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l-e-e-woso · 2 years ago

Note

30 with ona batlle pls❤

I Can't Help It - Ona Batlle

Italics = Spanish

The reader has ADHD and the little things that Ona does to help the reader.

Prompt 30 - “How don’t you know the difference between left and right?”

______________________________

Sometimes you really wonder how Ona put up with you. You constantly left things all over your shared house whether it be hoodies, bottles of water or snacks, you would forget where you had put them and go get a new one.

You would space out a lot of the time while she could be talking to you about something quite serious which annoys Ona a bit but she understands that you can’t help it.

Sometimes you could drink an energy drink or a coffee which is supposed to make you wake up more but instead it makes you even more tired.

A lot of the time either just while talking to someone or just waiting in the line to go onto the field you would find yourself doing small random dances which a lot of the Man United team thought was actually quite cute.

Also there would be times where you are at home alone and you just get something in your head telling you to clean every room before Ona gets home with some of your teammates, you think to yourself like it’s a deadline to get it done before they get home but most of the time you can never get it done before they get back. Once the teammates and Ona do get back they usually help you finish off cleaning the house because they know how hard of a task it can be for you to do everything without forgetting at least three things.

Team bonding, whenever there were movie nights you would usually just play games on your phone because unless it’s a Marvel movie you could never get through the entire thing.

Another thing you hated was…paperwork. You always asked Ona to help you with any paperwork, you could never read the entire thing because after reading one sentence it would bore you and you would get distracted by something else like video games.

Ona loved staying up to stupid o’clock in the morning with you because thats when you come out with the most random facts or jokes. Conversations at that time of night was one of the best things about your relationship.

In your time at Man United all your teammates realised that when training or in a match you would talk to yourself or sing to yourself which they found quite funny and adorable.

One thing that Ona also noticed that you didn’t until she pointed it out to you is that you couldn’t tell your left from your right. It got to a point where Ona had to tell the coaches because in certain parts of training the coaches would tell you to go left or right so they had to come up with something.

Ultimately you just ended up writing L on your left hand and R on your right hand in sharpie so you would eventually be alright with you left and right. You did notice that you had to do it with most of your belongings that required to be on either your left or your right. You did it too, your football boots, shinpads, socks and gloves ect.

There were also times where you would get so hyper that you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself so you would find someone on the team to chase or get them to chase you to wear you out. Which would end up with you falling asleep in Ona’s lap which she loved because she thought that you looked the most peaceful and beautiful when you were sleeping.

But unfortunately there were downsides to ADHD which is the part that only Ona see when the both of you are at your shared house.

There’s things that could happen at random times of the day, which could include crying, lashing out like breaking a vase or punching a hole in the wall and taking things way too personally.

The medication that you took for your ADHD also had a few side effects like; dry mouth, headaches, loss of appetite, weight loss, trouble sleeping, stomach aches, nausea, vomiting, aggression, drowsiness and mood swings.

______________________________

Today was just a normal day at training with Man United and already you had forgotten to bring your training hoodie with you so you kept complaining about how cold it was until a hoodie was thrown in your face.

You quickly put on as you were freezing and looked up to see Ona looking at you in amusement, you send her a cheeky smile before running off after Millie Turner.

When you and Millie were around each other everyone in the team just expected something to happen.

What you didn’t expect to happen was when Millie suddenly stopped running and bent down to tie her laces that had come undone somehow. You hadn’t seen that she had stopped which made you basically somersault over her landing on your back as you looked up at the sky in shock.

All you could hear was gasps from the rest of the team and suddenly Ona’s face appeared above you. “Are you okay?” Ona says as she looks at your body to check if you have been injured in any way shape or form.

“That was fucking awesome! Can we do it again?!” You shout excitedly as you sit up from your position on the ground. This caused Ona to chuckle and playfully slap the back of your head. “No you are not doing that again! My god are you trying to get yourself hurt?! You are insane. Are you trying to get injured before the game in two days?! You are…are…impossible! ” Ona starts speaking to you in Spanish which you cannot speak at all.

“Ona, babe, you're rambling in Spanish again.” You say as you quickly give her a kiss before everyone goes back to practice.

______________________________

After a long day at training where you basically had no breaks in because you were so excited for dinner after practice with some of the Man Utd girls and some of the Man City girls as well.

You and Ona were heading back to your shared house to get ready for dinner. It was only about a 20 minute drive back to the house so you decided to get a quick nap in.

Eventually you get woken up by Ona so the both of you can go and get ready for dinner with Lucy Staniforth, Millie Turner, Leah Galton, Leila Ouahabi, Lauren Hemp and Chloe Kelly.

Both you and Ona quickly go into your shared house to get showered, dressed and then go.

Ona was in the bathroom showering as you quickly stripped off your clothes and joined her in the shower. As you get into the shower you wrap your arms around Ona’s waist and kiss her neck which causes her to let out a small moan as she leans her head backwards onto your shoulder.

“Mi vida…” Ona lets out a breathy moan as you caress her body as her hand travels behind your head gripping onto your hair.

“As much as I'd love to continue this, we have a dinner to get ready for.” You say which makes Ona whine in frustration, she pulls you down toward her and goes to kiss you before pulling away to walk out of the shower. “Don’t tease me again.” Ona says as she glares at you through the mirror and dries herself off with a towel which makes you gulp nervously, you hated being on Ona’s badside.

After turning off the shower you get out and wrap a towel around yourself as you dry your hair with another. Ona walks past you, completely naked, you can’t help but watch her walk out of the bathroom while you basically drool over your girlfriend.

“I really gotta put a ring on her finger…don’t I?” You mutter to yourself as you dry yourself off before following after Ona so you can get dressed.

When you enter the bedroom she is already fully dressed and is now drying her hair then you go over to the wardrobe, get the clothes you want to wear out and slip them on.

You walk up to Ona and give her a huge hug where you bury your head in her neck which is something you only do when your thoughts start to overcrowd your mind. She hugs you back while running her hand through your hair to try to calm you down which helps massively.

“You okay, mi vida?” Ona asks you once you’ve calmed down but she continues to hug you. “Yeah, my thoughts were just…uh…like loud and all over the place. It’s like when you overthink about a match but my mind is thinking about all the matches we have ever played all at the same time like a shouting volume.” You ramble on trying to explain to Ona what your mind was going through in a way that she could possibly understand.

“Oh…wow. I’m sorry baby, that must be really overwhelming.” Ona says sympathetically as she rubs my back and leans up to give me a kiss. “Would you like to braid my hair? I know it helps you.” Ona asks you as she knew that playing with her hair made your mind settle down slightly.

“Yes! I do!” You say excitedly as you pull her over to the bed to sit down so you can braid her hair, which you start straight away.

“Babe did you know that the international space station is the biggest space station ever built but it can only fit up to six people at a time.” You say randomly blurting out a fact about space travel which was only one of many random facts that you knew as you got half way through brading Ona’s hair.

Before Ona could even reply to your first fact you blurt out another random fact. “Bulls aren’t actually affected by the colour red because they are colourblind.” You say as you finish off Ona’s braid and crawl around her then sit in her lap.

Ona looks at you like you are the most adorable thing in the world as she rests her hands on your lower back while tracing random patterns while you wrap your arms around her neck pulling her closer towards you which makes her look up at you with her beautiful brown eyes and you push a few stray hairs that you had missed out of her face.

While holding her chin you lean down then place a slow sensual kiss on her lips which makes Ona smile into the kiss and she holds you as close as humanly possible. Then a phone rings which makes you both groan in displeasure and Ona reaches into your back pocket where your phone was ringing before answering it and putting it on speaker.

“Hello?” Ona says as she waits for whomever it is to reply to her. “You guys are late, hurry or we will start eating without you. Byeeeee!” Millie Turner shouts through the phone which snaps the both of you out of your lovey dovey situation.

This makes the both of you quickly get up and run around getting all of the stuff that you need. Once Ona has all the stuff she need she goes and waits in the car for you.

“House keys? Gottem. Jacket? Got it. Walet? In the car. Phone? In my pocket. Done!” You shout thankful that you remembered everything and run out the house locking the door on the way out.

“Amor, did you remember your chewing gum and water?” Ona says which makes you groan because you had forgotten something and you quickly turn around, run into the house to get the chewing gum and water.

Once you had finally gotten everything you sat in the passenger's seat and popped a chewing gum in your mouth then gave one to Ona before she started driving to the restaurant.

______________________________

After about 15 minutes you arrive at the restaurant, Ona parks the car and once she has you quickly runs over to her side of the car and opens the door for her which makes her blush. “Thank you, mi vida.” Ona says as she stands on her tippy toes and kisses your cheek before the both of you head into the restaurant where all the girls were waiting for the both of you.

You and Ona reach the table where the rest of the girls were sat, they cheered because they could finally order food. “I was about to waste away!” Lucy says as she waves over the waiter so they could order food.

“You were fucking weren’t you? Huh, Ona?” Leila speaks to Ona in Spanish and unfortunately none of the rest of us could understand what they were saying. “No we weren’t. Y/n was having a panic attack of sorts I suppose.” Ona says which makes Leila feel bad about teasing the both of you so she just goes back to telling Lauren what she wants from the menu because Leila wasn’t confident enough with her English to order for herself.

When the waiter came over all of you ordered your drinks and food. As you were talking to Millie who was sitting across from you, you started drumming your fingers on the table which was quite annoying to the Man City girls who were used to your everyday antics but it’s not like you could help it, it was one of the things you did to stim. Ona took your hands in hers and let you play with the rings on her fingers as it wasn't as annoying to other people.

“Does Y/n do that a lot?” Chloe asks Ona out of curiosity who turns to you so you can explain for yourself. “Yeah, I have ADHD so it helps.” You smile at her because she didn’t know that you couldn’t help it as you continued to play with Ona’s rings.

Just then the drinks arrived but they placed them all at the end of the table which is where you were sitting, Millie passed the majority of the drinks to people. “Could you pass me my drink? It’s the one furthest to your left.” Lauren says as she waits for her drink.

“This one?” You say pointing to the one on your right and you look at Lauren who shakes her head. “On the other side.” Lauren says as she points to her drinks and you pass it to her. “How don’t you know the difference between left and right?” Chloe says as she laughs which makes you frown so she immediately stops laughing. “Sorry…” She apologises to you quickly so you just nod thanks to her.

_______________Timeskip to when you get home_______________

Both you and Ona were dressed in your pyjamas cuddled up to one another. You had your head resting on her chest as she ran her hands through your hair and you had an arm wrapped around her waist.

“Thank you for putting up with me.” You mutter sleepily to Ona who just barely hears and she sighs. “Amor, I don’t put up with you. I love you which is why I like to look after you, make sure that you remember to get your water because you don’t like the water from restaurants or how you have to be chewing gum in the car or else you feel sick and one day we will do the same thing for the mini me and you that will be running around. You will be my wife one day so obviously I don’t just put up with yo-” Ona gets cut off by your loud snoring which makes her chuckle as she just said that all for no reason.

______________________________

Hope you liked this fic! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @sofakingwoso @dutch-gay86 @gt713 @mmmmokdok @xxforeverinadayxx

#ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #man city wfc #man united women #spaniards #woso #womens football #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #my fics #my fic

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inactive-shroomiehomie · 4 years ago

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SFW Alphabet - Sonny Carisi

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Sonny loves holding you anyway he can. He’s a big physical affection type of guy! Sitting casually in his lap on the couch, Sonny towering behind you with his arms hugging your shoulders from behind. He doesn’t like smooching or being too cuddly in public, but he just can’t stay away from you !

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

It doesn’t matter how long he’s known you, Dominick is a loyal friend. If he goes against you in anyway, he has a pretty damn good reason or it’s for your own good. If you’re in a bad mood, Sonny would come over and cook for you and you two would goof around until he had to go back home or until he passed out on your couch.

You are both night-time law students and you get to arguing over some study case you were both given for an assignment- and you out smart him. He starts laughing in disbelief and offers to buy you a coffee. Then you two are hanging out at the bar after classes, throwing darts and throwing back drinks.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

As previously stated, Carisi is a big ol’ snuggler. He’s also a personal heater when it comes to sleeping at night and it can be a blessing on those chilly New York nights.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Sonny + Cooking = ♥

Sonny + Cleaning= :/ (He’s a bit of a germaphobe, but he doesn’t know how to pick up after him self more than he should.)

You’ve talked about it before, and while you both agree bringing children into the world when their Dad would have to see and hear the things he does at work on a daily basis would be horrible, having a kid or two wouldn’t be horrible. Plus, Dominick is so great with children, especially babies. From his own nieces to Rollins’ two girls; He can quiet a screaming child in seconds and it mesmerizes you each time.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Face to Face. If you were committed enough to be in the relationship for however long, you should have the guts to end whatever it is to the other persons’ face.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Sonny would feel horrible anxiety about proposing to you. He definitely wants to be with you until you’re both worm food, but he’s been on the job long enough to see what happens to marriages when someone works this kind of job. But you’re in it for the long haul, and he just has to accept that.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

The human embodiment of a golden retriever is the perfect way to describe Sonny. Loyal, sweet, patient. But if you betray their trust it’s suuuuper hard to get it back.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

When Carisi hugs you, it’s like being bundled up tight for winter, but not suffocating. His chest is firm and comfortable and no matter the hug type, he always draws circles on your lower back, just to make you smile.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

You were actually the first to say it. It was an over-excited slip, but you still meant it 100%. And unbeknownst to know, Carisi wanted to say it week two of knowing you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He’s not a jealous of possessive man. The most jealous he’s behaved is whenever he’s in a clingy mood and you’re at work or hanging out with Rollins and Olivia without him. But he’s still very protective of you and watches your back.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Carisi loves to kiss the top of your head or the back of your neck. Nothing weird, just a quick peck. The back-of-your-neck kisses would sometimes release a giggle from you and it would end up with him pinning you down and tickling you ‘til you cried.~

But you love to kiss his cheeks and hands. It’s hard to describe, but wanting to kiss him on the cheek as the same mental effect as a crow wanting to bring a bright, shiny thing back to the nest for it’s mate.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Again, Carisi is an amazing person with children. He’ll make an amazing father one day.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’s a morning bird. Always up before you with coffee or sometimes food if he had time. But he always made sure- unless it was urgent business- he would wake you up with a sweet his on the cheek or gently rocking you until you came too.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Unless it’s a day off, you rarely get to see him. (ADA or Detective) But on the nights where he gets home early, you both talk about your days and how they went. Dinner, snuggling on the couch, and sometimes you’ll even show him some of your personal projects you’ve been working on.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Along side being the prefect cook and great with kids, he’s a chatter box. He doesn’t just blurt out things weird like, “I used to spank it to Opera 24/7.” On the first day or anything. Just threw things into casual conversation or when you asked. But if anyone said something about a good home cooked meal, he wouldn’t shut up about the 5 different foods his mama used to make for hi.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He works for a sex crimes division. You have to do something pretty horrible to beat that. You’ve had your fair share of fights though. Between his Italian blood and whatever you were arguing about, he could be stuck on an argument for longer than you would be.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Maybe golden retriever wasn’t an accurate description of what he was. More so like.... a wiener-dog-chihuahua mix. Dorky, but brain still smart and ticking. R Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Yet somehow, he can’t find his damn phone charger.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Sonny knows you can take care of yourself, but being a part of the NYPD, he'a naturally protective. If you need help getting away from a guy Carisi is on you in seconds, flashing his gun and badge.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Carisi spoils you. He's usually the one to cook when you two have time for dinner and there's never not homemade sweets in the house.

But on your anniversaries, Carisi would make you breakfast in bed and the two of you would make sure to take off from work for the day. Lounging and enjoying one another's company until Carisi would send you to the grocery to get dinner supplies and he can have time to decorate the apartment.

Your favorite scented candles, light pink rose petals, soft music. All the beautiful cliche shit that's just so cheesy and sweet enough to make your heart melt.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Your schedules tend to not overlap. So when he gets home or gets ready for work, he will sometimes leave his dirty laundry around the house and his filthy dishes in his sink.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

His hair, yes. Otherwise, Sonny couldn't give two shits what he looked like. And you coupdn't either.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

"Before you I felt like used tea bag. Already fulfilled my purpose with nothing else left. Then you came around and gave me new purpose. Instead of tea, you made me into a bath bomb. Or a soap scrub."

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Not being able to see him in person for a few days at time or before 11:30pm should be something his partner should be able to deal with. And being able to appreciate his friends and family like he does.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Carisi REFUSES to admit, but the backs of his knees are super ticklish. Sometimes when you're cuddling, you "accidentally" brush your feet up against the back of his knee and he practically falls off of the couch spasming. It's the cutest thing.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Carisi would definitely be a sleep talker. He'd also be the person that if you tried to get up without him, he would hold onto you tighter in his sleep. You think he may be awake sometimes when he does that, but Sonny neither denies or admits that to being true.

#law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #sonny carisi #law and order x reader #peter scanavino #sfw alphabet #fluff #dominick sonny carisi #sonny carisi oneshot #sonny carisi x reader #dominick carisi x reader #law and order special victims unit oneshot

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peaches-writes · 4 years ago

Text

syncopated

description: the 6 instances you and chan almost dated and the 1 drinking party when you asked him about them member: bang chan genre: angst (?), fluff, college au, almost lovers au word count: 5.5.k warnings: explicit language, drinking

italicized text - present day

Y/B - your birthday

prologue

Minho clears the messy table in one swift motion—by that meaning he haphazardly pushes the half-empty bottles of soju and snack wrappers with one arm to pile on one side in order to make way for the mysterious object he hides behind his back. “Okay, let’s see if this is any good.” He mutters under his breath, thinking about how much he spent on the lie detector toy he places at the very center of the table. “Rock, paper, scissors on who starts the game?”

Though most on the table are already floating between being dead drunk and half-asleep, everyone eventually manages to put out a hand for the game, even Changbin whom you swear has been asleep for the past rounds of the mafia game. “Oh, also, penalty shot if the toy buzzes you!” Jisung slurs with a giggle as if it’s been the brightest thing he’s said throughout their entire party. “Rock, paper, scissors!”

In some five or six rounds (you lose count because of the amount of unrelated small talk in between), it then comes down to you and Chan.

“Do we move to the left or to the right of the first player?” Seungmin asks but no one answers.

Instead, Minho shrugs. “It’s whatever, we’ll decide later.”

Looking to your left across the table, Chan is surprisingly looking more sober than your seven other drinking buddies for tonight. He nurses a shot glass in one hand and his phone in the other, camera open in case Changbin does something stupid again since he’s suddenly woken up. "We could just do a coin toss.”

“Nah, let’s just do a round of rock, paper, scissors. I don’t have coins with me, anyway.” You hold out your hand and he mimics your actions. “Rock, paper, scissors!”

You pull paper and he pulls rock.

“Ah, yes. perfect!” Hyunjin clasps his hands together and suddenly everyone seated on the table is awake, eyes directed to Chan whose right hand immediately gets strapped to the lie detector toy by an equally excited Minho. “Minho, should you ask him or should I?”

Before Minho could open his mouth to speak, however, a now very-much-awake Jisung beats him to it. “I’ll do it!” Seated next to you, he stands up and reaches to the lie detector, finger hovering above the button. “Bang Chan, did you or did you not have a serious crush on Y/N at one point?”

“Jisung, what the fuck?” You pull him back to his seat by the back of his shirt but he’s significantly faster, pressing the button on the lie detector toy before you could say more, a smug smile on his face. “Chan, you don’t have to answer, it’s cool.”

But everyone ignores you (even the man in question), looking on curiously and more awake now than ever. Briefly catching Chan’s eye, you see him contemplating with pursed lips and eyes trained down to the flashing lights of the toy, making it feel as if its ominous music is dragging on longer than usual.

“Well?” Seungmin urges on when the song seems to be coming to an end, uncharacteristically impatient when drunk.

“No?” And as if on cue, a buzz sound cuts the music as Chan’s hand is briefly electrified, his first instinct being to bring his hand closer to his chest with a wince. “Ow, shit!”

A beat of silence. No one says a word—you can barely read the expressions everyone else wears on their faces as Chan proceeds to take his hand off of the lie detector toy.

“Oh shit, indeed.” Felix pours a shot glass of soju for Chan, sliding it to him from the other end of the table, before pouring one for himself. “I’m drinking to that.”

“Called it.” Jisung loudly whispers to Changbin who doesn’t even seemed fazed about what had just transpired—unlike you as you suddenly feel lightheaded with this new information. “Ya, Yang Jeongin, pay up!”

“What? I’m not paying up!”

Amidst the chaos that follows and the awkward energy that seems to bounce off between you and Chan, across from you, Minho suddenly thinks of what he considers his best drunken idea yet. “Hey, since Y/N’s here, how about a chance—trade the penalty shot for a question.” He suggests to Chan, effectively silencing the table once again. “If you answer the question, the penalty shot passes on to the next person.”

Looking at Chan, he squints his eyes, deep in thought. “I mean...”

“What can you say about Chan’s answer, Y/N?” Hyunjin dramatically holds a soju bottle to your direction like a gossip reporter. Everyone immediately turns from Chan to you.

