#and then i realized i could do one of him and his scooters and like. how could i not | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bratkook · 1 year ago

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deep six: dancing with death. (m) jjk

part one. part two. v-day drabble

pairing. biker!jk x reader genre. smut, fluff warnings. infidelity (but its ok i promise), protected s*x, oral, jungkook is kinda whiny and that itself deserves a warning, they're just fluffy and mushy and love each other they just dont know it yet word count. 12.2k summary. you've always known to stay away from the tombstone patches, told they were the enemy, that you'd be betraying your club if you chose not to listen. but an unsuspected friendship makes you think that maybe not everyone was as bad as you were made to believe. author’s note. hihiiii, this is a prequel to the deep six series! aka how jungkook and oc start their friendship and have it blossom into what it becomes in part one of deep six. i truly love these two so much, something about their forbidden love and how jungkook is tough and dangerous but oh so sweet to her makes me fucking melt!!! ok hope u enjoy it bye ily muah

The world is a constant blur, days merging, memories hazy and bleeding together in your mind. The only time you enjoy the blur is now, sitting on your bike as you flow through the streets. Exiting Cobra territory made you feel free, the streets widening up the further you got, allowing you to cruise without the fear of getting swiped by a careless driver.

Your eyes fall shut briefly, taking a slow breath as you try to push the earlier feelings away. Minho was having a bad day, a deal he had hoped to make to start running ice falling through, the man in charge deciding to go with a neighboring club instead. It wasn’t your fault the man thought Minho was too hot headed and messy to not find a way to mess this deal up, wanting a club with more reach, more connections and reliability than the Cobras could offer. That didn’t stop Minho from treating you like it was your fault, doing what he did best before barking orders at you to go for a run, desperately needing alcohol to drown his emotions.

The earlier fear still rattles you, leaves your fingers trembling slightly as they clutch the handles and accelerate. He couldn’t hurt you here, and that's all the comfort you need at the moment, finally pulling into the familiar parking lot of the bodega. There’s a few cars parked inside, a lone scooter tossed by the sidewalk, and a shiny black bike parked by the entrance.

You eye it for a moment, always checking for visible tags that let you know if the bike belonged to a club that had the Cobra’s high on their hit list. It’d be easy to act dumb if it was, no identifying items on you, knowing better than to roam the streets without Minho with a serpent stamped on you.

When you find nothing you decide it’s fine, knowing you were on a time crunch to get what he wanted. With another slow breath you step off your bike, already feeling your earlier nerves fade away as you enter your comfort space. It seems odd to consider it one, but something about the buzzing fluorescent lighting and peeling laminate made you feel like an individual.

Music plays through a portable speaker by the cashier, the worker greeting you with a smile that you return before you turn down your favorite aisle. That’s when you spot him again. The Deep Six member in the same spot he was in the last time you saw him a few weeks ago. It had been a close encounter then, not realizing who he was with your boyfriend standing outside. But his arms are revealed to you now, markings on his skin making it clear what club he belonged to, leaving no room for confusion. If that somehow wasn’t enough the giant patches on his vest and the glimmering rings on his fingers spell it out, literally.

You approach him slowly, not sure if you trust him but not fully on edge like you were before, knowing Minho’s watchful eyes weren’t observing your every move. Without the ticking bomb a few feet away you allow yourself to slightly relax in the presence of him, assuming he had no idea who you were, clearly too focused on his candy selection.

Sure you were on a run for Minho but you always pick something up for yourself. A small smile is already on your lips as your eyes land on the sour straws, ready to pick your flavor of choice, only to find it completely empty. Instantly you know the culprit is the man next to you, remembering the way you had reached for the same candy last time you saw him here by chance, and as you turn to stare at him you see his palms cradling four packets of the sour straws, a teasing smile on his face as he meets your eyes. Greedy.

“Sorry,” he breathes out, sounding anything but, trying desperately not to laugh and failing as he makes his way to the front to pay. You don’t even respond to him, admitting defeat as you settle on the green apple flavored ones before you return to your earlier task, finding a case of Minho’s favorite beer and paying for it.

The heat welcomes you once more outside, loading up the beer and candy into the saddlebags on the side of your bike, already forgetting about the candy thief from inside.

“Hey, Snake!” A voice cuts through the air, making you freeze as you search for it, finding the Six standing by the shiny black bike you had spotted earlier. He reaches into his pocket, still smiling as he pulls out the blue raspberry sour straw packet, tossing it your way with ease.

You catch it with both palms, momentarily stunned at the small gesture and at the fact that he clearly knew you were associated with the Cobras. The rumble of his engine snaps you out of it, smiling slightly as you look up at him once more, a breathless thank you escaping your lips before he is smiling back and peeling out of the parking lot.

When you live the life you do, constantly on edge with a paranoid boyfriend questioning everyone’s intentions, it's hard not to let his way of thinking affect your own. Even as you sit back at the clubhouse, holding onto that packet of candy, you can’t help but wonder if maybe the Six’s seemingly sweet gesture was a trap. Maybe he was testing to see how gullible you are, stupid enough to interact with him, to use you to send a message to the Cobras. It wouldn’t be the first time. Minho’s reign made you an easy target, knowing you had a lot of enemies that would love to make a lesson of you.

It's been so long since anyone has shown you genuine kindness with no strings attached, and as you finally enjoy your treat, you can’t stop the warm feeling of hope in your chest that maybe not everyone was as bad as you were made to believe.

You don’t return to your comfort space again until two weeks later, on another run for the club. Minho seemed to think if he gave you pointless errands to run you’d be satisfied, content with the loveless relationship and mundane everyday life. It was his way of keeping you on a leash, making you follow orders and letting the lead slacken up, only tightening it back up to remind you he was all you had. But you’d take the small moments of peace wherever you could get them.

The lot is empty today as you pull in, the only car belonging to the worker inside. The moment of solitude only lasts for a minute, a loud rumble cutting through the air as another bike pulls in beside you. You tense up immediately, whipping your head to assess the situation, spotting the familiar Six too lost in his thoughts to realize you were here. He furrows his brows as he takes off his helmet, adjusting the large rings on his fingers before he glances your way, jumping slightly when he notices it's you.

You eye him curiously, hands coming up to the key in the ignition, ready to start it up and tail out of here if he made a move. Minho had made a claim of some other club trying to ambush a deal earlier today, an unlucky hangout being the only one hurt, but without an identifying patch it left him on edge more than normal. So far the Six didn’t make you feel like you had to be wary, but you couldn’t be so sure.

He seems to sense it, his arms raising up in surrender as he stays on his bike. “It’s okay snake, I don’t bite.” He smiles at his own stupid remark, but it slowly falls off his face when he sees the stoic expression remains on yours. “Seriously though, I’m just here for some smokes and a treat. I can go somewhere else if it really makes you this uncomfortable though.”

“Why aren’t you somewhere else to begin with?” you bite back, still not trusting that he wasn’t trying to trap you.

Jungkook just sighs, hand coming up to ruffle up his helmet hair. “It’s nice to get away sometimes. This is neutral grounds, you know as best as I do that anything club related done here is a death wish.” He lets you process his statement, seeing the way you continue to eye him, your gaze tracing along the patches he wears. The large tombstone taunts you, torn and a little rugged on the edges, showing just how long he’s been wearing it. “Why aren’t you somewhere on your side of town?”

You purse your lips, looking away from him as you pull your hand away from your key, getting off your bike, deciding this conversation was better to have inside your little safe space. “Like you said, it’s nice to get away sometimes.” You hook your helmet over your handle, reaching the bodega’s door and holding it open as you look back at him. “You coming?”

He seems to snap out of it, quickly hopping off his bike and jogging your way, saying a quick greeting to the worker before going down the familiar aisle. He smiles when he sees you next to those damn sour straws.

“Those must be your favorite huh?”

You give him a quick glance, seeing the smile on his lips before you turn back and grab a packet of the candy. “They are, so try not to take all of them at once again.”

He lets out a soft laugh, reaching forward and grabbing a couple of the same. “I gave you one last time, which says a lot because I don’t really like sharing.”

“A Six that doesn’t like sharing? That’s not surprising.” Your words are light, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you turn around and continue roaming the aisle.

“Not as surprising as a Snake trying to tell me what to do.” The crinkling of plastic fills the store as he rips open his packet, taking a bite of a sour straw as he tries to hide his own smile when you give him an eye roll.

“I’m not technically a Snake,” you mutter out, finger tracing along the chocolate bar you were contemplating grabbing. It wasn’t a lie, you didn’t wear the patch, you weren’t granted the perks of being a part of the club, nothing you said held any weight on the decisions they made. You weren’t a Cobra, you just belonged to one of them. Though that didn’t seem like the wisest thing to tell him, you knew the history between Deep Six and the Cobras, and telling him you belonged to Minho of all people would put you high up on his list of people to hurt if he had bad intentions to begin with.

“Oh? You just like to hang on to the back of one then?”

“Something like that,” you sigh, deciding not to grab the extra treat, turning to look at him fully once more. “Are you gonna keep calling me a snake?”

His tongue prods along his cheek as he looks down at you, eyebrow slowly cocking up. “What would you rather I call you?”

“Y/N.”

He nods slowly, letting your name settle into his mind before he was reaching his hand out, the golden glimmering rings spelling out SIX shining in the light. You eye his hand for a minute before grabbing it in a gentle handshake, seeing the way he smiles before saying his own name.

“Jungkook.”

Jungkook was proud of his club, wore his patch with pride, did everything he could to show his loyalty. So why was he starting to tell white lies to his brothers, making up excuses to justify why he was going to the bodega on neutral grounds directly after finishing a job. He knew what would happen if they knew who he was talking to, slowly befriending. His only rational excuse was the fact that you had said you weren’t technically a Cobra, and although he’s not sure how well that would hold up to the rest of his members, it was the only excuse that helped ease his guilt.

He was currently sat on the small sidewalk outside of the bodega, elbows leaning on his knees as he glanced around the empty lot. You had been meeting here once every week or so. He had started to take note of the typical times you’d be sent on runs of your own, choosing to coincidentally run into you at the same time. You had yet to arrive today though, leaving him waiting for fifteen minutes, wondering if maybe you wouldn’t be showing up today.

Just before he decides to head out, you pull into the lot on your Dyna, a smile on your face when you spot him sitting on the sidewalk like a child.

“You’re late,” he calls out, grabbing a packet of candy and tossing it your way when you get off your bike and head towards him.

“Sorry, I wasn’t aware we had a time set for our little play dates.” You open up the candy, taking a bite and shutting your eyes at the sour taste. Jungkook laughs at your expression, patting the sidewalk beside him for you to settle into.

“I can’t be left unsupervised, you should know this by now.”

You laugh now, taking a look at the bodega and the surrounding area. “Nothing seems to be destroyed, I think you do just fine unsupervised.”

He leans back on his palm, raking back his dark hair as he stares into the sky in thought. “I tend to cause psychological damage, not too big on destroying property.”

“Got it. So you torture people?”

Jungkook chuckles, turning to look at you slightly, a small twinkle of mischief flashing in his eyes as he smiles. “Exactly.”

You can only laugh, not exactly sure how truthful he was being with his little joke. The both of you made an effort to not discuss the intricacies of your clubs, not entirely sure what it was that you both did for them, knowing things would get too messy and tangled up if you did. Instead you talk about yourselves, knowing small anecdotes of each other’s childhoods, recounting stories of when he took a few tumbles on his bike when he was just starting to learn to ride, ones of you before the life of the Cobras was all you knew.

It was a brief moment of normalcy, being able to talk to someone else, laughing over dumb jokes while sharing candy. It made you forget how twisted all of it was until you returned back home.

Jungkook just appreciated having a new friend, someone to talk to about things that didn’t have to do with his club. He just wished he could talk to you in moments that lasted longer than the brief bodega hang outs. So as you both finish up, loading up your bike with the items you were told to come pick up, he takes a leap of faith.

“Hey, can I—uh. Can I have your number?” He looks uncharacteristically shy as he asks this, one hand rubbing along the back of his neck. “To arrange our play dates,” he adds jokingly, a small smile on his lips in hopes of softening the blow of potential rejection as he reaches for his phone and hands it over.

You freeze instantly, staring at his device as the voice in your head tells you not to, screams that this would get you in trouble. But the hopeful look on his face is enough to shut it up, grabbing his phone with a nod. “Sure, but uhm, I can’t text often.”

His brows furrow slightly at the tone you use, watching the way you type in your number and text yourself. Something about it made it seem like you were nervous, and the only thing he can assume is that the people you were around would grow curious over who you were texting.

“Why? Scared your Snake friends would be pissed that a Six is texting you?” His tone is playful, but as you hand him his phone back, the look on your face makes his smile slowly fade away.

“My boyfriend, specifically.”

Jungkook feels his heart drop at the revelation. He knew you were most likely involved with a Cobra, having seen you the first time you met on the back of one’s bike—more specifically, Minho’s bike. He had just assumed you were Minho’s chosen girl for the day, but if you were mentioning a boyfriend now, Jungkook could easily piece together who exactly that is.

The third cardinal rule of his club replays in the back of his mind, “Never get involved with a Cobra”. It makes his head hurt, desperately trying to find a deeper excuse, a loophole to allow this to continue. It shouldn’t mean anything, you two were just friendly, barely even toeing that line as it was. But just knowing you were spoken for, by the leader of the Cobras especially, made the guilt he already felt for speaking to you get worse.

But he does his best to shake it off, drowning out his thoughts as he takes his phone back and shrugs.

“We’re just two people who share a love for sour straws, but if it makes you feel better you text me whenever you want.”

You don’t text him for a while, the fear of your tiny little secret being exposed keeps you from responding to the text you had sent yourself from his phone. There was also the small feeling of guilt festering in your stomach, feeling like you had lied to him by keeping your relationship a secret. All he had assumed from the get go was that you liked to hang around Cobras, but you noticed the way his face had changed when you mentioned a boyfriend, and you can only imagine how he’d react if you told him your boyfriend was the leader of the Cobras.

You find yourself staring at your device any chance you get, hidden in the bathroom of your place, lounging on the couch in the clubhouse, until you finally get the courage to send the first text. It makes your heart race, saving his number under your best friend's name, changing the emoji at the end so you know the difference, going as far as putting his messages on do not disturb. Clearly hiding, keeping him a secret.

Jungkook knows it's wrong, because he’s keeping it a secret too. But once that first text was sent, they never stopped. He responds when he has time in between club duties, knowing you’ll reply when you get a moment alone. Your messages are short, random conversations that never crossed any lines, but he meant what he said, taking full advantage of having your number to coordinate your play dates.

The guilt you feel slowly fades away with each passing day, becoming comfortable in your ways as you let him know what days you’ll be on that side of town, and before you know it, your hang outs become your favorite thing. You slowly start to consider Jungkook your friend, another rare slice of peace in your messy life. It makes you feel like your younger self, excited to speak to a cute boy and laugh until your cheeks hurt.

And it should make you feel icky to have these thoughts about someone who wasn’t your boyfriend, but your relationship with Minho had been romantically dead for years now, not able to remember the last time he did something for you that didn’t solely benefit him. So you choose to enjoy the small flutters in your stomach that occur around Jungkook, allowing yourself to sit closer to him each time, friendly touches beginning to get more courageous while still toeing the line.

Jungkook doesn’t mind it, he thought you were pretty and would let you trace the patches on his jacket or analyze his tattoos up close if that's what you wanted. You were the one with a boyfriend, who was he to tell you what was right or wrong for you to do, he wasn’t one to judge or pull a morality card on you considering the things he does in his club. It was all mostly innocent anyways, even now as you stand a good few feet away from each other, respective candy in each other's hands, attempting to toss them into your mouths.

It was innocent.

“God, your aim is horrible!” you laugh out, feeling the candy hit your forehead and bounce right off.

“What are you talking about? That was a clear headshot.” He has that charming smirk on his face as he says it, tongue flicking against his lip ring while he laughs too.

“You’re not trying to kill me Jungkook, we’re trying to see who wins first.” You swat the remnants of sugar off your face as you reach into your own bag for a piece of candy, motioning for him to be ready. He gets into position, slightly bending his knees and angling his head back with his mouth open, ready to catch whatever you throw. With a small snicker you grab four small pieces of candy, aiming right for his face with one eye shut and sending them flying. Jungkook is totally unsuspecting until suddenly, he’s being pelted all over his face, his eyes squeezing shut at the shock.

“Dude,” he laughs, eyes finally opening up to spot you cackling away, perfectly content at your little stunt.

“Okay, okay sorry. For real this time. I got it, I can feel it in my bones.” Jungkook should tell you no, say you wasted your turn and deliver payback, but you look too happy right now for him to do anything but smile and nod as he gets back into position once more. He sees the way you bring your hand close to your face, shutting one eye to try to aim, tongue slightly poking out in concentration before you toss the candy across a few feet of distance.

Jungkook doesn’t even register that the candy successfully landed in his mouth until you’re gasping in shock. That’s when his eyes widen, his mouth shutting as he begins to chew, standing up straight and feeling his heart start to warm at how proud you look at having beat him. He closes the distance between you, extending a hand out for a high five that you gladly give him.

Now that you’re closer, you see all the sprinkles of sugar on his face. It dusts along his cheekbones and the top of his nose, looking like small freckles on his skin. You give him an endearing smile as you cup his face and swipe it away from his skin. You do it without thinking really, tips of your fingers gently flicking away the evidence of your tiny prank.

Jungkook’s chest tightens at the soft gesture, eyes wide as he watches you, too scared to move, almost like it would startle you or make you come to your senses and remember he was a Six. He chooses to just focus on how soft your hand feels against his cheek, how sweet you sound when you say he looks like a mess, your eyes filled with what he hopes is the same adoration he has as you look up at him, a lot closer than you need to be.

Jungkook knows all the sugar is gone now but you’re still there, thumb rubbing along his cheek, tracing the scar under his eye while your gaze lands on the piercing on his lip. He holds his breath when you look up at him once more, and maybe it's his wishful thinking but he swears the way you look at him tells him to make a move, so he does. Slowly at first, wanting to give you a chance to deny his advances, but you meet his lips before he can close the distance himself.

The innocence is gone now. Jungkook had felt something brewing with each of your interactions, chalking it off to pure friendliness, but he knows a small spark had been lit the second you started speaking to each other.

