet, laying his tongue flat against your lips.Taking slow, long drags, until his tongue worked his way upwards curling against your pelvic bone. Namjoon licked you from head to toe not that it cleared up anything though, it actually only made more of a mess! As you twitched and jerked at ever flick of the tongue!Finally letting his lips move over to your inner thighs, leaving light butterfly kisses while he waited for your body to stop shaking. Your eyes felt like they were glued shut, and you were hot to the touch. You let him shift you around, not even attempting to help slowly adjusting your body so you could stand, but he knew you really couldn’t. So he kept a arm tight around your waist so you didn’t collapse, since your thighs felt like a damn slinky. Using the back of his palm to wipe the reminder of your essence off his face. Letting his tongue run along his teeth, he smiled down at you, pleased with himself as you couldn’t even keep your eyes open.

Running his thumb against your cheek until finally looked at him... nosing up your face...yet now his eyes read something softer. Less cocky more loving and concerned...He didn't even speak his eyes silently asking....“You good?” His touch was so soft you felt chills coursing down your spine again...only this time for a completely different reason....

You just nodded, a lazy smile tugging on your lips, as you started feeling like you could actually breath again. Taking a firm grip on the hair at the nape of his neck, bringing his lips to meet yours, kissing you deep, love and adoration pouring off your tongue, as you moaned into his mouth. Tasting yourself on every inch of on his mouth. Namjoon reached down, cupping your ass, with both hands wrapping your legs around his waist.

Walking you wordlessly down the long hallway to your master suite, kicking the door shut behind him, the room was dark, the only light came peeping through the curtains. Tossing you back onto the bed, an airy laugh leaving your chest as you bounced along the mattress. Resting on your elbows in a slight arch as your eyes drunk him as he crawled onto the bed, yanking you by your ankles to pull you down to him. Finally sliding your feet out of your Louboutins after fuck, 10 plus hours! Kissing both of your ankles in the process, lightly massaging the balls of your feet before laying them flat on the bed.

“Baby” Fanned past your lips with a smirk as he slid his palm between your thighs, moaning at the way the damn near stuck together. Even now, after you’ve came he hasn’t stopped doing what you've asked...you wanted to be touched welll....

Knees spread on either side of your body, supporting his weight so he’s not sitting directly on top of you. Namjoon’s touching you everywhere, though now your body’s hot and sticky but you don't mind. The pads of his fingers only had fuel to the flame, every inch he touches feels like its scorching against your Egyptian cotton. There's no alternative laced within this either expect taking care of you like he originally offered. His touch is a little stronger though, almost massaging your aching muscles in the process. Leaning down to trail open mouth kisses everywhere he can reach, sucking at your heat induced skin, leaving marks all over the damn place. The other boys will bitch but he could give less than a fuck right now. Not when your moaning and looking up at him so soft, pliant, needy...he’d give you any fucking thing you asked for right now!

You completely shudder beneath him, eyes falling shut, blissed and overwhlemed, and high off of everything that is Namjoon!

“Namjoon….”

Namjoon moans at that, at how needy you sound, leaning down to nose up your jaw “Say it again baby…’ Tracing a mindless path along your skin...and you give him what he wants, nuzzling into the crook of his neck...nipping and sucking his honey coated skin between your teeth. His cock grazes your thigh and no, you gotta do something about this, your mans in pain, he has to be!

Sliding your hand inside his sweats and the minute he goes to dispute you nip at his skin, “Let me..please let me…” The words porpously purr off your tongue in nothing but a moan and as I said..this man can't deny you a damn thing!

He nods against your hair, and you bump him with your nose until he brings his lips over to yours.You kiss him hard sucking his lower lip into your mouth, as you start to stroke him, you can feel him throbbing in your palm, precum leaking all over the damn place Namjoon’s dick actually feels warm in your hand he’s so worked up. Well aware it won’t take much at all he’s essentially been edging himself since you walked in the door!

Your husband breaths heavy and ragged into the kiss he’s already so close…”You took such good care of me Joon, always…” He moans, slightly whiny as he starts to rock his lips into your hand as you stroke him harder. Grip tighter “I love you baby” Thumbing over his slit and he comes, spilling all over your hand and into his sweats a string of moans falls from his lips as, eyes squeezing shut, arms shaking barley able to hold himself up. You don't’ stop though, not until he’s practically swatting your hands away because he can’t take anymore. Sliding your palm free, letting him take in the site, as he tries to steady his breathing, a glint of amusement in yours eyes as you bring it up to your mouth. Namjoon Moans against the side of your face as you lap your tongue over your palm, sucking each finger into your mouth into there redeemed ..clean...

“Fuckkkk” Husks off his tongue..and no matter how exhausted you are you let me fall into you..wrapping your arms and legs around his waist as he nuzzles against the crook of your neck.

The two of you just lay there in comfortable silence for lord knows how long until...

“I know today was hard, and I know it will probably get harder...but, we got this…” Hushes against the side of your face “We came so fuckin far, and were going figure this out...it’s just,,this is all a adjustment for everybody...but we got this…”

You don’t really wanna talk about work any further right now...you just wanna be in this moment with him...so instead you just....