“I—Well—“ You stutter out, finally catching Chan’s gaze again. “Is it true?”

“I only had happy crushes on you before, we already talked about that.” He awkwardly laughs, a hand to the nape of his neck in embarrassment as he turns to Minho. “Okay, I answered their question, can we move on to the next person?”

A chorus of ‘what?’s and ‘no!’s erupt around the table in reply, you can even see Minho shaking his head in disapproval and tsking at Chan.

“Well, he did answer my question.” You try to come to Chan’s defense and he sends you a grateful smile you almost missed. “And we’ve talked about this before.”

Well, sort of, if being dead drunk and admitting to having a happy crush on each other at another party a long time ago counts.

But Hyunjin is quick to complain. “Come on, Y/N, that can’t be your question!” Hyunjin exclaims dramatically.

Even Jeongin nods in agreement and you’re quick to glare at him at the feeling of betrayal. “Yeah, especially not after a juicy question!” He quips as well, adding salt to the wound. “We want an explanation!”

“Jeongin! I protected you during the mafia game!” “Y/N, my money’s also on the line here!”

"Y/N, you should ask when exactly Chan had a crush on you.” Jisung suggests before raising his voice to your pitch in a bad imitation of you, “’Chan, when exactly did you have a crush on me?’”

“Hey!” You call him out. “I don’t sound like that!”

“Oh, look, Y/N just asked a great question!” Changbin follows after, ignoring your complaints that follow. “Care to answer, Chan?”

You wanted to say more, maybe even slap Changbin on the back for making Chan uncomfortable, but Chan waves his electrified hand dismissively to you and Changbin. “No, it’s okay, I can answer—if it’s okay with you, of course.”

“N—” You shake your head no but Jisung is quick again to cover your mouth and interjecting (still in a bad imitation of you), “‘Sure, Chan!’”

You swat Jisung’s hand away after, sending said boy in a fit of drunken giggles. “Chan —”

Without missing a beat, Chan begins with “Firstly during the freshman orientation.” that immediately silences you and the entire table.

Though being an even worse drunk at the other party, that definitely wasn’t what you talked about last time.

“Firstly? So there’s a second? Ooh, I wanna know!” Hyunjin exclaims.

Unbeknownst to you, Chan is feeling braver tonight than the last party. He initiates eye contact this time, silently asking if he can continue. Finally giving in out of intrigue, you nod in agreement.

one - freshman orientation (4 yrs ago)

You sat next to Chan to his left on this day, wearing a striped black and white shirt and cuffed jeans that he didn’t know was a go-to until much later, after the MC, Jae, mixed the arrangement of the people in your circle. The game instruction was simple: to provide information on the person either to your left or right when the microphone is pointed at you. As the game progresses, the questions become more random and specific and people get eliminated if their guesses aren’t witty or close enough.

“Guys, are we ready?” Jae asks through his microphone, to which everyone replies with a chorus of ‘yeah’s and ‘yes’s as energetically as possible. “Alright, I’ll give you 2 minutes to talk to your seatmates! Go!”

You turned to the person on your left and so Chan turns to his right. You didn’t really have to, he finds out after the game, since you were already familiar with Mina whom you met on the much earlier university open house, and so you spent the remaining 1 minute and 40 seconds trying to memorize basic information about Chan after.

“So, Bang Chan or Chan, music prod major, birthday October 3, and you make music on Soundcloud with your friends.” Chan nods along happily to you summarizing what he just told you. “3racha, right?”

He nods one last time before pointing at you, “And for you, Y/N Y/L/N, broadcast major, birthday on Y/B, and we have Minho as a mutual friend.

“I think we’re ready.” You raise your hand for a high-five and he immediately receives it enthusiastically. “Later, when the questions get funnier, just nod along, okay?”

At that, Chan laughs amusedly. “Sure, okay.”

And then, the game starts.

“You really liked me then?” You ask in bewilderment, half your face distorted behind a glass of mule Seungmin poured for you as Minho, Hyunjin, and Jisung pressure Chan for more specific details.

“Of course, I did! Why are you judging me?”

“I thought you were trying to be cheeky then!”

After a few rounds, the questions are now completely random without any time to ask your seatmates. Chan gets picked first by the MC.

“Left, right, left, right, left, right, Chan, what are the last 2 digits of Y/N’s phone number?” The microphone is pointed then pointed to a startled Chan.

You better give a witty answer, you think as if sending a telepathic message to him. Cruelly, Jae’s also twisted the game so that if he didn’t accept the answers, the person whom the question is about would also get eliminated.

And as if reading your mind, he doesn’t miss a beat in answering, “I’ll think about letting you know when I do get them—and the rest—later.”

Your entire circle erupts in cheers and whistles, even you laugh at his wit. When Chan glances over to you, you make sure to slap his arm. “Yah!”

“That was witty, though, wasn’t it?”

“You’re so confident about getting my number, huh?”

“Ah, well, can I?”

At the center of your circle, Jae asks (and thus interrupting you), “Will we accept that guys?” To which he’s immediately met with agreement. “Okay, fine, fine, we’ll take it!”

Turning to Chan when the game proceeds again, you conclude, “I’ll think about that later too.”

The two of you forgot to exchange phone numbers that day but you did get each other’s Facebook through Minho afterward. Chan only got your number during your first semester break.

“Ey, we already know this one! What’s the second one?” Changbin waves Chan’s story dismissively.

By now, the truth or shot game that instigated this mess is almost forgotten despite being at the center of the table. Everyone listens intently to Chan as he recalls what he still considers to this day his best line.

“You act as if you’re the one being questioned.” You frown in disapproval.

“Yeah ‘cause unlike Jae we’re not taking this pick-up line!” Minho counters, if you consider such drunken slur as a comeback. “What about The Gig thing?”

You shrug, “What gig thing?” while Chan only looks at Minho to continue.

two - ‘the gig thing’ (10 months ago)

This was a time when everybody was undeniably stressed and burned out from academics, which should have been a given to you by then in your last stretch of 3rd year. Despite your teachers’ (poor) attempts at scheduling major projects, a handful of your most important deadlines were still due after the weekend which would mark 2 weeks before your finals. For this reason, you and Chan were on videocall the entire Friday night and Saturday early morning of said weekend, responsibly making sure to start what you can on your projects to feel less guilty about booking your entire weekend for leisurely activities.

Plus, Chan barely saw you outside of his classes for the whole semester since, after classes, he’s forced to work on his practical projects in his shared dorm with 3racha. The study buddy through videocall was also (secretly) an excuse to see you on his part.

He missed you terribly then.

The call was mostly quiet of conversation in the beginning, the only significant noise being the sound of the two of you typing on your respective laptops, the faint music of Chan’s practical project, and your mouse occasionally clicking on random Twitter posts whenever you start feeling drowsy. It was some time after midnight, when Chan was speeding through an idea for the chorus of his song, that you came across an interesting Twitter post.

“I sent you something on Messenger.” You hold your earphones’ mic closer to your lips, gaining Chan’s attention after a 2-second delay on his part. “It’s right across the new bookstore.”

The boy in question pauses his music, opening his laptop’s Messenger to see what you’ve sent. It was a poster for a prom-themed gig at a bar and grill right outside campus on Sunday night. Like you, what immediately caught his attention was the option to actually wear prom attire.

“Oh, this is cute.” He comments, more to himself than to you, after a while before looking up at you, a relatively large icon on the corner of his laptop despite the amount of files open on his home screen. “Do you want to go?”

You nod with a hum. “It sounds really fun!”

“You mean the optional dress code sounds really fun?” Chan snickers, knowing how much you feel the least stressed when you dress up.

“Well, it’s not just that! The line-up looks promising too! And think about it, we could’ve met on your high school prom if Minho and I weren’t feeling too lazy to go. This could be like fulfilling a parallel universe possibility!”

Chan simply chuckles, ringing your ears with his tired laughter. You can’t help but laugh as well, finding your words a bit silly—but a 2 AM-appropriate type of silly. He never judges your humor.

“Okay, we should go. Day6 and N.Flying are performing.” He concludes, making you squeal in satisfaction that momentarily startles him. Any excuse to see them before finals, he thinks to himself. “I don’t have a proper suit, though.”

“Not like I have flashy attire in my dorm, either.” You roll your eyes with a laugh. “Just pick out something nice—for buying books and dancing! If people do show up dressing too well, we can just say our prom’s theme was vintage.”

The two of you laugh even harder.

“Hey, how come, I didn’t know any of this?” Seungmin complains at the mention of his favorite alumni band.

“Did you want to 3rd wheel on dumb and dumber over here?” Minho points to you and Chan. “Anyway, point is, Jisung and I caught these 2 red-handed!”

“Red-handed of what? Listening to music?”

On one end of the table, Felix giggles. “If Minho and Jisung caught dumb and dumber, then doesn’t that make 3rd wheel and 4th wheel? Like a car?”

“Slow dancing!” Hyunjin dramatically gasps at this new information from an equally dramatic exclaim coming from Minho.

You had no idea why Minho and Jisung came to know of this particular gig since it’s a fairly small event (not even your resident social butterfly Hyunjin knew about it), arriving 2 acts before Day6 came on stage. When they arrived (and dressed to the nines for people you haven’t seen outside a studio for the entire semester, as well), you and Chan were dancing to a cover of ‘I Love You So’ by the Walters in a crowd of mostly friend groups enjoying the music and reliving actual prom memories, making the snooping pair easily identify you.

It wasn’t like seeing you and Chan dance closely, one of his hands on your waist while the other is picking a thumb wrestling fight with one of your own, was something different for your friend group, they were all used to it to the point of frequently confusing the 2 of you for a couple before, but Minho and Jisung had knowing smiles on their faces when they approached the 2 of you, copying your position even when the song that follows is livelier.

“Oh, look at that, a cute couple!” Minho pretends to see you for the first time while twirling Jisung. “Chan, Y/N, we didn’t know you’d be here!”

“We didn’t know you’d be here either.” You comment, unsure if you were mortified of being caught slow dancing with Chan just now or of the fact that it was Minho and Jisung, the 2 people who knew your past happy crush phase on Chan, of all people.

“I actually texted Minho.” Chan adds sheepishly as he recounts your ‘prom’.

“What?” “I just asked him what to wear then I...sort of let it slip what I was dressing up for.”

“What about Jisung?” “Oh, don’t worry Y/N, Minho invited me to snoop around.”

"Alright, continue slow dancing like an old couple then, we just came over to say hi.” Jisung then tugs Minho closer to the crowd forming right below the stage. “C’mon, Minho, they’re offering discounted drinks for couples with good outfits!”

“Okay, have fun you two, and leave 6 inches in between for Jesus!” You hear Minho yell at you as he’s being pulled away, making you laugh.

“What the fuck was that?” You roll your eyes when the pair have disappeared to the nearby bar.

At this, Chan notices the next act setting up on stage, “Oh, hey, N.Flying’s on. Do you want to get closer to the stage?”

You follow his line of vision, seeing your favorite band greeting everyone on stage. “Oh shit, you’re right, let’s go!”

Chan followed you around the dance floor throughout most of the night, even with Minho and Jisung coming over to dance and tease you every now and then.

“Are you guys satisfied yet?” Chan asks, downing what remains of his soju. “Are we still even playing truth or shot?”

“I was there so I can provide expert testimony.” Jisung hiccups on his drink. “And I think you were just hung up on what happened at the Christmas party.”

“And what are you suggesting, Sung?” You challenge him, swiping away his drink before he completely passes out.

“That Chan had the most intense crush on you throughout Christmas break because of what you did at the party!”

“Ugh, not that!”

three - radio club christmas party (1 yr ago)

Last year, the exchange gift method on your radio club’s Christmas party was patterned to cheesy high school promposals. The dramatic the gesture, the better. It was Jisung’s idea and your alumnae moderator, Younghyun, was more than happy to back him up because it was right up his type of humor.

On the day of the Christmas party itself at the radio station’s lobby, all members huddled over a table of food and gifts, wearing questionable attires and hiding equally questionable props in their school bags.

“Ah, I’m so embarrassed! Y/N, quick, it’s your turn!” Mina exclaims, running to you as you giggle, clutching her gift to you in your arms. At this point in the party, Jisung had just danced to all girl groups imaginable for Ryujin until she accepted his Christmas present, Ryujin had everyone (led by Mina whom she picked) on a treasure hunt around the school oval, and Mina had prepared the cheesiest tribute video imaginable documenting your friendship for the past 3 years before handing you your present.

“Don’t worry, I loved it.” You chuckle, hugging her with your free hand while she covers her face with your other arm. Eventually, she lets you when you gesture that you need to stand up.

You take out the signs you’ve been secretly making for the past week along with the present you’ve prepared for Chan before proceeding to your makeshift stage of the words “MERRY CHRISTMAS” in glittery buntings, a small Christmas tree decorated with any figurines but actual Christmas-related ones, and an oddly detailed portrait of Santa Clause. “I didn’t have the remaining braincells to think of something witty.” You chuckle, to which everyone follows along. “Which is especially disappointing since the person I’ve picked was being very witty when we met.”

“But I know this person cried over Love, Actually, on last year’s Christmas party so I’m taking advantage of that.” Everyone but Chan laughs at this, already knowing that it’s him you’re referring to.

So you turn to him, a mix of surprise, amusement, and secondhand embarrassment evident on his face, as you flip the signs you hold in time with your following words, “Christmas, love, gifts, festivities, and carols.” You cringe internally at your next words, hands visibly shaking as you flip to the last pair of signs, the one you just made (and decorated excessively) last night. “These are really pretty words but the prettiest word would be your yes when you agree to receive my gift as your Secret Santa this year.”

Everyone bursts laughing, even you as you approach the now flustered Chan with your gift. He takes a moment to take his gift, too busy covering his reddened face as everyone else tries catching their breath, which allows you time to fan your own flushed face and calm your rapid heartbeat.

“You have to say yes Chan!” Changbin scolds the older boy when he finally takes the gift from your hands.

“No, it’s okay.” You wave your hand dismissively in front of the two before sitting down.

“This is promposal-themed and you asked a yes so we need to hear a yes!” Jisung, ever the instigator of all of your troubles.

“Chan, do you accept?” Mina asks in between laughs.

“Y-Yes.” Chan manages to stutter out before breaking into more excited laughs.

“Ah, I think I do have to pay up.” Jeongin comments, feigning sadness. You glare at him. But then, he suddenly turns hopeful, “But then, Seungmin has to pay up too!”

“What now this time?” You send daggers across the table to Seungmin who sips his soju with wide eyes. “Has everyone been betting on us this entire time?”

“Just a couple...” Seungmin continues to sip on his soju slowly like he’s drinking tea. “Whether any one of you two has as ever had a serious crush on the other.”

“Seungmin has to pay up because he thinks that you never had a serious crush on Chan because I know for a fact, as your neighbor, that you had a serious crush on Chan during that Christmas and before that.”

“What?!” The entire table is quick to exclaim, even Chan who almost spat his drink on Minho.

“Yah Yang Jeongin!” You hiss in an attempt to reach across the table before Changbin and Jisung managed to hold you down on your seat.

“Tell us more, Jeongin.” Hyunjin now has his soju bottle pointed at the youngest.

four - second year semester break (2 yrs ago)

Chan offered to help you prepare for an internship and treat you with coffee on the first day of your semester break, mostly on Changbin’s insistence since the older boy’s been cooped up in their dorms for the past month despite his deadlines being close to Christmas break. You were supposed to go home for the 2-week break, actually, but Jeongin tipped you off on a flyer he saw on his department building the other day for an internship that suited you better, the deadline of submissions being on the last day of the break.

Plus, Changbin and Jisung needed someone to watch over Chan and make sure he’s not staying inside all the time.

And so, the two of you sat outside the Starbuck’s inside campus, papers and laptops carefully laid around your coffee cups on the round table. You give Chan a book to occupy himself with in place of his laptop he usually looks at 24 hours a day while you worked on your internship application.

After a while, however, Chan decides on putting down the book to watch you fill out your form and research on the place you were applying for.

“What?” You look up at him from your laptop. His coffee cup has been empty for a while and the book you lent him, an old copy of Pride and Prejudice, sits next to it with a bookmark halfway through. “Bored already?”

“Do you need help?” He asks. “It’s not that Pride and Prejudice is boring, no offense, it’s just that I feel so...so idle.”

“You sit for hours in one spot when you make music too, what gives?” You shrug with a teasing smile.

He shrugs as well, not exactly sure of himself. “It’s like...I’m starting to have ideas while being outside but they’re not clear yet, while sitting here.”

“Ah...” You nod understandingly. “Tell you what, I’m almost done with this actually so why don’t we go to the campus oval? Some kids play frisbee there on weekends, plus the sun’s warmest there around this time.”

“Really?” His eyes widen at the suggestion.

You chuckle. “Sure. You need to explore around your own campus more anyway.”

When you were finished with your papers, you took Chan to the campus oval and sat on the grass, watching some families play frisbee.

“That sounds suspiciously like a date.” Hyunjin comments. “What can you say on this, Chan?”

“It was a hangout.” Chan hesitantly corrects.

“A babysitting job, more likely.” You add to which Changbin and Chan both laugh knowingly.

“So is this a date?” Chan asks you later that day.

“You didn’t ask me out to this as a date.” You counter immediately. “Plus, I was working most of the time.”

Chan shrugs. “But if it were, would you have considered it?”

He was walking you back to your dorms and you realized that wording it that way (along with your current conversation) made it seem that you were just on a date, the thought suddenly lingering in your thoughts more than you wanted it to. “Maybe? I don’t know, Chan...” You conclude, trailing off. “You’re a cool person, though...”

“Should I try better next time?” “If you’re ever going to ask someone out, make sure to tell them your exact intentions, please, you’re a Libra for God’s sake.”

That seems to diffuse the sudden tension between the two of you as Chan laughs. “Okay, noted.”

Chan still thinks about this to this day every time he asks you to hangout alone and you vented out your conflicting feelings to Jeongin later that night.

“Anything else, Jeongin?” Hyunjin asks.

“Oh, hey, I remember something!” Changbin exclaims. “How could we miss Chan’s birthday from 3 years ago?”

five - chan’s birthday (3 yrs ago)

You’ve never heard of the paranoia game until Chan’s birthday when Minho suggested it and called on all of Chan’s guests to participate. “Rules are simple.” The unofficial MC announced over his bottle of soju like a microphone. “I start by picking out someone and asking them a question in private. They answer by choosing another person then we do a coin flip if the person I asked reveals the question or not. And it goes on and on and on!”

The game does goes on and on but it only seemed endless because every time Minho flipped a coin, it would always land on the choice to not reveal the question, frustrating everyone to no end.

“This game should have some drama but the drama’s not coming.” Sana frowns next to you while Felix whispers something in Chan’s ear at the center of the circle.

“I know.” You agree, that is, until you see Chan approaching you from the corner of your eye.

He extends a hand out to help you stand up. Behind him, everyone cheers for a reason you weren’t aware then (only to later find out that almost everyone you knew confused the two of you for a couple). So, reluctantly, you accept his hand, standing up and following him to the center of the circle without even noticing that he didn’t let go of your hand until Minho tossed a coin.

“Ah, goddamn it!” Minho groans. “Stupid coin doesn’t want to reveal the stupid questions!”

“Ey, everyone knows what the question is anyway.” Changbin dismisses.

“I don’t know.” You mutter under your breath which Chan immediately catches.

“Ah, you don’t have to know.” He hurriedly tells you with flushes cheeks.

“We didn’t miss that, fool, that was what Chan and Y/N were talking about when they said they’ve talked about this before.” Seungmin points out.

You shake your head disapprovingly, “Okay, I’ve had enough. Can we talk about something else?” You push the lie detector toy to Minho. “Since you started this mess, come on, Lee, I dare you.”

epilogue - chan’s birthday party (3 yrs ago)

The party was slowly dying down at around 3:15 AM, when your Uber messaged you in the middle of an intimate conversation with your friends. “My Uber’s here.” You announce softly over the acoustic music playing from Changbin’s phone, standing up afterwards to straighten out your attire. Turning to Chan you add, “I’m heading out, happy birthday again, Chan.”

“Wait, let me see you out.” The birthday boy in question follows your actions after.

“You don’t have to.” “I insist, it’s late and there could be creeps out on the street.”

He sends you a persistent look and you give in tiredly. “Okay, fine. Let’s go.” The group then proceeds to bid you goodbye in hugs and ‘goodnight’s before Chan escorts you out of his dorm.

You reach the elevator in no time, finding its lights harsh against the soft light of the hallway your eyes have been accustomed to throughout your walk.

“Thanks for coming, by the way.” Chan decides to speak up once the elevator door closes. His dorm is on the topmost floor, the elevator ride down taking around 3 minutes since the elevator itself’s already rusty and has a tendency to stop on floors for no reason.

"Of course.” You nod. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on Seungmin’s first alcoholic drink.”

Chan laughs with you at this but both of you can unconsciously agree that there was an awkward tension in the air. “Listen, about the paranoia game a while ago...” He starts, trailing off when you finally turn your head towards his direction.

You pretend to be nonchalant about it, shrugging, “What about it?”