The kiss burns, the guilt and betrayal to his club clawing at his mind but he doesn't care, welcoming it as he deepens it, sliding his hand into your hair and focusing on the way you let out a soft breath as he does so. It makes your mind spin, your hands gently looping around his neck to bring him closer. You don’t have time to think, too enveloped in the way his piercing feels against your lips, how his fingers softly rake through your hair, how he takes a deep breath when you kiss him back harder.

It's brief, a small moment of weakness led by temptation, but you can’t deny how you both feel exhilarated, wide eyes and smiles on your faces when you pull back. "You taste like candy," you giggle.

“Your favorite,” he mumbles, still close enough to nudge the tip of his nose along yours. His voice is low as he lets reality settle, slowly inching back, his eyes meeting yours and seeing the small clouds of panic start to form around you. Reality seems to be hitting you too, fear of what would happen to him if Minho ever found out, or what would happen to you if he even had an inkling. A small harmless crush had just passed over into dangerous territory.

“Hey,” Jungkook starts softly, hand gently coming to rest on your shoulder to bring you back to the present. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“No, but it does,” you groan. It did mean something, it didn’t matter how small it seemed, but you know the kiss meant something. Your small panic had nothing to do with being unfaithful, you knew Minho cheated on you with any girls who were willing to show their loyalty to the club, and if it kept him off of you then you didn’t mind it. You were scared to put Jungkook in danger. “It means something and my boyfriend’s crazy, he’ll kill both of us if he finds out.”

“I know he is.” He shrugs, looking directly at you, seeing the shocked look on your face at his admission.

“You know what?” you whisper.

“I know he’s a psycho. I kind of put two and two together when you mentioned a boyfriend. It is Minho right?” When you nod slowly, still unsure how to respond he just continues speaking. “But look, I know. All of it. I know I’m not supposed to be speaking to you, let alone kissing you and enjoying it, but it happened. I know it’s wrong, that I should feel bad and I don’t, but I also know where my loyalties lie within the club and what rules I’m willing to bend. If you’re saying it means something, then it does.”

You can only stare at him, feeling the clouds of panic start to fade. “But I'm telling you, I know what's at risk and I won’t be using it to harm you.”

“I mean…it is both our asses on the line,” you mumble out, still feeling his hand on your shoulder. He smiles at your words now, making you slowly smile back.

“So, we’re taking it to our graves?” His voice is light again, the playful tone you were used to back. When you nod he smiles wider. “Cool, should we kiss on it?”

Jungkook laughs when you shove his shoulder with a cackle, rolling your eyes as you step back, walking back into the bodega to get what you came for. “You’re so unserious. Get away from me.”

The issue with this imaginary line being crossed is that it leaves you thinking “what’s next”, constantly wondering just what else you could get away with. One kiss shared turns into two which turns into five, given so casually it feels like second nature. It seems like both of your guards have dropped now, more at ease with each other, touches getting as bold as they could in public.

“Are you sure my skin isn’t gonna burn off?” you joke, laughing when Jungkook gives you an eye roll. His jacket is in his hands, shaking it off before he’s swinging it around your frame, helping you slide your arms into it. He had jokingly said it would swallow you whole, and you honestly just wanted an excuse to be closer to him so when he suggested you try it on you couldn’t deny him.

“You might burst into flames, so just drop and roll baby.” He snickers when you playfully glare at him. Jungkook looks down at you with a smile, his hands smoothing the collar before he’s taking a step back to admire how the large leather jacket looked on you. The patches cover the arms and back, his first initial, last name and rank displayed over the left breast pocket, something your finger comes up to trace absentmindedly.

“I don’t know, the jacket suits you. You sure you don’t wanna become a Six?”

“Very funny Jungkook. They’ll be putting a Cobra on my tombstone when I’m dead.”

He waves you off, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. “Let me live in my fantasy world, yeah?”

“Your fantasy world involves me being a Six?” you giggle, looking up at him with a sly smile.

“Don’t kink shame me. Now smile for the picture,” he sings out, bending down as he extends his arm out, ready to take a selfie. You had yet to take photos of you both, too scared to be caught by Minho, but you allowed Jungkook to document your newly formed friendship as much as he wanted, knowing he had less to worry about when it came to snooping.

Your arms wrap around him, the tombstone patch on display as you both smile widely for the picture. He looks at it with a cheeky grin, mumbling out how cute he thought it was before putting his phone away.

“Do you need the usual for your run today?” he asks, knowing Minho always had you stocking up his alcohol.

“Not today. I’m technically supposed to be locked inside our place. A few Cobra’s headed out of state this morning for a meeting.”

Jungkook hums, having briefly heard of an arms deal happening out of state, he just hadn’t been aware it was the Cobra’s doing. “Why didn’t you go with?”

“Too risky.” You lean back against the textured wall of the building, still cozy in his jacket. Minho loved to have you right by his side at all times, so if he said it was safer for you to stay here then you wouldn’t question him. “He has to make sure his prized possession stays safe.”

Jungkook laughs, slinging an arm around you and bringing you to his side obnoxiously. “Well you tell him I have that covered.”

“Jungkook, he’d cut your tongue out. Stop it!” you cackle.

“I’d like to see him fucking try,” he grunts out, enjoying the way you playfully swat at him. He’d like to think he could have Minho’s head served on a silver platter if he ever got close enough to put his hands on him.

“What about you? Any fun club plans after our playdate?”

Jungkook sighs, a smile still on his face. “Nope. I’m officially clocked out.” Your laugh is felt against his side, only making his smile widen. “I just have to stop by the clubhouse to grab something before heading home.”

“How far is the clubhouse from here?” You’re looking up at him with a twinkle in your eye, your smile still as sweet as can be, but he senses some undertone that he hopes he isn’t imagining.

“Not far, about 20 minutes. Why? You want a tour?”

That was all he had to ask before you were following his bike down the busy streets on his side of town. His jacket is still on you, providing you with a small sense of security, knowing if anyone spotted you they’d assume you were with him. It leaves you at ease, entering the secure lot of his clubhouse, coming to a stop beside him and glancing around as you take off your helmet.

It’s empty, a few cars parked around that looked like they were in need of repair, but no other bikes or lingering people. Jungkook steps off his bike, motioning for you to follow him, excited at showing you his favorite place.

As you follow his lead you instantly see how different Deep Six’s clubhouse is compared to the Cobras. The space is taken care of, decorated thoughtfully, a space made for business as well as hanging out with their friends and families. Touches of the club are nestled around, a large Harley on display on a far wall, a frame showing the timeline and evolution of their patch tucked between other photos, and the most obvious and slightly obnoxious ode to the club comes in the gallery wall displaying all of their mugshots. Cute.

“It’s nothing fancy,” he mumbles, spreading his arms out as he stands in the middle of the main room. A brown tufted leather couch is right behind him, a giant pool table behind it and a fully loaded bar to the right.

“Compared to ours it sure is.” The Cobra’s clubhouse was made for business only, the meeting room was kept in pristine condition while the rest of it was only made to be nice enough to house drunken members and whatever hangouts were in the process of joining.

“Really?” When you nod he just frowns, approaching you to grab your hand and pull you along, trying to show you more. “I’ll show you my space.”

“Your space?” you wonder, smiling when he squeezes your palm lightly, leading you down a hall to the right. A few doors line both walls, different ranks tacked on the middle of them, coming to a stop in front of one that says Road Captain. You had never really paid attention to his rank on his jacket, never really caring to read anyone’s rank in general, but seeing it displayed on this door let you know just how deep his involvement in his club was.

“Only ranked members get private rooms.” He sounds almost bashful as he says this, grinning before opening up the door and switching on the light. A desk is on the right, paperwork neatly stacked in piles, a dresser is along the other wall with pictures tacked onto a cork board right above it. His bed is in the middle, sheets a dark gray and neatly made. It’s nestled between two windows on either side, letting in the slowly setting sunlight.

You step into the room, walking to the dresser to look at the photos he has tacked up. He looks younger in some of these, hair messier and longer, no piercing or tattoos yet as he leans on his bike, another member attempting to put him in a headlock. They’re all club photos for the most part, the only one standing out is a photo of a teenage looking Jungkook holding up a diploma with what you can only assume is his parents beside him.

“Cute,” you mumble out, smiling as you turn back to face him. It was odd to feel this calm around him, so used to the faint ticking heard in your head, reminding you that you were running on borrowed time, forced to interact in small bursts. With Minho completely occupied, the ticking disappears, allowing you to fully enjoy the moment for what it was.

“I didn’t expect you to be sentimental like this,” you tease, smiling at the way his eyes narrow at you as he approaches, his tongue poking at his cheek as he fights a smile.

“I’m full of surprises,” he murmurs, standing a foot away from you now, peering down at you with an aura of playfulness surrounding him. Your hands reach out to gently play with the material of his shirt, tugging him even closer. Jungkook could feel the tension, the same slowly growing tension that had been brewing with each day spent together. He can only watch as your hands slowly trail up his stomach, gliding up to gingerly rest against his chest.

He wanted to kiss you, wanted to feel you gasp against his lips, but the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel like he had suggested showing you his clubhouse to be a total sleaze. Jungkook knew the line had grown blurry, kisses and touches shared with ease, but he wasn’t bold enough to assume you’d be okay with taking anything further. So when you decide to make the first move, leaning up to ghost your lips over his own, he can only hold his breath, eyes fluttering shut when you softly press them together.

Your hands rest on his shoulders now, holding yourself steady as you kiss him, feeling the way his body melts into it. You pull away with a soft smack of your lips, inching back slightly. “What other surprises do you have?”

Jungkook holds in a groan when you start to pepper kisses on the corner of his mouth, trailing them down his jaw, gently nipping the skin of his throat right below his ear. You giggle when he shudders, his hands gripping your waist, fingers tightening around you.

“If you let me, I can show you.” His voice holds a tinge of unsureness, wanting for you to be okay with this without sounding pushy. But Jungkook had been thinking of this since your first kiss so he couldn’t help the desperate tone laced between each syllable.

“Show me. Show me whatever you want,” you whisper, hand coming up to cup his cheek, looking up at him through your lashes. When his eyes meet yours he finally lets his resolve crack, attaching your lips once more in a heated kiss, finally feeling you gasp against him.

Jungkook is a little ashamed to admit how easily this was affecting him, his heart already racing in his chest, stomach fluttering with each shared moan, bulge growing in his jeans when your hand slips into his hair and pulls. His hands slide down the material of his jacket you have on, pulling it off your body and tossing it aside without a care. He feels you smile against his lips at the action, clearly enjoying the way his hands roam along your body, desperate to touch you in ways he wasn’t able to before.

It’s an eager dance to his bed, blindly stepping back as he guides you to it until your knees buckle against the mattress, giggling as you flop onto it. Your arm rests back to hold you steady, other hand gripping onto his shirt to yank him back over you, reattaching your lips in a heated kiss.

Jungkook laughs into the kiss, his arm wrapping around you to haul you further up the bed properly, slowly pushing you back until you’re flat against the bed. His body settles over you, the cute visual of his hair framing his face is the first thing you see when your eyes flutter open as he pulls back. His eyes are hooded as he stares at you, his hand coming up to gently cradle your jaw, thumb rubbing along your bottom lip as he smirks before dipping back down.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, following the same trail you had left on him earlier, smiling against your skin when you shudder as he nips your neck. Slowly, his hands slide down your body, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt and tugging it up to reveal your stomach.

“Can I take this off?” he mumbles, eyes peering up at you for confirmation. When you breathe out a yes, he slides it further up, helping you slip out of your shirt fully before you’re settling on your back again. A thin bralette covers your boobs, lacey cups revealing a glimmer on your nipples that has him tilting his head in curiosity.

You catch what he’s looking at, smile spreading on your lips as you reach up to touch his jaw, finger gently tapping along the small mole he has below his lips. “I’m full of surprises too,” you mumble, smiling wider when he boldly cups your chest, thumb swiping at your pierced nipple through the lace.

“I can see that,” he mumurs, voice low and raspy, making your stomach flip. He looks at you once more, brow cocking up in question as his fingers toy with the fabric. You nod your head, knowing what he wanted, allowing him to slip the straps off your shoulders before he’s sliding a palm under your back to properly unclasp your bra, giving himself the perfect view.

Its hard to ignore the small burst of confidence that surges through you when he groans, eyes hooded while he leans down to pepper kisses down your chest. It had been such a long time since you’ve felt truly desired, since you’ve been kissed delicately, had hands touch your skin so gently it tickles and leaves you breathing out a laugh. So you relish in it. You shut your eyes and enjoy the way Jungkook presses wet kisses to your skin, you let yourself gasp in pleasure when he wraps his lips around your pierced nipple and sucks.

Your hands instinctively slip through his hair, fingers yanking his thick strands as he hums against your skin, tongue flicking along the piercing. Jungkook feels the way you jut your chest further out, back arching at the sensation. A deep groan escapes you as his palm comes up to cup your other breast, the cool feeling of his rings sending a shiver down your spine.

He smiles as he pulls back, cocky with eyes twinkling with mischief as his fingers playfully dance down your body.

His eyes are locked with yours as his fingers reach the waistband of your jeans, teasingly dipping past it as he lifts a brow in question. He needed clear boundaries, not wanting to cross any lines. You find it cute, how despite the fact that you’re laying here, chest heaving with anticipation, eyes surely wild with desire, he’s still wanting to make sure.

“Can I?” He repeats his earlier question, features soft as he waits for your answer.

“We need to even out the playing field first Six,” you tease, smiling when he chuckles and points to his shirt. You nod, staring up at him from the bed as he kneels up, staring right at you as he reaches behind his neck and yanks the shirt off of his body.

Your blood warms up further at the sight of him, seeing his muscles flex under his tattoos as he straightens back up. Jungkook tilts his head slightly, biting on his lip ring as he fights back the smile at your clear admiration. The black marks his skin, some tattoos looking darker than others, showing you just which ones were recent additions.

The owl on his chest looks the brightest, edges still crisp, shading looking rich in the skulls beneath each wing. They seem to move as Jungkook takes a breath, snapping you out of it as you look back into his eyes.

“Is this even enough for you?” he jokes, smiling wide when you nod in confirmation, your eyes following his movements as his hand returns to your jeans. You watch with bated breath as he unbuttons the top, slowly pulling down the zipper before his hands hook into the waistband and starts to tug. Your hips lift from the bed to help, allowing him to pull them off, tossing them to the side along with your shoes and socks.

You can feel your stomach flipping with nerves, the worry of doing something new with someone new, the small clouds of insecurity rolling in, wondering if you looked good in this angle, if maybe Jungkook preferred you to look a certain way or wear cute underwear with bows on the front instead of the black regular cotton ones you currently have on.

It all settles down as he drops lowers, eyes looking up at you as he presses kisses onto your hips and slowly tugs your underwear down, clearly not paying any mind to them. A trail of goosebumps blossom down your thighs, following your underwear as he pulls them off too. He stands up once more, eyes swimming with want as he sees you.

“Let me get a good look at you,” he murmurs when he notices the way your arms begin to want to cover yourself up at being fully exposed. He thinks it's cute how shy you seem now, eyes bouncing away from his as he takes his time drinking you in. With your eyes diverted, he thinks it's a great time to dive in, his hands coming down to grip your palms while his face nudges its way into the crook of your neck to kiss your skin, smiling at the way you gasp and laugh at the ticklish feeling

“Jungkook!” you giggle, feeling his hands pin your own down on the bed, his mouth traveling down your body as he guides your hands into his hair, letting you know he wants you to keep playing with the strands. Your finger twirls his hair around, feeling him smile against your skin as he descends once more.

“Everything about you is so pretty,” he mumbles into your stomach, eyes peering up at you while his hands return to your hips, slowly sliding down to your thighs to grip the flesh. Wet kisses smack into your skin, leaving a trail on each hip and down your thigh until he’s suddenly biting. He laughs when you gasp, your fingers tugging his hair on instinct when you look down with a shocked expression.

“Looked so good you had to take a bite?” you joke, smiling down at him, feeling the fluttering in your stomach when he winks.

“Oh I need more than just a bite,” he groans, fingers tightening their hold on your thighs before he presses a kiss directly onto your mound, slowly sticking his tongue out to gently flick along your slit.

Jungkook loves the way your breath gets shaky as you exhale, a soft moan of his name reaching his ears when he gently parts your folds and teasingly flicks against your clit. A part of him knows this might be the one and only time he’ll ever get to experience you like this, the only time he’ll see you flush on his bed, gasping for more as your hips roll into him. So he wants to store every moment in his brain, keep it locked away until the next time he misses you.

“Fuck Jungkook, that feels good,” you moan, fingers locked in his hair, keeping him close as he ravishes you. The praise makes his ego grow, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking with the perfect amount of pressure. It makes your stomach tense, short little zaps of electricity flowing through your body with each flick of his tongue.

“Good, I just wanna make you feel good.” He leans back a bit, admiring the look of your sodden folds for a moment before he's letting a glob of spit drip from his mouth directly onto your clit. He bites his lip as his fingers spread it around, coating his digits as he circles your entrance. His eyes meet yours again, brow raised in question, smiling when you nod in response. Slowly, he pushes forward, eyes focused on your reaction, seeing the way you bite down on your lip as his finger sinks in.

Jungkook tries not to let his mind get carried away when he feels your walls fluttering around his digit, already imagining how you would feel around him, feeling his cock aching in his jeans as he sinks a second finger in to properly stretch you out. With each thrust of his fingers his mind wanders further, the need to see you falling apart leading his mouth back onto you, the combining sensation making you moan louder.

The stretch of his fingers has your head spinning, eyes falling shut as you mewl on his sheets, fingers raking through his hair. “More Jungkook, please,” you whimper, not able to get enough of him.

The desperation lacing your voice makes Jungkook’s heart flutter, ready to comply with anything you want. He moans against your folds, a third finger adding to the delicious stretch. The wet clicks of his fingers thrusting into your drenched pussy fill the room, and it's the greed living inside of Jungkook that makes him want to thrust into you faster, make it so that all you can hear is the sound of your pleasure.

Your breath hitches in your throat when he curves his fingers upwards, tickling the sweet spot that makes your eyes roll. That’s when you feel the familiar cool sensation of his rings once more. You were used to feeling them on your arms when he playfully pulled you around, used to the feeling of them on your cheeks when he gripped your face before kissing you, but feeling them against your cunt each time he thrust his fingers forward, it made your body burn up with lust. There was something about having the name of a club you were told to stay far away from pressed against you salaciously that only made the waves of pleasure you feel crash over you even harder.