“I love you.”

“And you know I love you”

He reaches up and grabs your jaw, grip firm, something heavy on his chest regardless...laying his forehead against yours.

“Whenever your feelin like this, just remember that it’s okay...and it aint just you....stop trying to bare all this shit by yourself. I’m fucking here, it;s my job to take some of this off your plate!” Nuzzling against your cheek “Weather that be mentally...emotionally...” Namjoon pauses, letting his eyes trail over all the marks along your body as he bites his lip, dragging it between his teeth “Sexually” Dropping his voice a little nipping at your jaw with a small smirk. Grinding his hips against you until your moaning again while clawing your nails down his back. Leaning in to press his lips against yours, only pulling back enough to speak, tone barley above a whisper....

“I’m here, to help you feel better,to take some of this off your mind, to be whatever the fuck you need, whenever, and however you need it...you just gotta let me. Let me take care of you more baby...let me...fuck” Shaking his head, chuckling almost nervously “Let us, take care of you sometimes...”

You don’t respond any further, only gripping him even tighter, theirs so much to unpack there that you really don’t have the mental capacity for right now. The concept of you taking care of everyone else but often neglecting yourself has been a thing since college...it’s nothing new...just sometimes your better at letting the boys in than others...

However, the main issue above it all, the reason your even in this “position” to begin with... work.The stress and pressure the two of you feel as CEO’s of your own company at times is unmatched! People talk about the struggle to gain success but often neglect what happens once you get there. Especially as a business owner the pressure you two feel to keep growing, knowing you have people that rely on you to live, rely on you to put food on the table...rely on you to guide their futures in a sense. Like Jungkook, the kids 20, this is the first job hes putting on his resume and he’s trusting you guys to give him the proper tools to grow in his field.

He’s just soo....fuck so bright eyed and trusting...and I guess something in you wants to protect him from how shitty the world is...protect him in a way nobody protected the 7 of you….

Fuck, barley a month ago you were having a panic attack about hirng someone new for that kinda position and , now you wanna put this kid in a safety plastic bubble and protect him from any and everything...your baby boy included….

A fucking mess is what you feel like right now, a absolute fucking mess.

Your not quite sure how much time passes, as you lay there with Namjoon wrapped in your arms, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of his neck...but it feels good...it feels right...welll almost..it would be perfect if you had five other bodies laying along the bed as well...

“I’m going to run you a bath and order dinner…” Placing a couple kisses along your jaw as he starts to untangle himself tentatively but you don;t make a fuss, your both sticky as all hell anyway….. You just nod slowly, eyes sitting even heavier than when you first got home, gently letting your nails tease up his chest.

“Want me to join you?” You’re not even sure why he asks, he knows the answer but you indulge him…

“Of course...who else is going to wash my back for me?” You muse playfully and he just rolls his eyes, and exasperated groan leaning his chest as he rolls off the bed to head towards the adjacent master bath. Stopping halfway…

“Oh, so Yoongi called me today….” You only let out a low, slightly uninterested hum you know where this is going…”What…” He already sounds exhausted before he even starts, running a shaky hand through his hair “What are we gonna do about Tae?”

You hate when he looks at you like this, like he’s hoping you have the answers..because fuck you really don’t!

“He wouldn't really talk to me that morning, so I don’t even know what’s really going on. And of course I don’t wanna solely blame him, it’s just…” Waving his hand in the air absently alluding to what he didn't wanna say.

“He already had a slight attitude about it before, but tried to act like he didn't and now we're here..with him being petty at work,..yeah..yeah...I don’t know baby...I don’t know..”

Namjoon’s phone dings..somewhat grateful for the interruption... theirs a stated smile on his face which prompts you to hum in curiosity.

”It’s ugh...Yoongi, actually.....just checkin to see if your okay...” Of fuckin course it is..

You can’t help but giggle, feeling loved and exhausted but more importantly loved... nothing but fondness in your eyes at just the mention of his name...

“Tell him yes, and you should also tell him to come over” Namjoon’s eyes shoot up to meet yours, somewhat wide and disoriented and you just shrug, honestly out of options at this point. You’d rather address it now before it becomes a hot ass mess!