“It just seems like the question Felix asked me bothers you.”

You try to smile reassuringly. “I’m sure Felix doesn’t talk shit about me behind my back...unless of course he told you something embarrassing then that would be a different story!”

The elevator dings! and opens on the wrong floor. Chan is quick to press on the lobby button again. “Well, since it’s just us...he just asked me to pick the person whom I have a happy crush on.”

He said it casually as he can, with the best attempt he had of ignoring his rapid heartbeat and clammy hands, almost missing the way your eyes widened in the brief silence that followed.

“Y-You? Have a crush on me?” You repeated in disbelief, a bit breathless for no reason. “Wow...”

“Yeah but it’s just a happy crush, though!” He’s quick to clarify, hands waving frantically around while he speaks. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, it’s cool, it’s cool.” You assure him, cringing internally at repeating your words. “I had a happy crush on you too some time ago so it’s...it’s cool.”

“Really?” You nod at his question.

“I don’t have a happy crush on you now, though, if that’s what you’re thinking.” You chuckle awkwardly.

Finally, the elevator door opens to the lobby. You quickly step out.

“I think it’d be weird.” You add, though deep inside you knew it felt weird saying that out loud. “Similar friend groups and all.”

Chan nods in agreement. “Right! Right.”

“So...this is me, unless you want to escort me to the Uber?” You call for your Uber driver’s attention, signalling for him that you’ll be there in a second. “I’ll just text you the plate number and everything in case something happens.”

“Okay.” He nods again. “Go home safe and remember to text me.”

“Yup! Goodnight, Chan.” You smile at him one last time, though it feels heavy somehow (it still does to this day). “Happy birthday...well, belated.”

“Thanks.” He returns your smile. “Goodnight, too.”

When you arrived home, you made sure to text Chan again with a goodnight message and a happy birthday, ending it with the sloppy ‘I hope we’re still good friends after this’ remark that you’ve long deleted from your phone history.

Of course, Chan read and re-read this message until morning.

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nerdyfangirl67 · 4 years ago

Text

Anew - NCIS Reader Insert

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: mentions of PTSD and PTSD symptoms, kidnapping, blood, language, Protective!Gibbs, angst, torture, fluff ending!

Word count: 2226

A/N: This is a continuation of Changed. I took some inspiration from the Emily/Lauren storyline from Criminal Minds, but other than that, this one is all mine. You guys asked for it and I hope it lives up to what you were wanting! I would be willing to write an epilogue if you guys wanted. Let me know! As always, I am taking requests so feel free to hit up my question box!!

Living life as you did before the Protection Program, as Y/F/N Y/L/N, took a while to get used to again. But with Gibbs’ help, you were able to stop looking over your shoulder every second of every day. You were able to clear a scene without jumping at every little squeak of the floorboards or creak of a door. You had even almost forgotten about the calls because they eventually stopped, so you figured whoever had been calling you had gotten bored of their little prank. Work had gone back to normal and it almost felt as if you had never left.

The only thing that hadn’t gone back to the way it used to be was your relationship with the rest of the team. McGee tiptoed around you, doing his best to avoid having to work in any close situation with you. Tony treated you as if you were made of glass, keeping you from even the slightest ‘dangerous’ situations. Abby tried anything and everything to keep you in the lab with her all day, even going so far as to beg Gibbs to let you stay with her, instead of going out in the field.

And Gibbs, Gibbs did his best to always be near you, especially when he felt your emotions spiraling out of control because of one trigger or another. He insisted you stay at his house until you found a place to live, and that was three months ago. Every time you found a place that had potential, Gibbs didn’t like it for one reason or another. It had finally gotten to the point where you stopped showing any places you found to him and instead went to Tony for a second opinion. Tony was just as quick to dismiss them as Gibbs had been though. You finally put the house hunt to rest, at least until everybody went back to treating you like they used to.

Today was actually the first day since you started staying with Gibbs that you were completely by yourself. No one lingering near you or hovering over you as you went about the daily tasks of your life. And as much as you appreciate their concern, you were more than ready for an outing by yourself. It wasn’t as if you were doing anything out of the ordinary. You were simply walking to the nearest grocery store to get some steak and potatoes for dinner, a meal that you discovered was one of Gibbs’ favorite.

The clear, crisp fall weather, combined with the fact that it was one of your days off, had you in no rush. You walk leisurely, enjoying the time to yourself.

You were completely unaware of the black, nondescript car that had been slowly trailing you for the last eight blocks. You did, however, notice it as you walk out of the store, and then four blocks later, you saw it was behind you.

An intense wave of fear consumes you as you calculate the possibility of making it back to Gibbs’ before anything went wrong. You had seven blocks to go and you were carrying three bags of groceries. After some quick consideration, you step into one of the boutiques along the side of the street, grabbing a random item of clothing and step into one of the changing rooms.

You rapidly dial Gibbs’ number, feeling your heart constrict as it continues to ring. You almost give up hope that he will answer the phone when his gruff voice fills your ear.

“Gibbs.” You don’t think you had ever felt so relieved to hear his voice.

“Jethro, it’s me. I-I, um, think someone is following me.” You whisper, the pinging of your nerves sending your heart into overdrive.

“Where are you? I’m coming to get you.” You could hear him moving around in the background, a set of keys jingling along with the sound of a door opening and closing rapidly.

“I think it’s c-called Fashion for Her, ne-next to that Italian Pizza p-place.” The surge of adrenalin and fear making you stutter out your words.

“Hang tight. I’ll be there in five. I’ll come to get you, okay?” His words are gentle and help settle the rising fear in your body.

True to his word, Gibbs is at the small store five minutes later, promptly making his way to the back of the store. A gentle knock on the changing room door has you timidly opening it. Once you see Gibbs, you throw yourself into his arms, the solace you find in his arms immediately relaxing you. He holds you tight against him, whispering promises of protection and safety in your ear.

------

It had been three weeks since the incident on the way back from the grocery store. The forgotten silent phone calls had escalated to unmarked envelopes left for you, with pictures of you and Gibbs, out doing domestic tasks, such as shopping or raking leaves. There were even ones of you in Gibbs’ house, washing the dishes and even changing your clothes.

You hadn’t told Gibbs, for fear that he would insist you rejoin the Protection Program. You had just gotten him, and the rest of your makeshift family back and you weren’t ready to say good-bye to them. You had, though, requested leave from the field, spending your time in the office, compiling search results, narrowing down possible suspects, and working on your never-ending pile of paperwork. Gibbs hadn’t been a fan of your request, but after a conversation with Director Vance, which only furthered his irritation toward the situation, your request was granted.

It was late in the afternoon, on a Friday, and you were just finishing up on the last form you had to complete for the day. You knew Gibbs would be late in getting home, as he was on a stake-out with Tony for the latest case, so you decide to see if Abby and McGee were up for a night out.

McGee politely declined your offer but Abby was game for a girls’ night out. After a brief chat, you agreed to meet her at the bar in half an hour. You stop at the bathroom on the way back to your desk to touch up your makeup and fix your hair. Grabbing your jacket and bag from your desk, you hurry down to the parking lot.

Darkness covers the parking lot, with the streetlamps appearing as halos of light over the sinister blackness. You nervously fiddle with your keys, resting your free hand on your holstered weapon as you speed walk to your car. Reaching the door, you let out a sigh of relief as you unlock and open it. Swinging your bag in, you move to settle into the driver’s seat when a sharp blow to the back of your knees has you falling forward, hitting your head on the open door on the way down.

You struggle to clear the fog that settles over your thoughts and pull yourself together. You reach for your gun just as another blow has you raising your arms to defend yourself. You kick out one of your legs, connecting with someone.

“You bitch! Knock it off.” A deep masculine voice spits out at you. You know that there was an officer on duty just within the doors of the building so you decide to scream for help as you fought off the attacker. The next blow hits you hard enough in the head to bring black spots to your vision, effectively stopping you from calling for help, and a quick hit after that has you fading into the black.

-----

The next three days pass in a drug-induced haze. You can remember only bits and pieces of the torture and questioning that takes place in those three days. By day four, you’re sure that you are gonna die in this dingy, dark, cold room. It didn’t help that you were only wearing a pair of pants and a bra. For some reason, a reason you didn’t want to look too closely at, you were missing your shirt. You had yet to figure out why you were taken, or who, in fact, was the person behind your kidnapping.

Day five came and went without any contact with your abductors, besides the arrival of a bottle of water while you were sleeping. Your haze was starting to wear off, leaving behind pain, hunger, and intense thirst. You tried to ration the water, but you consumed it shortly after you found it.

Day seven was the day you finally met the one who took you. You should have figured it would be him. After all, your testimony three years ago had sent him to prison. What you didn’t know was how he got out. You hadn’t heard anything about him escaping, and considering he was sentenced to 75 years to life, without parole, you knew he hadn’t been let out.

Boris Ivan Petrov, a member of the Russian crime ring in America and wanted felon. You had had the unfortunate luck of witnessing him murder two dirty cops while on a stakeout. One of his lackeys had seen you watching and in that instant, you became a target for Petrov. And now, here he was standing in front of you.

His hair was long and disheveled and he had a scraggly beard growing from his face. Dark bags hung under his eyes, but who he was was unmistakable.

“Ah, it looks like I finally get to properly introduce myself.” His words, which sound even harsher in his native Russian accent, send chills down your spine. You don’t answer, doing your best to wipe any signs of pain from your face.

“Since you already know my name, I’m not going to waste time telling you. Rather, I’m going to tell you about what I have in store for you.” He stops as he leans forward, trailing a finger down the side of your face. You unconsciously shiver in disgust, earning a hard slap across the face. “You will respect me, woman, if you want to live.” You know his words are an empty threat, as he has no intention of keeping you alive.

And he certainly proves you right, as he unmercifully tortures you for hours. He doesn’t speak, instead taking delight in the screams of horror and cries of pain he manages to elicit from you. It finally gets to the point where you are welcoming the inevitable end. As much as you wanted to be able to hold on until Gibbs and the team got there, you were starting to believe that would never happen.

You’re falling in and out of consciousness when Petrov suddenly stops. You’re barely able to comprehend the loud noises that follow. Just as you start to lose your grip on consciousness, a face appears in front of you. You wearily blink your eyes a few times before the face comes into focus. Gibbs’ brilliant blue eyes meet yours, as a gentle hand reaches out to cup your face. You struggle to move your lips, but you can’t make anything come out.

The last thing you see is Gibbs’ rapidly moving mouth before you lose your grip on the light.

-----

You wake up to the sterile smell of a clean room and the beeping of machines. You blink your eyes quickly, adjusting to the hospital fluorescent light slowly. The tight dryness in your throat makes you cough painfully. You turn your head to the bed table, reaching for the cup of water sitting on it.

“Let me get that for you.” Gibbs’ rough, husky voice greets you and a brief moment later, he is holding the cup up to your lips. You drink greedily, trying to rid the feeling of thirst from your throat. After you finish the cup, you lean back into the pillows, your body already aching from the excursion.

You muster up the courage to ask the question that was dominating your thoughts. “Did, did you catch him?” Your voice catches in your throat as you nervously voice your thoughts.

“Yes, yes Y/N. We got him. You’re safe.” His voice is gentle as he rests a hand on top of yours. “Your injuries were extensive Y/N. They weren’t sure you were gonna make it.” His voice is thick with emotion as his blue eyes pierce yours.

A lump sticks in your throat as you listen to him. You slowly reach up the hand he was holding, moving it towards his face. You trace a thumb over his cheek, relishing in the feeling of touching him.

“I love you, Jethro. I love you and I want a life with you.” You say, watching as an unreadable expression crosses his face.

He is quiet for a moment before he responds. “I know Y/N. I love you too.” He stands, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “And now we have the rest of our lives together. No one is taking you away from me.”

As he finishes talking, he runs a gentle hand over your face. You let out a sigh of relief as you relax into his touch. As you fall back into the darkness, all you can think of is what your future with Leroy Jethro Gibbs would look like.

#ncis #ncis imagine #ncis fanfiction #ncis fandom #ncis reader #ncis reader insert #imagine #fanfiction #fandom #reader #reader insert #gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs x reader #gibbs x you #gibbs x reader insert

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honeymoonjin · 5 years ago

Text

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 namjoon x reader || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 9.7k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 smut

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 desperate to finally break your masturbatory dry spell, you seek out a professional.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 explicit sexual content, cursing, sex work, masturbation (f), fingering (f), soft dom!namjoon, sub!reader, light degradation, roleplay, oral (f), use of sex toys, crying during sex woo, namjoon is a professional

---

“So; you’re having problems in the bedroom?”

You choke on your own spit and your cheeks flush a violent red. “Um, I- I guess? It’s not, uh…” You trail off uselessly, keeping your eyes firmly focused on the bland, off-white wall behind the man’s head.

He doesn’t seem fazed by your response, choosing to move past it. “Are you having problems being pleasured by a partner, or problems pleasuring yourself?”

If your cheeks could get any hotter, they do then. You let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Sorry, that’s a little… I didn’t realize this would be so…”

“So personal? This is a sex clinic, Ms. L/n, it’s why you’re here. There is nothing to be ashamed about. How about this? I’ll ask you yes-no questions, and then you don’t have to give up information yourself. Saying it is often the hardest part, I’ve found. Alright then; are you having problems bringing yourself to orgasm when masturbating?”

You bite down hard on your lip as you nod, beyond ashamed. It was good that the doctor seemed so blasé and unbothered and professional about it, but you were starting to regret coming.

Doctor Kim flashes you a reassuring smile and clicks his pen against his chest to open it, scribbling a note on his clipboard. “Okay, that’s fine. Is this a recent issue?” You nod stiffly. “Alright. You used to be able to achieve orgasm, but in recent times that’s changed, correct?” Another nod. “Would I be correct in assuming you have had a lot of stress in your life crop up?”

You let out a small huff. “Look, I wrote all this down on the application form. I don’t see why we have to go through it all again if you already have the answers.”

You jump a little in your seat as he slaps the clipboard down on his desk, fixing you a focused stare. “Y/n- may I call you Y/n? Y/n, quite frankly, if you’re not mature enough to hold a conversation about sexual activity like an adult, then I’m afraid you’re not mature enough to be using my services. This isn’t some back-end business; I’m not a prostitute, this is my profession, and I take it rather seriously, you’ll find. Sex is natural. Our bodies are natural. Now, do you want to stay and talk to me so that I can help you, or is this too much? If it is, I suggest you take your leave.”

Inexplicably, his firm tone has a heat rising deep within, something you haven’t felt in a while. When you speak, your voice is hoarse. “I’ll stay.”

And with that, his body and face relaxed, as he leans back in his chair comfortably. “Wonderful. Continuing on, then. What exactly have you tried to get an orgasm? Just your fingers, toys, what?”

“I thought…” You swallow hard. “I thought you said you’d give yes-or-no questions?”

“And I thought you said you wanted this.”

You sigh again. Fuck, why was it so hard to just say it? “Um, I use fingers and… that’s about it.” You swallow again and clear your throat.

“No, it isn’t,” he shoots back immediately with a raised brow, clicking his pen against the surface of the paper. “Honestly, Ms. L/n, I’ve worked at this clinic for six years. Nothing you could possibly say would faze me. I once had a client who confessed he had tried to reach orgasm by putting a blunted letter opener into his urethra.”

Your mouth gapes open. “He what? Wait, you’re not supposed to give details about clients. Isn’t that breaching, like, patient confidentiality?”

The doctor simply shrugs. “I asked his permission to use it as a teaching moment. I found it’s been rather helpful to assure people that there is nothing too ‘wild’ or ‘out-there’. Everyone has different tastes. As a matter of fact, that man found it incredibly effective.”

You blink. “Well, uh, mine isn’t anything like that. I just have a, you know,” you break off to gesture at your crotch in a vaguely penetrative motion.

Doctor Kim pinches his lips together, a dimple appearing on one cheek. “A dildo? Or a vibrator?”

“First one,” you admit. “Is that… That’s all the questions, right? What else could you possibly ask?”

He raises an eyebrow, taking some notes before he puts his full attention on you again. “Plenty. How fast do you penetrate yourself with the dildo? Could you indicate the speed of your hand?” You go dead pale. He holds a neutral expression for a moment longer before he cracks, laughing loudly with his eyes scrunched shut. You go limp against your chair, cheeks red for a different reason. “Sorry, I’m just playing with you. The inquisition is complete, I promise. Now, Sandra at the front desk can make you an appointment, and I’ll be sure to send you out an email with any instructions prior to our session. Thanks for coming in.”

With the session being made for that Friday, it was Thursday afternoon that the anticipated email came through. You were at work, stuck in meetings all morning and desperately trying to catch up on your personal stash of work after lunch, when a ping sounded, lighting up your screen with a notification from [email protected]. Hurriedly, you fumble to turn the screen dark, glancing around to make sure no one around your desk had somehow read it.

You stewed in nervous energy for the rest of your day, only opening the email once you were in the privacy of your own home with a freshly made hot drink to calm you down.

Expecting the instructions from the donotreply email address to be generic, you were surprised when it instead instructed you to click on a link to their database, with a random string of letters and numbers as an access code.

On the official website (which looked unbelievably slick and professional like any other business’ page), under a section titled MyHealing, you put in the code as requested, eyes widening as you saw just how organized the system was.

There was a tab for Customer Info, one for Session History, one for Calendar, and a final one with no name, just a little envelope symbol with a small, red 1 above it. You click on it and are taken to an inbox with a single message from Doctor Kim Namjoon.

Y/n,

Thank you for booking an appointment. Your session is slotted in for Friday 9th, 5:15pm. Should you need to cancel or reschedule less than 24 hours before, keep in mind the $40 fee will apply. Personalized instructions for this appointment are below. Please note that new instructions will be sent out for every appointment; these are not intended to be used for anything other than this specific session.

You take another sip from your mug as you read that line. ‘Every appointment’. How often did he think you were going to be coming back? You had booked in imagining once you got some sexual release, you’d be fine again. Perhaps it was a blanket statement he told every customer. You let it slip your mind and continue reading.

I advise you first and foremost to get a good night’s sleep on Thursday. Since your appointment is late in the day, I would also suggest a midday nap if possible. I assume you’re at work during the day. Make sure you have enough water, and if your job is at a desk, use your lunch break to go for a walk, preferably outside. When it comes to orgasms, one part is physical, one part is mental, and only a small part is the actual stimulation. So, you can understand how important it is to make sure your body is physically primed and ready for exertion.

Secondly, the mental side of things. I know it’s hard but try not to get too stressed out about the appointment during the day. It’s understandable that you might be nervous but putting too much pressure on yourself will only make reaching orgasm more difficult.

Instead, keep yourself occupied with things you enjoy as much as possible. Consider taking the afternoon off if you have enough leave.

Finally, stimulation. We didn’t cover if you’re still currently attempting masturbation regularly or not, but I would like you on the Thursday night to get yourself as aroused as you can. Watch pornography, read erotica, touch yourself. But don��t try to actually achieve an orgasm. If you simply-

You toss your phone on the couch beside you and huff. Fuck. He really wrote you a whole essay, huh? Did he do this for every customer, for every appointment? He had said he took his job seriously. You just didn’t realize it was to this degree. Hopefully he was as thorough in the practical side of his job as he was in the administration.

Later that night, you decided to treat yourself to a hot bath. Relaxing in the perfumed waters, you lazily bring a hand down to rest between your legs. As Doctor Kim said, he didn’t know whether you were still trying to get yourself off or not, but in reality, it varied greatly. Some evenings you'd spent hours, with aching wrists and tears of frustration, to no avail. Other days you gave up completely and wallowed in your sexual frustration, haplessly grinding against a pillow between your legs for the minimal relief it provided.

But you had re-read over the notice a couple of times, and it was clear that Doctor Kim didn’t want you cumming tonight. Just getting a little riled up in the hopes that your body would be more desperate to cum tomorrow.

Water always gives a weird kind of friction, so it’s somewhat of a hassle trying to rub at your clit, but once you settle into a natural rhythm, you close your eyes and lean back until the water laps over your shoulders. You hitch a leg up over the side of the tub and let out a deep breath.

It always started out nice. You’d get a false sense of hope, that the flicker of pleasure would ignite into anything more than a low smolder, but it never did. Although, this time, knowing full well that cumming isn’t a goal, you find yourself enjoying the relaxing stimulation for its face value. You knead lazily at your breast, rolling a nipple between your fingers as your other hand continues its circling motions. Gradually, your mind naturally begins to float, and a scene begins to materialize in your imagination: in your mind’s eye, your fingers are replaced by much larger and thicker ones, and instead of the grazing of your fingernail it was teeth latching around your nipple, tugging lightly to make your toes curl. Fingering yourself is generally a fruitless endeavor, but you can’t help but clench, longing to be filled by him.

Him… Whether by the context of your relationship, or genuine attraction, it’s Doctor Kim Namjoon that fills your thoughts, the way the water would stain his button-up sleeves rolled up to the elbow, but not quite high enough to avoid the sloshing of water. You hear the scribble of a ballpoint on that clipboard, like he’s taking note of your reactions, like you’re something to be studied and analyzed.