“Mm, close Jungkook,” you whine, your free hand sliding up your body to tug and pinch at your nipples. Jungkook peers up at you from between his thighs and the visual of you playing with yourself while he ate you out has him making a mess in his underwear. He doesn’t even care how easy it is for you to make him this needy, knowing you were enjoying yourself because of him was all that mattered.

“Wanna feel you baby,” he mutters out, lips shiny with your arousal, fingers scissoring inside of you, feeling the way your walls tighten around him. Your hands grip his hair tighter, making him hiss, a breathy laugh hitting your messy folds when you guide his mouth back onto you.

Jungkook knows you’re right on the edge, the craving for your release making you arch your back, moans of his name slurring together with pleas for more more. All it takes is a few more flicks of his tongue for your climax to crest, the prettiest moan he’s ever heard reaching his ears as you gush around his fingers.

“There you go, good girl,” he groans, pulling back as he licks his lips, staring at your trembling body with eyes swimming with lust. His thumb replaces his mouth, rubbing your swollen clit, enjoying the way you writhe at the slight overstimulation.

“Ah, ‘Guk,” you whimper. And the new nickname has him smiling, loving the way it sounds coming from you so much he almost doesn’t want to stop. It takes your small hands coming down to grip his wrist for him to finally pull away, your soft giggles of enjoyment coming to a halt when he slips his fingers into his mouth.

“Told you I needed more than just a bite,” he teases, making an absolute show of licking his fingers. “What about you, are you satisfied?”

You lift yourself up with one arm, the other reaching forward to grip his belt loop, tugging him closer as you look up at him through your lashes. “Mm, no I don’t think I am.” His abs tense when your finger trails along his skin, toying with the button on his jeans, slowly popping them open and pulling down the zipper.

“Then I need to fix that,” he mumbles, tongue flicking his lip ring as he stares down at you, watching the way you reach down to palm at his bulge. Your face lights up at his words, a smile spreading on your face as he helps you tug down his jeans, obviously eager. Jungkook’s smirk only deepens when your eyes widen once you finally release his cock, a small gasp escaping you at the size of him.

Pearly beads of precum collect at his tip, swollen and aching for your touch, so when you finally grasp his length and swipe your thumb along the bulbous tip he lets out a deep groan that has your core clenching.

“Fuck, babe.” He grunts when your palm starts to slide up and down, his eyes focused on the way you slowly inch forward, your tongue peeking out to gently lick his tip. Jungkook knows he’s in trouble, already feeling his body react to your touch. All you had done was give him a few teasing touches and his mind was already spinning. Its an inner battle as he watches you take more of him into your mouth, his jaw dropping at the warm feeling, hands clenching by his side when you moan at the taste of him.

“Y/N,” he groans, “you’re gonna make me cum too fast.” You pop off of him with a wet smack, a saccharine smile on your lips as you giggle.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Your head tilts as you question him, hand still lazily pumping his length.

“It is when I want to fuck you first.” That makes your hand finally stop, brows raising in interest. Your free hand slides up his body, carefully cupping his face, guiding him down to kiss you.

“Then fuck me, Jungkook. I’m yours,” you murmur against his lips, feeling him groan against you as he kisses you harder. You know what you mean. You’re his for the night, despite how strong your connection with him is, the reality was that as long as Minho had his claws sunk into you, there would never be a chance for you and Jungkook to delve deeper into this relationship. But this tiny bubble you were both in was enough for you.

The energy is different than what you’re used to, the both of you smiling through the kisses, soft words whispered against skin as you help him take off his jeans. Jungkook’s laugh is infectious when you gasp at the sight of his thighs, the double headed wolf tattoo catching your attention immediately, praising it under your breath before he’s kissing you once more, telling you he’ll let you properly see it later as his hands grope your sides.

“How do you want me?” you mumble, gently nipping his lip.

“If it was my way I’d have you in every position I could think of. You tell me, baby.” If Jungkook let his selfish desires take over, he’d tell you he wanted you to ride him, let you bounce on top of him and use him while he got to watch your pretty face. But he can’t be that selfish, even if the small pestering voice in his head tells him that this might be his only chance to. Still, his eyes are soft as he pulls back, ringed hand caressing your face with a tenderness that makes your heart clench

“Can I ride you?” Your voice is timid, just above a whisper, but it makes Jungkook shut his eyes and groan. You see, he wasn’t corny, didn’t believe in fate or anything like that, but for a brief moment Jungkook's convinced this was meant to be.

“Fuck,” he groans, leaning forward to rest his forhead against yours. “Yes, please.”

The way he begs makes your pussy ache, hips instinctively rolling up into his, enjoying the way he hisses, rutting his cock against your inner thigh. The beads of precum leak off his tip, leaving a small puddle by your hip, smeared around as he repeats the action.

“O-okay,” you gasp, biting down on your lip as you peek at the visual, trying not to get lost in the way he teases himself. “Let me ‘Guk, wanna feel you.”

He nods, tendrils of hair tickling your face as he kisses you again before leaning back. You try not to stare but it's so hard when he looks like that, length hard and bobbing as he rummages through the drawer by his bed, a sheepish smile on his lips when he plucks out a shiny square packet.

Your heart races in your chest as you sit up, coming onto your knees and crawling to the head of the bed, gently patting the space next to you. Jungkook’s quick to settle beside you, back leaning against the small headboard, large hands reaching to grab your hips and hoist you over his thighs. A small laugh escapes you at being manhandled, the toned muscles of his thighs felt underneath you, his cock poking at your belly from your proximity.

Your eyes are glued to it, watching in awe as he pulls out the condom and carefully rolls it on, a small sigh meeting your ears.

“Can’t wait to feel you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his jaw, your hand meeting his around his cock as you lift your hips just enough. His free hand finds your hip again as you guide his tip to your entrance, teasingly circling it, slipping the tip inside for a second before popping it back out, the two of you gasping at the feeling.

“Mm, sit on it,” he groans, brows pinched together as he nudges his nose into your neck. Wet kisses mark your skin, his hand getting tighter on your hip when you repeat the action again before finally sinking further down. Your walls clench around him, the stretch making you whine. You had seen his size, knowing just how big he was, but now that he’s inside of you and you feel it, you pace yourself.

It's unintentionally torturous, the warm tightness slowly enveloping more of him and all he could do was clench his jaw and grip you harder. Jungkook is patient, fighting every urge he has to thrust up or sit you down fully. Instead he murmurs praises into your skin, tells you how good you feel, how good you’re doing, that you’re almost there until you’re butt rests flush against his thighs.

A shuddering breath hits his shoulder, your face coming up to stare at him properly now. He’s staring at you with hooded eyes, mouth slightly opened as he gasps when your walls flutter.

“So big,” you mumble, kissing him gently, lips ghosting over his, hips slowly lifting an inch before coming back down.

“I know, baby. Take your time.” He groans, kissing you harder, teeth clicking together in his haste, breathing into each other. Jungkook felt like he was dreaming, some sick fantasy teasing him while he slept, giving him a taste of you before reality would settle in and snatch it all away. But you don’t usually feel this way in his dreams, don’t dig your nails into his shoulder as you quicken your pace, your wetness dripping down his cock and pooling at the base. And Jungkook is glad that he prefers reality over his dreams for once.

“Oh god ‘Guk,” you moan, skin slapping together with each rise and fall of your hips. His lips are coated in a sheen of spit, swollen from your kisses and gentle bites, but he gives you a smile, clearly enjoying your reaction to him.

“Does it feel good baby?” he murmurs, voice deep and raspy at the edges, his hand sliding up your thighs, pressing into your tummy with a tilt to his head. “Feel nice and full?”

You shudder at his question, feeling the pressure of his palm, and you swear you can feel the tip of his cock nudging into it. “Y-yes, so good, so full. Just wanna fuck you forever.”

He hums, feeling your words deep inside of him. It makes him melt into the headboard, hand traveling further up until he has a handful of your tits in them. Jungkook plays with them a bit, finger pinching and twisting the hard buds, tugging gently at the silver bar, hearing you moan at the sensation.

“You can fuck me whenever you want,” he grunts at a particular drop of your hips, the wetness aiding in your pace.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he groans, thumb rolling along your nipple, softly rutting up into you. “Just text me whenever you want it. Pretty face, delicious pussy, I’ll always be here for you.”

“You’re such a romantic,” you giggle, throwing your head back as you get lost in the motion. Jungkook laughs with you, arm scooping around your back to pull you closer, his mouth kissing up and down your neck, teeth grazing the surface with the urge to suck but he knows better.

“Just for you,” he breathes into your skin, feeling you laugh again.

It feels like nothing else matters, not the potential consequences to this, no worry about what this meant for your special friendship. All that matters is that Jungkook is grabbing you like he can’t get enough of you, kissing you like his life depends on it, not shy at all at vocalizing how good it all feels.

“Wanna cum,” you gasp, cupping his face, seeing the way he focuses on your lips as you speak.

“Yeah? Tell me what you need.” He bends his knees slightly, pressure on his heels as he fucks up into you. The jiggle of your tits makes his mouth water, caught in a daze.

“Need you to touch me.” It's the softest plea, tone dripping and needy, making Jungkook nod immediately. He bites his lip as he trails a hand up your chest, over your neck until he’s cupping your jaw, his thumb rubbing along your lower lip. With a gentle tap, you’re opening up, eyes locked together as you wrap your lips around the digit and suck, giving him a teasing bite as he tries to pull it out.

He smiles at you, bringing down his soaked thumb in between your bodies until it reaches home directly onto your clit. The sudden touch makes you gasp, bundle of nerves swollen and sensitive, and its almost too much. But he’s gentle, easing you into the feeling, only applying more pressure when you finally relax, falling back into the delicious rhythm you have going.

Jungkook can feel the coil tightening inside of him with each pulse of your pussy, walls clamping around him on each lift, making an absolute mess as the arousal drips onto his balls.

“More?” He quickens his finger, circling your clit faster, paying close attention to your reaction.

“Oh, fuck. No, like that. Just like that.” So he does, jaw dropped open as he watches you get lost in it all, bouncing on top of him as fast as you wanted, using him just like he wanted. Your thighs burn but it feels too good to think about stopping, the beginning signs of your orgasm licking at your skin, encouraging you to fuck him faster. You can hear how messy you’re leaving him, the squelch of your pussy blending in with the moans and thumping of the headboard.

“Close, fuck—ah,” you stutter and gasp, brows pinched together tightly, only able to stare at him as you start to fall apart. He looks at you in awe, breathing in time with you, matching each gasp and moan, thumb slipping around in your slick. It's the accidental flick of his that has you tumbling over the edge, nearly shrieking out his name as your high comes barreling at you.

Jungkook curses under his breath as you tremble above him. Your hand curls into his hair, yanking him forward into a messy kiss as you moan unabashedly, his thumb continuing to flick along your puffy clit for another minute to work you through it before he’s clutching onto your hips and controlling your speed. You’re still twitching at the aftershocks, small sparks kissing your skin and leaving you in a comfortable haze as you tangle your tongue with his, pulling back with a smile so sweet.

“I wanna see you cum Jungkook,” you kiss him again, teasing him as you pull away and watch him chase you for more. “Made me feel so good, want you to cum for me.”

Jungkook groans, nodding as he wraps his arm around you, pushing off the headboard until the air is whooshing around you and your back is meeting the sheets once more. He cages you in easily, arms under your back, cradling your head as he buries his face into your neck and surges his hips into you.

Your breath leaves you at the change in position, legs wrapping around his hips, shuddering as his pelvis nudges your sensitive clit. He doesn’t care how desperate he looks, fucking you like he was starved of affection, the need to cum taking over all of his senses.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Your nails dig into his back, scratching along his skin, making him groan into your ear. His thrusts grow more sporadic, shallow, losing their grace as your purposefully clench around him.

“Oh shit, you’re gonna make me cum.” He whines, voice breathy against your neck, and you swear you’ll cum again.

“Yeah? Cum for me, c’mon,” you whisper, grazing his back and tightening your walls again. He nods against you before he’s leaning back, giving you the view you so sweetly asked for. His thick brows are furrowed on his forehead, eyes heady with lust, and a deep groan of your name spilling past his lips as he cums. Your feet urge him closer as his hips stutter, rutting into you to milk his orgasm as he fills up the condom.

The room falls quiet for a moment, the both of you catching your breath, hearts slowing down as the high settles over your bones. And then he’s laughing, flopping back over you and tightening his hold on your body.

“Why are you laughing?” You giggle too, hands running through his hair as you smile in a love sick daze.

“I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard,” he admits sheepishly, kissing your warm skin, leaning back with a childish smile as he kisses your nose and ever so slowly starts to pull out of you. The sound is filthy, core sensitive and messy, and when he fully pulls out you can’t help but close your legs.

He simply laughs, hand softly rubbing at your calves before he’s getting up and disposing of the condom.

You’re still in that same foggy haze from earlier, even as Jungkook returns with a damp cloth to clean you up, all you can do is hum in thanks as you melt into his sheets. It doesn’t take long for him to settle in beside you again, holding you close, hand tickling the skin of the thigh you have hooked over his hip.

“You have such pretty legs.” It’s a soft compliment, almost like it wasn’t meant to escape him. But when you look at him with a sincere smile he continues. “If you were mine I’d beg you to wear skirts all the time just so I could stare at them, touch them—“ he grips your thighs playfully, smiling at your laugh, “I’d be able to flick it up so easily and fuck you in it.”

Your laugh is louder now, your hand playfully swatting at his chest at how quick he was to get raunchy.

If you were mine.

That phrase repeats in your mind, sounding like a sweet song that you’d never get tired of hearing.

“I’ll wear one at the meet next week,” you promise, running your hand over his chest. You knew you’d be seeing him there, able to freely ogle at him with all the neighboring clubs gathered together in an attempt to keep the peace. You might not be able to interact like you usually do, but just seeing him was enough.

Just as he’s about to reply, the sound of a familiar engine cuts the air. You freeze instantly, wide eyes staring at Jungkook, seeing the confused look on his face. He lifts a hand up, motioning for you to stay as he sits up straighter, ears perking up when he hears the front door of the clubhouse open up.

“Stay here. They won’t come in here but I know they saw my bike so I’ll get rid of them.” You can only nod as he hurries into his clothes, buttoning his jeans in a haste and deciding to forgo his shirt and shoes as he all but runs out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

The haze you felt earlier is long gone, anxiety settling into your bones once more, realizing just what sort of situation you were in. Jungkook seemed to think the golden rule of staying away from Cobras was fine with you, but who knows just what kind of loyalty the Six member in the other room holds.

All you needed was one man hell bent on loyalty to come barging in, and you don’t even want to think of what would become of you. Your heart rattles in your chest as you sit up too, eyes glancing around the room to find your pile of clothes.

You can hear them mumbling in the main room, Jungkook’s laughter sounding out as he jokes around with his fellow brother. You can only imagine what he’s telling him, maybe explaining why theres a second bike parked next to his, or giving his reason for being shirtless and disheveled at the clubhouse this late in the day. Whatever is going on, you know you shouldn’t wait around to see how it plays out. Being with Jungkook makes reality pause, fade away and leave you to believe that things were meant to be this easy.

But that's not your reality.

You knew you wanted this to happen, could still feel the butterflies in your stomach as you remember the way he kissed your skin. But you couldn’t let the line be crossed this far again. You’re not sure karma would be too kind to you the next time.

As quiet as you can, you slip out of bed, carefully putting your clothes back on and looking at the desk in the corner. Before you overthink it, you grab the pen and notepad he has resting on top of paperwork, scribbling out a quick note before you’re returning to his bedside, yanking up the curtains and wiggling the window open to slip out.

Back in the main room, Jungkook is sitting on the bar stool, Hoseok resting against the counter as they both joke around. Jungkook is thankful that Hoseok doesn’t seem to ask too many questions, knowing very well that he must have some girl in the room, but he wasn’t nosey enough to want to know who.

“So you’re not gonna introduce your friend?” he jokes, giving Jungkook a coy smile, enjoying the way his younger friend blushes and shoves his shoulder.

“No you weirdo, you fucking scared her by showing up like this. Why the hell are you here anyway?”

Hoseok cackles, pushing away from the counter and walking towards the meeting room. “Sorry, I didn't mean to be a cockblock. I forgot to grab some paperwork.” The way he says it makes it seem like it was work documents, contracts that needed to be signed instead of files detailing the amount of guns they’d be receiving in the next drop. He disappears into the room, returning a few moments later with the folder in his hand. “I’ll be out of your hair now.”

And he does just that, waving goodbye and stepping back outside. But as he approaches his bike he realizes the bike he had seen next to Jungkook’s was missing now.

Jungkook is none the wiser as he walks back to his room, a smile on his face that falls when he doesn’t see you on the bed. The sheets are a mess, your clothes are missing, his curtains are drawn up and his window remains cracked open. He steps closer now, a white sheet of paper catching his attention on his desk.

Thanks for the tour, I think your room might be my favorite<3 Remember, we take this to our graves. We’ll kiss on it over sour straws soon x

Ps. I’ll see you at the meet, I’ll be the one in the short skirt.

Maybe it's the sick hopefulness he feels in his chest, but Jungkook can’t help but smile as he thinks this won’t be the last time afterall.

#jungkook smut #new

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shojizbae · 11 months ago

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Rave Baby

Spencer Reid x Reader

After a long case, some of the team pitstops at your apartment, and Morgan takes the liberty of searching through some memories. He comes across some scandalous photos that light a fire in Reid.

This last case was challenging. To make it worse, the power had gone out in DC due to a blackout. With a chirp, I told the team that I always had a generator and that we could cool with some coronas in my fridge. Hotch had declined, stating the necessity of returning to his wife and son. I had thrown open all the windows and cranked the AC, attempting to push out all the hot air. With my permission, Derek had distributed beers from my fridge and found a bag of chips.

A battery-powered radio was located, and my CDs were run through to find something to unwind with. With a sigh, Emily sank onto my couch and sipped her beer.

"Uhh, I can't tell you how nice your apartment is."

"Yeah," JJ groaned from the corner, holding her hair up and sticking her face in the AC vent. Derek was still looking through my belongings when he came across a Scooter CD.

"Well, well, well, where did a girl like you find this type of music?" I looked at the album cover.

"Oh, that's from my college days." I tried to dismiss it. This isn't the sort of stuff I would share with my coworkers.

"Really? Let's go ahead and pop this in."