“Yeah, why not? Tell him to bring wine and sushi...maybe we can all just.. chill...smoke..cuddle...and come to some type of solution where our baby boy is concerned...because we can’t operate with this type of tension...that’s not how we operate”

~~~

Heyyy, soooo that’s all she wrote..for now! If you enjoyed show this some love, come let em know and I will keep this AU rolling!

1ST- QUESTION?

Sooo , would you guys want me to do a one-shot for when Yoongi comes over and the 3 of them discuss Tae? As I mentioned in Tae's first chapter "Pretty Please" There's always been a different more submissive/needy dynamic between Tae and the OC/Yoongi...so I could let them talk about there history a little...and then..maybe Yoongi could fuck her while shes saying between Joon's legs on the couch..IDK..idk where that came from...but I also aint mad at it!

FINAL NOTE-

Just to clarify....if you follow this series..obviously the Tae X Kookie issue was first brought up in Tae’s chapter “Pretty Please”. However the “drama” is what’s been happening since Kook got hired...in the next full length one shot “Got me Loosin all my cool” That’s Jungkook’s “intro” and it starts a month after he’s been working at Onyx....so some of these “issues” will be addressed then.

...As well as THIS “day” technically takes place within that one shot as well...I just did not tap into what happenes when she got home. However the OC will fire the referenced receptionist (The same one from “Pretty Please) in the up and coming one shot and Joon takes care of her once she gets home!

7 DEEP MASTERLIST

(WHICH INCLUDES 2 REFERENCED FICS ABOVE )

#Namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #kim namjoon smut #bts #bts smile #bts au #bts X reader #kpop #kpop smut #namjoon au #bts smut

228 notes · View notes

hopewritcs · 6 years ago

Text

shipwrecked. one.

pairing: tony stark x f!reader

word count: 6.7k

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: welcome to chap 1 of a new multi chap series, i’ve been rewatching the overboard movies & iron man 1 and taking notes so i have a very good idea of how the fics plot will go, but i don’t know how many chapters it’s going to be yet. know that i use the term “au” since it’s going based off of another film concept and it takes place before iron man one to begin. there will be appearances of other iron man characters & film events, i don’t claim any of them. all i claim is the take i have on the plot, and the side ocs ( the readers friends & children ).

also this takes place circa 2008 since that’s when iron man 1 happened, and the reader is around tony’s age.

oh, and because it felt weird to explain the readers kids ages and birth order in the fic i’m putting it here in the notes: joanna is the oldest and she’s 12 going on 13. she’s followed by the twins dean and kate who are 9. the youngest is 6 year old leo. ( all the kids names are taken from characters in the overboard movies )

okay this was a long note, but i hope you enjoy !! let me know what you think, i’m excited for this one tbh !

warnings: mentions of death, cursing, drinking, falling overboard

masterlist: here

marvel tag list: n/a ( if you want to be added to any tag list, let me know !! )

You were leading a group of people towards the yacht, clipboard in hand as you directed them on where to go. The whole party had been a last minute frantic call to the company. You believe you could overhear emergency and party and your best alcohol please from the phone before it was handed off to you to take.

You were supposed to pick up the kids from school, and you were supposed to spend the night watching movies with them as you had promised. But Lenora, who was the owner of the party planning agency ( who happened to also be your very best friend since elementary school ), told you to take the gig and go handle it yourself. She was sure that this party would be a good payday for everyone.

If you were being honest, you could use the money. Even if you knew that you’d be going home later that night to a couple of upset faces, you needed the money more. Even if it broke your heart to break theirs after everything you’d gone through. So, you agreed after Lenora had told you she would pick up your kids and watch them for the night with her partner.

You’d only been working for Lenora for a couple of months since you moved back to your hometown, but you’d been one of the few people to help her set up shop after you both had graduated college. So even though you hadn’t been working at Let Lenora Handle It™️ for a short amount of time, you knew the business better than most of her long term employees and she trusted you with more responsibilities because of it.

“No! Grace, that table’s not supposed to come off the truck yet. Not until we learn what the host needs for supplies. It’s a yacht, I think they have a table.” You shouted towards the group of workers beginning to haul things off of the company van. You sighed and put your head to the clipboard as you walked over to them. “Grace, I need you to go to the kitchens and see what they need from us for food and menus. Joey, could you figure out what we should bring off of here other than the, uh,” you glanced back down at the checklist you’d scratched out when you were on the phone earlier, “masquerade decorations.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Who the hell threw an emergency masquerade party on a yacht?

Actually, what even was an emergency masquerade party?

The team members were getting out of the cars and you gestured toward the yacht and told them to go, following behind them as your phone buzzed in your pocket. You sighed once you saw the face of your eldest, Joanna, flashing on your phone and knew you needed to take the call. “I’ll just be a minute.” you assured your workers as they nodded and went off to do their duties. Taking in a breath you put the phone to your ear, “Hi sweetheart, did Lenora get you all settled in?”

You could hear the commotion on the other end, bickering voices you knew well coming through the phone and one out of breath Lenora telling them to quiet down. I hope it’s all okay, you thought.

But it was worth it.

“Joanna?” you repeated when you didn’t hear an answer. “Sweetie can you hear me?”

“Mom.” All four of your children whine at the same time, which makes you laugh.

“Not that we don’t love Aunt Lenora, but you promised us movie night.” Joanna commented, and you could hear the sadness in her tone, even if it was masked with the annoyed voice you heard.