Below the water level, you grind your hips into your hand, rubbing yourself with the flats of four of your fingers know in an effort to increase the surface area. One of your nipples is flushed from being pinched and tugged at, so you clumsily cross your arm over to the other side, whining into the damp air of your bathroom once you begin repeating your ministrations. You should probably open a window. The vents aren’t great and the last thing you need is a moldy ceiling.

You grunt low in your throat, shaking your head. You can worry about that later, dammit. With added vigor, you press at your clit, biting down on your lip to try and out all your focus into going faster and harder. Only it doesn’t feel as good as before.

Where was I? Doctor Kim’s arms. Maybe he’d forgo the button-down shirt completely and decide to strip down, getting into the tub with you, wrapping his arms over your front and pulling you down onto him. You huff, furrowing your eyebrows, holding onto your breath, feeling that pleasure slip away from you. Come on, imagine him fingering you or something, what’s wrong with you, he’s hot! That smile, the thick thighs straining under pants material. Not long before you’d see him again, tomorrow night. It was strange that he worked nights, though you supposed considering his job it made sense that people might prefer-

“Fuck!” Your hands have come to a halt, too distracted to continue, and that slow burning of pleasure in your gut has been extinguished as if from the now-lukewarm water you sit in. You let out a frustrated cry and kick out with the leg that’s still in the water, splashing water up the wall in front. “Fuck off! Are you serious?” You force yourself to take a deep breath and tamp down your rising frustration. The kind doctor had told you not to cum, so it was probably for the best that you didn’t get too into it. Still, it’s irritating you that even the thought of a… a sex professional getting you off isn’t enough to actually get you off. You huff, picking up the bar of soap off its dish, and begin to lather yourself up. “Good luck, Doctor Kim,” you mutter.

Surprisingly, you sleep well and have a productive morning. Missing the morning traffic and arriving at a quiet office lifts your mood, and you have just enough work to remain mentally and physically occupied. In fact, you’re sure you would’ve spent your whole day in this calm working mentality, were it not for the phone call that comes just after midday.

Most of the office is out on their lunch break. Only a few of you hang around this time; you know others just prefer to eat earlier or later, but you actively hang around because you appreciate the chance for some peace and quiet. That tranquility is broken by the aggressive buzzing of your phone on your desk. Anticipating a call from a client later on, you figure they’re just phoning in a little early, and you answer it without checking the number.

“Y/n L/n speaking,” you rattle off automatically, “how may I help?”

A low chuckle on the other end gives you pause. It certainly doesn’t sound like the retired seamstress you were expecting to hear. “Did you give me your work phone number, little miss?”

A shot of electricity shoots up your spine and you sit bolt upright in your office chair, instinctively glancing around the five or six people milling about the office floor. “Doctor Kim,” you reply in a low voice.

“Correct. Have you suddenly entered a library or is there another reason you’ve gone all quiet?” His voice is lilting with amusement and you can almost picture him sitting back in his office chair, dimple sticking out as he grins.

Your fingers curl around your phone, and you use your other hand to cup over your mouth, leaning forward over your desk. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting you to call,” you reply honestly, “is there a problem?”

“Of course not. My clinic has a policy of always giving a reminder call the day of or before the appointment.”

You pout. “Oh.” Somehow, the fact that he calls everyone makes you feel something akin to disappointment. “Shouldn’t your receptionist do stuff like that?”

“Would you prefer I put Sandra on the phone?”

“No,” you blurt out reflexively. The doctor rewards your honesty with a breathy chuckle. You press your knees together and clench your thighs. “So, just a reminder then? Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten. Thanks for the call, though.”

“You haven’t?” You can hear the teasing smile in his voice, and it affects you more than you care to admit. “You’ve been thinking about it, then? Have you been trying to guess what I have in store for you? What I’m going to do to you?”

You clear your throat awkwardly, sensing the conversation taking a decidedly sexual turn. “I’ve been trying to focus on my work, actually. Like your message said.”

“Ah, that’s good. Did you take the afternoon off like I suggest, or are you just on your lunch break?”

You barely hear him speak, your heart skipping a beat when a crowd of some of the older employees starts filing back in. Fuck. 12:32pm. People were going to start getting back to work now, you couldn’t be on the phone with a sex therapist. “Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?”

He pauses for a moment. “Are you still at work?”

You clear your throat, ducking your head as one of your superiors walks past. “Uh, yes, sir. Will that be all?”

He chuckles, though it’s more a sharp exhale through his nose, slightly crackly through the receiver. “Spending company time talking to the man who will fuck your brains out tonight?” You cringe at how loud he speaks, mind going blank with shock. You can’t find your voice to reply, though you have no idea what you would even say. He listens to you splutter for a few moments, your lack of response an answer in itself. “Naughty girl,” he chastises. “What would your coworkers think if they knew who you were talking to? I bet you wish you weren’t at work right now so you could just slip a hand into your panties, isn’t that right?” You bite down hard on your lip, using the ruse of sliding your office chair further in as cover for rubbing your core against the seat for some relief. “Come on, Y/n,” Doctor Kim’s voice echoes in your ear, “what did we say about yes-no questions?”

“Yes, sir,” you make out through a tense jaw, hoping your voice sounds as bright and customer-friendly as it normally would be with anyone else, even as your thighs clench together. “My office hours are 8:30am to 4:30pm Monday to Friday.”

“Oh?” His laugh bubbles through your phone and makes you absentmindedly start scrunching up a scrap bit of paper on your desk. He was enjoying this. “So, you’re there for a while still, hm? I wonder if you can make it until 4:30pm or if you’ll have to sneak into the bathroom and get some relief. It’s a shame I can’t stay on the line; I’d have loved to hear you moan over the phone, unable to keep quiet as you touch yourself. Oh well. I’ll make you moan for me later tonight.”

You slowly slip your hand down, tucking it between your legs and shifting your hips slowly beneath your desk, grinding against the delicate bones of your wrist for some friction. “The, uh, the appointment is confirmed, sir, thank you. Is there anything else I can help you with before I go?”

You hear a pen clicking, and some hurried strokes against paper in the background. The thought that, like your fantasy last night, he was writing down notes on all your reactions and desires, brought a rush of heat between your legs. You can feel the fabric of your panties, wet through to the outside of the fabric and dampening the skin of your arm. Oh god. “That will be all, Ms. Y/n. I look forward to our appointment tonight very much. Don’t forget to drink enough water to prepare for the fluids you’ll be depleting in our session. Have a splendid day.”

All the energy leaves you the moment the line goes dead, and your top half slumps forward onto the desk. You pull your arm out from between your legs, rubbing away the slippery patch on the side of your wrist before anyone can see it. You didn’t think you were going to get much work done for the rest of the day.

“Are you nervous?”

You lift your gaze from your trembling hands to the man sitting across from you. The two of you were the only ones in the cosy waiting room you had been led to. It was something halfway between a bedroom and a spa, with a great long bed covered in cushions and blankets, a bench laden with food and drink, and several diffusers spraying gently perfumed mist into the air.

The stranger was there when you had arrived moments prior. A green silk robe loosely tied around his waist was the only thing he was wearing as he lounged on the bed, lazily scrolling through his phone, black hair curled and damp, sticking haphazardly to his temples and cheekbones. He had watched you in mild curiosity as you walked in and stiffly sat down on a cosy armchair, and didn’t take a moment before initiating conversation.

He looks at you now with an expectant glimmer. You recall the question and flick him a shy smile. “Mm. First time,” you explain with a sheepish shrug. You let your gaze linger on his attire. “Are you...waiting to go in, too?”

His brows lift in surprise, along with a toothy grin. “Oh, no! I just got out of my sesh with the doc. This is just the whole aftercare shtick. I’m Jungkook, by the way,” he adds with a jaunty wave of his hand.

His languid ease has you relaxing a little, and you crack a smile. “I’m Y/n. So, how many times have you come here exactly? I thought surely once he fixed you, you’d be fine?”

The corner of his mouth quirks. He tosses his phone carelessly onto the bedcovers and sits up a little, the robe falling open to reveal his chest, all defined muscle and tanned skin, glimmering with a sheen of sweat. "Hey, that's what I thought. But honestly? This shit's addictive. I work an extra ten hour shift every week now to afford one hour of bliss. I think I may be in love with him. Or at least, I'm definitely in love with his mouth."

Your eyes drop to the thick carpet as you flush with the mental image that provides, but you can't help but glance back up out of curiosity as his words sink in. "Wait, his mouth? I thought he was meant to just..."

"Jerk people off? I mean, sure, he can do that, but the doc tends to mix it up. With how packed his schedule is, he'd probably get fucking carpal tunnel or some shit if he just jacked his patients off all day. He's a pretty creative dude when it comes to this, you know?" He breaks off with a faraway smile. "Actually, I consider myself a bit of an innovator, too. One time I had this letter opener, right, and-"

"Mister Jeon," an unimpressed voice drawls from behind you, "please refrain from accosting my clients with your sexual history. I am sure they don't find it as enlightening as you do."

You whirl around, heart immediately returning to its aggressive thudding, palms dampening in moments. Standing in the doorway, in a three-piece suit, is Doctor Kim Namjoon, one leg crossed over the other as he tucks a hand into his pants pocket. It's a vast difference from the simple shirt and pants combo he had on when you last saw him, and it seems he takes note of your startled reaction.

"It's casual Friday," he jokes with an easygoing grin, and it only strikes you then, as his eyes lock with yours, that you're about to have sex with this man. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but you'd be leaving this building feeling fully fucked out if all went well. Your nerves return with a vengeance, and his face softens. "Come on inside, Y/n."

A scoff tears your attention from the doctor. "Oh, so I'm Mister Jeon, but she's Y/n?"

Doctor Kim's jaw ticks, though it's bemusement rather than anger on his face. "Would you like me to call you Y/n?"

Jungkook pouts, picking at a loose thread on his robe petulantly. "No." He pouts deeply, looking up at the older man reproachfully. "If you keep being mean to me I won't come back anymore."

The doctor nods patiently like he's heard it a thousand times. "I'll see you next Friday, Jungkook. Do well on your bio exam next week and I might just show you how mean I can really be."

Jungkook's face clears and his eyes gleam. Without speaking, he simply gets up and jogs over to the little set of lockers by the exit, gathering his belongings. Doctor Kim doesn't spare him any more attention, and simply gestures for you to follow him.

You make your way down a dimly-lit corridor with wobbly legs, trying not to stare at the way his pants strained around his behind with every stride he took. Although there’s a distant wisp of relaxing piano emanating from the waiting room, the silence is unbearable.

“So,” you blurt, cringing at how loud your voice sounds in the stillness of the corridor, “what do you have planned?”

“Well, if Jungkook inspired you, I did bring along a letter opener,” the doctor calls out pleasantly, tilting his head, though he doesn’t turn to look at you.

Your step falters uncertainly. “Oh, I don’t…” You watch in dawning realization as he stops in front of a closed door and swivels, face scrunched up with delight as his shoulders shake silently. Although it was a dig at your naivety, you can’t help but crack a smile at him. “Aren’t doctors meant to be nice to their patients?”

He fumbles in his pockets, producing a keycard to scan at the entrance. Once it’s opened, he holds it there and turns to you expectantly. As you catch up to him and slip through the opened door, you can’t help but brush past his chest with your shoulder, breathing in his soothing scent of raspberry and vanilla. You hadn’t expected him to smell so...sweet.

You hear the door click shut behind you, self-locking, and that layer of security reassures you. Your attention, however, is quickly caught by the contents of the room itself.

It’s this disconcerting mix of a massage room, a doctor’s office, and a sex dungeon, and your head whirls as Doctor Kim preoccupies himself with messing with the heatpump settings on the far wall.

In the centre of the room is a traditional massage table, lowered to around the height of his hips, covered in a lush-looking slate grey towel. You figured the usual white wouldn’t fare so well with his line of work. Two of the walls make great use of shelves and cabinets, and you can’t help but be bewildered at the strange way they’re organised. A man like him surely had a system to keep everything in track, but dildos were beside bottles of massage oil and ropes, and a collection of gags and leashes hanging from hooks dangled above a little pyramid of neatly rolled towels and a steaming metal bowl of warm water.

“Please, take a seat anywhere you feel comfortable.”

You jerk out of your gaping stare and clear your throat awkwardly, moving to take a seat on a little wooden stool that sat in the corner of the room in front of a small dresser covered in props like handcuffs, some blindfolds and, strangely, a black ski mask with eye and mouth holes cut out. The image of the friendly doctor fucking someone in a full burglar outfit makes you snort out a laugh before you have the time to clap your hand over your mouth.

You press your lips together with a muffled giggle as the man himself flattens a stare.

“Is my job funny to you?”

Your smile drops as you recognise the change in his tone. Gone is the somewhat clumsy, joke-cracking doctor. Now he’s in his role. The session has begun. “No,” you deny weakly.

His deft fingers gravitate to the buttons holding his suit jacket together, and you feel the room become hotter as he walks the perimeter of the room slowly, eying up all the offerings he has to play with while he slips off the expensive material. Hanging the jacket on a coat rack beside the black cape and what looks like priests’ robes that already reside there, he turns on a heel to face you. His eyebrows are low, narrowing his eyes, but you can see the dark heat that radiates off him. You tuck your knees together. God, he’s good and he hasn’t even done anything. “My profession isn’t something to be laughed at,” he chastises lowly. “We had this problem the other day, didn’t we? With you not taking this seriously. It’s disappointing, Y/n.”

Your heart thuds uncertainly in your chest. The natural instinct to get upset from being told off mixes with the warmth building between your legs. “Sorry,” you offer up, voice lifting at the end like it’s a question.

He’s on the other side of the room to you. You wish he were closer, though now that he’s unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and beginning to roll the sleeves, eyes locked on your hunched-over form with an unreadable look, you don’t know that you could handle it. “No, you aren’t,” he brushes off, “and it’s very important that in this next 90 minutes, you only say things you absolutely mean. Understand?”

You take a steadying breath, feeling it expand your chest. “Yeah. I understand. It’s just… a lot. I’ve never done this, and I don’t know what’s going to happen, and-”

The tension disappears from his jaw and his eyes soften. In mere moments, he’s crossed the room in strides to crouch in front of you, catching your lowered gaze. “Woah, settle. First of all, everyone starts somewhere, so don’t feel anxious. Secondly, how many times have you had sex and known exactly what was going to happen in advance?”

His palms are warm and grounding as they gently rest, wrapped around your calves. You breath deeply again, appreciating this break in character. “I… But we’re not having sex though, right? This is, I don’t know,” you shrug futilely, “different.”

He returns your shrug, but with a far more carefree attitude. “It doesn’t have to be.” As he talks, his grip tightens a little on your calves, gently pressing into the tensed muscle. You find yourself relaxing without noticing, going lax in his touch, as non-sexual as it may be. “But, for the most part, people that come here do want it to be different. More exciting, more taboo, more intense. You need to communicate with me now. Do you want me to go easy on you, or do you want me to be thorough?”

Your mouth goes dry. With his hands on you, with the room you’re in, with the way his eyes linger heavy on yours, the word makes your toes curl. “Thorough,” you croak out.

He searches your face once more, then a slow grin spreads across his. “Excellent. Then get up on the massage table.”

He stands up; the lack of his touch on your legs makes you shiver. You follow him over, feeling your palms damp with nervous sweat. “On my front, or…?”

“Just sit on it for now, baby.” His eyes are alight with mirth when you blush at the petname, but he’s quickly snapping back into that dominant role, jaw muscles popping out as he watches you get up, facing him as your legs dangle in the air, not quite reaching the ground. You wait for him to get closer to you, but he ticks an eyebrow in affirmation and turns abruptly, stalking across the room to a tall, thin cupboard. He reaches in without speaking, and when he turns, in his hands he carries a vibrator in his hand, a relatively friendly-looking, gold bullet that looks rather small in his hand.

You think you recognise the brand, and if you’re right, it’s unbelievably high end. As he makes his way over to you, his gaze drops to your legs, which you’ve begun absentmindedly swinging back and forth. “Cute,” he remarks with a small sneer, and you abruptly stop, embarrassed at the childish action. “Don’t be so shy,” he advises, “I plan on hearing you scream for me tonight at some point or another. These walls are soundproof, you know. Every little sound you make will only be heard by me. Now spread those pretty legs.”

Suddenly, even though arousal steadily rocks through you, your legs lock up and you go stiff. The room is being pumped with warm air and yet your skin breaks out in goosebumps.

The doctor notices this, of course he does, and fiddles with the bullet, flipping it over and over in his palm as he makes his way back to you, stopping when his upper thighs brush against your knees. “What’s wrong? Second thoughts?”

You shake your head hastily, though you’re no less tense. “Just- just really nervous.”

His eyes warm in sympathy. “Hm, that’s no good. I can’t get you to cum with your legs shut tighter than a vice.” A quirk of a smile. “Well, I could, but we don’t have time for that today. So, let’s help you relax.” His free hand reaches up to brush against your shoulder. Even though he’s fully clothed as well, you still feel strange still wearing the large sweater and leggings you had arrived in. The fabric feels itchy on your skin, and you yearn for his palm to warm your skin instead of your sweater.

He lets out a breathy laugh as his hand rubs slowly up and down your upper arm. “God, look at you,” he marvels, “I’ve never seen someone so stressed still look so beautiful.” You manage to crack a reluctant smile, cheeks heating. He places the golden bullet vibe on the towel beside you, and pats your knee warmly. “Would it help if I kissed you?”

Your mouth drops open a little. You have to swallow away the dryness. With eyes unable to leave his perfect lips, you nod.

“Good, I can do that,” he soothes, “can you part your legs for me so I can get a little closer?”

The moment you shakily do as he asks, his hips are pressing against your thighs, pushing them wider still. You hastily dart your lips out to wet them, but he’s in no rush. The doctor slips a hand into your hair, brushing it off your face with fondly gleaming eyes.

It’s an expression you’ve never seen someone look at you with before, and you let yourself sit in the fantasy that it’s anything more than acting.

“C’mere,” he murmurs softly, before pressing lightly on the back of your head so that you straightened up to meet him halfway. You sigh into him when your lips touch, unbelievably soft yet insistent as they move against you.

He’s clearly experienced; you quiver inside with every movement, and he barely moves at all, drawing out the languid embrace. Your jaw falls slack, and you let yourself be guided by him, following his patient lead.

The room itself is quiet, and you can hear the way he lets out the smallest of grunts, delicate sounds of affirmation as you part your lips and feel the very tip of his tongue swipe against your lips, sucking the bottom one into his mouth and tugging it lightly, chuckling when you let out a throaty whimper.

“Do you feel better now? Hm?”

He pulls away but your eyes stay shut, your whole body stretched up towards him. You nod, licking over your slightly swollen lips, humming in agreement. You smile dopily when he caresses your face, leaning into his touch, as his silken voice reaches your ears. “Are you ready to play?”

Your breath leaves you in one shuddering gasp. “Yeah,” you whine pleafully, eyes slowly slipping back open.

He’s standing over you, closer than you realised. Only a mere few centimetres rest between his crotch and your spread legs. Still, he uses that space to dip his hand down, brushing the back of it between your thighs, knuckles pressing teasingly lightly over your clothed core. “I bet you want these pants off, huh? You wanna take ‘em off for me?”

You nod obediently, kicking off your shoes before you wiggle your leggings and underwear off your hips awkwardly, lifting your legs up onto the bench to tug them off your ankles. Doctor Kim takes them and places them in the corner of the room by the door, and by the time he comes back, you’ve crossed your legs, leaning forward so that your sweater hem covers your naked center.

His eyes fall down to that dip in the hem, darkening. His fingers come up to lazily tug at his tie, loosening it and undoing his top shirt button so that the white pressed fabric parts, revealing a golden upper chest. “You sure seem to like that, don’t you?”

You frown. “Like what?”

“Acting innocent like that.” He’s in front of you again, hands immediately wrapping around your thighs, and the touch is electric, making you more aware of how naked you are. “There won’t be any of that innocence left when I’m done with you,” he promises lowly, before bending down to capture your lips again.

You let yourself be taken over by him, drunk on the arousal that glows warm within you. The heat your own body is enough that you don’t notice the missing presence of a palm resting on your inner thigh, until your sweater is shifting and something ice cold is slipping between your folds.

You hiss in a breath and jerk in his grasp, causing him to shush you, lips still firmly attached to you, though they leave your mouth and migrate southward, nibbling along your jawline up to your ear. “The vibrator,” he explains gruffly, “I’m going to turn it on. Just relax.”

Your legs shift, ankles uncrossing slightly so that you’re more open to him, though you can’t bear to open your eyes, trying to stop the nerves from getting to you.

The moment he turns it on your back arches from the immediate shockwave of pleasure that radiates from that tiny yet strong vibe held directly against your clit. You swallow your moan, breathing heavily through your nose as you fight to keep quiet, letting the mechanic buzz fill the silence instead.