"No don't!" I tried to launch it at him before he could open it, but it was too late. A few photos I took the night I bought that CD slipped into his lap.

"Woah ho ho!" Spencer, who had been content to sift through my shitty romance novels, peaked his head up like a prairie dog at the sound of Derek's chuckle. "What do we have here?" He held up one photo, and I hid behind my beer bottle.

"That was years ago," I whined

"What is this?" Spencer came to the group, attention fully peaked

"It's (Y/n). At a rave." Spencer snatched the photo out of Morgans's hand like a cat but Emily nearly yelled

"Shut up, let me see." she slammed her glass bottle on the table and grabbed one of the photos from him

"No way," JJ stated, following Spencer into the circle to look at the evidence. "I could never imagine you at a rave. I've seen you get upset that you left your clothes in the washing machine."

"They'll get moldy," I whined

"Holy shit. Where was this?" Emily inspects a photo of me in a bikini, fluffy leg warmers, and a matching bucket hat. "Look at your butt where were you hiding this." She makes an attempt to check me out, but I sink further into my couch

"I don't know, I was never sober in the 72 hours around a rave."

"Oh yeah? What did you take?" Morgan begged

"All sorts of crap, mostly hallucinogens. My rave mentor told me music is better when you're high."

"So why'd you stop going?" Emily asked

"I grew up."

"You grew up?" JJ asked, putting the photo on the table

"Yeah," I rubbed my hands up and down my thigh and sighed. I wasn't entirely ready to trauma-dump the team, but here I was. "My uncle, who basically raised me, passed on Thanksgiving in the sophomore year of my bachelor's. Hallucinogens made it easy not to grieve, and loud music blocked my ability to think. I would dance around and tell everyone that 'tonight was the night,' and I was 'finally free,' but I would just see him after a while. He would ask me, 'Why are you doing this, my dove?'. I couldn't ignore him anymore, so I just stopped. Put all my teeny bikinis in a box and put it past me." I cleared my throat, realizing that I had put a damper on the mood

"We could play the CD. I think I'll still remember the rhythm." I switched in the discs and let the synth radiate through my living room. Immediately, I felt the groove, letting it carry my limbs airily around me. I felt myself disconnect as the beat continued to pump. Before I could drift away wholly, Emilie's voice brought me down to earth.

"You packed all this away? That means you still have it?"

"Yeah, in a box in the back of my closet." before I could discover my mistake, she darted to the back of my apartment, and JJ took off with her.

"Oh hell, I gotta see this." Derek got up and dropped the last of the photos. Reid dutifully packed them up and sifted through the photos, stopping on one.

"What did you find, Spence?" I crawled toward him slowly. I gasped at the photo. My Rave mom, Zoe, who was only 4 months older than me, and I were posing together. He sifted through the images with it and stacked them. I gasped at the image. The photo on the top was of Zoe throwing up a peace sign, showing the neon pink paint on her palms, and a green hand was playfully on my throat. Both of our bodies had been splattered with neon ain't, but noticeably, I had two big hands brink on the triangle bikini we wore. One pink, one green.

The picture below was of Zoe and I very dramatically kissing. Zoe had made smudged hand prints on my ass. I had a leg up on her hip, and you could see drool and lipstick around each other mouths.

"I hardly even remember that night, and I thought it was trendy to act gay." I pulled the pictures from his hand and returned them to the case. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Why are you apologizing? Y-you had fun."

"Yeah, but you're my colleague. This is embarrassing and you probably are ashamed of me."

"Actually, I'm jealous. In college, I had no friends and didn't go to parties. I was, I am, a loser. You had fun."

"Did you not hear my spiel about using drugs not to think?"

"Yeah, but you were hot." That shocked you. He was only two beers deep, and Reid was spilling his secrets.

You laughed in shock.

"Spencer, you can't say things like that." I slapped at his chest playfully.

"WELL!" I could hear Derek's strained voice. "This!" he put the giant plastic tub on the floor next to us. "This is one heavy bucket of slutty clothes."

"I want to try something on!" JJ greedily popped the snaps on the cover. With giggles, JJ and Emily started pulling out bikinis that looked like they were made out of spider webs.

"Woah ho ho!" Derek giggled, holding up a low-rise thong. "I hope you wore a jacket."

"Alright, that's enough!" I grabbed it from his reach

"Hey, could I borrow one of these?" JJ asked. "Will has been asking for something new."

"Yeah, but don't borrow it. I don't want it back." I made a face of disgust

"Yeah, I might want to just wear one around my apartment?" Emily held something balled up

"Take as many as you want. I won't wear them again. I should sell them. I could finally go on vacation."

"Woah woah woah, if you sell these, what will you wear on vacation?" Derek joked

"Clothes." I snatched another piece of hosiery from him. My knees cracked as I stood and got another beer from the kitchen. "Now, get out of my panties." I swatted him with the bottoms as I walked by

by some stroke of God, the lights flicked back on, and across the street, I could see the surrounding building come back to life.

"Well, I've got to get to my house before my ice cream spoils." Emily stood and collected a few pieces of fabric.

"Yeah, and completely unrelated. I have to call Will." JJ juts out her lip in an admission of guilt. They snuck out the door, giggling and tucking crazy fabric in their bags.

"I should get going too, wonder boy. You need a ride home?"

"No, I should be fine. There's a train in the next hour." Reid was still immersed in the photos.

"Well, don't bug her too badly." He left with a wink

"Why are you still looking at those? They're ancient."

"The date on the back says 1998, making you 20 years old. You're 28." Finally, he puts the photos down. "I'm having a hard time picturing you going to a rave. You only read sappy novels from the seventies. I saw three copies of Tuck Everlasting on your shelves." All the talk from my coworkers and the five beers in my system made me more than angry and bold.

Stupid ideas were my biggest export when I was inebriated.

"Well, I know the FBI has kept me in shape. I'm going to my bedroom and try these on." I gave a coy smile as I took a handful of sets and strutted off to the back of my place.

"W-what do you mean you're going to try them on."

"I've gotta see if they still fit."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #raver girl

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hellishjoel · 1 month ago

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boy next door

711 words / pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

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word: spring cleaning

warnings/information: fluff!! literal fluff!!

a/n: sorry (not really) that I keep choosing Frankie as my inspiration for many of these prompts, he is just so lover boy!! my banners are by @saradika-graphics. shoutout to @berryispunk and @lady-bess for putting this together on @fanfictionoverload!

Francisco Morales has always been the boy next door. From grade school to high school, your lives ran parallel. You shared the same school bus stop and the same backyard fence.

It all began when he saw you cruising the cul-de-sac on your Razor scooter, his shy smile lingering until you rode up and asked if he wanted a turn. That was the moment your friendship truly began—joined at the hip from that day forward.

High school changed things. Francisco turned into Frankie, and Frankie got… hot. All sharp features and soft brown eyes with floppy curls often nestled under a hat. Meanwhile, you were navigating the awkwardness of acne and insecurities, and your circles didn’t quite overlap the way they used to.

Life pulled you in different directions—you went to university, and Frankie enlisted. You assumed he’d forgotten about you, imagining him making new friends, finding someone special, and leaving your shared past behind.

Then, last Christmas Eve, Frankie appeared at your parents' doorstep, clutching a tin of cookies his mom had baked. The surprise visit turned into hours of catching up over hot cocoa and nostalgia.

That night rekindled something neither of you had realized you missed. A year later, he wasn’t just the boy next door anymore—he was your sweet, goofy boyfriend, and today, he was helping you tackle early spring cleaning at your parents' house before they moved to Florida.

“Florida must have subliminal radio waves for retirees.” He grunts as he yanks down the rickety wooden ladder to the attic, shifting around boxes until his eyes land on one with Barbie stickers and childish scribbles with a marker. “What do we have here?” he teases, descending the ladder with the box cradled against his chest.

Your heart sank. “Frankie, no,” you warn, lunging forward to grab it.

“I spy some diaries!” Frankie beams, heat rushing to all parts of your body in panic.

“Please don’t read those. I’m begging you.”

Frankie holds up the thickest one, a compound notebook with a black and white cover that has your name and the year scrawled over it in a gel pink pen.

Frankie scoffs playfully, eyeing you over curiously. “What’s the worst it could say? Did you confess to a crime in here? With a pink glittery pen?”

“Frankie, please,” you groan, face buried in your hands.

Those pages hold so many memories from high school. You remembered bits and pieces of what could be inside, but you knew at least a few pages described your torrid girlish crush on Francisco. Your boy next door.

His playful grin softened as he studied your expression. He placed the notebook back in the box and set it on the floor. “Okay, baby. I won’t look. I was just messing around.” He crossed the room, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m sorry.”

The relief you feel gives you the courage to flip through the journal, finding one page in particular. “One page. And one page only. Okay?”

Frankie’s eyes lit up as he slid behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. Together, you found the page—his name, scrawled in a big heart pierced with an arrow.

He tightened his hold, and you felt the warmth of his blush against your cheek. “You had a crush on me?” he murmurs, his voice low and awed. “I used to have a crush on you. You were so cool, and I never told you how I felt. You always just seemed so much smarter than me, and you didn’t care what anyone thought. No way in hell did I think you’d be into me.”

You turn in his arms, both of you smiling like teenagers again.

He shakes his head and pulls you in for a deep kiss, his rough hands melting at the hold he has on your jaw, taking in the love notes scattered throughout your journal. “I could have had you all this time.”

You shake your head and squeeze his hands assuredly. “Our timing is just right.” The attic, the journals, and the past faded away. In this moment, it was just the two of you—and the love that had finally found its time.

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#frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #fuck yeah frankie #francisco morales #catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #SeasonsOfLifeChallenge #frankie morales

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fatphobiabusters · 23 days ago

Note

I've gotten so desensitized to casual fatphobia in a doctors office that most of the time I don't recognize it in the moment, and sometimes not even for a few weeks. I just get a moment of "hey, wait a minute, that was fucked up" out of nowhere.

I recently remembered a moment from about 4 months ago and I'm kind of shocked it was said and it took so long for me to realize it. Last year, I got diagnosed with a type of arthritis that is genetic. I am in constant, debilitating pain. I asked my doctor if I could have a temporary handicap parking permit until we had a treatment sorted, as being on my feet for more than 10ish minutes starts to become excruciating. And he said no. He said "I'd rather see you walking that distance". And like... I know moving my joints is good for my condition, but I haven't been able to go grocery shopping in over a year. If I have to go into the pharmacy and stand in line to get a med? Limping and hunched over by the time I exit the store. And I just can't help but think this wouldn't have been said to someone half my weight.

Anyway, things like this are very frustrating and I really appreciate this blog and that I can send this ask to people I know will Get It, even if the exact situation isn't relatable to everyone. Thank you<3

That truly is just....wild that a doctor knowing your situation would say that to you. I do think if you had been a thin patient of his that he would have responded differently. That's so fucked up. Is there a different way for you to get that parking permit? Or do you have to go through him? The next best option I can think of would be to use one of those scooters, but those aren't at every store, and fat people who use scooters endure so much fatphobia and bigotry. You deserve better medical treatment than a doctor who believes stereotypes and disproved myths.

-Mod Worthy

#ask #sad0nion #diet culture #medical fatphobia #Mod Worthy

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edutainer2022 · 2 months ago

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Power outages are wanky again after the night bombing. So I distract myself with a story instead of work, while the power is up. It's Gordon's 21st birthday and he gets a meaningful moment with Scott. Some sad memories resurface, but mostly it's all love all around.

Thanks go to @janetm74 for support and for cheering my recent craving of Gordon and Scott dynamics.

COMING OF AGE

The party, Tracy-style, was, of course, as bright, and fun, and loud an affair on the island as would befit Gordon's twenty first birthday. Rivaled maybe only by Gordon's eighteenth, several years back. Some details of that one Scott still didn't need to know about, for biggest brother's peace of mind. There were yet more festivities planned on the mainland, rescues permitting, including a get together with Gordon's swimming team buddies and a deep dive into the finest night club scene the world had to offer with brothers and Kayo. Some parts of those developments Scott probably too didn't need to know about.

Despite the general merry all around and copious amounts of good food on the offer, Scott had to be hunted down on the balcony, overlooking the ocean. Alone. Figured! Trust Scott to develop an empty nest syndrome despite all his little brothers and loved ones being around and accounted for, with no intention to leave.

Gordon plonked a tumbler of whiskey on the bannister, where Scott's hand was gripping it, and a gaudy neon cocktail, complete with a tiny umbrella and tinsel, for himself. Scott arched a brow quizzically.

"What? For the record, you do realize this isn't my first alcoholic drink?"

The arched brow slid into a slight frown, but Scott didn't take the bait.

"I'm also not a virgin."

The expression of abject horror on big brother's face was completely worth it.

Gordon pressed the glass into Scott's hand and raised his own concoction in a mock toast.

"Here's to me not being legally your problem anymore, Scooter!"

An instant flash of rue, across big brother's face, not concealed on time, was probably the crux of the whole moping on the balcony in solitude situation. If Gordon were honest, his own nonchalance was only half convincing.

Scott smiled the fond little-brother smile down at him, however, and Gordon felt something unwind in his chest he didn't know was coiled tight. Strong, sure arms drew him into a warm hug. Big brother rested his chin on the chlorine bleached mop and hummed.

"Aw, you'll always be my problem, Gordie!"

Gordon let himself relax a moment against the blue denim. The safest place in the world.

A memory surfaced and Gordon shifted to look up at Scott. Maybe not the best of his ideas to speak up that instant, but they hardly ever were.

"Hey, remember Mom's funeral?"

Scott frowned again, unsure where that was going. But Gordon was already immersed in reminisce.

"It was the morning of and Allie was crying as you put him in that tiny black suit. I was being difficult and you let me wear blue fish socks!"

[Scott, already in his funeral suit, made sure everyone was up and getting ready that morning, so that Dad wouldn't be upset more. He was at the end of his wits with Allie's meltdown, though. The toddler wriggled and cried for Mommy as Scott was trying to wrangle him into a tiniest mourning suit. On cue, Gordon flat out refused to put on the suit either and wanted to attend the funeral in his squid pijamas. Scott struck a deal with the pre-schooler that he could wear yellow socks with the blue fish print to go with the dress shoes. Mom's favorite.]

Scott's smile was sad again and Gordon mentally kicked himself.

"You weren't difficult, Gordie. You were six and Mom was gone. It's okay!"

It wasn't! That was the point Gordon was getting at, in a however roundabout way.

"You let me wear the fish socks and it felt like Mom was there with me. And then, at the wake, Allie was cranky again and you had to carry him. So I wanted you to carry me too."

[Tall and athletic at fourteen, Scott nonetheless couldn't pick up the toddler and the six-year-old little swimmer at the same time. So he found an unoccupied futon and hoisted both baby brothers into his lap. Virgil and John gravited near too, leaning both sides of him. Virgil, quiet and almost zoned out from all the tears. John - a translucent ghost from insomnia. People were swirling around, making smalltalk or making compassionate faces at their Dad, shaking his hand and patting his shoulder somewhere in the middle of the crowd.]

"There were all those people around! But they were there for Dad, not for us! I remember I looked up at you, Scotty, and you looked so completely alone. Like you were drowning. We had you, but you had nobody there."

In the present, Scott blinked away telltale moisture and tried for a reassuring smile. Ever the big brother.

"I had you lot, Gords! It's alright!"

"That's my point!"

Gordon didn't plan to be that intense, but maybe the dash of rum in the cocktail was getting to his head. He was clutching big brother's bicep for emphasis.

"You got us! I mean, I know Virgil and John help out, but I'm an adult now too, or whatever. You got me too! You don't have to be alone!"

Scott's next smile, Gordon could argue, was of the we'll-see-about-that variety, but there was genuine gratitude in the now wistful blue.

Another tight hug was the only response he got, for now, till somebody called them back into the lounge for a family photo.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #gordon tracy #scott tracy needs a hug #scott tracy needs his dad #gordon is scott's kiddo too #my fic #tracy brotherdom of love #methinks i have astronomy #thunderbirds 2015

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1-800-local-slut · 2 months ago

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Mr. and Mrs. Klaus (Fluffmas Day 1)

Fluffmas day one! I know this is late chat but I'm gonna get caught up I swear, things have just been really really hectic lately for me and I'm trying to my best to even keep my head above water. I got a sinus infection from Hell the other day as well so I'm also attempting to recover from that. Anyways I hope you all enjoy, likes and comments are really appreciated!

Warnings: none, slight angst if you squint about JJ's childhood. I can't write anything without a touch of angst, okay? But otherwise just pure fluff!

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Pouges didn’t have much. It was no secret. It was a fact of life. And childhood on the Cut was…interesting. It was interesting because you grow up to be a really fun teenager with some mild to severe adjustment issues. But childhood? Childhood bit it hard. You remember, while the kooks would leave for the winter. Going skiing, leaving half the island empty, watching your parents struggle to decide between paying for light or your Christmas gifts.

You remember watching your mom and dad screaming at each other, your mom bought you something amazing for you and your dad flipped his shit over it. You, the oldest of four kids, cooked dinner with whatever it is you have in the fridge, while your mom and dad worked. Or maybe you and your parent got into a fight because it was just the two of you. And your dad was a drunk piece of shit.

But there was one thing all Pouge kids remember: the Community Christmas. When some guy got paid six dollars an hour or got paid in a six pack, to sit there with a bunch of Pogue kids. They would tell him what they wanted for Christmas, maybe for their mom or dad to come home. For their parents to stop fighting, for it to stop being so cold in the winter.

It was the small moment of peace and joy all children got. "Santa" usually did a pretty good job. He would give you candy canes, pats on the head, assure you that you were a good kid, and he was always looking out for you. That no matter where you go or what you do, Santa was there for you with the best hot chocolate you’d ever get. And then you walked home with your parents afterwards, star struck that Santa even came to this shitty little side of the island, you thought Santa was only for Kooks.

Until a few years ago. A few years ago, when you took your little sister to see Chris Kringle. It was Scooter Grub, always an odd fellow, but either way things got even worse when the children saw him. And immediately began crying because he looked like a jaundice rat. And then they all started crying, and the event was abruptly canceled. That brings us to now.

It was getting chilly, and your youngest sister was getting antsy. The way all children do around Christmas time.

You picked her up from school? 'What color car does Santa drive?'

You and JJ took her to get some ice cream with the last six dollars in your pockets? ‘Does Santa like ice cream?’