“And ice cream!” Leo cried out in the background, though he’s muffled by the sound of the twins arguing.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to work.” You kept your voice level because, even if it hurt you to hear your kids upset, they needed to understand that your job was important and it was something you needed.

Frankly, it was something you all needed. You’d been working two ( sometimes three ) jobs after your husband died before you moved back to your hometown in costal Oregon. Luckily Lenora’s company had been doing amazingly well, and she could afford to take you on as a “second in command”. She’d said she could hire you, and you’d expected to be a regular employee but she’d given you your own office and told you that the whole place wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t helped her all those years ago. You wanted to argue with her, tell her she could have done it on her own, but you appreciated the gesture. Plus, it didn’t hurt that the money she was paying you was enough that you were able to work just there, though you did take the occasional shift at the bar downtown like you had back during college.

“I know mom.” Joanna replied with a sigh. “It’s just--”

You knew where she was going, even if she hadn’t trailed off. It had been a while since you’d been able to spend a lot of quality family time together with all the hours you’d been working. And that had proved difficult to explain to kids because even if they understood what you were saying, they still felt like they were losing time with you and they hated it.

As the oldest, Joanna had taken on a lot more responsibility around the house after your husband died. She helped you by making sure her siblings got their homework done while you’d worked longer hours, helped the babysitters you’d gotten ( because Joanna may have been the oldest, but she wasn’t old enough to be left alone with her siblings at the time ) understand what they needed to do, and had been by your side as you cooked dinner most nights to give you a helping hand.

At the end of the day, Joanna was still twelve and still just really wanted her mom around.

And you just really wanted to be there.

“I know, I’ll make it up to you guys. We’ll do a whole day just the five of us next weekend, how does that sound?” You were tapping your foot anxiously, not wanting to make a promise if you weren’t sure you could keep it, but you also didn’t want to upset the kids any more than you already had.

Before you got a response, you heard someone whistle from the yacht, “Excuse me! Ma’am? Hello! Are you the party planner in charge? Could I get a word?!” You turned your head to look up at the man standing in his swim trunks on the deck, waving wildly in your direction as he gestured for you to come to him. His other hand was around a flute of champagne, which he pressed to his lips and took a sip from as he waited. When you didn’t budge, he called out again, “Yeah, honey, I’m not paying you to stand around and talk on your phone. This is an emergency. Let’s go.”

“I’ve got to go. Listen to Lenora, eat your veggies, and don’t stay up to late. I love you guys and I’ll see you later tonight.” You quickly hung up your phone and stuck it back in your pocket before quickly walking up the ramp to get onto the yacht’s deck.

“Finally.” the man raised his arms before dropping them dramatically to his sides, a bit of champagne dropping out of the flute to one side. “Took you long enough.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the way he’d been speaking to you before holding out your hand and introducing yourself, “Sorry, sir. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. Is there something you needed?”

He eyed your hand for a long and awkward moment before you dropped it down to your side and then he looked back at you, “Yeah. I said masquerade, not whatever that is.” He vaguely gestured toward the company’s van where the other workers were pulling out the decorations and getting them organized.

“Believe me, when it’s all set up it’ll look different than it does in the box. I promise.” you nodded your head confidently. You’d always been happy with the end decorating outcome, and knew that it always seemed like there wasn’t enough to completely transform a place, but everyone was always surprised and happy with how things turned out.

“I’m trusting you with this.” The dark haired man took another sip from his champagne as he studied you with his eyes. You knew there was a silent don’t fuck this up hidden in his words and his gaze, so you nodded. “If you need help, just ask for JARVIS.” Then he was off, brushing past you and calling out that he was going to go relax.

“Who’s, uh, JARVIS?” you called back, your voice dying down as you noticed he was already gone and out of earshot before you had finished what you were saying.

“That would be me, ma’am.” spoke an artificial voice which caused you to jump slightly.

“Excuse me?” you questioned, turning around to see a small panel on the side of the yacht light up.

“I’m Mr. Stark’s AI. If you need anything I can be of assistance.”

You nodded numbly in the direction of the panel, humming. As you walked off to help the rest of the staff begin decorating the deck, you mumbled to yourself.

“This is the weirdest job I’ve had in a long time.”

It was proving to be a long process, getting everything ready because there was a lot of ground on the yacht. You’d been managing getting everyone to put things in the right order when you wandered off course. But you had left the main deck area to enter into the actual rooms on the boat itself, wanting to see if there was anything that you’d need to do for the inside, except that meant finding your employer, and the yacht was much bigger and more confusing to navigate than it looked when you first arrived.

Finally you found him, but it was at the same time as an older bald man did. He beat you there, leaving you standing awkwardly in the doorway and looking in from your corner. The man strode into the room, slamming the door completely open as he dropped something that sounded like a stack of papers onto the table--you couldn’t see what it was from where you were standing.

“Tony!” The bald man exclaimed, attempting to get the dark haired man’s attention. “Tony!” he repeated and only got a spared glance from the man. Finally he grabbed the remote and turned the television off.

This caused Tony to turn to look at him, pushing his sunglasses down his nose as he looked miffed by the interruption. “Can I help you Obi?”