“Is it good?” the doctor questions, making you tremble as his lips dip lower, brushing over the column of your neck with just the slightest hint of tongue. You nod feverishingly, attempting to push your pelvis forward for more of it, rocking your hips in small circles to increase the surface area. The hand still on your thigh tightens, and you open your eyes blearily at the grip. Doctor Kim’s eyes are hard. “It doesn’t sound like it,” he comments flatly, turning up the vibe to a higher setting, making your mouth drop silently open.

“It is good,” you force out, beginning to pant.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. I know you want to moan for me, baby. Let me hear you lose control.”

You whine through a closed mouth, eyes screwing shut again in focus as he lets you chase your own please. How could he seriously expect you to moan in front of him? He was basically a stranger, and although the way he pinned your thigh spread for him, holding a sex toy to you as you got off on it was hot, you were still in a room alone with him on a Friday evening, paying for him to bring you to orgasm. He was probably just staring at you, waiting for you to hurry up and come already.

“Stop thinking, Y/n,” he chastises, “stay in the room.” You shake your head, wishing you could, but it’s too late. The weirdness of the situation hits you, and you open your eyes, searching for a clock on the wall.

The price of this 90-hour appointment was practically highway robbery, and all he was doing was something you could’ve done yourself at home. And as your eyes coast around the room and the curve of your spine settles, you realize that what’s worst of all is that he won’t even be able to do it. You’ve lost that thread, the one that leads you over the edge, and he won’t have time to get it back before-

You shoot up straight when a stinging slap lands on your thigh. You gape at the man in front of you in shock, hand instinctively going to the pinkened flesh to soothe it. “Ow!”

You realize belatedly he’d turned off the vibe, now holding it between two fingers and a thumb. It’s shining with your slick, but less than you’d have expected by this point, and he sighs in disappointment and tosses it onto the towel beside you.

You suddenly feel, as he cocks an unimpressed eyebrow and tenses his jaw, like you’re a child being scolded for breaking a vase or skipping class. Your legs tighten up together, and you gather a fistful of sweater fabric in your hand, pushing it down to cover yourself.

“You know why I stopped?”

You nod shamefully, eyes dropping to the carpet below. “You couldn’t do it. There’s something wrong with me, I guess. Sorry for wasting your time.”

He pauses for a long moment. You almost glance up out of curiosity but can’t stand to see the look of disapproval that no doubt resides in his eyes. “No, Y/n,” he explains tiredly, “I can see clearly now that your problem is that you’re too in your own head, and no amount of stimulation can break through an unwilling mind. So, like any good doctor, if something isn’t working for one of my patients then I stop and reassess. What was on your mind?”

You breathe out heavily, not wanting to have to sit and talk about feelings, but he’s not satisfied when you shrug, simply pulling up a stool and waiting for your answer.

Your mouth tightens and you stare at the ceiling. “I just feel stupid,” you admit finally, “like… you’re just standing there waiting for me to cum and I’m just… not. I don’t know.”

Out of your peripheral, you see him nod slowly, processing your words. “Well, no wonder it wasn’t working. You feel pressured to cum.”

You furrow your eyebrows and look back over to him. “Well, yeah, that’s the whole point of this session.”

He just opens his palms out in a shrug. “Of course, we had booked it in for that, but that’s not my only job as a sex therapist. I have clients that come to learn how to better pleasure a partner, clients that want to explore their kinkier sides without judgement, clients that perhaps are wanting to indulge in something that could potentially be dangerous and want a professional to spot them. I’ve had couples come in and have sex with my supervision because they’re trying something new and are concerned about injury. My point is, not everybody comes here for me to simply bring them to orgasm and go.”

You shake your head quickly. “Oh, I wasn’t- I wasn’t trying to say that your job was just-”

“I know, I know,” he soothes, “I just want you to know that sessions with me aren’t a complete failure if the client doesn’t orgasm. Perhaps you need a little more trust and we can work up to it.”

You bite your lip, uncertain. “I can’t really afford a bunch of sessions like that other dude. If you can’t do it today, I’ll just go-”

“How about this?” The doctor rests his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together. With the nearly see-through white shirt rolled up to the elbows, a slackened tie, and straining pants, he strikes a powerful image. “If you promise me to come back, I’ll give you the next session for free. Since you came here expecting to be brought to orgasm, we can call it fair compensation. Today you won’t orgasm. Sound fair?”

You relax a little as you perch on the massage bed. “Okay… But what would we even do then?”

“Like I said, orgasming isn’t the only thing I offer. You mentioned earlier you felt uncomfortable with me waiting for you to come, is that right?” You nod slowly. “Well, perhaps if you didn’t feel that I was expecting anything from you, you could relax more.”

“I don’t understand,” you admit, trailing off.

“Stand up, I have something for you.”

You do so immediately, needing to use the massage bed for support as your knees buckle slightly. The doctor slips a hand under his waistband slightly, drawing your gaze lower to his crotch, where a bulge strains against the fabric.

“I think you would benefit from focussing on yourself a little less,” you hear him say as his hands pop open his pants, dipping into his underwear to pull his straining cock loose, “and focus on me a little more. Do you see how horny you made me, grinding on that vibrator?”

Your eyes widen. You watch his hand, defined by thick veins and delicate bones, stroke himself, a thumb dragging over the slit to spread the beads of precum that were produced. “Is this what you have for me?” you question in confusion.

He laughs. “No, although I do love the way you’re looking at it like a three-course meal. Eyes up,” he commands with a bite of humor in his voice. You hastily obey, and his warm eyes crinkle as he jerks his head to the side. “Let’s go; we’re changing location.”

You frown. “Sorry, what? Changing to where?”

You watch in wonder as he casually strides over to a bookshelf near the far corner of the room, clothes disheveled and leaking cock still in hand. What you had failed to notice when entering the room was a sliding door just past it, the same unassuming wood finish as the shelves. He slides it open, removing the hand from around his dick to wave you through.

Tugging on the hem of your baggy sweater to attempt to cover yourself - though you weren’t sure there was anything of you left to hide - you let him lead you through the small opening into a far darker room. You squint, eyes adjusting, and slowly the gentle light of several flickering candles is enough to see by. They’re scattered around the room, and you notice soon enough that they’re all electric.

“Safety hazard,” the doctor explains. “Me, not the candles.” The rest of the room, in a hazy warm glow, is outfitted in a very different vibe from the previous one. Instead of containing all the erotic bells and whistles, this room could be easily mistaken for a honeymoon suite. On the outskirts are a bar fridge, a few armchairs, and a coffee table, but the main event is the gigantuan bed that takes up almost all the floor space, even more lushly covered with blankets and pillows than the one you had seen in the waiting room.

“Far out,” you breathe, “this is impressive.”

With a rakish grin, he remarks, “what? The purpose-built sex room didn’t do it for you?” Doctor Kim gently slides the door shut behind the two of you, making his way over to a small bluetooth speaker resting on the coffee table. “I had suspected when you responded so well to that kiss that you might be the type to need a comforting environment to keep you in the moment.” He fiddles with the settings, slipping a phone out from his back trouser pocket to select some gentle instrumental song with a muted beat and hypnotic melody. “I’d like to propose a roleplay scenario.”

You bite your lip. “Don’t we… There can’t be much time left of my appointment now, right?”

“Don’t worry about that.” You’re not convinced. He gives you a warm smile, leaning against the arm of the chair. “My next slot is empty. How about we let you book out that one as your compensated session? As far as that pretty little head of yours is concerned, we have all the time in the world. Now: roleplay. Have you done it before?”

You shrug awkwardly. “Not really. I’m not a good actor or anything.”

He shakes his head. You appreciate the way the flickering lights play with shadows over the planes of his face, his neck. “This isn’t the Oscars. And it’s not going to be anything difficult. I was thinking perhaps an anniversary date night. We rented out a fancy hotel room to celebrate. We’ve hand some drinks from the mini fridge,” he waves a hand towards the aforementioned appliance, “and now that the evening is drawing to a close, we’re going to share each other’s company on a more… intimate level.”

You take a deep breath and nod slowly. “Okay, that sounds good. Thank you, Doctor Kim, I appreciate your-”

“Shh, baby,” he soothes, pushing off from the armchair to stroll over to you. He waits until he’s in front of you, hands cupping your face tenderly and looking deeply into your eyes, before he continues. “We’re married; this is our anniversary night, remember? I want you to call me Namjoon.”

“Namjoon,” you repeat dreamily, blinking up at him. In the dim lighting, he looks even softer than before. There’s no tension in his face, and his rumpled clothing looks awfully… domestic.

His eyes turn up at the edges with his smile. You feel safe yet weirdly vulnerable with your face in his hands and his gaze deeply focused on you. “Do you want me to kiss you again?”

You nod eagerly, just about pushing his hands off you, and his lips quirk up. Without any further words needed, he ducks his head down and slants his mouth across yours, reigniting that flush of want inside you. One of his hands slides around into your hair, playing with it lightly, and the other presses on your jaw, tilting your head back so that he can deepen the kiss. You whimper when you feel his tongue make contact with yours, teasingly swirling inside your mouth, and your hand flies up to curl around his wrist, needing to anchor yourself to him as much as possible.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs against your lips, pressing his body against yours. “I missed you so much. Did you miss me?”

You pause, feeling his lips keep moving against you, nibbling at your bottom lip when you don’t answer. “Y-yeah.”

“Yeah? You don’t sound like you miss me.” He laughs breathily, taking his hands away from your face. One links up with yours, squeezing your fingers reassuringly, and the other snakes around your back to hold you even tighter against him. “I wanna show you.”

Your eyes flutter uncertainly, so overwhelmed by the sensual kisses he gave you that you only process what he says belatedly. “Huh? Show me what?”

“How much I missed you,” he replies, the arm around your back sliding lower until it’s slipping under your sweater hem to grasp at the flesh of your ass. You tremble, knees going weak. He leans down to your ear, dragging his spit-slicked lips your face like he can’t bear to part with it. His voice is like honey in your ear, whispering in between teasing nips at your earlobe. “Can I show you how much I missed you?”

“Please, show me,” you plead, not even sure what he means by that, but letting him walk you backwards until the backs of your thighs hit the bed. He lays you down gently, rubbing soothing circles over your naked flesh. You gasp with anticipation when he drops to his knees in front of your legs, pushing your knees apart to slip in between.

The bed is comfortable and the room is perfectly tiered for a romantic environment. You try and keep yourself grounded, letting yourself drink in the sensation of his hands on you.

“Can you scoot forward a little for me? Legs over my shoulders.” Namjoon’s instructions are easy to comprehend but harder than expected to execute. Your body feels a little dead, and you shuffle your butt lower, thigh muscles complaining when you lift them up. He helps you, hands on the backs of your knees to hook them up onto himself. “You look so beautiful, spread out for me. Will you let me have a little taste?”

If orgasms weren’t so hard to come by, you’re sure you would’ve come from that statement alone. You make a whined noise of agreement, shuffling your shoulders down the bed so that you can arch your back a little more, needing to feel him.

With palms sliding up to wrap around and hold down your thighs, the doctor gives you no other warning before he descends on you, slurping noisily against your center. Your mouth drops open and you clench around nothing automatically, simultaneously embarrassed by the loud sound and turned out by his enthusiasm.

He wastes no time in teasing, instead devouring you like a starved man, putting everything into it. Your brain has no time to process the sensations your nerves are being assaulted with; his tongue is inside you and his nose is bumping your clit, then he moves up to wrap his lips around that little bud with a demanding suck, slicking his chin with your wetness. He changes from place to place, never the same speed or intensity. If your lack of orgasms are like a failing heart, Namjoon going down on you is the defibrillator, the shock to your system that you needed.

Your fingers clench tightly onto his hand, moaned-out sighs and shuddering muscles the only sign your body is able to give that he’s doing well. In the back of your lust-addled mind, you feel a single finger slip between your folds, passing over your center to collect wetness before dipping inside. You clench at the intrusion, feeling him groan against you at your tightness.

He crooks that finger, slowly thrusting it in and out like he has all the time in the world, and you whine, mouth dangling open and drooling, eyes clenched tightly shut. With its proven success, it’s not long before that one finger becomes two, and he has you writhing on the bed.

You whimper when he gives your clit a final flat drag of his tongue before lifting his head up again, continuing to work his fingers inside you. “When was the last time I got to make you feel this good, huh? It’s been so long, hasn’t it?”

Your body curls in and you keen as a third finger joins the other two, beginning to provide more of a tight fit, preparing your inner muscles for what was to come. You realize he asked you a question and force your tongue to form words. “I, ah, I can’t think,” you blabber out in a slur.

“Good.” And with that, his mouth is on you again, this time with renewed vigor. When he speaks again, he doesn’t even bother removing his lips from you, lapping at your clit between words. “I want to see you fall apart on my tongue, baby,” he confesses, “gush all over my fingers.”

Like a train hitting you, you feel your nerves deep inside shortcircuit at his words, and you let out a little scream when an orgasm abruptly hits, your legs closing to tighten like a vice around his head as he works you through it, speeding up his tongue and grinding against that rough patch inside you with his fingers as your pussy locks up. Your muscles push against the intrusion, though he refuses to let up as violent tremors wrack your body and leave you shuddering hopelessly under his ministrations.

You don’t realize until wetness hits your temple and slips past your hairline that you’re crying, but when you press a shaky hand against your eyes, they’re soaked with tears. The fact that you’re crying, as well as finally achieving the orgasm that was feeling more and more impossible, just makes your lip tremble harder until you’re sobbing against your hand, beyond overwhelmed.

Your legs are taken off his shoulders without ceremony. They flop limply over the edge of the bed. “Hey, hey,” Namjoon’s voice is concerned, though not surprised or frantic, and you suppose he must deal with this often, “you did it. I’m so proud of you. Do you want me to get you some water, or stay here with you?”

“Stay,” you plead brokenly, voice breaking even on the one syllable. He acquiesces, crawling up on the bed to lie beside you, rubbing your shoulder. You feel yourself calm down slowly with his presence, letting out one shaky exhale. “Fuck.”

“You can say that again,” the doctor jibes. “I don’t mean to be crude, but the way you came like that? It was fucking hot. Shit, I’m harder than a rock right now.”

You laugh breathily, sniffing and wiping away your tears. “I can help with that if you want.”

He swears under his breath. “You can’t say stuff like that. Sex with patients is where I draw the line, and as much as I’m hating that rule right now, I need to keep at least an inch of professionalism here.”

You turn to face him, propping your head up on your hand. “I regret to inform you, Doctor Kim, but I won’t be needing your services after this session. There; now I’m not your patient anymore.”

You watch his pupils dilate, eyebrows narrowing. In mere moments, the more dominant personality from earlier has been brought out again. “Well, then. I’m not going to fuck your tired little pussy, because I’ve worn it out for the day. So if you’d like to give me a helping hand, you better get on your knees.”

#btssmutclub #thekimlinenet #smutcentralnet #knj smut #namjoon x reader smut #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #bts smut #bts x reader smut #namjoon oneshot #namjoon fic #dom namjoon

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years ago

Text

// season’s greetings. iwaizumi hajime //

Warnings: minor swearing

Word Count: 1.9K

Notes: Happy l a t e holidays, Chloe (@ch4jime i hope it’s okay that i tag you here 😖 i couldn’t find the account you originally had listed)!! I hope you had a great holiday and here is one more present to wrap up your holidays 🥰

Want to read more wonderful holiday fics by other talented writers? Find the holiday exchange masterlist here!

You really didn’t think that the mall would be this packed the day before Christmas Eve, but apparently everyone in the city decided to procrastinate on their holiday shopping too. And, listen, you really did plan on doing your shopping earlier this year. You didn’t want to wait until the last possible minute, but two weeks ago you got caught binging Grey’s Anatomy for the fifth time and you can’t just take a break to go shopping when there are lives to save. And last week you were trying to decide what you would wear to the office holiday party, something that shouldn’t have taken all of your time, but it was a big deliberation! The red dress with the white shoes? Or maybe the white sweater with some cute boots? It was a constant back and forth and shopping for gifts was the last thing on your mind (You chose neither, instead opting for a nice black turtleneck with some statement jewelry). Monday it was scouring Pinterest for recipes that would maybe impress your family at Christmas dinner. Tuesday was set aside for watching Hallmark Christmas movies, as it should be. And when Wednesday came, the December 23 on your phone screen became all too real. It had you out of bed, dressed and ready faster than you could say Happy Holidays.

But, barely two hours into your shopping trip, you realized that you were fresh out of ideas and that’s what brought you here: sniffing every single candle in the Yankee candle store in hopes that something would spark some sort of inspiration in you or that you might just leave to make your home smell like peppermint mochas or freshly fallen snow.

You twisted the lid off of a new candle from the stack, something called ‘Holiday Hearth,’ only to twist your nose up and lower the candle back down without a second sniff. The man across from you let out a short snort, eyeing you over his own candle.

You almost opened your mouth to make some kind of smart remark, but you couldn’t help but stop yourself as you saw his face contort into a smile as you met his eyes. “I made that same mistake too,” he says. “Here, this one’s really good.” The man reaches over the stack of candles on the table, holding out a jar for you to smell. “The label says it’s sugar cookies, but it really just smells like vanilla and cinnamon, if you ask me.”

“That does smell really good.”

“Right? Too bad I know my mom will hate it. She’s the pickiest when it comes to candles, but she loves these things, so what kind of son would I be if I just didn’t get her one? Hey, what do you think about this one? Does it smell- I don’t know . . . Mom-ish to you?”

Before you have a second to respond, he’s thrusting a green candle towards your nose, waiting for you to give him feedback on his candle picking skills. The scent takes you aback at first. The strong scent of evergreens and cranberries would be enough to make anyone wish this season was over. “It smells like an old man.”

He snapped his fingers, bringing the candle back towards him. “I knew it smelled familiar! It smells like my grandpa!”

“I got my mom this one last year and she really liked it- had it burning every time I was over,” you say, holding a new candle towards him.

He just gave you a polite smile. “I think she was just lighting that when you were over to make sure you didn’t feel bad about giving her a candle that absolutely reeks.”

“Hey! It’s not that bad!”

“Sure, if you like the smell of sadness and despair, this really isn’t bad, but it doesn’t really scream holiday cheer, you know what I mean?”

“Well, you aren’t exactly the best at picking candles either, mister.”

“It’s Iwaizumi.”

“Fine, but you still suck at picking out candles.”

Iwaizumi shakes his head, tutting his tongue at you, an index finger waggling teasingly in your direction. “Now, hold on. You’re not going to stand there and tell me that I can’t pick out candles when you just made me sniff the actual manifestation of the plague and then not even bother to tell me your name after I tell you mine.”

“Y/N.”

“Well, okay, Y/N. What about this one?”

One whiff and it’s like you’re instantly transported back into your youth and baking alongside your mother, smells of cinnamon, of home. Like freshly fallen pine needles onto a blanket of thick snow. There was nothing that smelled more like the holidays. “It’s perfect.”

“Really? Shit.” Iwaizumi puts the candle back down the table and goes back to looking over the other selections.

“What was wrong with that one? It was easily the best one we’ve smelled yet!”

“After that last one, I don’t know how much I trust your nose.” He turns and stops one of the workers. “Excuse me. Could you give me your honest opinion on this one? Does it smell like something your mom would have? Like, it’s not too ‘my son doesn’t know shit about candles’, is it? I would ask my friend, but she, as I have just recently discovered, doesn’t know shit about candles.”

“Hey!”

“I think it’s an excellent choice, sir. Do you want me to take that up to the counter for you while you continue browsing?”

“Oh, no. I think I’m done, but thank you!” He turns back to you and gives you a teasing smile. “Turns out you were right on this one, ace. You want me to wait back for you or can you handle these three-wick candles on your own?”

“I think I need to find somewhere else to shop for awhile. All of these candles fumes are starting to get to my head.”

He laughed and nodded. “I hope I’ll see you around then.” You could only nod in agreement as he turned away to weave through the crowds of middle-aged moms sniffing various candles on his way to the register.

You never really thought that a trip Yankee candles would have you leaving with a small smile on your face, but you just couldn’t wipe it away, that giddy feeling creeping up into your chest as you just kept replaying his smile and his warm laugh over and over in your head. How were you supposed to focus on the rest of your shopping when all you could think about was Iwaizumi and the brief moment the two of you shared in some random Yankee candle store that seemed like something straight from one of those cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies?

But you had to shake your head, try to move those thoughts from your head as you walked into the little bookstore to try to find something for the few family members left on your list. The shelves were stacked to the brim with every genre imaginable: sci-fi, fantasy, romance, non-fiction, cookbooks, books on philosophy, biographies. Now, to just find a place to start-

It was a cookbook for your aunt. Nothing special really, just the first one from the shelf that seemed decently interesting. A book on the history of Japan for your grandfather and the newest installment of your sister’s favorite book series were added to your basket before you were inevitably pulled over towards the young adult books in search of something for your youngest cousin.

You felt like you had picked up and read over the cover of every single book on the shelf and yet nothing seemed like something that they would enjoy. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you were following me.”

You turned towards the sound of a voice that sounded all too familiar and you couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling at the man who stood at the end of the aisle, turning a book over in his hands to read the back cover. “I’m pretty sure that I was here first, so I think you’re the one who’s following me, Iwaizumi.”