JJ was in your room without his shirt on? ‘Why isn’t JJ fat like Santa?’

You put a red shirt on her? ‘Why is red Santa’s favorite color?’

You and your mom went to the grocery story? ‘Did you get the cookie ingredients?’

But since Scooter Grub, then the emergence of COVID, then a myriad of storms that wrecked your island continuously, you could see that little innocence that all kids have, that adoration of Christmas was beginning to fade. Just a little bit.

It was all over The Cut. You see it, when kids don’t even run home from school anymore, they just vape in the parking lot or ride aimlessly around town. The truth is, the reason why so many kids didn’t realize how shit like on The Cut was, was because the adults did everything to make it better. They gave you their last twenty dollars for you and your friends to go get a snack, they gave you hand me downs so frequently and you didn’t even realize they were hand me downs so to you, you had an abundance of clothes. And lately the adults just haven’t been doing it.

So maybe it was time for someone else to step in.

It was a usual afternoon for you and JJ. Having a smoke session, laying on each other while your bodies felt alive but calm. Your legs slightly twitched with each passing moment and JJ was letting out slow exhales. As you both sat silently, just letting random music play from your CD player. His abs felt like laying on a water bottle, the solid lines and bumps over his skin, combined with the smell of sea salt after you two went surfing in the cold ocean. Something about being high and damp, while the heat from your heater warmed your room up slowly, was just so relaxing. Relaxing enough that you thought you imagined the doorbell ringing.

Until it rung again. You heard your dogs barking from the living room, clearly alerted by the arrival of a stranger and you lifted yourself up from on top of JJ. Your mouth felt dry no matter how much water you were drinking, and JJ rubbed his eyes slowly. The breeze touched every part of your skin. Except there was no breeze, you were just moving and could feel everything.

Opening the door, you saw a woman. She was about twenty-four, hair pulled back in a ginger ponytail and wearing a light blue sweater and sweatpants. It was cold out but the type of cold that delighted you two from every part of your body.

“Hi! I’m looking for Natalia and Dane, are they home?” You blinked, slowly, your addled brain processed. Those were your parents. Okay. No, they were not home.

“No…sorry. What do you want?” JJ was now behind you, fidgeting with your bikini straps and you allowed him too.

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Now you were here. Wearing a Mrs. Klaus costume, while JJ tried to keep the stuffing under his shirt together to make him look fat. The rest of the Pouges were laughing, taking pictures, before they wandered off to explore the rest of the little Christmas festival that had been set up. You just had to stop being so agreeable while on drugs.

Children came up one by one, their parents slightly apprehensive. It had been a few years since Santa came to visit, but the last memory wasn’t good. But in comparison, JJ’s handsome face wasn’t going to be scaring any children away.

That woman was trying to revive some of the community resources on The Cut, before their funding got cut. She took one look at you and JJ, then promptly decided that you two were her perfect Mr. and Mrs. Klaus.

So here you were with JJ. JJ who had a little boy on his lap with a seemingly endless list of questions, and a little girl who was standing in front of you. Staring up with wide eyes scanning your costume looking for anything that indicated that you weren’t the real Mrs. Klaus. JJ was now lifting the little boy off his lap, handing him back to his father and shooting you a look that said, ‘holy shit could he talk’.

A soft tug grabbed your attention as the little girl pulled your dress around the soft white fluffy lining. Her nose was running, and her locs were pulled into two pig tails. Where was a tissue when you needed one?

A charming smile made its way to your lips, and you put on your friendliest voice.

“Yes honey?”

Her gloved little hands motioned for you to come in closer and you squatted down to her eye level.

“I know your secret.” She whispered softly in your ear. The next child was sat on JJ now, asking him for a box of condoms and JJ was stunned into silence trying to figure out the best course of action.

“What’s that dear?” You smiled wider. This kid thinks she knows your secret? Which secret? You had a ton, including but not limited to that time you and JJ went skinny dipping in some random Kook’s pool.

“You aren’t the real Mr. and Mrs. Klaus. I know you just tell them about us, so I wanna talk to you and Santa.”

Smart kid. But it was your job to grant the wishes of children. The line was slowing down, while happy families mingled about. JJ was sternly telling the boy he was too young to need condoms in the fourth grade, no matter what his older brother tried to teach him about getting girls.

“I don’t care what he told you, you are too young for that. You and your girlfriend can stick to holding hands and maybe a kiss on the cheek.” The little boy pouted, and JJ took him off his lap. The little boy kicked the fake snow that was powdered around you two. Usually, he wouldn’t give such a stern lecture but you two know that little boy.

You two agreed to watch him and his brother a handful of times when his parents had something to attend too, and his hippie parents paid you two in different ways. Like beer, cheap jewelry that you two just loved, weed, dinner with the family once they arrived home. JJ was never really asked to babysit without you though, and when he did babysit with you, he took on the role of enforcing the rules you set for the kids.

If he was it was, ‘hey JJ, can you watch Billy and Jamie while I run to the grocery store? I’ll be back in 30 minutes and don’t need CPS all over my ass for child abandonment again. I’d take them with me, but they always shoplift from the grocery store, and I can’t keep flirting with that manager or he’ll try to slip it in me.’ JJ was who you leave your kid with so you can say there’s someone over the age of thirteen there with them, or someone who could answer the door when the cops showed up while you were out. Overall, JJ knew he’d certainly have to give Mr. and Ms. Crawford a phone call about their kids' afterschool activities.

“And what Mrs. Klaus and I do is grown up business!” He called as the kid walked off while flipping him off, JJ's distinguishable accent slipping through. You leaned over, tapping his shoulder over the decorative red painted ropes that were lined around the side of you two.

“Mr. Klaus, this little lady has something she wants to tell us.” He turned, eyes scanning the two of you. Then he let out a jolly laugh and ushered you two over to his side, ignoring the parent and child who noticed the line momentarily empty and were making their way over.

You lifted her up, over the rope and into JJ’s gentle hands. It was weird seeing him wear gloves, but he was oddly enjoying this. Or at least seemed to be. Skipping over the rope, you came to his side naturally. It was just where you were destined to be.

“What can we help you with?” He asked, while she fidgeted with the cotton of his sleeves. She ushered you both closer, and he quizzically glanced into your dark eyes. You gave a shrug in response.

“Please tell Santa all I want for Christmas is my mom to come home safe so I can spend Christmas with her instead of my dad and Samantha. And for my dad to break up with Samantha because she makes brussels sprouts, and it smells really gross.” She whispered, with a little voice.

You did know this little girl. Poor thing, her parents divorced two years ago, and her mom recently left for basic training. She didn’t even know pretty soon she wouldn’t be on the OBX. It wasn’t easy, but the way she explained it to your mom was that the money she’s going to get from being in active duty she could pay for her daughter to finally live a better life. She’d get her wish soon; every Christmas would be with her mom once she got her first deployment and they up and left. Her dad didn’t even put up a fight for custody, the way he explained it to your dad he knew his ex-wife could do better by her. He certainly wasn’t doing right by her by hooking up with Samantha ‘Crabshack’ Ramekin. Real bitch but whatever. You’d probably never see her again after this winter.

You sucked in a shivery breath and let out a shaky exhale. JJ clasped your hand that was resting on the arm rest of his chair. Hearing about things like this were always tough on you.

“We’ll let him know. Here,” He handed the little girl a peppermint,

“Merry Christmas ma’am.”

And the peppermint was like gold to her. She beamed, letting out a thank you that revealed that she was missing her front two teeth. Then she slid off ‘Santas’ lap, then she shoved the peppermint into her pocket along with her hands and scampered off. JJ gave you a little squeeze, and you found it in you to swallow the lump in your throat. The next kid had wandered up and was bouncing in excitement. This would be a jumper. Like the ones who jumped into JJ’s lap with their full weight.

His mother came up with a camera and asked you both for a picture. You smiled, placing a hand on JJ’s shoulder and tilting your head while JJ willed the child to hold still on his lap and maybe stop elbowing him in the stomach. And the smile of that little boy when his mom showed him the picture made all this worth it.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

JJ stepped into your room while you counted the money you two got from the day. $104 dollars. Eighty dollars in tips. $184 dollars in total, to be split between the two of you. JJ got 60% because bills need to be paid, you got 40% because you needed to buy new hair supplies to redo your little sisters hair for Christmas.

“How’s it looking, are we short?” JJ asked, while he dropped his towel. Normally you’d drool over his chiseled ass, but instead you began sorting out your cuts and punching numbers into your calculator. Money makes the world go round and it moved you and JJ as well. He pulled on his boxers and a pair of pajama shorts, watching you scribble something down in your notepad.

He loved your little habit of keeping track of all your little side hustles, and the pages you had with the work you two had done together. You wasted no time in writing down the money you two were owed, and making sure you got what you were owed anymore. Not since an incident last November. JJ still remembers how much work it was for you two to go beat that guy up. Especially when ‘don’t make us come back’ didn’t work and JJ did have to go back while you were at work.

“We’re perfect baby!” You chirped, smacking the pencil down on the notepad and he beamed.

“Alright!” He grinned while he pulled a white t-shirt over his head. He pressed a kiss to your lips and you pushed his body from flopping onto the bed. More specifically the towel you laid down so you could count the money without dirtying your sheets. You handed him his share, and he ran his fingers over the green bills. He stole a rubber band from the rubber band ball you threw on your pillow, wrapped the money and placed it on the nightstand to the right of your bed. He didn’t have to double check with you, you would never stiff him. Then, you pulled out a shoe box from under your night stand and popped open the lid.

About two thousand dollars you had saved over time since your parents got better jobs and you didn’t have to help with bills all the time. Grabbing a rubber band, a marker and a small post-it note, your scribbled down the date and how much you had made. He watched you carefully put away the stack of bills, then the rubber band, notepad and post-its in the drawer beside your bed.

You gracefully pushed the towel off the bed and onto the floor next to your bed. And JJ took that as a welcome. He flopped down next to you, and you motioned for the hand sanitizer and wet wipes you kept next to your bed. He handed you a wipe and some sanitizer, waited for you to finish the sanitizing routine you always did after handling money.

“Cold hard cash, you, and it’s nice and warm in here? Maybe Santa came early this year.” Taking his face in your hands, you planting a soft kiss to his cheek and nuzzled his face against yours. He smiled, that angel smile that he naturally has because JJ is a natural beauty and for a moment you remembered why you agreed to put on that costume today.

For kids like JJ, who got joy around the holidays to see Santa. Or who needed some sense of domesticity in their life for just a moment. You two did something today, you helped give kids who lost that spark that all children should have.

Nestling your face into his neck, you laid on his chest after adjusting your body. His skin was warm, and he smelt like your body wash. His hair smelt like your shampoo. His heart beat thrummed softly in his chest, and he pressed a kiss to your bonnet. Before you two could drift off into a peaceful sleep, a thought that you just needed to share with him crossed your mind. How could you sleep without letting your boyfriend in on everything that goes on up there?

“You know, those kids probably all know it was you today once they saw me.”

…

“Well damn.”

#black reader #x black reader #x reader #fem reader #multifandom account #requests open #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #fluff #12 days of fluffmas

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solecize · 10 months ago

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fic preview: save the date | san x reader

from middle school walls to lecture halls, choi san was your ultimate nemesis that, for most of your life, fought to do everything better than you. even worse, there was no escape from him when your older sister and his older brother were childhood sweethearts, disgustingly in love. years later, the inevitable wedding bells had now come around the corner for them and as her maid of honour, you had one goal: making sure nobody fucked up the wedding. specifically, you were not going to let san, the best man, fuck up the big day.

unfortunately, when the ring goes missing less than twenty hour hours before the wedding, you have no choice but to work with the said best man who you drunkenly slept with days before the wedding - yes, the same one that you hated for over a decade - to track down a ten thousand dollar ring. starting from midnight, it's a race against the clock for you and san to go on the wildest chase of your life to, well, save the date.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: san/female reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. non idol au, epic rom com, academic rivals, childhood enemies to lovers, fluff, slight angst 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. foul language, violence, blood, mention of drugs and drug use, general substance use (smoking and drinking), y/n and san get stranded in a foreign city together after embarking on adventure where they almost get scammed, jumped, etc., assigned seats on an airplane trope, unrequited pining, san gets a glo up after coming back from the military, more to be added 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. n/a 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. tbd.

being entrusted with the role of maid of honour meant a lot of things to different people, but it was different for you. you happily accepted the title for your sister’s wedding with one main goal in mind: making sure that no one fucks up the big day. specifically, making sure that choi san did not fuck up the big day.

unfortunately, with less than twenty-four hours before the wedding due to ring for your sister and san’s older brother, you realized that you were the one that fucked up.

if someone were to tell you that you ended up dodging a robbery, lugging around a broken e-scooter, outrunning a rabid wild animal, and losing your phone the night before your sister’s wedding, you would have asked them what drugs they were on. and given a year’s worth of stress in anticipating and planning and fittings, you’d likely even ask them to share some. the worse part was that, you’d actually fucked up forty-eight hours before your sister’s wedding and the night you were currently having was just the cherry on top.

but, that is where you found yourself in a foreign city with no money and no idea how to get back to your hotel at four in the morning. the only thing you could do was stare at choi san, still in his clothes from the rehearsal dinner earlier that night and was preoccupied with nursing his bruised knuckles.

san was not a smoker, but he leaned against the wall of a closed coffee shop with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “you think this is all my fault, don’t you?” he grumbled, finally meeting your sharp gaze.

this was not even the beginning of the story, though. the real beginning of the story begins in middle school circa 2012, when your first ever crush ruined everything before anything could even happen by simply opening his mouth.

choi san was the transfer student that all of the girls in your year whispered and giggled about. you only caught a glimpse of him on the first day of school when you could barely make out his face at the school assembly.

“he’s so freaking cute! did you get to see him, y/n?”

your best friend at the time jogged up to you at lunch and by this point in the day, you’d heard from nearly all your classmates about the mysterious new kid. you were a bit exasperated, feeling as though you were missing out.

you shook your head. “no. i think i saw the side of his face, but that’s it.”

“look at his instagram,” she swooned, tapping on her phone until his profile came up.

you would never admit it aloud, but you thought your heart skip a beat. “that’s what he looks like? oh my god, he plays basketball, too?”

that pretty much sealed the deal for you. without shame, you pulled out your own phone to follow san on social media, since it already looked like he was gaining mutuals from other people in your school. everyday from then on seemed to be a game of “can you spot your crush” at school and you got the closest when you lingered a little bit too long after gym class, long enough that you left as soon as basketball try-outs for the boys team began.

it was 2012 and nothing else mattered to you except crushing over choi san from respectable distance, gangnam style, one direction, and reading all of the hunger games books. it was like this for the first couple months at school, until you and san finally encountered one another.

you heard from others that san was incredibly bright and academically gifted, so you were hoping that, he too, would join robotics club. it felt like a dream when your wishes came true and san walked into the first meeting of the season.

“you’re totally staring at him,” whispered yeosang on this day, to which you elbowed him for. yes, you were definitely staring, but he could have just chose to keep his mouth shut.

you’d avoided directly speaking to san for the first few meetings, just out of nerves alone. eventually, the club’s first major competition was to come around the corner and the club had to brainstorm their plan.

as one of the returning members from the year prior, you expected to be met with respect and have your opinions be considered important. the faculty supervisor had even told you that he had hopes for you taking over as captain in the next year, after the current leader, hongjoong, graduates.

“i can take charge of the programming team,” you offered, as hongjoong went over the challenge announcement of the competition.

that was the moment everything went wrong.

it looked there was no opposition, until you heard a chuckle from the other side of a room. you were confused, not recognizing the voice. spinning around, you saw that it was san and your heart dropped.

“you? do you even know how to code?” his eyebrows were raised.

your jaw could have easily hit the floor, as you narrowed your eyes at him. “what?” was all you could say.

“you’re a girl, there’s no way you should be in charge of programming.”

that year, there were only three girls in robotics club, which was an improvement from the two the year before. it was you, who was the only female member with experience in the club, and then sunyoung and yena.

sunyoung never fucking spoke, she never even made eye contact with anyone. she kept to herself and was never going to speak up, but you knew that she was the highest ranking student in your year and had skipped an entire grade. you couldn’t believe sunyoung let that slide. meanwhile, yena always insisted that she was “one of the boys” and was the kind of girl to talk your head off about how she hates taylor swift. you might’ve even heard her murmur in agreement to what san said.

“are you a fucking idiot?” your thirteen year old self snapped at san, eliciting gasps from around the room.

of course, your foul mouth came from none other than your headstrong older sister and at the same moment you began forming a life-long hatred for choi san, she was a couple blocks away at the high school, falling in love with choi san’s older brother during chemistry class. it was a classic high school love story, meeting as lab partners and experiencing first love in between shelves at the library.

one day, when your sister happily skipped into your room and sang that she now had a boyfriend, it had been weeks since you already declared san your nemesis. from what you remember, she was so head over heels for her lab partner that it was nauseating - she had to have been, since she was now marrying him over ten years later.

“he has a little brother your age, you know,” she said, later the same night. “goes to your school, maybe you’ve met him.”

the two of you were relaxing on your bed, as your sister scooted closer to show you pictures of her new and first-ever boyfriend on her phone. you raised an eyebrow at her, wondering who she was talking about.

“maybe. what’s his name?” you asked.

“san. choi san.”

#choi san x reader #choi san fanfic #choi san scenarios #choi san imagine #choi san x oc #choi san x you #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #choi san fluff #choi san angst #ateez angst #ateez scenarios #kpop fanfic

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teaboot · 2 years ago

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I just rolled up to the bus stop on my scooter (cause I can't drive) and these two loudass teen boys were there and one of them asked me if I could do some trick and I said "I can't do any tricks" and he looked so unimpressed, said "it's like the first trick anyone learns, everyone knows it" and I was like "well okay. I still can't though"

Then the two of them started goofing around, throwing trash on the ground, and I was just like. "Come on, dude. Trash can is right there." And he starts ordering his buddy to pick it up, right? And kid looks at me where I'm chilling on my phone and goes "Hey. Tell him to clean it up" and I was like. "I'm not your mom...?"

And then I saw that they had bikes but no helmets and realized it was close to sundown in the sketchy part of town and they had no adult with them and like. They were probably 15, 16 years old? And bizarrely confident about sassing with random strangers?