“You can explain why we’re throwing a party in the middle of nowhere Oregon when we should be heading back down to Malibu for a shareholders meeting!” Even if you couldn’t see the man’s face, you could tell from his posture and his tone that he was pissed off. To you it felt like he’d given the man in question a similar speech multiple times before and this was only the latest in a long line of such scoldings.

“Relax, Obi, that’s not for another two weeks.” Tony shrugged him off, taking the remote back from the man’s hands and turning the station back on.

Obi once again grabbed the remote before flinging it to the other side of the room, “It’s in three days!”

Tony sat up in his seat, shaking his head. “No, I specifically remember it not being the first week of the month.”

“Tony, it’s the middle of the month.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Really?”

“Cut the crap. The board is sick of you pulling all these weeks away and long benders of time off the grid.” Obi took a seat on the couch across from Tony and continued speaking, running a hand across his head. “They’re saying you’re not taking being CEO seriously. You’re thirty-eight, Tony, and every night the tabloids are talking like you’re still in your twenties. You need to grow up. Or the board might do something about this.”

“Hard to have the company without the guy who’s name is on all the papers there.” Tony took his sunglasses off and put them down on the table, sitting up straight as he looked right at Obadiah. “First of all, I still have the majority of the stock.” he paused, you muttered the word arrogant under your breath just low enough as if you’d breathed, and held his hand up ( which only made you assume the other man had motioned to interrupt ), “Second, who cares what or who I do if I get the job done at the end of the day? Aren’t the results worth it, or are they mad about the product we’re putting out too?”

“It’s not the product they’re worried about, Tony. It’s the fact that you’re the face of the company.”

The man was still speaking, but you’d figured you should back out and try attempting to find Tony later to discuss the details you were missing. You’d already overheard more than you should have of a conversation you had no right hearing. Even if you did agree the other man was acting childish for supposedly running a multi billion dollar company.

Sighing, you made your way back onto the deck and looked around. “Excuse me, JARVIS?” you called out tentatively, shocked when one of the windows of the yacht turned into a computer screen and flashed. It was quite advanced technology, and you didn’t know if you could get used to something like that.

Then again, you were only here a couple of hours at most, yeah?

“How may I be of assistance ma’am?” the accented artificial voice answered back.

“For the party he’s throwing, did he say if he wanted the entire top of the ship, including this room, or just the main deck decorated?” You awkwardly shuffled on your feet, not sure where you should be directing the question to.

“I believe Mr. Stark is planning for the party to be out on the deck, but I could send him your way if you’d like.”

“If he’s not busy that would be helpful. Thank you, JARVIS.”

You didn’t get a response from the AI and instead moved back out onto the main deck of the boat. The rest of the workers had already finished getting the big objects moved about and you thanked them and sent them on their way off the boat to head back to the offices, you were sure that you were mostly done there with the decorating. Whatever was left, you could handle yourself. You took the box of golden string lights, stepped up onto the ladder, and began weaving them around some of the decorations when you heard footsteps coming up behind you.

“JARVIS said you needed me for something.” His voice didn’t surprise you since you’d heard him coming, but the tone was much more pleasant than what you’d dealt with yourself and overheard earlier.

You turned to look at him from where you stood on the ladder and nodded kindly, “Yes. Did you need the rest of the boat decorated as well, for example the main room, or is just the top deck fine?”

“I’m paying you to figure out the questions like this, aren’t I?” Tony mused, rolling his eyes and brushing past you, knocking his arm into the ladder you stood on, on his way to the outside bar and getting himself a glass of whiskey with ice poured.

You got knocked down to the ground loudly from the jolt he’d caused and turned to look at him from where you sat on the floor. One thing you noticed was a small scar, looking like he’d injured himself somehow on the back of his leg where the swim trunks he was wearing stopped--it looked oddly like the shape of a crescent moon.

“Not that I don’t mind a pretty face staring at me, but can I help you with something?”

You turned your attention up, but he was still facing away from you. He was, however, looking directly at you in the mirror hanging just above the bar. Biting your lip and brushing the fallen hair out of your eyes you stood up and walked toward him. You’d had it. “Actually there is. Why are you a child?” You spoke out of turn, you knew your anger was boiling over and it was awful to react like this on a job--but this man was pushing your buttons. You shook your head, shaking your hand before correcting yourself, “Actually, that’s an insult to children. I have children, they behave better than you. So what exactly is your damage, sir?”

Tony turned toward you and looked at you as he took a long sip of his drink. He was quite surprised with the level of frustration he’d gotten out of you, the amused smirk on his lips telling you what he thought of your little outburst. It only made you angrier.

“That’s a long list, honey. Do you have the time or do you want the short and sweet version?” He put the glass down on the bar and looked at you.

“Are you serious?! You just knocked me off of a ladder, and you don’t even turn back just pour yourself another drink? Don’t you have any sense of empathy, or do you just run around on that high horse that no one can touch. Oh, look at all those people down there. Poor them. I should do something. Oh, you know what? I’ll throw an emergency party! What the fuck even is an emergency party?”

You didn’t care that your voice was raised or that you were making a ( likely ) fool of yourself if anyone overheard the conversation. Thankfully no one was around on the deck so you were safe. Or, you thought you were--the truth was the boat’s security footage had audio as well and the staff monitoring the security feeds? They were having a ball listening to you tell off their boss. It was something they wouldn’t dare do.