He just laughed, placing the book back on your shelf. “Alright, so maybe I did look out the store window to see where you went, but it was only to return the favor! You helped me find something for my mom, so the least I could do was help you find something for-?” he trailed off, waiting for you to fill in the blank.

“My cousin. They’re fourteen, obsessed with books, but I have no idea what kids are reading these days.”

“You say that like you’re thirty-five.” He turns back towards the shelf, taking a step back to get a wider view. He gives a little, ‘ah-ha’ when he finds what he had been searching for. Iwaizumi reaches up onto the top shelf and pulls a book down. “This is a really great series. My best friend and I have been reading them since we were in high school. Luckily for your cousin, they won’t have to wait for them all to come out like we did. I’ve been waiting for the last book for about two years now,” he says, handing you a copy of the first book.

“Are you not going to get the last one for yourself?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “I’m expecting to get it from my best friend for Christmas, but who knows. I may be kicking his ass back to Argentina if I open up another goddamned Godzilla plushie. You’d think that after thirteen years, the joke would get old, but apparently not.”

“He’s from Argentina?”

“Originally from Miyagi, but he moved over there to play volleyball right after high school,” he explains.

“That must be hard, having your best friend all the way on the other side of the world.”

He just shrugged. “He’s snapchatting me non-stop. It’s like he never even left.”

“You know, I seem to know more about your best friend than I do about you and you’re the one following me around the mall.”

He laughed again, that low sound that reverberated so nicely through the store. He stuck out his hand towards you. “Iwaizumi Hajime (27). Athletic trainer.”

“Did you just verbally say parenthesis?”

“It’s for effect.”

You nod, trying to suppress your own giggles that threatened to escape you. You took the book from his hands, looking it over before adding it to your basket. “Well, Iwaizumi Hajime, thank you for the book recommendation. I’m sure that they’ll love it.”

You were just about to walk off to finish your purchase, but he grabs you by the elbow, giving you that same act that he did in the candle store. “Really? You’re going to walk away and not tell me about yourself?”

“I’m-”

“Nope. You owe me coffee for trying to blow me off not once, but twice now. So, what do you say, ace? You going to let me take you out for coffee or is this just going to be a one-time thing?”

“I think I could go for a peppermint mocha.”

He gives you that wide smile that had been stuck in your head since the candle store and reaches out to take your basket from you. “A peppermint mocha sounds pretty damn good, ace.”

{taglist: @nicka-nell @moncymonce @lovinnoya @celosiiaa @ush7jima @deephasoceanmagic}

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer #x reader

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onceinabluehanguangjun · 4 years ago

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into you like a train (2/5)

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ao3

At the bottom of his bag, Lan Zhan found a small box of tea bags and his favorite mug carefully wrapped within a shirt.

I know my A-Zhan 😊, Lan Huan had texted him when he asked. Even though he was alone in the cabin and it was still early enough that birds were singing, Lan Zhan’s ears grew warm. He never truly forgot that he had the best brother in the world and yet Lan Huan was always willing to remind him.

He’d just put his tea bag into the mug of hot water when there was a rhythmic little knock at the door. Lan Zhan instantly thought about ducking behidn the counter and waiting until whoever was there left. This was the second time in less than 24-hours that he was having to deal with people at the door. Wasn’t this meant to be peaceful?

When the knocks continued, however, Lan Zhan decided to just get it over with. He kept his mug in his hand to give him something to do as he opened the door. On the other side was a familiar face.

Wei Ying stood there now properly bundled up for the weather. His long hair was pulled up into a purposefully messy bun at the top of his head and a scarf was tied around his neck. His nose and cheeks were tinted red from the cold and his smile was in full force. He seemed completely sober despite being wasted the night before.

“Good morning, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying said, holding out the container in his hands, “I wanted to apologize for last night and to thank you for not being a dick about it, so I brought you some peanut butter buns.”

Lan Zhan blinked a few times at the container and then back to Wei Ying’s face. He looked better when he wasn’t drunk and didn’t smell of alcohol. Lan Zhan might even go as far as to say he was aesthetically pleasing.

“You don’t have to take them,” Wei Ying said, “I just felt bad for ruining your night. My memory is garbage, so I have my address and my Jiejie’s address in my notes and I guess I showed the wrong one.”

He didn’t ruin Lan Zhan’s night, everyone on the bus did. But that felt a little dramatic to say out loud. And also unfair to everyone on the bus who were simply existing. Lan Zhan shifted his weight from one foot to the other before hesitantly holding his hand out.

Wei Ying smiled like the sun itself and did Lan Huan’s little hum of joy as he handed him the container.

��You can just leave the container here and I’ll get it back after you leave. Or you can throw it away or steal it out of spite,” Wei Ying laughed. Lan Zhan didn’t respond. Wei Ying didn’t seem bothered by it. “Oh, it has peanut butter in it, I don’t know if you’re allergic. Are you?” Lan Zhan slowly shook his head. “Good! I learned how to make them in Hong Kong once.”

Lan Zhan blinked a few more times as Wei Ying just smiled at him. Definitely aesthetically pleasing.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it and I won’t bother you anymore! Goodbye, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, laughing a little bit to himself.

He turned on his toes and started his trek down a pathway without waiting for a response. Lan Zhan felt a bit frozen in place for a moment before he slowly closed the door again. He brought his tea and his buns back into the kitchen area. Honestly, he felt genuinely thankful. He still hadn’t worked up the courage to go to the grocery store and he was beginning to feel hungry.

Lan Zhan opened the container and pulled out one of the buns, inspecting it as if expecting it to be something other than what he said. He pried it open and looked at it before peeling off a small piece and popping it into his mouth. It was good.

He didn’t eat pastries of any sort most of the time, usually preferring bland food because it was easier to consume. Sweets or spices didn’t interest him. But this was sweet and he was beginning to rethink every choice he’d ever made when it came to food.

He ate two of the buns and then settled onto the couch to drink his tea, scrolling through his phone to distract himself from the fact that he would need to call a cab to take him to the nearest grocery store. The idea made his stomach tie in a billion knots. He even looked up the distance to see if he could walk there and back. However, making an hour and a half walk with groceries didn’t sound like a fun idea. He would just have to go through with it.

Lan Zhan finished his tea and called for a cab, hoping he got one who was allergic to small talk. He grabbed his fully charged earbuds and waited for the cab, listening to a podcast and hoping he could get by without talking to anyone else. Then he could come back in a decent enough mood to break out the finals that required his careful attention.

He made it to the store without any qualms and he gave himself a 10 minute timeframe to get in and get out with enough to last him his entire stay so he didn’t have to do this again. He got things that could stretch for multiple meals: noodles, eggs, another box of granola bars, etc. He almost made it out on time too.

“ Wow, fate must really think we need to meet,” a very distinct voice said. Lan Zhan breathed in deep and turned around to see Wei Ying smiling at him. He was leaning forward on his cart that seemed to only have caffeinated drinks and junk food. “Oh, please don’t judge me based on this. My neighbors grow most of the food, but sometimes I need a fix, you know?”

No, Lan Zhan thought, he very much did not know.

“Mn,” he hummed. Wei Ying huffed a laugh and stood up straight. His face was no longer red from the cold or alcohol, instead he looked warm and even more comfortable than before.

“I can’t believe I’m running into you again! Three times in two days, that’s insane,” Wei Ying said. Lan Zhan didn’t know how to explain that the first two weren’t exactly random fated encounters.

“Mn.”

“Hey, so, like, since fate clearly wants us to hang out, would you maybe wanna go get a drink?” Wei Ying asked. That very familiar sick feeling started pooling in Lan Zhan’s stomach. Again, he was stuck wondering what the polite way to tell him he had no interest in speaking to human beings would be.

“I don’t drink.”

“Ah, then tea? Coffee? Anything?” Wei Ying filled in, seeming to be doing his very best at asking without pressing too hard, “I just don’t get to meet very many new people and you’re… Well, I’d like to get tea with you. If you want.”

“I have papers to grade,” Lan Zhan said softly. He knew on some level that no, I don’t want to, was a very real answer that was worthy of respect. That just never was able to reach his mouth. He needed to give good excuses.

“Oh, okay,” Wei Ying said, still smiling despite the rejection, “Well, I’ll leave you alone. Have a good vacation, Lan Zhan.”

Wei Ying grabbed his cart and pulled it away, spinning it around in a reckless way to push it in the opposite direction. Lan Zhan held his breath until the tension in his stomach relaxed a little and then he let it out. And then he felt the guilt. Was he being rude? Was he offended? Did Wei Ying hate him now? Of course, if he did hate him, it’s not like it would matter, he probably wouldn’t see him ever again. But still.

Lan Zhan managed to make it back to the cabin before he realized his brain wasn’t going to let it go.

“Hello?” Lan Huan’s voice asked as he picked up the phone.

“I met someone and I think he hates me,” Lan Zhan said, holding the phone to his ear as he started putting the groceries away. He felt shakier than he actually was which was always annoying. It had him feeling like he was just being ridiculous for no reason.

Lan Huan was quiet for a moment before he said, “Well, what happened?”

Years of practicing how to calm down Lan Zhan had taught his brother ‘no they don’t’ and ‘it doesn’t matter’ weren’t really effective answers.

“He’s the brother of the woman who owns the cabin. He showed up at the door drunk last night and I let him in until his friend could pick him up. Then he brought me pastries this morning as a thanks. Then I saw him at the grocery store and he asked me to get tea with him and I said no,” Lan Zhan said, feeling almost out of breath by the time he was done. He hated speaking so much, but he’d run out of other choices.

“That just sounds like a respectful rejection. You’re not obligated to give anyone your attention, even if they’re nice,” Lan Huan said. Lan Zhan closed his eyes and didn’t answer. “Unless you wanted to give him attention.”

“No.”

“Okay,” Lan Huan said, “But was he cute?”

Lan Zhan didn’t answer which only seemed to make Lan Huan laugh. It most certainly wasn’t a laughing matter. Still, Lan Huan probably read this entirely different than Lan Zhan was. His brother had tried to set him up on dates with a flurry of women and men who claimed to be interested in Lan Zhan all the way until they tried to speak to him and realized he was nothing to be interested in. He probably thought this was another situation like that.

“You’re allowed to go for tea with him if you want to,” Lan Huan insisted, “No one will shame you if you do.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“Are you scared he’s going to get angry at you?”

“No.”

“Are you scared he’s going to make fun of you with his friends?” Lan Zhan didn’t answer. “A-Zhan, if it goes badly, you get to come home and never go anywhere near them. It won’t matter.”

“I’m sure he’s already done it.”

“What could you have possibly done in those three short encounters that would make him do that?” Lan Huan asked. Lan Zhan thought about it, but his brother was speaking before he had an answer. “If he did take the rejection negatively, do you think he’d tell his friends about it? If it hurt him at all, then he would keep it to himself out of shame, don’t you think?”

“But…”

“Why don’t you just wait and see? If he continues to pester you, then I support you completely ignoring him. But if you happen to run into him again and he’s kind, maybe fate is trying to tell you something,” Lan Huan said, beginning to take on that wistful tone of his, “That would be romantic, wouldn’t it?”

“He speaks too much,” Lan Zhan said.

“Maybe,” Lan Huan hummed. Lan Zhan frowned and didn’t respond, putting up the last of his things and then retreating to the couch. He pulled his knees to his chest just as his brother began speaking again. “Just see what happens, keep your options open. At the very least, it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend.”

“I’m going to grade papers now.”

“Okay,” Lan Huan laughed, “I’ll leave you to it. I love you, have a good day.”

“Love you too, Huan-ge.”

Lan Zhan sat in silence for a moment with his own thoughts. Wei Ying was nice, it seemed, and Lan Zhan really didn’t have that many friends. It never felt like an issue since most days he was perfectly fine with his own company and he got rid of any desire to socialize from being at work. On the rare days he did want company, he had his brother and his brother’s friends who would let him sit in with them until he wanted to leave. But he didn’t really have any friends on his own. He didn’t need them.

But, maybe, if he kept running into Wei Ying, it wouldn’t be the worst.

Instead of thinking about it, he grabbed his bag and pulled out a stack of papers. Grading them would definitely take his mind off of everything.

By the next day, Lan Zhan had made it through a good chunk of papers and was finally allowing himself to realize he was getting a little restless.

He stretched towards the ceiling and let his upper half flop down to reach towards the floor. He grabbed the back of his ankles and stretched himself out that way before deciding he could go on a walk and find the tea house he knew was towards the bottom of the mountain. There were pathways all around the cabin, he just had to use the phone on his GPS to figure out the right one.

Lan Zhan layered up a bit and then put on his boots, pulling a beanie over his head and a scarf around his neck. He grabbed his phone and his earbuds and headed outside. He put on something to listen to and started his trek.

There was something soothing about the quiet of it all. In Gusu, it wasn’t really loud, but it wasn’t exactly empty either. He lived in a neighborhood‒gated, but still full of people with thoughts‒ and worked in a place that was bustling with activity. It was nice to get away from it all.

Lan Zhan remembered to eventually take a few pictures of the scenery, hoping they were good enough to impress his brother. He knew Nie Huaisang had stayed around here and had a much better eye for picture taking so he probably saw a much better view through those. However, that also implied Huaisang took the time to go on a walk which sounded less plausible.

Eventually, he found the tea house and was immediately thankful that it wasn’t too busy, but it wasn’t too empty either. Still, he found himself waiting outside, pretending to be on his phone as he worked up the courage to go inside and order. It wasn't like he planned to get anything different than he did anywhere else, but...

“Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan jumped a little and looked towards where Wei Ying was walking up, his smiling friendly despite Lan Zhan having shut him down to get tea with him before. It was almost too convenient and he was bombarded with his brother’s wistful talk of fate.

“Looks like we’re getting tea together anyway,” Wei Ying laughed as he walked over to him, nudging his side with his elbow. Lan Zhan didn’t know how to react to that. Thankfully, he didn’t have to because Wei Ying grabbed his arm and started tugging him inside. “What do you want? I'll pay."

Lan Zhan opened his mouth to protest, but Wei Ying was already waving at the woman behind the counter.

"Hi! Same as always, Mianmian.”

“And for your friend?” she asked. Wei Ying looked at Lan Zhan.

"Green tea," he said carefully, hoping it came out even. Neither of them seemed phased.

"Green tea for my new best friend."

"I'll tell Wen Qing that."

"Do it and we're no longer friends."

"Aw, you think I'm your friend? That's cute."

The whole interaction was seamless as the two joked and teased and seemed so familiar. He couldn’t imagine being that way with anyone that worked at the cafe on his University’s campus despite seeing them every single day. He was almost envious.

“So, Lan Zhan, didn’t expect to see you here,” Wei Ying said as they stepped to the side, “Do you like the place?”

“I do,” he offered.

“Good, it likes you! Your nose is red from the cold, it suits you,” Wei Ying said. Lan Zhan blinked and he just laughed all over again.

It took a few moments for Lan Zhan to realize how much of the pressure Wei Ying had taken off of him during that whole situation. He probably would've turned around and walked all the way back to the cabin if he hadn't showed up.

"Thank you," Lan Zhan said. If he took it as a thanks for paying for his tea instead, he wouldn't mind. Wei Ying's face flushed and he rolled his eyes, waving it off.

"Don't mention it," he said, “Oh, hey, have you made any progress on those papers? You said you teach music history, right? Any interesting reads?”

Lan Zhan looked at him with that familiar dread of small talk. Only Wei Ying seemed genuinely interested in the answer. Then again, Lan Zhan had never been really good at reading whether people were interested or not. Many people had made that very clear.

“One of the history of the bianqing ,” Lan Zhan said. Wei Ying’s eyebrows raised as if he recognized it. Maybe he did.

“Ooh, did they get a good grade?”

“No,” Lan Zhan admitted, “The vast majority was from after it was imported into Korea.”

Wei Ying laughed, “Ah, Lan Zhan! Such a harsh teacher. Was it at least correct?”

Lan Zhan paused for a moment before he said, “Yes.”

“At least they read something then, if not the directions,” Wei Ying said, looking at him very seriously, “Directions are very boring, Lan Zhan.” Then his seriousness bled into laughter. “So, green tea."

"Mn."

“Simple, efficient,” Wei Ying said, nodding his head as if he was putting actual thought into it. He leaned a bit closer. “Pu’er, for me. Caffeine.”

“Mn.”

“Are you staying here or are you going back? We can walk together, I know a shortcut,” Wei Ying suggested. Lan Zhan thought it was a pretty good excuse to get rid of any excess restless energy from sitting bent over papers all day. Wei Ying could be his social interaction of the day until they got to the cabin and then they could go their separate ways.

“Alright,” Lan Zhan agreed. Wei Ying’s eyes widened and his cheeks tinted a shade of pink, but he seemed to quickly return to his natural state.

It wasn’t simply a fluke when he was drunk‒Wei Ying talked a lot and he didn’t necessarily need much input. As long as Lan Zhan showed he was listening, Wei Ying would happily go on and on about whatever he was thinking about.

It started with the health benefits of green tea and then got into the concept of hiking and camping as they started the trek back to the cabin. Wei Ying apparently had read a book about different ways to fish and he’d bragged about how quickly he picked up spearing. Or, bragging wasn’t really the word. It took Lan Zhan a few minutes to realize it qualified as bragging.

“It happened so fast, but I had a fish at the end of my spear! My brother said it was my fault he got covered in water, but I don’t think it was. Do you think it was, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asked. Lan Zhan didn’t have an answer and Wei Ying didn’t seem to mind. “I’m good at things that are hands on, you know? I hated school growing up because it was always just telling me what to learn about and that was no fun. I like learning about what I want to learn about.”

“Mn.”

“You look like you were probably a good little student. Perfect grades, huh?” Wei Ying said, a wild smile on his lips as he nudged Lan Zhan again. Lan Zhan took a sip of his tea. “I probably would’ve bullied you, then.”

Lan Zhan flickered his eyes over to him and raised an eyebrow. Wei Ying, who was already waiting for a reaction, laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. The more he laughed, the more it caused a completely different kind of tension in Lan Zhan’s stomach. Like he was nervous and excited all at once. He quite liked the sound.

“I’m teasing! I would never, you’re too cute for all that,” Wei Ying decided. Lan Zhan’s ears grew warm again. “Tell me something interesting, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan blinked as he tried to think of something. He didn’t usually have many interesting things to say. He’d been told he was quite a boring person to talk to, and yet Wei Ying hadn’t gotten the memo.

“The oldest surviving zither is a guqin,” he said, “From around 433 BC.”

“Oh, shit, that’s old,” Wei Ying said. Lan Zhan looked at him for a moment to make sure he was actually interested in listening to him before he said anything else.

“Also one of the oldest pieces of noted music that was discovered in the east was for the guqin,” he added.

“Sounds like a super important instrument. I’ve heard them, they’re gorgeous. Do you play?” Wei Ying asked. Lan Zhan nodded and he smiled. “You look like you play. Look at those fingers, it was either that or piano.”

If he kept feeling this warm, he’d need to get rid of his scarf.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, you turn so red sometimes!” Wei Ying laughed. Lan Zhan’s eyes quickly found the ground. “Don’t worry, so do I. It just usually requires something a bit more physical.” He felt even hotter. “I’m teasing!”

“You tease too much.”

“Ah, you don’t like it?” Wei Ying asked, tilting his head to the side to try and catch Lan Zhan’s eyes. He didn’t dare let that happen, not when his heart was thudding in his chest. “I think you like it.”

“Mn,” he hummed, hoping it sounded casual enough. Wei Ying lapsed into laughter again.

“You’re funny,” Wei Ying said, “And I don’t think you know it.” Lan Zhan said nothing. “So, tell me more about you! I’m dying of thirst over here, please water me with information.”

Lan Zhan dared to look at him again with a raised eyebrows and was met with a smile that truly took out the sun itself. It was overwhelming.

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, you already know I live here, where do you live? Do you have any siblings? Any super hidden secrets that you’ll only tell a man you won’t see again once you go home?” Wei Ying prodded. Lan Zhan took a moment to find his words and Wei Ying didn’t push.

“Gusu. A brother, older,” Lan Zhan said, taking a sip of his tea again, “He told me to come here because work is stressful.”

“Sounds like a smart guy, work is stressful,” Wei Ying agreed.

“You would like him,” Lan Zhan said, “Everyone likes him, he’s friendly.”

For the first time, Wei Ying was quiet for a moment. So quiet Lan Zhan looked over at him only to see he was already staring. Lan Zhan held onto his tea a bit tighter.

“You know I like you, right? You’re funny and smart, we’re practically best friends,” Wei Ying said. Lan Zhan felt his entire face flush this time. “I’m sure your brother is nice, but I think you’d be my favorite of the two. No offense.”

It wasn’t true, probably. He had never met Lan Huan, so he didn’t know what he was saying. And yet it was the first time anyone had ever said they enjoyed Lan Zhan more, that they were his friend. Maybe it was a bit selfish to like hearing it so much.