And I dunno, there isn't really a point to this, but I hope they're okay. And I hope they get smarter. And I hope their folks know where they are

#Idk #Weird stuff #Just. I dunno. Thinkin

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schrijverr · 5 days ago

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I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 45

Chapter 45 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Buck and Chris get swept up by the tsunami. Buck tries his best to keep Chris safe and sheltered from the worst of it, however, the receding tide still takes him. Buck has to find him again, he can’t lose Chris, can’t lose their son.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie

Warnings: insecurity, self loathing, injury, minor character death mention, near death experience

~~~

Chapter 45: Just Keep Swimming

A tsunami. Buck honestly isn’t sure why he didn’t expect it with how life has just been one disaster after another lately, but somehow this wasn’t on his planning this morning when he took Chris to the pier.

Sitting here on a fire engine from what he’s pretty sure is Bosko’s unit, surrounded by people he pulled from the water, he regrets not at least calling out a hi to her when he saw her on the pier earlier.

It felt too awkward to so then, since she is housing his husband and he at some point thought said husband was having an affair with her, but now he would kill for someone to know that they’re out here. It was such a spur of the moment thing that he didn’t mention it to anyone. They’re sitting ducks right now.

The only thing that is keeping him sane, is that Chris is right next to him.

He feels horrible about Chris being out here in this with him. If they’d just stayed home today, they wouldn’t have been in this mess. But no, Buck dragged Chris out to the pier, because he wanted to make right that Eddie has been driven away by something involving Buck. Now Chris just has another traumatic event to add to the list. And that’s his fault.

However, now is not the time to focus on how awful he feels, he needs to focus on Chris. Despite the terrible day he’s having, he’s being plenty cheerful. It’s very Chris, and Buck is glad life hasn’t crushed his spirit yet as they play I Spy together.

If the circumstances were different, he might have paid more attention to the other people he pulled from the water. However, no one appeared seriously injured, so as long as that stays the same, he forgives himself for not having the best bedside manners right now.

He’s off the clock anyway and not even officially a firefighter again, he can be forgiven for wanting to focus on his own kid. He did enough already by leaving him alone on the fire engine to pull everyone else out the water. Buck is a firefighter in his heart, so that went without saying, but he’s too tired to divide his attention between everyone else and Chris. Paramedic has always been more Hen or Chimney’s, or even Eddie’s job.

“Okay, I spy with my little eye, something that…” Buck looks to see what he can find. “Moves people around.”

Chris peers around quite adorably at the debris that is floating by to see what Buck is spying. “Oh, a scooter,” Chris realizes quickly, spotting what Buck had spied.

“Ah, yeah, nice one,” Buck says, having hoped it would be a little more difficult to find. He wants to be able to drag this game out as long as he can, so Chris has something to focus on other than the fact that they’re stuck on a fire engine while waiting for rescue or until the water goes down. But he can’t get disheartened yet, so he nudges Chris and prompts: “Okay, genius, your turn.”

“I spy,” Chris looks around much like Buck had a few seconds ago, “a shopping cart.”

“What? No, come on. Hey, that’s not how the game works. You can’t just yell stuff out,” Buck tells him.

“But, papi, yelling stuff out is the fun part!” Chris yells loudly, big grin on his face.

Buck’s heart just bursts with affection. He loves this kid so goddamn much and he is so grateful to the universe that it let him have this, even if it might not be forever, he gets to be here now. He pulls Chris into a side hug, leaning his cheek against Chris’s wet curls as he says: “You amaze me, buddy.”

“Why?”

“I know you’ve had a rough few weeks and you were pretty down yesterday. When I was a kid and I got bad news, I always got so mad, but you, after the day you had, here you are, with a big smile, busting a gut,” Buck chuckles. Then emotion overtakes him and the memory of the fear makes his voice waver. “You never gave up. Even when that water was rushing over you back there. You just kept on swimming.”

“Like Dory,” Chris says, referencing a movie they’d watched together a couple of times. Buck hadn’t even realized the words Dory sang so often had come out until Chris said that.

“Yeah, like Dory,” he smiles. “And not just today, you know, but every day. You never say no, you never complain.” It’s suddenly very important to Buck that Chris knows how impressed he is with him, that he thinks he’s the best, that he’s proud of him. “You’re such a good kid, Superman, and I keep being blown away by you. How do you do that? You didn’t get that from me, that’s for sure.”

Chris has a pleased look on his face as he explains: “Well, I complained once, but it didn’t work.”

Buck could point out that Chris complained more than once whenever it was early, but he still had to do PT or when he had to go to bed…

However, he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to do that, he doesn’t want to waste time that suddenly feels so limited correcting Chris, he wants to know him. Know him the best he can, hold as many pieces of this amazing kid in his heart. “So what did you do?”

“I just kept on swimming, papi. Like Dory,” Chris shrugs simply.

God, Chris is going to make Buck cry. He’s been trying so hard not to cry, to not let Chris see how scared he was and still is, how dangerous their situation is. Yet, here he is, nearly loosing that fight with himself because of Chris.

He’s witnessed the kid go through so much heartbreak. From Shannon leaving, to Eddie having to re-enlist, to Eddie getting seriously hurt, to uprooting his whole life to move here, to Buck getting hurt, to Eddie pulling away, to this. Buck doesn’t know where he gets the resilience. Eddie is stubborn sure, and so is Buck, and the fiery attitude Chris gets from Shannon, but this? It’s pure Chris.

It makes Buck want to hold Chris closer, hug him tightly and wish nothing else will happen to him, that nothing will ever break his spirit. But he doesn’t want to start acting weird, doesn’t want to worry Chris. So, he just pulls him a little closer to his side and takes a deep breath.

“Oh my god, look over there,” a man exclaims, pulling Buck out of his thoughts as he tries to see what they’re talking about.

“Oh my god.” “Oh no.” Two women also exclaim their horror and Buck now sees why. It’s no longer just debris that is floating by, but a group of bodies.

Chris hasn’t seen the bodies yet and Buck needs to make sure he never will. He could never live with himself if he let Chris see that. Nor could Eddie. God, Eddie will probably be so pissed at Buck. He trusted Buck to look out for Chris, to take care of him when he couldn’t, but Buck only got him caught up into a literal disaster and now Chris might see his first corpse.

Moving quickly, he settles Chris sideways, doing a little swoop as he sits him down to make it seem playful as he cups Chris’s cheek to further guide his eyes away and says: “I- I spy with my little eye, something that is,” he looks around desperately, “high.”

Success. Chris looks up and away from the bodies, peering at the buildings surrounding them to find what Buck is spying, thankfully not yet bored of the game. “A street sign?” he guesses.

Buck looks over at the bodies to see where they are. Still too close for comfort. In fact, way too close in general. They’re right next to the engine, if Buck wanted to touch them, all he’d have to do is reach out his hand.

Despite not having picked anything as the object for I Spy, Buck shakes his head: “Uh, high- higher than that. Like, whoa…” to keep up the charade.

Chris guesses a window, a street light and a cloud, before the bodies have passed. When Buck finally reveals the answer was the air-conditioning unit in one of the windows, Chris huffs: “I don’t wanna play this game anymore.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Buck sighs in a manner that may be a bit too honest as he goes to sit next to Chris. His leg hurts like a motherfucker and he’s exhausted.

It seems to last forever until a rescue mission is set up, though logically he knows they’re probably already out there, getting through is just hard and organizing enough boats is rough. Still, he’d give a lot to see firefighters on the horizon. Especially the 118.

God, what he wouldn’t give to see the 118 right now. To have the most competent people he knows come to rescue them, so he knows this nightmare is behind him.

The 118 will have Eddie too. He wants to see Eddie so bad right now. The man will likely be angry with him for endangering Chris, but he’d at least be here with him. He’s missed him being by his side so much and even though he knows it will likely be his new reality soon, in this moment he’d give anything to have the fantasy of a them again. He needs the comfort, even when he won’t know what to do when he’ll get it.

“I don’t know what we’re gonna tell daddy,” he says, more to fill the silence and distract himself from his own thoughts than anything else. “You know, we don’t invite him one time and, uh, look what happens.”

He doesn’t know what he expected from Chris. Maybe a snippy comment, like Eddie sometimes does, or another blasé comment about their situation. Instead he gets a soft and honest: “You saved me. And you saved them.”

Buck looks over at the others that Chris indicated. They all look half-drowned and beaten up, but they’re alive. He makes eye contact with one of the women he pulled out early on and she smiles at him, the younger woman huddled next to her doing the same. Automatically he smiles back.

If he’s honest, he doesn’t think he did anything big, just did his job. However, Chris doesn’t think so. Chris thinks he saved them, that he’s a hero. The tears he managed to fight off return and he has to swallow to stop them from falling.

To deflect, he says: “No, we did that together. Me and you make a great team. Give me a high five,” as he holds up his hand. He means it too, he wouldn’t have made it through this without Chris right there next to him.

Chris high fives him as Buck continues: “I’m proud of you. Really,” because Chris needs to hear that. He pulls Chris into a hug, hoping that’ll make the message sink in more.

As Chris loops his arms around Buck in return, he says: “Thank you, papi.”

“No, thank you,” Buck whispers into Chris’s shoulder. It’s not the most eloquent thing he’s ever said, but it’ll have to do, because he can’t think of anything else to say.

The sounds of water rushing makes him pull back slightly from the hug so he can see what’s going on.

Indeed, the water that had been calm a second ago is now flowing again and it’s flowing fast, too fast. It’s shaking the fire engine and pulling the debris along to bash against the sides of their refuge that now seems more fragile than it should.

Buck immediately grips Chris tightly, as he shouts to the others: “Everybody get down! Get down and hold on! Hold on!”

Further up a shelter must have failed to withstand the wave, because there are calls for help coming from between the debris and when Buck looks up over the cabin of the fire engine, there are people getting dragged forwards by the water as they wave for help.

Torn, he looks between Chris and the people yelling for help. He should definitely go help them, but he should also definitely make sure Chris is okay.

In the end, helping the people wins out, Chris is already okay. The fire engine is holding up and a safe space to hide out on until this is over. Besides, Chris thinks he saved the people already on there, he can’t let him see him just sit and do nothing while people need help. It’s not in his nature and it’s not what he wants Chris to think of his papi.

So he tells Chris to hold on, then goes to lay over the roof of the front cabin, so he can hold out his hand for the people drifting towards them to grab.

He is just pulling up a man, when something rams into the engine, shaking it violently. He hears something that could be the start of ‘papi’ before there is a splash. The realization of what that could be washes over him and he turns around just in time to see Chris disappear into the waves.

In a wave of adrenaline, he pulls the man aboard, injuring his arm in the process, but he doesn’t care as he abandons any sort of rescuing mission he was aiding at the other side of the engine as he goes to scanning the water to find Chris, calling out: “Chris? Christopher! Christopher! No! Christopher! Christopher! CHRIS!”

There is no Christopher to call back.

Without hesitation, he dives into the water after him. The chances of managing to grab him again are very low and it’s a stupidly dangerous thing to do, but none of that even registers for Buck. His son needs him, he’s going to fucking get to him, danger be damned.

If Chris was difficult to spot from the engine, it’s downright impossible to find him in the chaos of the water. Buck’s screams keep getting cut off by the water invading his mouth and just keeping himself above the water is an exhausting task. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get to Chris when he finally does find him.

As it turns out, he never gets to find out. A cluster of debris rams into him, pushing all the air out of his lungs, before dragging him down under as his foot gets stuck. Helplessly he tugs at it, vision whiting out from the pain, since of course it has to be his bad leg.

Before he can drown, the debris cluster hits a building and so does Buck. It wrenches at his leg, making him pass out, but freeing him in the process.

Buck floats down towards the sea unconscious for another second, before hitting a street sign, which wakes him up again. He flails about and almost drowns a dozen more times, before he grabs onto what at one point was wind indicator, but is now a broken pole where debris congregates.

He looks around desperately for Chis, calling out his name, but there is no response nor sign from the kid anywhere.

The heavy feeling of defeat settles in his bones as he clings to that pole, sporadically getting hit by debris as slowly the water level goes down. No miracle happens. Chris doesn’t appear. He hits the ground with a sharp pain in his leg and Chris nowhere in sight.

Chris is gone.

He lost him.

Buck lost him.

How is he ever going to live with himself? How is he ever going to tell Eddie? Buck left Chris alone for a second to save someone he didn’t even know. He let Chris fall. He let Chris drown. Buck lost him. He lost their son.

And for what? To save some people he doesn’t know? When Maddie was kidnapped by Doug and in serious danger, he hesitated, because he wanted to come home to his family, preserve what he had. Yet, here he abandoned Chris, the one person he wanted to come home to, because he wouldn’t understand.

He abandoned Chris right in front of his face, left him behind with nothing more than a ‘hold on’ while he focused on someone else. What kind of person is he? What does it say about him that he would abandon his sister for himself and his son for a stranger?

How will he ever look Eddie in the eye and tell him their son died, because Buck was playing the hero?

Buck isn’t on the clock right now, is still on medical leave. He’s a firefighter, sure, but he isn’t coming in after the fact to help with the rescue like those that are out there right now. He was hit by that wave, in the thick of the disaster. He’s a victim here, someone to be saved. He didn’t need to help anyone.

He should have left all those people behind to die. He should have held Chris as tightly as he could and never let him go, no matter what was happening around them.

‘You saved me. And you saved them.’

Chris’s words from before echo through his mind and he lifts his head to the sky to keep the tears in. He didn’t save anyone, especially not Chris. But it is how Chris sees him. He saves people. It’s why he couldn’t have abandoned anyone.

Because Buck is Buck and Buck saves people. He can still remember Chris bragging to his grandparents how his papi and daddy are heroes. How could he disappoint him by leaving those people when Chris was already safe beside him?

Chris was safe.

He was supposed to be safe.

Buck was supposed to keep him safe, but he failed. He failed and he has to fix this.

Determination comes over him and he uses the pole to steady himself. His ribs are bruised, maybe even broken and he has a headache like no other, not to mention his leg hurting almost worse than when he first got the injury. However, none of that matters, he has a mission to complete. He has to find Chris.

There is nothing else for him to worry about now. He is going to find Chris even if it kills him and he’s going to bring him home. He’s going to face Eddie with an alive Chris. He refuses to face an alternate reality.

Eddie is probably out there somewhere, helping people. That is his job. Eddie is out there as a firefighter, Buck is out here as a father. It’s his job to find Chris. They’ve always shared the responsibility, passed it back and forth to make it manageable. Right now, Buck holds the responsibility. He won’t fuck that up. Buck fixes things, he can fix this too.

It doesn’t matter that Eddie has been pulling away recently, that he’s figuring himself out. The two of them are still a unit as they’ve always been. Just because Eddie is going to leave Buck, doesn’t mean that their little family is gone entirely. They still have each other’s back out in the field, so Buck needs to have his back.

Buck will always be connected to Eddie through Chris. Eddie trusts him with Chris’s safety, trusts him to watch him while Eddie takes the space he needs. Just like Buck trusted him with Chris when he was chasing after Maddie or in the hospital.

Of course he’ll always love Eddie, he loves him so fucking much, but Chris was the first Diaz that stole his heart, albeit in a different way.

Eddie feels like safety and home. He feels like a solid rock that Buck can always come back to and be met with open arms. He knows Buck wholly and he never left. Not really. He had to enlist and recently he ran. However, he never left. He stayed close, he didn’t abandon him. Buck believes that somehow, sometime, they’ll come back to each other, even if it’s as nothing other than friends.

But Chris- Chris is his kid. His best friend, who amazes him every day. He loves Chris so much. Chris, who is so small, who has been entrusted to Buck, who he has nurtured and seen grow into such an amazing person. Chris is a piece of his soul, that is just walking around. Chris relies on him, looks at him for guidance, for comfort, for parenting. Buck will never take that for granted.

The thought is enough to propel him forward into action. He straightens himself up and looks around. The water pulled them back out to the sea, Chris was taken by the same tide as him, he probably washed up somewhere close to him. He just has to start searching, he’s bound to find Chris at some point.

It’s worse than having to find a needle in a haystack, but he ignores that part of reality. Thinking like that isn’t going to get him anywhere, isn’t going to fix this. Chris is still out there. He has to be.

Those first few steps he nearly buckles under the pain, but he has to keep moving. He doesn’t have time for pain and he knows he can keep pushing through. The human limit is much further than most people think, he’s seen people push through things much worse than a few bruises and a twisted ankle.

It’s a struggle at first. The water is still coming to his waist and slowly flowing back to the sea, so pushing against him. However, after a few near misses that send his heart beat skyrocketing, he gets into a rhythm.

Looking around, he sees that what is left of the pier is to his left and that the fire engine they took shelter on is also left from his position, even if it’s further inland. The water must have pulled him right, which means it pulled Chris right too.

He turns his back on both places and heads right.

Around him, more people are making their way through the disaster towards higher ground. Buck makes sure to take a good look at every person he passes, trying to see if he can catch sight of Chris, found by someone else. Safe.

No luck.

Turning onto a street, he hears someone yell: “Hey! There’s a kid under there.”

Immediately Buck is rushing to help. He hopes naively that it’s Chris, that it will be that easy. But he should have known better. Going off the shoes, he’s pretty sure it’s not Chris, but he isn’t going to let someone die. Especially not a kid. That’s someone’s child. He would want someone to save Chris too if they had the chance. Isn’t that what Hen said during the earthquake? This is no different.

He tells himself he’s not going to make detours to rescue people when he doesn’t have to, but this is basic human decency. Besides, with her free, he can stop the people she’s with, before they leave to ask them if they’ve seen Chris.

“Hey, hey, hey, excuse me,” he stops the group. “I’m looking for an eight-year-old boy. His name is Christopher. He’s always smiling, and he’s got CP, Cerebral Palsy. He’s got brown hair, yellow shirt.” He thinks about mentioning the glasses, but Chris probably lost them.

The surfer guy with long hair, thinks for a moment, then nods: “Yeah, yeah. I think I saw him.”

The feeling of hope, so fragile yet too big to contain his body is almost impossible to describe as he asks: “Where?”

“He was headed with a group that that cupcakery place,” surfer guy says. “I heard they’re handing out water.”