“An emergency party is a party because I want one.”

“Oh, cause that makes it better.”

“I hired your little company because I wanted a good theme and a nice time, not some woman with an attitude telling me my place!” Tony waved his hand dismissively in your direction as he looked around the deck. If he had taken a moment, he’d have cared that the place actually looked halfway decent. “I want you off my ship. Now.”

“Fine,” you resolved, crossing your arms against your chest and staring at him still, “pay me for the decorations and our time and I’ll be on my way.”

“No. I’m not satisfied with the work, I absolutely will not pay for this half assed job.”

“Half assed? Half assed?! Oh, you wouldn’t know real work if it bit your ass!” You put your hands down on the bar and looked at him, scoffing as you shook your head. “I will be on my way, once you hand over the check for the work I did.”

“Fine.”

Tony turned around and moved across the deck, you watched him as he moved and turned to follow him when he took the half finished decorations box and tossed it off the ship.

“Are you kidding me right now? You can’t throw my things off the boat!” You charged forward, leaning off the edge of the boat and watching as they ebbed in the gentle water. At least they weren’t going far, but that was still a good amount of decorations. “That’s unacceptable. I did the work, we did the work. You owe us.”

Tony made a face like he couldn’t hear you as he called for the captain to begin moving the boat out onto the sea before he would get passengers for the party later on. The boat started moving away and you shrieked, turning to look at him. Before you could say anything he knocked into you again and you tumbled off the edge of the boat.

“Real mature!” you screamed, once you’d bobbed back to the surface, as the boat moved farther away from you.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you.” Tony cupped his ear, taking another sip of his drink and he even waved you off as the boat moved father away.

You’d managed to gather up the box Tony had thrown overboard and you hauled yourself back to your feet. Your phone was shot from being in the water, so you tossed that and the box into your car and drove off towards Lenora’s. You turned on the radio to the station you’d been listening to and blast it, damn whatever anyone else thinks as you drive by with the windows down.

Pulling into your friend’s driveway, you were greeted with the door opening before you had a chance to even turn the car’s engine off and the faces of your kids running towards you with excited grins.

“Hey guys.” You grinned as they charged for you, all four of them reaching to hug you at the same time. You couldn’t quite make out everything they were telling you but most of it seemed to be we get a movie night now because you were in fact home much earlier than you expected to be.

“Why are you soaked, mom?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows as he pulled away from you quickly, shaking off his face as if he himself was now soaked from coming into contact with you.

“Oh, it’s no big deal.” you shrugged your shoulders, making eye contact with Lenora as you said so ( she didn’t by that it wasn’t a big deal ) and just shook your head slightly. You’d tell her in a minute, but you didn’t want to tell the kids. “Hey, now that I’m here why don’t you guys go inside and check out Lenora’s movies and find something for us to watch.”

They nodded and ran back towards the house, leaving you outside with your friend. The pair of you watched in silence until the door closed behind the kids and you met in the middle of her lawn.

“Y/N what happened?” she asked, blinking as she took in your soaked attire.

“Let’s just say we’re not getting paid, the guys a jerk, my phone’s dead, and I need to borrow some clothes.” You hummed, your lips forming a straight line as you practically frowned with the residual anger that was still storming through your body. You let out a breath, puffing your cheeks as you did and Lenora pulled you in for a hug.

“Let’s get you changed and see if we can’t fix your phone problems.” she tugged your arm and led you back to the house, both of you brushing past the kids who were raiding the DVD collection that Lenora had amassed over the years. Once you were in her room, she pulled out some clothes for you to change into. “You okay?”

You took the clothes into your hand and moved to her bathroom in order to change, speaking to her as you moved, “Me? I’m fine, Len. Don’t worry about it. I’m just mad that asshole wouldn’t pay me. We did the job for him. He was like a petulant arrogant... jerk.” You came back out of the bathroom, running your fingers through your wet hair before pulling it up into a bun. “Like, he really just... I overheard him talking with someone who he works with or who he employs or whatever and he was like ‘Well they can’t run anything without me, my names all over it’ blah blah.” You trailed off, shaking your head as you fumed with anger and annoyance.

Lenora nodded her head as she followed your train of thought. “Okay, let’s get you a glass of wine and the pizza should be here. We’re going to have an old fashioned sleepover night. The seven of us, some pizza, movies, and really bad charades.” She chuckled, taking your hands from your side and waving your intertwined hands between the two of you. “Look at me. Hey.” you turned your attention back toward your friend and she grinned at you. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll make up the payday with another job. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

“You’re really the best friend I could have ever asked for, you know?”

“Yeah, well, you’re mine too.”

You two made your way back into the living room where the kids were piled on the floor, holding DVDs in their hands and arguing over which one should be first. It was a fight between National Treasure, Atlantis: The Lost Empire, Holes, and Spy Kids. You and Lenora looked between the two of you as you walked to her kitchen and got everything ready for dinner.

By the time pizza came, the kids had agreed on Spy Kids first and you all settled in on the couch. Leo curled up onto your lap as best he could and the twins sat on either side of you while Joanna took control of the single chair next to the couch instead.