“ Oh, you’re smiling, look at that,” Wei Ying said and Lan Zhan quickly schooled his face. Wei Ying whined and reached out, pulling at Lan Zhan’s cheek. His instinct was to swat him away and yet his hand never moved. “Stop it, come back, I liked that. Ah, well, one day you’ll do it again and I’ll probably spontaneously combust because I won’t be able to take it. Fair warning.”

Eventually Wei Ying’s hand dropped and, despite having only been touched for a few seconds, Lan Zhan felt cold in his wake. He took another sip of his tea but it didn’t warm him up like it should’ve.

“So, you have a brother. Parents? Grandparents? Aunts and uncles? Nieces and nephews?” Wei Ying asked.

“Uncle,” Lan Zhan answered. Wei Ying nodded.

“I have my brother and my sister, a nephew, adoptive parents, the works,” Wei Ying said. Lan Zhan didn’t ask, but Wei Ying didn’t seem to need a question to give the answer Lan Zhan wanted. “My dad’s best friend adopted me after my parents died. Freak accident, brakes in the car stopped working.”

“I’m sorry,” Lan Zhan said, “My parents died separately, but I didn’t see them much even before. My uncle raised me.”

“I’m glad he was there to take care of you, that’s always good,” Wei Ying hummed, “I always feel like I got lucky that there was someone who knew my parents to take me in. Maybe they didn't raise me exactly how my parents would've, but they care.”

“Mn.”

By the time they reached the cabin, Lan Zhan realized that there was no shortcut. Wei Ying must've just said that because he wanted to walk with him. And he didn’t leave or find an excuse to stop talking to him. Lan Zhan found himself standing in front of the door to the cabin, both of their cups of tea completely empty and just dreading going their separate ways. He’d never found someone who made conversation so easy for him.

For a moment, he tried to be his brother. He would know how to handle this.

“Would…” Lan Zhan started, glancing to meet Wei Ying’s eyes for a moment before looking down again, “Would you like to come in?”

He didn’t know what he was going to do when they got inside. He didn’t have anything to say or anything interesting to do. He was simply having fun. Oh, wow, he was having fun.

“Sure,” Wei Ying agreed.

It took a few moments of floundering with nothing to say or do before Wei Ying took it upon himself to pick up one of the papers from the coffee table.

“ ‘The Music of the Spring and Autumn Period’, ” Wei Ying read, looking up at Lan Zhan, “Pretty boring title. Have you read this one yet? Is it entirely about Confucius?”

“I haven’t,” Lan Zhan admitted, “But most likely.”

Wei Ying flipped through the five pages, skimming it quickly. He huffed a laugh and looked up to Lan Zhan with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Lan Zhan, what have you been teaching them? There isn’t a single paragraph about The Five Classics in here! For shame,” Wei Ying teased. Lan Zhan’s heart seemed to thud a little bit harder at Wei Ying knowing that much. It was simple, and yet…

Wei Ying dropped that one and picked up another.

“ ‘The Art of Guqin Notation: From Jieshi Diao Youlan to Qinpu’, ” Wei Ying read dramatically, sitting down on the couch as he nodded, “Now that’s an effective title, tells you everything you need to know. Sort of. Maybe a little disjointed, but the effort is there. It’s a music class, not an essay class.”

Lan Zhan stood there for a while as Wei Ying flipped through the papers to see if anything interested him. Every time he would rattle off knowledge that some man who taught primary school on a mountain shouldn’t know, Lan Zhan felt a bit warmer. It continued on until he almost felt overheated.

“How do you know so much about this?” Lan Zhan asked. Wei Ying lifted his head.

“Huh? Oh, didn’t I tell you? I took a few classes at some fancy boarding school before I got kicked out. I retained knowledge out of spite, I think,” he laughed.

“Why did you get kicked out?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, Lan Zhan, but I am very annoying,” Wei Ying said. Lan Zhan hadn’t noticed, not really. “I pissed off the headmaster four too many times.”

“I see.”

“But it’s okay! I don’t regret any decision I made that led me here,” he said firmly, almost in a way that Lan Zhan didn’t quite believe him. He wasn’t going to say that, though.

Lan Zhan found himself actually engaging in conversation for longer than he could ever remember doing before. He didn’t give nearly as much input as Wei Ying, but it was enough. They spoke until the sun went down about music and work and school and things they’d done in life. It was strangely easy and comforting.

“Wen Ning, the guy who came and picked me up the other night, is, like… the best person I’ve ever met, seriously. Puts up with way too much of my bullshit,” Wei Ying said. He was on one side of the couch, Lan Zhan was on the other. It was normal. “I spiralled a bit in college and he saved my ass more than once.”

“That’s kind of him.”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” Wei Ying insisted, “Too good. He reminds me of you, actually. You're both quiet, but not in a rude or dismissive way. And, like, trust me, I’m annoying to know when people are being rude and dismissive.”

Lan Zhan watched him for a moment and then he spoke without thinking. He rarely spoke without thinking and here he was.

“Is that what happened the other night? A spiral?” Lan Zhan asked. Wei Ying’s smile disappeared entirely and then it came back, just much sadder than the ones he was used to. Lan Zhan was already kicking himself over it.

“I allow myself one day a year of self pity for everything bad in the world. It just so happened to be the perfect day to meet you,” Wei Ying decided.

"Like what?" Lan Zhan asked, brain apparently still turned off.

Wei Ying smiled. "Aiya, Lan Zhan, save it for at least the second date, alright?"

Lan Zhan’s whole body felt like it was lit on fire at that little sentence. Was that what this was? Was this meant to be a date? Why wasn’t he made aware of that? Anxiety pooled in his stomach and he looked down, anywhere but Wei Ying.

His thumb rubbed between his fingers.

“I’m messing with you,” Wei Ying said, laughing softly. Lan Zhan didn’t answer.

He couldn’t tell if he was already reaching his quota of human interaction for the day or if Wei Ying’s words had pushed him there quicker, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t know what to say and the idea of speaking more seemed draining in a way that he was willing to experiment.

Wei Ying checked the time after a few more moments and said that he had to get home. Lan Zhan immediately felt relieved. Then he was a bit guilty that he was relieved, but there was relief nonetheless. Wei Ying said his goodbye with no promise of seeing him again or any further talk of that second date and Lan Zhan didn’t need any more convincing that he was mad at him. He was nosey, unnecessarily so, and it made him want to leave. The tension in his stomach knotted over and over until it physically hurt, his brain on a never-ending cycle of reminding him of his stupidity.

Lan Zhan locked the door of the cabin and found himself more desperate than ever to just be in a cocoon of blankets in his bed. The bedroom here would have to suffice. He made his way into the bedroom, not even bothering with the light as he wrapped himself up to the best of the ability. He pulled it over his head and tucked it around himself, breathing in and out and hoping that the feeling would just go away. But it didn’t. Wei Ying hated him. Everyone hated him. He was mean and annoying and a bad person and the hatred was warranted. Lan Zhan had tried so, so hard to be friendly and he was still bad.

A few breaths later and no end in sight, Lan Zhan felt for his phone. He called his brother blindly, curling in on himself as it rang.

“Hi!” Lan Huan said. Lan Zhan didn’t answer, instead just taking a shaky breath and closing his eyes. It didn’t take long for his brother to catch on. “It’s okay, A-Zhan, Gege’s got you.”

Lan Zhan closed his eyes and focused on the sound of his brother’s voice, low and comforting. Distracting. If everyone hated him, his gege didn’t. He knew that most days at the very least.

After awhile, after he felt like he had his own head under control again, Lan Huan asked, “Did something happen or was it just one of those moments?”

And, when Lan Zhan ran over the evening in his mind, nothing really happened. It was one of those times when it felt like a bigger deal in the moment and then afterwards it got overwhelming. Now, after longer, it was just embarrassing that he’d cared at all. Wei Ying had made a joke and Lan Zhan had ruined the night.

“He hates me.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t.”

Lan Zhan considered explaining. He had everything on the tip of his tongue, he was going to explain, but‒ ”He hates me.” Everyone does. I should lock myself in a cabin like this and never leave. I should venture out into the woods and never be around people again. I’m not fit to be around people.

“A-Zhan,” Lan Huan said softly, “You know I love you, don’t you?” Lan Zhan didn’t answer. “You’re my favorite person in the world. You aren’t a burden. Not to me and you’re my little brother, so you’re specifically designed to annoy me. If I don’t find you annoying, how could this man you’ve hardly met pull it off?”

It was a joke and Lan Zhan knew it, but he couldn’t find the energy to even fake a laugh. His brother didn’t expect him to.

“Do you need me to come get you?” Lan Huan asked gently. Lan Zhan took a deep breath.

“No, I’m an adult. I can do it,” he said insistently.

“Okay,” Lan Huan said carefully, “But know the offer is there.”

Lan Zhan kept him on the phone for a little bit longer before he realized he just needed to sleep. If he slept, he would be fine. He would forget about it and he wouldn’t have to see Wei Ying again.

“Goodnight, Didi, I love you.”

“Love you too, Gege.”

#wangxian #wangxian fic #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan xichen #the untamed #mdzs #my fic

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falseroar · 4 years ago

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Dog Days Part 6: Clues in the Dust

((After agreeing to take the case from Google’s anonymous employer, Abe makes a detour to check out the tip about last night’s break in, at the last place he would ever want to go back to.

Link to the previous part, Part 5: Second Opinion.))

Abe fed the Google unit a line about needing to do some research on vampires and this doctor in particular before he started staking out the clinic (the magitek man failing to even crack a smile at that pun, so that was a waste), which turned out to be enough to satisfy him and get him out of the building for now.

Abe only shut the office door once he heard the heavy footsteps on the stairs, and kept watch at the window until he saw Google walk out of the building and continue on his way back to whatever uncanny valley he crawled out of.

Once he was out of sight, Abe plopped down into his office chair with a sigh and reached out to turn on the desk lamp. The light bulb flickered once or twice before remaining on, which together with the little sunlight that could make its way through the grimy window behind him unfortunately made his office that much easier to see.

His tired eyes drifted to the futon, the mattress still pulled out from where he didn’t bother to push it back in before he left months ago, the blankets a tangled mess that still managed to look appealing right now.

He sighed and took another sip of his coffee, only to be disappointed when he found the cup empty already. Dropping it into the overflowing trash bin, he pulled the muffin Carla gave him out of his pocket and absentmindedly started eating while he looked again at the envelope Google gave him. The picture inside was taken at a strange angle, the man not quite centered and apparently unaware of the photographer as he stood outside of a brick building Abe assumed to be at the address in the envelope. Illuminated by the street lights overhead, the shadows on his face made it difficult to make out any details, but he looked like a slight man, dark hair, matching goatee, glasses.

Nothing screamed dangerous about the doctor, but that was an easy mistake to make with vampires. He would have to be careful around this Schneeplestein until he knew what he was dealing with.

But the doctor, that Google thing and his employer, they could all wait. Abe crumpled up the wrapper from the muffin and threw it away, tucking the envelope and its contents into a random pocket in his coat and grabbing a lighter and a crumpled pack of cigarettes for the road.

He had a house to check out.

---

Abe remembered the drive to Markiplier Manor being longer, but far too soon the massive building came into view, the rusted gates at the end of its drive less open and inviting and more one good breeze away from crashing down. He pulled the car to a stop near the fountain in front of the house and turned the engine off.

He sat there, staring at those walls, those empty windows that stared back at him, until a surge of annoyance at himself pushed him out of the car and as far as the front steps.

Every bird in the area must have already taken off for the south, because there wasn’t so much as a peep to be heard, and aside from a few fallen leaves scraping across the ground, there was no sound until the hunter tried the door.

To his surprise, it wasn’t even locked, although it opened with a creak loud enough he was sure the neighbors down the hill could have heard it. Whoever broke in here last night clearly didn’t have to work hard to get into the place, because a quick look at the lock confirmed it hadn’t been forced, and none of the nearby windows appeared to be broken.

The manor’s reputation had probably done more to keep people out over the years than any lock ever could. Or just the average person’s ability to sense the sheer wrongness about the place, Abe wasn’t sure which.

The hunter stood there at the door, taking one deep breath after the other as though getting ready to dive into the deep end of the swimming pool, before he took the plunge and walked in. A flashlight from his car found the small table in the lobby first, the vase with the wilted remains of not quite preserved flowers, before doing a circuit of the room.

From here, it looked like the furniture was undisturbed, the paintings and statues still in their place, even the heavy layer of dust on the ground showed that whoever passed through here hadn’t gone farther than this room. The footsteps on the black and white tiles were so confused that he couldn’t begin to guess how many people had been here last night, even without the added possibility of some random cops looking in on the possible break in before deciding nothing here was worth the effort.

Abe walked further in, flashlight turned down as he followed the disturbed dust, hoping to find some clue as to who was here and why, only to pause when he heard the crunch of glass underfoot.

He’d noticed the shattered mirror of course, it was kind of hard to miss, but now he crouched down, studying how the light from his flashlight caught the glittering shards of glass. It was strange to see just how far they were spread outward from the empty frame, like something had crashed into it from the other side of the glass. How could someone break it this badly and still leave the frame on the wall? Or had they put it back in its place? Who would go to that kind of trouble?

He started to stand and paused again. Looking down, he could see a strange spot on the floor, on top of the thick layer of dust, and without hesitation he prodded it and sniffed the tip of his finger.

Wax? Candle wax, here?

Another, slower look around the area found several more identical spots of wax, all together forming a circle. In the center of which was chalk, the remains of a strange symbol half rubbed away. It wasn’t a symbol he recognized, but Abe made a picture with his phone and as good a copy as he could manage in his notepad. There was always the chance of finding someone who might have a clue what it meant and why someone would be performing a ritual here, of all places.

Unbidden, the memory of the door upstairs, the key still in its lock and the rope tightly binding it, came to mind and Abe took a long, shuddering breath. One that he regretted, considering the heavy scent of mold and rot, but it almost helped calm him down long enough to look at the stairs, the undisturbed dust the only sign that he needed to prove no one had been up that way in a long time.

Thinking he had found all he could, Abe shone the light around one more time just to be sure only to stop at the sight of the stain on the floor underneath the balcony, the dark spread long faded and barely noticeable against all of the other decay in the house.

Seconds later, Abe lurched out of the house, miraculously not breaking his neck on the unseen front steps as he stumbled his way to the nearest patch of grass. There he doubled over coughing and wheezing until he could blame the tears streaming down his face on the dust, the bad taste in the back of his throat on whatever foul stuff had grown up in that place with no one around.

Eventually, he made it to leaning against the side of his car, staring sightlessly at the trees in the distance for a while until a dark thought in the back of his mind remembered the bottle under the passenger seat. That, along with the cigarettes…well, it didn’t help, but it gave his shaking hands something to do, and after the bullet to the chest he was willing to take anything that even pretended to ease the pain a little.

If just being back here hadn’t had such an effect on him, if he had taken the time to walk around the house like he meant to when he first got here, if Abe had any kind of reason to keep looking around, he might have spotted the tracks in the grass, the clear signs of footsteps leading out to those trees. He might even have found the wolf hair caught on branches or a large paw print left in the soft dirt underneath the trees.

Instead, he sat there in his car, silent and alone, until he remembered why he was here. Google, or at least whoever he worked for, knew something about this place and its connection to the hunter. And he claimed to know how to find Wilford. All Abe had to do was look into a doctor, supposedly.

Like he believed that for a second. But playing along gave him the excuse to find out more about who was trying to pull his strings and why.

And it was the only excuse he needed to stop wasting time here. With a new sense of determination, Abe started his car and backed down the drive, away from the house.

((End of Part 6. Thanks for reading. A little on the shorter side, but I think Abe’s sections are going to start getting longer soon. (Don’t hold me to that, please.)

Link to Part 7: Leaving the Clinic.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy))

#markiplier #fanfiction #wkm abe #monster hunter au #werewolf au #wkm au #traces of silver #google does not appreciate puns #now abe has to figure out how to shoehorn that joke into another conversation

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mercedesbarnes · 7 years ago

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Some Enchanted Morning

Summary: You find love at first sight with Steve.

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Word Count: 2,308

Warnings: none

A/N: this is for @bladebarnes‘ 2k Writing Challenge! My theme was ‘love at first sight’ and I ended up exploring a spin on it...hope you enjoy :)

Friday, 7:15 pm

Everyone prays. Everyone has their reasons, too: wanting to be closer to a religious figure, for protection, hope, or the last slice of pizza. Whether they know it or not, they pray.

Including you, devoutly, for the L train to hurry its metal butt up.

All you wanted was to get home to Brooklyn, and as that wouldn’t happen without having faith in the being that controlled the rails, you urged the oil gods to make the rails smooth and quick and whatever else the metal butt needed to move fast. You had to take the L train, but if you could help it, you didn’t want to take the L. Here’s to hoping your prayers convinced it to come on time.

Your week had gone terribly. Today worst of all. A stockbroker on Wall Street, you had a high-stress job to begin with, and then add in the impatient dealers and buyers wanting to get their trades in before the long weekend and it became almost unbearable. You’d never been so happy to yell TGIF to your coworkers the second the clock struck seven and you could leave.

“Finally,” you mumbled as the L train glided into the station, two minutes behind schedule, better than usual. Few people joined you on the train so it was easy to fall into the seat of your choice. You debated resting your overworked head against the grimy window but decided against it. Of course, to add on to the week, you had forgotten your headphones, so daydreaming would have to pass the forty-five minute commute.

You couldn’t deny New York was a pretty fantastic city, its transit system notwithstanding; the view while crossing the bridge into Brooklyn was stellar. However, the further the train got away from the city of bright lights and no sleep the more you could feel yourself relaxing, a smile even appearing for the first time in hours. That smile stayed on while you stepped over the threshold of your apartment, inhaling the scent of home that you missed so terribly. You felt better, but not quite good enough, so you texted your boyfriend seeing if he wanted to come over for a late dinner.

Spaghetti was boiling on the stove when Steve let himself in, whistling. Your face lit up when you noticed him toe off his shoes and approach you for a much-needed hug.

Another prayer of yours: that he never runs out of hugs. Somehow they make everything better.

“Hi honey.” Steve pulled you into his side while you stirred the pasta and he pecked your forehead. “How was your day?”

You groaned in answer.

“That bad, huh?”

“So bad...I’ve never been happier to be home. Rumlow was breathing over my shoulder all day about the new account I picked up, and he only stopped after I threatened to staple his tie to the desk. God,” you exhaled, going over to the sink to drain the pasta, “please give me the strength to do it one day.”

Steve’s chuckle echoed as he moved to the next room to set the table. “I don’t know why he’s the favourite in your office, he sounds like a jerk.”

“He is. Please ask my boss that at the next holiday party, if you do I’ll do anything you want.”

Steve poked his head through the kitchen doorway to look at you with a goofy expression. “Anything?”

“Mind out of the gutter, Rogers!”

“You said it, not me,” he winked, his playful grin disappearing. Once they were cool, you scooped up the noodles and poured tomato sauce over them. You handed Steve a plate when you sat down at the table, him picking up his fork and twirling the spaghetti immediately. Looking up, he laughed when you tossed your napkin at him.

“I meant going to see the exhibit at the Smithsonian you’ve been talking about!”

“Are you sure?”

You tried to look away to stop a laugh from bubbling up except he was so cute you couldn’t help but tug at his arm for a kiss. It was one way of not having to fully answer what he asked, plus he missed your lips before. Steve had been here fifteen minutes and you already felt a thousand times better, an effect you always appreciated about his presence. You hoped you did the same for him in his times of hardship.

“Yes. How are you?”

“I’m good! I had a lunch meeting today at the best coffee shop, I have to take you, you’d love it. The guy I met was from Redwing Designs and he was very interested in working with us…”

He launched into the details of his firm’s upcoming building deal and you listened intently. Architecture was a fascinating topic when Steve talked about it; his whole face lit up and his eyes sparkled when you asked follow-up questions about a particular topic.

You talked happily through dinner and the clean-up, before settling in to watch the show you’d started together. You snuggled up to his side and watched him flick through the Netflix guide. Season 4 had promised to be even more dramatic than the previous ones and you both were excited to see it play out.

“Oh, Y/N, about the Smithsonian: I do have a couple free passes...wanna go?”

“Now?” you asked, taking hold of Steve’s arm and squeezing it. “It's closed, hon.”

“Not now,” he confirmed, resting his hand on your hip to bring you more into him. “It’s up to you, but tomorrow works.”

“It does for me too, let's go!”

“But we should be there early.”

“Okay.”

“So you’ll get up?”

“Definitely. I bought a loud alarm clock.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“...what time does it open?”

Being cute must be a gift for him, for he was even when bashful. “Six thirty.”

You blinked.

“I know, I know, but it gets busy,” Steve said, pressing a quick kiss to your lips to prevent you from reaching for your phone and checking the opening times to see if he was serious. “It’s a really popular exhibit.”

“Not a problem, Stevie, we’ll go before the crowds.” Your hand rested on his chest to trace random patterns, knowing how much it would mean to him if he was the first one in line. The exhibit was right up his alley.

“It’s a date.”

His fingers ran through the strands of your hair and he started the show. You watched many episodes, possibly too many, since both of you began drifting off in the middle of particularly drama-filled scenes. You’d have to rewind, but Steve was so comfortable and he’d have to move to get the remote. Not an option if you could help it.