“Cupcakery? What is that?” Buck asks, needing more information so he can find Chris.

“You know, cupcake bakery. It’s about six or seven blocks south of here on Strand,” surfer guy explains.

While he is usually a fan of new tidbits of knowledge, right now he can’t give a single flying fuck about what a cupcakery is exactly. However surfer boy has given him workable information to go off with the address. “Thank you. Thank you.”

The girl is not the last person, he pulls out of the rubble on his search for Chris. And surfer guy is not the last person that gives him information on Chris that turns out to be nothing.

However, the disappointment never stops Buck. He has to keep going, keep searching, keep believing that Chris is alive and out there. That he just has to find him. That all he has to do is get to him and it’ll be okay.

A part of him can understand that it might be denial, but he doesn’t have space for anything else. If he lets himself think that, all the aches and pains he feels will pull him under and he can’t allow that to happen. He knows he’s injured, but he has to push through. For Chris.

Buck doesn’t give up. He can’t. Not until Chris is safe. He just has to keep swimming. Just has to fix this, even if it kills him. There is no other option, not for him, not when it comes to his son.

A/N:

I’m sorry if you thought you’d find out what Eddie would do this chapter, it was a deception. Let’s cross our fingers Buck doesn’t die before someone can find him!

#rr writing #secret marriage of convenience buddie au #the i do verse #9-1-1 #9 1 1 #9 1 1 show #9 1 1 fanfiction #911 #911 show #911 fanfic #buddie #buck x eddie #evan buckley #christopher diaz #buckley diaz family #tw: insecurity #tw: self loathing #tw: minor character death mention #tw: near death experience

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frick-en · 1 month ago

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With a Tender Kiss, I'll Love You Always

Well golly. I haven't written fanfiction in ages. Anyway, I'm obsessed with Justin Herbert and in a soft mood, so I want to write something that'll give you a cavity or two.

It's not that good, but I needed to write this. For some reason.

Enjoy!

P.S. I didn't read over this. It is as I have written it.

The knocking on the door continues as you struggle to lift yourself off your bed with crutches. Grumbling to yourself, you finally find balance. Or at least as much balance as you can for someone with one functioning leg.

You hobble to your front door and check the peep hole. You only see the torso of your vertically gifted friend and the cause of your current misfortune.

Convincing you to go skiing for the first time ever was something no one else could do, but Justin Herbert made a compelling argument. And by that, he really just told you that he really wanted you to go skiing with him. You know you shouldn't turn into such a following, babbling, love-stricken idiot around him, but you couldn't turn that part of your brain off when he was around.

You unlock the door and hobble back as you swing it open. Justin reaches out to catch you as you start to lose balance again. He's very good at doing that.

"You ok?" He asks you. You only nod in response, feeling another shooting pain stream through your leg all the way up to your hip.

You and Justin make your ways to the couch. Justin grabs your hand and helps you sit more comfortably, setting your crutches against the side table. A lot easier to do than throw them in floor, which usually ends up happening when you try to prop them up somewhere.

"I can still get you a scooter, you know." Justin offers.

"I'd rather you get me a surgeon who will fix me up today," You grumble.

Justin sits beside you and smiles at you. That's all he really had to do to get you to smile back at him. But you can see it in his eyes that he's beating himself up. He feels more guilty over this than anything he's done in his life.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to say sorry enough times for this."

"Justin, stop. I'm not mad at you," You reassure him, but you know he won't feel any better about this.

"You still have to wait another week till surgery, right?" He asks.

"Unfortunately."

"What do you need me to do until then?"

There was one thing about this whole ordeal that has made it even more difficult to get over. And it's the fact that you haven't been able to shower. It's too dangerous. You've been told to take sponge baths until after surgery. It's kinda ridiculous sometimes, but that's healthcare for you.

"It's kinda weird," You begin.

"Whatever it is. I'll do it."

"I need help," You struggle to say what you need to say. Justin is a good friend of yours, and while you harbor potentially unrequited feelings for him, you don't want to make him uncomfortable. Justin is such a good friend to you. He's the whole reason why you've been able to come out of your shell and actually enjoy a lot of life's fun little quirks. That was until you trip over a larger than expected rock while skiing down a mountain of hard snow.

Justin was the first person by your side. He carried you out of the line of other skiers and stayed with you at the hospital.

"Are you gonna say it? Or do I need to guess?" Justin asks.

"Sorry. I," You sigh. "Please don't get weird about this."

"Then tell me," He responds, poking your arm playfully. This gesture allows you to realize just how close he is sitting to you.

"I really need to shower. But they told me not to because I could get hurt, and because I don't have a bathtub, I can't sit in a bath either. I can only take sponge baths until after the surgery. I just feel really gross, and I think if I smelled less like vanilla ass, then I'll feel better."

"You want me to give you a sponge bath?" He asks.

"I just need help with one. I'm not gonna make you do everything," You explain.

You tell Justin that you need a bowl of soapy water, preferably warm along with your sponge and a towel or two.

"Is that all?" Justin asks.

"Have I told you lately that I love you?" You asks him noticing the slight pink tinge to his cheeks. Dimples on full display as he shakes his head.

"Thank you, Justin."

"You need me to stay here while you get cleaned up? I mean, in a different room."

"Sure. I might need your help," You respond. Justin nods and starts to walk away before you call him again, "Justin? Would you mind bringing me a clean shirt? I'm ashamed to say how long it's been since I've changed."

"Don't worry about it. I'll be right back," Justin responds. He walks back to your room and doesn't take long to bring back a familiar t-shirt. A green one with a big yellow "O" painted on it.

"I didn't know you had this," He says. "I've been looking for it honestly."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't bring myself to give it back."

Justin tosses you the shirt. He stands there waiting for you to give him your dirty clothes.

"Uhh... Sorry, I- Would you mind? Turning around?" You ask him.

"Oh! Sorry. I wasn't thinking," Justin turns around and holds his hand out for the shirt. You quickly switch t-shirts, deciding to wait until he leaves the room to take the shirt back off.

After taking your time to wash every crevice you could reach, you finally reach the most difficult part of this process. Your feet. You pull the leg of you sweatpants up and try to reach your sponge over to your feet. You feel that stinging, shooting pain again. And you're trying to clean your good foot. The splint on your other leg makes it surprisingly difficult in the position you're in to move your good leg.

You groan in pain and sit back on the couch. Taking a deep breath until the pain subsides. You sit back up and try to reach again with no luck.

You sigh. "Justin! You can come back in here now!"

Justin awkwardly enters the living room and sees you struggle to get your feet.

"You ok?" He asks. "You need help?"

"I'm sorry," You respond.

Justin walks over to the couch and crouches down in front of you. He puts the bowl of lukewarm water in the floor over a towel. He gently grabs your leg and adjusts so that you can be in a more comfortable position.

"That alright?' He asks, looking up at you. Eyes sparkling.

You feel like you swallowed a frog with the way he's looking at you. You nod. Justin holds your foot as he takes your sponge and gently scrubs.

"Is that warm enough?" He asks. So attentive to you.

"Yeah," You say with a raspy breath. Justin uses the towel to dry your foot off. He looks up at you again and smiles.

Not being able to stop yourself from talking, you say, "This is officially the weirdest thing I've ever done with a friend."

"Yeah." Justin says quietly as he moves to the more sensitive leg. He gently pulls the leg of your sweatpants up, gently grabbing your foot and even more gently scrubbing the foot. He notices the deep purples and reds that reach your calf. Those same colors that is causing the delay in your surgery.

"You good?" You ask him, being the worried one for a change.

"I just can't believe this happened to you. It's all my fault," He says.

"Justin."

"No. I'm the one who convinced you to go skiing when you said repeatedly you didn't want to."

"Justin. If I didn't want to go skiing then I wouldn't. I only went because it was you," You explain. Not even thinking. The things that a fresh sponge bath makes a girl do.

"Yeah. Cause I'm your friend," He says, going quiet again.

"Because I like spending time with you. I love spending time with you. And I'll do whatever you want so that I can keep spending time with you."

"What?"

"I'll do whatever you want so that I can keep spending time with you."

Justin looks up at you again. He stands on his knees to get a little closer to you.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You're smart enough to figure it out yourself, Herbert."

"Please, tell me."

"Don't make me say it."

Justin moves so that he's a mere centimeter from your face. Your lips just barely touch before you stop and pull him in for a hug. Justin doesn't think. He just hugs you back and savors the moment.

"I would let you kiss me, but I have shit breath right now too. I want my first kiss with you to be perfect."

"I don't care how smelly you think your breath is. But if you want to wait. I'm fine with that. I'm just glad we can finally be subtly honest with each other," Justin admits. You nod along in agreement before Justin touches a tender kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes and breathe him in. Afraid that he'll evaporate into thin air if you don't savor this moment yourself.

"I'll love you always, you know."

_____

That's all folks. I didn't really know how to end the story. But it's been a long time since I've written so please give me you most constructive criticisms please.

#justin herbert #justin herbert fanfic #justin herbert x reader #justin herbert imagine

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verfound · 5 months ago

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FIC: "The Dorm" (MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list? We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?

Read on Ao3

Prompt 22: Dorm

Luka wasn’t sure who was banging on his door at…seven o’clock on a Sunday morning, but he had Words for whoever the hell it was. Colorful words he had learned at entirely too young an age from the Captain that he probably shouldn’t use in polite company, but it was seven o-fucking-clock in the fucking morning on a fucking Sunday, and he wasn’t feeling very polite.

The banging continued, and Luka groaned as he scrubbed at his face. He finally reached the door and yanked it open, ready to chew out whoever the hell was on the other side.

He swore to God, if it was Dingo…

Except it wasn’t.

It was Tom.

Still wearing a flour-dusted apron and looking…kind of desperate.

What the fuck…?

“Luka!” he cried, his smile as wide as ever but filled with too much nervous energy. He looked like…well, Marinette stressing the night before a big project was due. “So glad you’re up! Can I come in?”

“…I was not up,” Luka said, numbly, as he blinked at the man. “Just because I’m ‘up’ now doesn’t mean I was ‘up’ when you…Tom. Tom. Do you realize what time it is?”

“I would have come earlier, but Sabine seemed to think you’d still be asleep,” Tom said, and a strangled laugh was startled out of Luka. And Tom HADN’T? Hadn’t he known him long enough to know better? On a SUNDAY? “Please, son. It’s important. I have a huge favor to ask you. It’s about Marinette.”

Luka was suddenly very ‘up’.

…awake!

Alert!

Not…God-fucking-dammit he needed some coffee…

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “Is Marinette all right?”

“Luka. Son,” Tom started, wringing his hands anxiously in front of him, “have you seen her dorm???”

– V –

The problem had started about a month ago, when Marinette was first looking into student housing. Technically she lived close enough to ESMOD that she could commute from her home at the bakery, but it had been important to her to live away from home while she was studying. After so many years fighting Hawkmoth, she had wanted that freedom. That independence.

Luka could understand that.

Her mother could understand that.

Her father, on the other hand…Tom had always been protective of his little girl. And that was fine, usually. He just loved her fiercely and unapologetically. It was one of the things Luka loved about him.

It was also one of the things Marinette was finding particularly…well. Smothering. At the moment. And she desperately wanted the chance to live on her own.

Student housing was usually reserved for international students or special cases, so she had had to start looking for nearby flats to share with fellow students. Juleka and Rose were moving in together and would have offered a spare room, but their own respective universities were far enough away that it made commuting just a bit trickier, and Marinette hadn’t been willing to risk exposing the Miracle Box using Kaalki for transport every day.

“You could portal your scooter,” Luka had suggested, shrugging, but she had just rolled her eyes and nudged his ribs with her elbow.

“Kaalki would throw a fit,” she insisted, “and it’s still too risky. Yeah, Hawkmoth…Gabriel’s in prison now, but the city is still tense. Gabriel had his Miraculous too long for Paris to not be. Ladybug is still needed, at least for now, and I can’t just go tossing portals all over the place. You know better, Luka.”

He did, and he usually respected and supported her decisions when it came to the Miracle Box - she was the Guardian, after all – but he was still…concerned. The places she had been looking at weren’t…well. He would rather her risk a portal and live with his sister, where he knew she’d be safe, than stay at half the places she’d looked at.

He had never really thought Paris was so…dangerous. Before.

She had eventually found a place, although it wasn’t…it didn’t…they all had concerns. To put it nicely.

“…why don’cha have her move in with you?” Dingo had asked him when she had first brought them over. Well. She had invited him, but he had been with Dingo when he’d gotten her call, and Dingo had refused to buzz off. Something about how he ‘hadn’t seen his baby girl in months, Lulu – stop hogging her!’ Or something.

“I can’t do that, Ding,” he had sighed. “She’s not…we’re not…”

He wasn’t quite sure what they were anymore. Less than what he wanted but more than what he’d ever hoped for. Asking her to move in felt like it would tip that delicate balance, but he wasn’t sure in which direction. He wasn’t sure he could live with it, if she said no.

“You barely live here,” Dingo had sniffed. “She could keep your bed warm for you while you’re on the road.”

He had said it with an impressive waggle of his eyebrows. It was almost a shame Luka had had to shove him into an alley (and a pile of overripe garbage bags tossed next to a dumpster) as they passed.

(He had resumed the argument the day before, when they’d helped Marinette move in, and had kept it up well into the night – which was part of why Luka was so cranky that Sunday morning.)

Still. The place was…fine. It was fine. For a first flat. A ‘dorm’. Her roommates were…all right. He was trusting her, and she had looked so happy as she’d showed off her room with the kinda-sorta-maybe broken window (it was just the lock, not the glass, and Luka wasn’t sure how he felt about that) that he couldn’t just…declare it a shithole and insist she find somewhere else. Somewhere like his flat, with its locking windows and running water.

“It’s a work in progress,” she had conceded when she’d seen their expressions, “but it’s home! I’ll make it work!”

Which is what led him to Sunday morning, barely awake after staying out with Dingo until entirely too late (early) Saturday Night and listening to Marinette’s father rant in his living room.

“Make it work?” Tom parroted, staring at Luka with wide eyes. Apparently he had tried to surprise her with a ‘First Day Breakfast’ – but she had still been asleep, still wiped from the day before, and he had left her coffee soaking into the welcome mat when one of her neighbors had come out of his own door and asked if Tom was the new dealer. “She’s going to make it work?! Luka, you’ve seen the place – she’s going to get herself murdered!”

“She can handle herself,” Luka had offered, even though he very much had the same concerns. Still. It was Marinette’s choice, and he was trying to respect that. “She’s going to pick up some pepper spray. She knows how to hold her keys.”

“Oh, yes, because that will make it all right when some ruffian mugs her on her way home from the library!” Tom scoffed, still fuming. He stalked over to the couch and sat down on the crates Luka used a coffee table directly across from Luka. “Luka. Son. I need you to do something for me. For Marinette.”

“Anything,” Luka said automatically, without hesitation, because of course he would. If it was for Marinette.

“I need you to ask her to move in with you,” Tom said, and Luka froze.

Well.

He almost froze.

He was pretty sure his eyes bugged out and his mouth dropped open. Then he froze.

“She will, Luka. If you ask. I’ve already tried to convince her – Dingo’s already tried,” Tom said, shaking his head. And Luka was surprised by that, because Dingo hadn’t said anything and…he actually hadn’t realized Tom knew who Dingo was. He hadn’t thought they’d met. There must have been some kind of look on his face, because Tom rolled his eyes and smiled at him. “It was adorable that he thought letting his hair down and removing the shades would fool us. I give him points for trying, though.”

“…I don’t think I want to know,” Luka sighed, shaking his head. “Look. Tom. I can’t –”

“You can, Luka,” Tom said, frowning. “She’ll say yes. If it’s you. If you ask. She won’t ask you herself – believe me, I’ve tried to convince her to – but if you ask her…”

“…you told her to ask me?” he asked, sitting up a bit straighter and blinking at him. “You…you’d be ok with it? Her living here? Us living…together?”

“Luka,” Tom said, giving him a Look that Luka was ninety percent sure was supposed to mean something, but he was still a little too caught up on Tom’s fine with us living together to pick up on it. “Son. Please.”

He pushed something into Luka’s hand, and he looked down to see it was his phone. He had forgotten he had left it on the coffee table the night…earlier that morning. There were a few notifications on the screen – from Marinette, he saw, from the night before. Quickly reading through them, he noted they all sounded too…falsely cheerful to be really convincing.

“She hasn’t even unpacked yet, Luka,” Tom said. “We could have her settled in by this afternoon. I’ll close the bakery, and we’ll use the van.”

…his building didn’t have rats.

It would be nice to spend more time with Sass again.

It would be really nice, having all that extra time with Marinette…

Juleka had never complained about having him as a bunkmate, either – well. Nothing too serious, at least, and he didn’t loiter in the stairwell selling questionable substances. Most of her complaints stemmed from being his sister.

“…go get the van,” he sighed, massaging his temples. “I’ll call her.”

When he showed up at her door fifteen minutes later – without calling, because it had gone straight to voicemail (like his would have, if she had tried calling him at seven o’clock on a fucking Sunday morning) – she was already up. He had an entire speech about how he had a spare room within a reasonable walking distance to her school and the bakery and how important things like dependable plumbing and pest control are and the dangers of questionable doo-wop groups prepared, but when she flung the door open and stood there, panting, with…a kitchen knife held in her hand like she was ready to attack someone?

What the shit?

But she stood there, knife in hand and a look of terrified panic on her face, and he’d barely gotten her name out – never mind his speech – before she threw the knife behind her and flung her arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly as she started sobbing.

“Please, Luka, I can’t stay here there are rats bigger than Sass please let me live with you,” she gasped in a rush. Her ‘roommate’ – the stoner with the septum piercing that had called Marinette by a different name every time he’d been over – was sitting on the couch behind them, and she rolled her eyes before turning back to the television and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘pussy’ in their direction. “I swear the unit the landlord showed me wasn’t this bad, and it was so cheap, but I never thought…I didn’t want to overstep, but I hate this place, and I haven’t even been here a whole day but the shower was brown, Luka, and I didn’t sleep because of the screaming and the rat –”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” he said, rubbing her back. “Mari. It’s ok. I wanted to ask, but you…it’s ok. Tom’s getting the van. We’ll have you out before noon. It’s ok.”