And you eventually let yourself relax and have a good night, focusing on the movies and the company and letting the pain of the previous encounter go.

Tony Stark was having a good night. He didn’t let anything phase him as he went about the party he threw happily mingling and drinking. He’d had a couple of people who managed to come, a small affair, but it was well done. He would admit that later, if he could remember it. He was definitely extremely drunk as he made his way through the party goers.

There weren’t many people there--it was a couple of pretty women who he had seen and just invited, along with Obadiah ( who was soon going to “call it a night” and go off to his room on the boat ), Happy ( who was working with the captain of the ship and wasn’t actually attending the party, but he could watch from the security feeds), and Rhodey ( who Tony had convinced to fly over to Oregon for the “emergency” that turned out to be just another excuse for the man to get drunk ).

But a party was a party, and Tony Stark was definitely the center of gravity at this one. The night was young and Tony was really feeling the groove with the masks he’d gotten from...somewhere.

Where had the masks come from?

Where did he get all the decorations from?

Your face flashed through his mind but he couldn’t remember your name. He did remember being angry with you and there being a fight, though.

He shrugged it off and went about the rest of his night, eventually taking one of the women to his room. He’d even called back to Rhodey, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!” as he stumbled down the boat to where his suite was, arm dangled around the shoulders of a blonde.

A couple of hours passed and Tony woke up tangled in the sheets, naked. He got up and shook his head, running a hand over his face as he turned to the woman sleeping peacefully on the bed. He wasn’t going to get back to sleep, and unfortunately his yacht didn’t have a lab for him to escape to work on, so he decided to improvise.

Tony got up, pulling on a pair of boxers and sweatpants and then he headed back topside. He was less drunk than he had been earlier, but still felt the buzz of alcohol coursing thought him. “JARVIS is anyone else awake?” he asked when he got to the main level of the yacht, making his way through the party mess and going outside onto the deck. He stood outside and looked around, it was still late ( or too early for the sun to be up, at least ).

“All other guests have retired to their rooms, sir.”

Tony nodded his head and went around to the bar, pouring himself another drink and gulping it down as he looked out onto the ocean in front of them. They were moving slowly as the night ran on ahead, and he moved to the side to look out onto the current. He tended to do this whenever he was on the yacht, despite several comments from JARVIS that he really should stay away from the edge of the boat.

Tony always shrugged off the comments from the AI because he could definitely catch himself if he were ever going overboard.

He wasn’t going to be caught at sea. No sir, not Tony Stark.

Unfortunately for him, the AI had been right. Standing at the edge of the boat was asking for trouble.

A rough bump in the otherwise calm ocean below had caused him to drop the crystal glass down onto the floor, crashing onto his leg as it went down. He made a face at the action and moved to grab something to fix his injury ( he’d had worse when he was working on his cars or some of the inventions, a small cut on his leg from broken glass was nothing ) when he slipped on the spilled alcohol. The force knocked him backwards causing his back to hit the ledge and he went overboard with a shout of “help” and flailing arms.

A couple of days later, you and the kids were back at Lenora’s for the weekend. Sometimes she would stay with you if her partner was out of town, but her place was just bigger and more comfortable for all of you to spend time in, so you’d elected to stay with her and do weekend activities with the kids there that weekend.

It was a good thing to have this in your routine, since it had originally started when you first moved home and it was like a constant wave of nausea from the nostalgia you were feeling. This was where you’d met your husband, he’d been your high school sweetheart, and it was so hard to move home. But it was also best for everyone, you hadn’t been able to afford your old house in your old neighborhood. And here you had your husband’s family house, it wasn’t anything big but it was a place that you knew well and it could fit you and the kids.

Coming to Lenora’s had been a way to stabilize yourself, you’d needed to be around someone in the mornings when the feelings would hit you hardest, and now it had just become a new tradition. You think the kids happened to like coming to Lenora’s often because they liked her pets: a dog named Champ and a cat named Tabitha.

You went into the kitchen to begin making breakfast for the kids and your friend. It was a quiet morning, the sun having just risen, and you turned the radio on in the kitchen quietly. You didn’t want to wake anyone up just yet, but knew they would all be up soon with the food once it got cooking.

You figured pancakes was the way to go for everyone, a couple with berries in the mix, a couple with chocolate chips, and a couple plain. Lenora would appreciate not having to make breakfast, and your kids always loved pancake breakfasts.

A wave hit as you mixed pancake batter, like a mist of sorrow just brushing over you as you remembered making pancakes with your husband and the kids. Your heart plummeted for a moment as you closed your eyes and took in a deep breath.

No, you were okay.

You let out the air you’d breathed in and nodded to yourself, going back to the fridge to get the berries you would need and the cabinet to get the chips. You busied yourself with the pancakes and singing along to the music playing on the radio that you got lost in the moment, not hearing when everyone else was waking up around you and coming into the kitchen.

“Do I smell pancakes?” Lenora called out as she followed the brood of kids into the kitchen. You’d spent many nights at Lenora’s over the years, so the kids always felt like it was a second home. Joanna immediately went to grab the plates from the cabinet as Dean and Kate were grabbing juice from the fridge.

Leo snuck up behind you and pressed his head against your leg as he yawned out a soft good morning into your pants. You ruffled his hair and bent down to press a kiss to the top of his head as you grinned at him and said, “Morning sweet pea. How did you sleep?”

“M’kay.” Leo shrugged his shoulders as he rubbed his eyes before following his siblings to the kitchen table and taking a seat.

You were about to greet Lenora when the radio station suddenly paused the music, cutting off the sounds of Prince filling the morning air, and a newscaster was speaking.

“Sorry to interrupt your music, folks. It’s an unusual morning in Elk Cove, as the man found down by the beach story is getting even weirder.”

You turned your head up at that. “The what?”

“Oh, yeah! They found a man out at sea yesterday morning. Apparently he was pretty beat up, must’ve hit his head or something.” Dean commented from the table, nodding his head.

Lenora took out her phone and must have either been responding to a message or checking out the story the kids were saying. You went back to paying attention to the stove to know when to flip the pancakes, but you did lean over to turn up the news cast.

“Looks like he’s still a John Doe. Doctors have confirmed that he’s got a concussion and a couple of cuts along his legs from the fall into the water, but is otherwise healthy. He does however seem to be suffering from a case of amnesia, and cannot remember who he is or what he does. Unfortunately, there was nothing identifying him when the fishermen found him yesterday.” Your attention was pulled away when Lenora tapped your arm, holding out her phone for you to look at.

You gasped, “Lenora it’s him!” Sure, the face in the photograph was a bit beat up and bruised, but that was unmistakably the man who you’d dealt with the other day.

“Yesterday the police were approached by someone who was believed to know the man, a yacht had been in the area for a night out, but unfortunately the man could not identify him. The police are looking for any information they can on this man, having reached out to the state police to see if they can help. If you recognize the man, please do contact the police or the hospital.”

You shook your head, “I bet it was that man he was arguing with. Just leaving him unidentified in the hospital! I know he wasn’t that great of a guy, kind of full of himself, but to leave him there alone and not knowing who he is?” You made a face, shaking your head at the thought. Even if you didn’t think the man was particularly great, you couldn’t imagine what he must be feeling being all alone and having no clue about what was going on with him or who he was.

Lenora turned down the radio and looked over your shoulder at the article once more. She put her hand on your shoulders, spinning you around to face her with an excited expression.

“Len?”

“This is fate! We can go to the hospital and get Mr. Rich Jerkface to give us the money he owes us!” she exclaimed, nodding her head with a grin on her face.

You raised your eyebrows at her, “Major problem. If he doesn’t remember who he is, I don’t think he’s going to remember who I am and the fact that he owes us money.” You shrugged your shoulders, sighing. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Lenora took her phone back and began typing on the keyboard, shaking her head. “No, fate is giving us this. And we’d be crazy not to take it. We’re getting our money, Y/N.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“Hear me out.” Lenora started before pulling back and looking at the kids who were all listening in on the conversation. Lenora decided she might as well tell everyone her plan, since it involved them all, and she looked at you when she spoke. “He owes you money and he’s got amnesia. His business partner or whatever left him there and won’t be there for him. Why don’t we go and get him?”

“And what are we going to say? Hey the John Doe from the news owes me money and I’d like to take him home to collect? Be serious, Lenora.”

Lenora shook her head, pointing at you. “Even better. We pretend he’s your husband. It’s perfect. I’ve got a friend who can make everything we need, documents and pictures. He won’t even know. And you can make him do the housework for a couple of weeks and we’re even. He literally threw you off a boat Y/N.”

You bit your lip, turning back to flip the pancakes you’d had on the stove and thought about it for a moment. It was a crazy plan, and there was a chance it wouldn’t even work out. You could be caught immediately.

But, he was alone there. And you wouldn’t want to be alone like that.

And he did owe you for the work you’d done.

“Fine, make the call. But we’re going to need a couple more things than just papers and pictures.” You agreed, sighing as you shook your head. Of course you’d gotten yourself into this mess.

“We need clothes!”

You were shocked when Kate spoke up from the kitchen table and you turned to look at the kids with wide eyes.

“What?” you asked, blinking at them.

“Well, he needs to buy that he’s our dad, right? It’s kind of obvious we need to go and get clothes and stuff too, mom.” Kate shrugged her shoulders, nodding her head at you.

“Katie’s right! I’ll get my friend working on the documents and pictures we might need and then we’ll take a trip to go and get some clothes. Then you go down to the hospital and the kids and I will go back to your house and set it all up.” Lenora nodded her head, dialing on her phone and leaving the room as she spoke to whoever it was in a hushed tone.

You watched, silently amazed as she spoke to her friend.

“Mom, the pancakes are burning!”

That brought you back into the moment and you flipped the pancakes off of the burner before putting a couple of new ones back down on the pan.

“Are you guys going to be alright? You’re going to have to call him dad and everything.”

The kids nodded at you. “Yeah, we’re okay. We’ll help. How bad could the guy be anyway?” Joanna asked.

“Oh, you have no idea.” You shook your head.

Once you finished the pancakes, Lenora handed you a makeshift script she’d written and told you to call the hospital. You rolled your eyes, but you made your way back to her room for some privacy and dialed the hospital.

“Hello, I’m calling about the John Doe I saw on the news? It’s my husband, Tony Y/L/N. He was out swimming the other night and I didn’t hear from him and the kids and I we’ve been so worried.” You managed to make yourself sound choked up at the thought of it all, even feeling your eyes got hot with the prickling of tears. “Is he--is he alright?”

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark reader insert #mcu fic #tony stark fanfiction #shipwrecked

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