She was still crying when she looked up at him, but there was a hesitant smile on her face that was enough to break his heart. He brushed her bangs back and kissed her forehead, and when she sucked in a breath and her hand fisted in his shirt…it was a little too easy, when he started to pull away and saw how wide and blue her eyes were, staring up at him like that…her hand twisted in his shirt to pull him closer, and he wasn’t kissing her forehead that time.

“…come on,” he said, his voice soft and low when the finally separated. He swallowed, his eyes flicking back down to her lips for a moment before returning to her eyes. Her smile felt easier, and it was too easy to steal another quick kiss. “Let’s get you home.”

#miraculous ladybug #luka couffaine #tom dupain #marinette dupain-cheng #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #ml fic #ver fic #lbsc lukanette month 2024 #prompt: dorm #bad living arrangements #moving out #moving in together #marinette moves into a shithole #nobody's ok with it #luka knows #idek guys #spot the gilmore influence

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tommyssupercoolblog · 4 months ago

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THE SHOW WAS AMAZING OMGGGGGG RAAAUGHGJFHFHFH GOES FERAL AND GNAWS ON MY COMPUTER

ALSO I MADE NEW MUTIALS HI NEW MUTUALS!!!! HEWWO!!!! BAPS YOU WITH MY PAWS

Spoilers under the cut

H-o-t-t-o-g-o, you can take me HOT to goooo

TWINKS ON ICE and "camera flash can be distracting, Phil will fall of the stage and die" absolutely SLAYED me

Dan accidentally said "Dan and pheal" instead of Dan and Phil and they both stopped to pretend to hold the pheal. Dan said that would be a better show than this.

SISTER DANIEL SLAYED

I don't know if this happens at EVERY show but in ours, the audience chose to kill the original Dan and Phil every time

Dan has illegalized ted Cruz but then got arrested for being British. Dr Phil loves helping old ladies cum and his favorite word is skibidi. I don't remember the third facts for either

Even though it wasn't picked, a whole bunch of people around us (and us) started chanting "FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK" when they asked what Dr. Phil's favorite word would be. Later we chanted "TOUR BUS" but that one worked!!!!

One of the audience confessions was that someone likes to "mark their territory" (yes. In the gross way) to know what it's like so sister Daniel called them a bad kitty and they sprayed the audience with water. Also Phil called out that some people had their MOUTHS OPEN while they were being sprayed.

The other audience confessions were that someone wrote "Phantrash(insert some numbers I can't remember)" on a wall in invisible ink and then MOVED OUT OF THW HOUSE AND LEFT IT THERE??? And then a confession that just said "someone in the audience thinks you sound like owls" which they both were confused by at first, but then Dan's face like. LIT UP in recognition and he repeated the question to Phil and Phil said "Who?" And Dan LOST IT and made fun of him. LMAO

They explained their first experience at a bucces. And THEN later phil said that his new favorite nuts are bucces nuts (as revealed later when they were asked by the audience to discuss nuts). Also they hate peanuts and think no one likes them unless they're paid to by "big peanut". And they both like "hot nuts" and Dan likes them salted and Phil likes them sweetened/candied. And yes they made sex jokes about it and also Dan said that Phil's favorite nuts were actually HIS NUTS

Phil having the phitties to the wind was not what I expected

I. Could have SWORN that there was an ...."uninvited guest" in the 🍑 part of the wresting match but no one's posted about it even though the whole theatre was like "AUGH!!" And they cut away and I turned to everyone next to us and was like "!!!! Uh oh was that REAL?? Um-" so. Maybe we were wrong. But I was about to be like "DANIEL HOWELL I AM SO SORRY I HOPE YOUR THERAPIST IS SO GOOD BECAUSE I PERSONALLY WOULD DIE"

Dan wore a cowboy hat during the musical number

I NEED THAT SONG IN MY PLAYLIST AND THAT DANCE MEMORIZED

I MISSED THE FUCKING PHOTO OPP BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T GIVE ME ENOUGH WARNINF TO UNLOCK MY PHONEEEE evil. Evil of them. Dan and Phil you betrayed me personally. Evil. I DID however get them walking aways

I bought the Dan and Phil made me gay shirt

Unrelated to the show itself but someone was handing out worms, and there were SO many sister Daniel cosplayers, and I happened to sit literally right in front of two other systems so it was like. Halfway through the show we realized that's what was happening and it was like HEWWO???? WOAH. Also this was my first time in Austin and guys... guys some sections of these roads are fucking perpendicular. I saw multiple people with mobility aids and like I HAVE ZERO AIDS AND IT HURT TO WALK ARE Y'ALL GOATS??? ARE YOU JUST NOT ABLE TO WALK OUTSIDE AT ALL AND HAVE TO TAKE CARS??? The whole fucking city is a series of V shapes with buildings on it. Girl why do your streets go straight up into the sky are you trying to drive up to jesus. Liked the rentable scooters tho

#i made a textpost #terrible influence tour #phan #dan and phil

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tomhardystories · 1 month ago

Text

Part 12

The first day in Brazil started with promise. Jules and Chris landed in Rio de Janeiro to a balmy breeze and a chorus of chirping birds. The city seemed alive in a way that almost felt overwhelming- bright colors, the buzz of scooters, and the sound of samba in the air. Chris was practically bouncing as he flagged down a cab and started rattling off their itinerary for the day.

“We’ll drop off the bags, then head straight to Christ the Redeemer. The view is supposed to be insane!!!” he said with extraordinary enthusiasm

Jules nodded, just smiling. She’d been looking forward to this trip when Chris first suggested it. A change of scenery, a chance to unwind. But as they wound through the city streets, she felt an odd wave of longing. Not for New York itself, but for the people there.

The day unfolded exactly as Chris had planned. The towering statue of Christ was breathtaking and Jules was genuinely moved by the sight of Rio sprawled out below. They snapped a few photos, shared some laughs, and even managed to grab an espresso at a nearby cafe, but by the time they made it to Copacabana Beach in the afternoon, Jules felt a strange emptiness settling in.

She stretched out on a lounge chair, while Chris dove headfirst into the water. She stared at her phone. Normally she wouldn’t think twice about spending a few days without talking to her friends, life got busy, and they all understood that. But this was different.

Samantha would’ve been sprawled on the chair next to her, commenting on everyone’s beach fashion. Miranda would’ve already ordered a caipirinha and started debating the socio-political implications of tourism in Rio. Charlotte would’ve made them all take a group photo, promising to get it framed. And Tom would’ve been cracking jokes about his inevitable sunburn or trying to convince her to join him in the water - he’d probably say something about luring sharks and how she’d make the perfect bait. Jules could practically hear those words in her mind.

Instead, she was here, alone. Well, not alone, she was with Chris of course, who was kind and fun and meant well. But ugh, it wasn’t the same.

By the time they returned to the hotel that evening, Jules was exhausted in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Chris - the planner, was already outlining their second day.

“We’ve got Sugarloaf Mountain in the morning, then the Botanical Garden. Oh, and there’s this samba club I read about...”

Jules nodded politely, not really listening, her mind already drifting to the comfort of the bed and the hope that tomorrow wouldn’t feel quite so overwhelming.

As she lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, she realized something unsettling... damn, she wasn’t as excited about this trip as she thought she’d be. Chris was trying to thank her for being there for him, and she appreciated that, but the truth was she’d rather be at home, grabbing a bagel with Samantha or watching a terrible movie with Tom.

Her chest tightened with a mix of guilt and longing. Brazil was beautiful, yup, but it didn’t feel like her place. And, she thought as she drifted off to sleep, it was going to be a long week..

On the third day, Jules hit her limit. She was bored - so bored that she actually started to entertain the idea of making out with Chris - just to spice things up a little and add some drama to the trip. The beaches were stunning, the sunsets Instagram-worthy, and the caipirinhas could knock out a horse, but the whole trip felt... ugh.

"Chris" she said that morning over hotel breakfast, eyeing him as he excitedly sketched out plans to conquer another jungle trail "how about we just... I don’t know, chill today? What do you say?"

Chris froze mid-chew, a piece of papaya dangling precariously from his fork. "Chill?"

Jules felt like she was sitting across from her own son - if she had one.

"Yeah. Like stay on the beach. Maybe have a beer. Or two." she wanted to throw in a sarcastic comparison or a joke, but she caught herself realizing that with Chris, she couldn’t even be bothered to think of one. Bad sign. With Samantha, Miranda, Charlotte, Tom - hell!, even with Leo and Cillian, joking felt natural. Could it be that she wasn’t the same Jules around Chris? Boring Jules? Bored Jules? Both? It wasn’t just about being bored. She had been bored so many times in the past few months, like, when she was with Tom. How many times had they sat for HOURS, noses buried in their phones, without saying a word? But it hadn’t bothered her then. Now, with Chris, she was experiencing a different kind of boredom.

He squinted at her, clearly struggling to compute the concept of "chill". There was an audible silence as he wrestled with his inner travel planner versus his growing suspicion that Jules might fake her own death to escape another packed itinerary. Finally, he let out a long, theatrical sigh.

"Alright. One day of doing nothing. For you."

Jules raised her mug of coffee in mock salute. "A true sacrifice. You’re a hero."

A few hours later, they were sprawled on the sand, cheap beers in hand, watching tourists pose awkwardly for Instagram photos. Jules leaned back, letting the sun soak into her skin, and started to relax for the first time since they’d landed. The waves were soothing, the beer was cold, and, most importantly, Chris had finally stopped talking about how he could probably surf if he just “gave it a shot.”

“See?” she said, tipping her beer in his direction. “This isn’t so bad.”

Chris laughed. “Okay, okay, you win. But don’t get used to it - we’ve got plans for tomorrow.”

Jules groaned dramatically. “Chris, you’re killing me.”

As the afternoon dragged on, Jules started to feel restless again. She stared at the waves, then at Chris, who was talking about soccer. Blah, blah, blah.. His jawline caught the light just right, and for a moment, Jules thought: maybe. Not because she was falling for him again. Hell no. But because this trip needed something. A spark. A story. A reason to look back and remember something other than endless sand and Chris rattling off tourist facts like he was reading from a guidebook.

Without thinking, she interrupted him mid-sentence.

“Hey, you” she said, leaning in slightly, her beer hanging from her fingers.

Chris stopped talking. “What?”

“I’m bored.”

He blinked. “Bored? We’re on a beach in Brazil. How can you be bored?”

“Because I’ve seen a beach before, Chris. And I’ve seen you before.” She grinned, teasing, but there was a bit of truth in it. “I need something... different.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “You were the one who insisted on sitting on the beach all day.”

She shrugged, took a sip of her beer and let the silence drag on for just long enough to make things awkward. Then, without thinking, she leaned over and kissed him.

“Wow” Chris said, still trying to process.

Jules grinned. “I think we need another beer.”

They stumbled into the hotel room, lips already locked in a sloppy but enthusiastic kiss. A couple of beers were behind them, just enough to make things feel a little more fun. Their hands roamed as they kicked off their shoes, navigating their way to the bed, all while still attempting to kiss each other with the grace of a pair of penguins on roller skates.

"Wait, hold on, hold on" Chris pulled away for a second, looking at her. “Why don't we make this... slow. Nice. Romantic, you know?”

Jules blinked, then blinked again, as if she had misheard him. "Uh, no. No, thank you. I didn’t sign up for The Notebook tonight. Just.. Let's fuck, alright?" she said, her voice a little too eager. She was already working on unbuttoning his shirt.

Chris chuckled, clearly entertained by her impatience. “You know, you’ve always been a bit of a maneater, but this? This is next level."

Jules paused, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?” She was still struggling with the button, twisting it in every direction but the right one.

Chris leaned back, looking slightly amused and very fond of her. “I mean, I thought you'd take it slow for once. You're practically on top of me already. But don't worry, today you win. I remember you like it rough." He leaned closer “Honestly? I’ve been kind of secretly hoping for this on this trip” he said, as she continued to battle with the buttons. “It’s been on my mind, you know? Since we got here.”

"Yeah, yeah, you're absolutely right" she replied, and Chris knew immediately that Jules wasn’t really listening.

Finally, after several attempts, she managed to unbutton all the buttons of his shirt, pulling it apart so forcefully that her hand accidentally knocked over the lamp on the nightstand. The lamp crashed to the floor, and the room plunged into complete darkness. Jules and Chris exchanged glances.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s still good in the dark” Jules said with a hint of desperation in her voice. Once he was shirtless, she quickly yanked off her own shirt, completely oblivious to the fact that her necklace got tangled in her hair during the process.

“Jules, slow down, you’re gonna kill yourself, or me, before we even get anywhere!” Chris groaned, part scared, part amused.

Jules, likely not hearing him at all, climbed on top of him and started kissing his lips with a passion he had never seen from her before. Romantic or not, he was starting to enjoy it. Jules always knew how to make things feel good. But the longer she kissed him, the more doubts crept into her mind. The beer hadn’t clouded her judgment completely. Something was off. Something didn’t fit. But what?

Oh.

My.

God.

Jules abruptly pulled away from the kiss, practically jumping off Chris as if he had burned her. She bolted to the balcony, her breathing fast and shallow.

“I can't breathe”

Chris jumped out of bed, his heart racing, convinced that she was having a heart attack or something equally dramatic. He rushed over to her, but Jules waved him off, trying to steady her breath. He stood there, confused. He watched her for a moment before speaking. “Jules, what the hell was that? You scared me to death.”

Jules finally looked at him, her expression softening. She took a deep breath, then looked down for a moment, gathering her thoughts. When she looked back at him, her voice was calmer, though still a little shaky. “I’m sorry, Chris” she said quietly, her words laced with guilt. “That was... inappropriate. This whole situation.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, still trying to figure out what the hell was going on. "Should I take you to the hospital? Are you having any health issues? You look like you’ve seen a ghost" he said, the playful tone in his voice now gone. "I thought we were having fun. Was it me? Did I do something wrong?"

Jules shook her head, her eyes briefly darting to the night sky. "No, it's not that. It’s just..." She paused, struggling to find the words. "I thought I could... but I can't."

Chris nodded slowly, processing her words. "Okay, I get it" he said after a moment. "No harm done. We don’t have to rush anything. Let’s just... take it easy next time."

"Sorry for freaking out."

She spent the rest of the night on the balcony, staring blankly into the dark sky. Her third cigarette burned between her fingers as she tried to distract herself, but her mind kept returning to that moment, the one she had tried so desperately to push away.

When she had kissed Chris earlier, she hadn’t just pulled away because something was wrong with him. No, the truth hit her like a punch in the gut- she had kissed him, but it wasn’t his lips she had wanted to feel. It was a different pair, a pair that haunted her thoughts, and in that instant, she had realized that when she had been desperately fumbling with Chris’s shirt, the man beneath her wasn’t the one she actually wanted there.

The realization struck her with a wave of panic, followed by an unsettling heaviness in her chest. It wasn’t the flutter of butterflies in her stomach, the kind of excitement you feel when you're falling for someone. No no, this was something worse. Something disorienting. She felt a sharp, uncomfortable pang in her body as though her whole self was rejecting the situation.

What the hell was going on?

She tried to shake it off. It had to be the beer. Just a bit of alcohol playing tricks on her mind. It was all stupid. It wasn’t real. It’ll pass. Tomorrow, she’ll be laughing about it.

As the first light of dawn began to spill through the hotel window, she snuffed out her cigarette with dramatic flair, her expression something between horror and disbelief - as if she had just witnessed her pet hamster meet a tragic fate. Quietly - trying not to disturb Chris who was dead to the world after several beers, she pulled her suitcase from beneath the bed. She started to pack, throwing clothes into it haphazardly.

Her mind was a mess. The situation had spiraled so quickly.. one moment they were laughing, kissing, and having "fun" in Brazil, and now she was suddenly halfway through her second existential crisis of the trip. She wasn’t sure what was worse: the nagging realization about Tom or the fact that she’d probably need a few years of therapy to even begin to process it. Either way, it was time to go.

Jules tossed a pair of pants on, grabbed a pen, and scribbled a note on a piece of hotel stationery, her handwriting more frantic than usual:

Chris,

I’m sorry. It was nice seeing you again, nice coming here together, but I can't do this. We can’t just pretend we’re friends. I think we both need to move on. I’m really sorry. I wish you all the best in life.

Jules

She stared at the note for a few moments, then folded it and set it on the pillow. She didn’t want to wake him up. She wasn’t sure how she’d explain it to him anyway.

With the note left behind, she dragged her suitcase out of the room.

At the airport, things didn’t go quite as planned.

“Excuse me, miss, I need a flight to New York, like.. now.” Jules demanded, tapping her fingers impatiently on the counter. The woman behind the desk looked at her with the deadpan expression of someone who had seen it all.

“Next flight to New York… is… um…” the woman paused, glancing at her screen. “Fourteen hour.”

Jules stared at her, open-mouthed. “Fourteen hours?! Are you kidding me? I need a flight right now. I’ve just made a life-altering decision, and the universe owes me a direct flight!”

The woman’s expression didn’t change. She gave a small shrug. “No flight now, senhora, we don’t offer... um... teleportation. You wait."

“What am I supposed to do? Just hang out here and start a new life with you?” She threw her arms out dramatically. “Maybe we can grab a coffee and chat about our hopes and dreams. I know! Maybe we can start a book club and spend the next two weeks together! Jesus... ” Jules huffed, rolled her eyes, and noticed from the corner of her eye that people in the line were giving her death stares, as if they were about to pull out their phones, record her, and post a TikTok with the caption, "Karen is losing it again."

She took a deep breath, realizing she had probably gone a bit overboard with the theatrics. The woman behind the counter was just doing her job, and Jules had to admit, her impatience was more about her own mess than the agent’s fault. She put on her best apologetic smile and tried to soften her tone. "Okay, look...." she paused for a moment, trying to catch a glimpse of the woman's name tag. Jules squinted at it, reading the name out loud in a way that was either completely wrong or embarrassingly off. "Luzia? Luu… Lucia? I’m sorry. I’m just... I need to get out of here. I really need to go home. Can you help me with that? You can’t just… pull a flight out of nowhere?"

The woman sighed deeply, showing no signs of emotion, as if Jules’ life crisis was just another Tuesday for her. "The next flight is in 14 hours" she repeated. "Or, there’s one with... uh... a layover in Panama."

Jules blinked. Panama? She paused, considering. “I’ll take it. Book me on that one, please.”

“Eight hundred dollar”

"What?! Eight hundred dollars? Are we renting the whole plane?!" Jules sighed dramatically, fishing out her credit card. “For eight hundred dollars, I better get champagne, a hot towel, and someone fanning me with a palm leaf the entire way.”

The agent remained unfazed, taking the card and processing it without a word. She typed something into her computer and handed Jules the boarding pass without a hint of enthusiasm. "Flight leave in two hours. Gate 27."

She grabbed her things. "Thanks... I guess."

The agent didn’t even look up. "Have a pleasant flight, senhora."

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