“Y/N, hon. It’s late, I should get home,” Steve murmured, shaking you oh so gently. You stopped his sleepy limbs from leaving and looked at him through half-lidded eyes. “Stay the night, please?”

He nodded, a smile stretching from ear to ear, one so bright it beat the television. “Okay. Let’s go to bed, we might get sore necks here.”

“Sounds good,” you yawned while standing and pulling Steve to his feet. He enveloped you in a great big bear hug and you stayed like that a minute, using each other as a headrest until you felt yourselves about to fall asleep standing up.

”Let’s not fall over...that might make us more sore.”

You made a noise of agreement and let go.

Steve had clothes and a toothbrush at your place so your night routines were quick and simple. While brushing your teeth you poked your head into your bedroom, where he was settling under the sheets. You observed while he fluffed with the pillows, making a face as he fiddled; after a few moments he switched the one on his side for the one on yours.

You knew your bed. He had just made sure you got the fluffier pillow.

If it was possible to melt like an ice cube, you would have been a puddle on the floor. How did you get so lucky to be dating him? He even let your wear his sweater to sleep, even though he might not get it back right away.

Since you weren’t made of ice, you melted into his embrace instead, nuzzling your face into his shirt and grasping at his back to get him closer.

“Thank you for dinner,” he said in a whisper close to your ear.

“Thanks for coming. You always make everything better.”

“Anytime, Y/N, I’m always here for you.”

“And me, you.”

After you adjusted the blankets so he wouldn't get cold you both said your goodnights and immediately fell asleep, curled into each other.

Saturday, 5:36 am

There should be other methods for waking up. Alarm clocks were rude and persistent, two qualities that your least favourite colleague possessed and that you couldn’t stand as a duo. Therefore, alarm clocks were almost as bad as Brock Rumlow. They only won because you could press a button to make them be quiet, a luxury you were not afforded when dealing with the human counterpart.

You felt around the bed for Steve, the result being warm sheets and no body. Frowning at the air temperature when you sat up and put your feet on the floor, you pulled the hood of Steve’s sweater over your head and opened your bedroom door, eyes still closed. A promise was a promise. Meaning you needed to get ready for the museum and by extension it meant getting up.

There was a benefit to sleeping at your apartment: you’d mastered the art of walking from your bed to the coffeemaker without having to see. Your mental map allowed you to do this without bumping into furniture, so you didn’t slow until you heard the music that grew louder as you approached the kitchen, music that you were pretty sure was 2000s-era Shakira. Yes, it was ‘Hips Don’t Lie’.

Opening your eyes, you were greeted to your very first sight of the morning, of Steve meandering around your kitchen, a whisk in one hand and a bowl in the other while he stirred pancake mix and mouthed the words of the song. His hair was sticking up in all directions and he was in a t-shirt and boxers and he was dancing.

All you could think was:

I love him so much.

You leaned against the doorway, hands in sweater pockets and amused eyes on your boyfriend. At the chorus he turned to the pan and poured the mix, the whole time swinging his hips; it was a movement that did everything to accentuate his booty-fullness, if that was even a word. If not then Steve was the new definition. A sweater paw had to cover your mouth when he threw his head back to hit a perfect high note after he flipped the pancake.

The longer you were the audience to this one-man performance the bigger your smile became, and the bigger the realization of how in love with him you were, until you couldn't help but pad over and slide your arms around his waist.

“Who the--? Y/N?”

“Morning, Steve.”

“H-how long have you been up?”

Somewhat reluctantly he put the spatula down and turned so he was leaning against the counter. You stepped between his legs so he wouldn't wiggle away and ran your hands down his sides.

“Long enough to see you moving your hips like Shakira.”

His face reddened and oh my, did you love him. “I thought you were asleep. You weren't supposed to see, I was making breakfast...” A finger pointed between a vague direction of your bedroom and a pile of fresh pancakes, yet now his mouth didn't seem to want to work. It was opening and closing without any sound coming out.

“Hey,” you said softly. To get his magnificent blue eyes to meet yours you ran a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. You loved him deeper than the cracks in your ceiling, more than morning coffee, and you thought you would burst if you kept those feelings inside. No matter that you hadn't said the words to each other yet. Right now you were so full of love for Steve Rogers that you almost didn't care if he didn't say it back. “I love you.”

His mouth did the thing again and with a sheepish half-smile, “Even after that show?”

You nodded, grinning. “Hips don’t lie, and yours told a story I’d like to be part of.”

“Your chapter is the best one,” he whispered, a full smile decorating his face as he brought you chest to chest. “I love you too, Y/N.”

Both of you said it a couple more times, trying out the words that tasted so sweet on the tongue. You felt so giddy you could fly to the Smithsonian, and it was all because of the man in front of you, who you loved and who loved you.

Steve reached over and turned off the stove so the last pancakes wouldn't burn, and then said he loved you. You added them to the heaping plate, said you loved him.

Personally, you thought the pancakes wouldn't need syrup--the three words would be sweet enough.

Shakira looped again, and you burst into giggles; the song must've been playing for quite a while before you got up. Steve quickly joined in when you asked him if this was true.

“Yeah. I’m a dork.”

“You're my dork, and I’m yours.”

“Awww.”

He pushed off the counter and took your hands to start dancing again, in which you eagerly took part. The performance definitely wasn’t as good as Shakira herself, but hey, it was early and fun. All good.

So maybe love at first sight does exist. But it doesn't have to be the moment you meet a blind date, or meet someone you’ll see at work. It doesn't even have to be the moment you lock eyes with a stranger across the room.

For you, it was at 5:45 on a sleepy Saturday morning where the very first picture of your day was Steve dancing and singing around in your kitchen. He was love at first sight. And that was much, much better.

Tags (open!): @wndas-romanoff , @canumoveyourseatup-no , @fxckmebuck , @langinator , @seeyainanothalifebrotha , @secondstartotheright-imagines , @the-renaissance , @miraisnotavailable , @winchesterandpie , @whyisbuckyso , @supernatural-girl97 , @bootypoppinbarnes , @sanjariti , @aekr , @rotisserierogers , @stevnsbucks , @engineeringgirlcve

#BladeHits2kChallenge #writing challenge #some enchanted morning #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers fluff #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fic #captain america oneshot #captain america fluff #thewinterswimmer #chrissy.words

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lindseyluvsdrag · 7 years ago

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Afterbirth Part 1

Aesthetic by @xximagoddamnmermaidxx

TW: Smut

6 months old, December 24th

---

Susan watched with judgmental eyes as Violet carefully applied the organic diaper rash cream to Clark's inner thighs.

“I don't know why you're paying $89 for a two ounce tube of shit that probably works as well as the $3.99 jar.”

“Because,” a clearly agitated Violet emphasized, “I don't want to just put random chemicals on my baby. I use organic and natural products only.”

“Well, I used the $3.99 jar on Matty and he turned out just fine.”

Violet scoffed. “Matthew claims that he can smell colors. I don't know what fried his brain, but it won't happen to Clark.”

“Yeah, with organic diapers that probably gave her the rash in the first place.”

“All babies get diaper rash at least once,” she said in exasperation. “Anything that irritates their sensitive skin: frequent bowel movements, chafing from the friction- don't act like I'm a bad mother, Susan.”

The woman defensively raised her hands. “I didn't say that. I just think you're wasting money.”

“It's my money! If I want to ‘waste’ it on my baby, then I can!”

Fresh out of the shower and still covered in a few suds, Matt swiftly descended the stairs as he secured the towel around his waist. “What's going on?”

“Your mother is judging my parenting skills!”

“Am not! I just said that organic products are unnecessary. Matty, you turned out fine with chemicals, snack cakes and full sodium foods. You've had so much sodium in your life that you could probably crap a salt lick.”

“I don't even…want that imagery,” Matt grumbled as she shook his head. “Mom, just please let Violet do her thing.”

“So I can't have an input on my only child's child?”

“You can have opinions, but don't judge her.”

“These are my opinions!”

“But it's not constructive criticism. It just comes across as attacking,” Violet retorted.

Susan scoffed. “You're just sensitive.”

Violet exploded so the woman shouted back, effectively startling the baby who immediately began to wail.

“Look at what you did,” Violet groaned as she cradled Clark before storming up the stairs. “When you're ready to apologize, we'll be in the nursery!” She slammed the door closed behind her.

“Good job, Mom,” Matt whispered as he rushed to remove the small box from its secret hiding spot in the grits box before dropping it into the pink stocking hanging on the mantle above the fireplace embroidered 'Violet’.

“Why do you have to play on Violet's hatred for me to manipulate her? Why can't you just propose like a normal person?”

“Ssshhhh!” he desperately hushed. “I've planned this thing, step by step, for weeks. She's mad now and maybe Clark got a little scared but it'll all be worth it once she sees the ring.”

“Can I see that thing again? Are you sure she'll like it?”

Matt grabbed the box and ushered his mother behind the massive evergreen that Violet and Clark had covered in shimmery pink ornaments. He lifted the lid.

“Yeah... I don't know, Matty,” Susan said as she assessed the custom made heart ring with an 'L’ stamped into the middle of it. “It's certainly not... traditional.”

“We’re not a traditional couple so, of course not. She will have the imprint and I'll have the imprintee.”

“Huh?”

“Have you ever seen the rings Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy on SpongeBob have? They interlock like puzzle pieces or something! My ring will have an ‘L’ and it'll match perfectly to this one so that when we fist bump, it'll be all matchy and romanticcc.”

“What's the 'L’ stand for? Lent?”

“Love, Mom! God, keep up!” Matt returned the box to Violet's stocking and gave his mother a giddy look before going stoic. “Now, to repair the 'damage’ you've done,” he joked before rushing up the stairs two steps at a time. He opened the door to the nursery but froze when he heard a sobbing Violet venting to their baby.

“God, I just feel so fucking trapped sometimes. I love you, Clark but why did Matthew have to be your father? I just can't fucking stand Susan. He doesn't even stand up to her. Like, are you even a fucking man? I don't regret you, baby, but why the fucking Lents? It's just, ugh.”

Matt pulled the door to a soft close and returned down the stairs.

“Well, that was fast,” Susan said. “Wait, what are you doing?” she asked as she watched Matt snatch the small box from Violet's stocking prior to storming into the nearest bathroom and flushing the symbol of love down the toilet. “Matty, wha-”

“The only reason I'm with that woman is for Clark's sake,” he sniveled. The declaration was made to protect his own feelings as the tears began to brew. Before they could, Matt rushed out of the back door to be with his dogs.

“Once he's with the boys, let him be,” Susan mumbled as a reminder to give the man his space. ---

“No, I don't mean that,” Violet sighed as she wiped her eyes. “I'm still shaking this postpartum shit off and I swear that I love you and your father and I wouldn't change either of you for the world. I just...ugh, I hate being so emotional, you know?”

Clark reached up and grabbed her mother's nose.

The woman smiled. “I love you too.”

---

Once the baby was down for her nap, Violet slowly descended the stairs into the living room.

Susan glanced at her. “I'm sorry for being such a judgemental bitch. I'll keep all future opinions to myself. If I want to raise another baby, I should have one instead of forcing my dated ideals onto you,” she robotically recited.

Violet folded her arms. “Thank you, but you have to apologize to Clark as well.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Will do.”

“Where's Matthew?”

“Out back.”

“He's in the snow with no clothes on?!”

“The dog house.”

“Oh…” Violet knew that it was serious when the man opted to spend time in the dog mansion that he'd built for his buddies rather than attempting to sneak them into the basement while her head was turned. The woman geared herself in a coat, cap and boots before rushing out of the back door. She sloshed through the foot of fluffy snow until she reached the heated dog playhouse. “Hey,” she greeted, closing the door behind her.

“Where's Clark?” Matt asked without looking at her.

“Napping. You okay?”

“I'm fine,” the man said coldly. “Here, Loki,” he cooed as he blew kisses. “Heyyy, buddy.”

“You don't look fine,” Violet replied.

“Then break up with me,” Matt said nonchalantly.

The woman made a face. “I meant that you're in a blizzard with nothing on but a towel, not that you're not ‘fine’ as in attractive. You know that could never be the case,” she said suggestively. “You're sexy, babe.”

“Dr. Doom, be niceee.” He laughed. “Oh, you guys kill me.”

Never the one to be ignored for an animal, Violet stormed over and stood in front of her boyfriend. “What's your problem?”

“I don't have a problem.”

She pouted. “You're ignoring me.”

“Oh, boo fucking hoo. You're not the center of attention for once. Go cry about it, or better yet, dump me.”

“Matthew, I don't want to dump you! Why do you keep saying that?!”

Matt thought about Clark. “I'm sorry,” he sighed. “I'm just under a lot of stress at work.”

“Really? I thought you loved your job.”

“Of course I do. Doesn't mean that there isn't the competition of the next guy trying to come along and take your spot.”

“Oh.” She softly grazed her fingernails along his hand. “Is there anything I can do to help you relieve some stress?”

“You could leave me alone with my boys.”

“Shit, true. Doing it in front of dogs isn't cute. I'll see you inside?”

Matt nodded. “Unless I get blessed with invisibility.”

Violet laughed, stole a kiss and rushed out of the front door. Loki followed her out of the doggie entrance flap but quickly returned inside when he was reminded of the snow.

The man chuckled. “See? Don't chase women. They do nothing but lie, freeze you out and break your heart.”

---

With a little wine, lit candles and sexy holiday lingerie, Violet was thoroughly prepared for Matt when he finally returned inside.

“Ho, ho, ho,” she said seductively.

Matt couldn't deny that the woman looked amazing and he couldn't fight his manly urges, so when Violet beckoned him over, he complied.

---

“Oh my God, Matthewwww,” Violet moaned as the man aggressively slammed into her from the behind. She wasn't used to his masculine grunts or him roughly tugging on her hair, but she definitely wasn't complaining. “Fuck, babe! It's all yours!” Violet squealed as her legs began to tremble in the midst of her Earth shattering orgasm while Matt panted as she filled his condom.

After pulling out and cleaning up, Violet was used to cuddling so it took her by surprise when Matt rolled onto his side away from her and went straight to sleep.

“I love you,” she whispered.

The man replied with a snore.

---

“And then he just fell asleepppp,” Violet whined into the phone.

“Maybe he was just really tired, Vi,” Naomi said in attempt to calm her friend. “Was the sex bad?”

“No! It was the best it's been since I was pregnant, maybe even better but there wasn't any intimacyyyy.”

“So would you rather have lackluster, cuddle sex or cold, amazing sex?”

Violet sniffled as scheduled thought. “Cold and amazing,” she finally rushed. “Sorry for bothering you with this nonsense.”

“It's not nonsense, we all need a push towards the obvious choice sometimes.”

---

On Christmas morning, everyone was up bright and early. Clark was showered in so many trinkets and toys that she didn't know what she wanted to play with first. When the six month old was occupied by the plush Superman blanket that her father had given her, it forced her parents to interact.

“She looks so happy,” Violet sighed. “That's all I ever wanted, for her to be happy.”

“Me too.”

The woman smiled at her boyfriend. “Having both her parents here makes all the difference.”

“Agreed,” Matt said as he entered the verbal agreement that made him tolerate a woman that he didn't think loved him for the sake of his child.

Violet held the fresh mistletoe over Matt's head. “Oh, wow what do we have here?”

The man chuckled. If the beautiful woman wanted to pretend to be in love with him, he didn't see a problem with going along with it. Matt wrapped his arms around Violet and pulled her into a kiss.

---

2 years old

“Are you ready Clark?” Violet asked as she compulsively adjusted her daughter's dress and curls. “You have to smile big when you go down the aisle. And try to throw the flowers as evenly as you can. Okay?”

“I'm going to throw them everywhere!”

“No, baby, you can'tttttt. You have to make it nice and neat for Aunt Naomi and Auntie Raven, okay?”

“But I want to go crazy!” she giggled.

“Fine,” Violet sighed. “They knew what they were getting themselves into when they asked you to be the flower girl.”

“I'm the best flower girllll.”

“Of course you are, my love,” she said as grabbed the girl's hand and led her to the room where Naomi was getting dressed.

“Hi, Aunt Naomi!” Clark greeted excitedly. “You look so prettyyyy.”

“Aww, thank you, CC! So do you!”

The toddler spun in her puffy white taffeta dress and nearly toppled over.

“Be careful, sweetheart,” Violet pleaded.

“I ammmm.”

She looked at her friend and immediately became emotional. “Naomi, you look...so amazing. I couldn't imagine a more perfect dress.”

The woman gave a slow spin in her simple, fitted boat neckline dress. The draped cowl back gave the classic look some sex appeal and it was phenomenal on her flawless, statuesque figure.

“When we were five years old, did you ever imagine this day?”

“No,” Naomi said honestly through misty eyes. “And especially not to a woman,” she laughed.

Violet chuckled. “Raven’s not just any woman. You guys have been through so much together and you deserve all the happiness in the world.”

“Awww,” Naomi said as she wrapped her arms around her best friend. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Let's go get married.”

“Me too! Me too!” Clark cheered.

---

Raven anxiously waited at the altar in her fashion forward ivory jumpsuit with a plunging neckline until she heard the music that queued Violet down the aisle. As both maid of honor and the best friend of several years, the woman desperately wanted her Pippa Middleton moment. She slowly slinked towards the altar in a skin tight, sheer dress that only had delicately placed beaded embroidery to cover up her naughty parts, but the dress still left nothing to the imagination.

She winked at Matt and he smiled from his seat. Next down the aisle was Clark who marched in her ballerina flats as she, to her mother's dismay, tossed her white rose petals all over the place.

“Is it pretty?!” the toddler asked.

“Awww,” people said collectively. “Yes!”

Clark beamed from ear to ear as she continued and when she passed her father, she made sure to sprinkle a generous amount of petals on him.

“Now you're pretty,” she whispered before rushing to her spot next to Violet.

“Did I do good?”

“It was so good,” her mother assured.

“Here have some.” Clark scooped out more petals and offered them to her mother.

“No, no. You keep them in your basket...niceee and neat.”

Moments later, Naomi was walked down the aisle by her father who initially didn't understand her being transgender, but now he was definitely confused by his transgender daughter marrying a woman. But the man loved her enough to bite his tongue and support whatever she decided to do, even if she wouldn't take him up on the last minute offer to skip town in his Corvette.

He gave her away and the floodgates that were opened when the couple began to recite their vows didn't leave a dry eye in the house.

After the ceremony, Violet watched her friends first dance with a melancholy heart.

“What's wrong, Mommy?” Clark asked when she approached.

“Hm?” Violet turned to look at her daughter and nearly screamed at the sight of blue frosting that covered the girl's hands and area around her mouth. The woman pulled out her wipes and immediately went into cleaning mode.

“Are you sad, Mommy?” Clark asked again.

“No,” Violet sighed. “I'm just...do you know that you're two years old now?”

“Yes.”

“So that means I've been with your father for nearly three years.”

“That's a lotta years!”

“I knowww and…” Violet leaned in, “we haven't even talked about marriage.”

“Marriage?!” Clark squealed in excitement. “You wanna marry Daddy?!”

“Sssshhhhhh!” she hushed as she looked around. When she saw Matt at the bar, she exhaled and turned back to Clark. “Of course I want to marry your father. I love him.”

“Well then he needs to marry you so that I can put on another pretty dress.”

Violet frowned. “All of the dresses that I buy you are pretty.”

“Yes but I never get to wear them to weddings.”

She smiled. “Touche. Hey, listen, don't tell your father about this conversation, okay? You've always been my little confidant. Hell, I've been venting to you ever since you were a baby. Let's keep it a secret.”

“I can keep a secret,” Clark assured.

Violet kissed her head and finished wiping the last bits of frosting off of her daughter. “Thank you.”

“I have to get more cupcakes nowwww.”

The woman made a face before relenting. “Take these with you.” She gave Clark the wipes and watched her as she made her way to the dessert table. Clark grabbed two cupcakes and skipped towards her father.

“Here, Daddy!”

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart!”

Matt lifted the girl and placed her on the counter. Once he accepted his cupcake, they toasted with the baked goods and took a big bite out of each them.

“Are you having fun?” he asked.

“Yes. I like weddings. That's why you and Mommy should get married.”

Matt's eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

Clark nodded.

“What if I told you that I wanted to marry your mommy a long time ago but she said no?”

The girl gasped. “No way!”

“Yes way! Well, kind of. I just heard her say some things once and,” he sighed, “I just know she doesn't want to marry me.”

Clark frowned. “But she loves you.”

Matt grabbed his daughter and began to tickle her. “You know who loves who? I love you and that's all that matters!”

The girl giggled as she squirmed. “Heyyyy, you're driving me coconuts!”

Matt cackled and gave his daughter a firm squeeze before kissing her head. “Just because your mom and I aren't married, doesn't mean that I don't love you.”

“But you guys kisssss. Doesn't that mean you love each other?”

Matt cleared his throat. “Um, yes. I do love her bu-”

“You both love each other! People who love each other get married!”

“I'll think about it, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, ladiesss,” Naomi said into the microphone. “Who's going to catch my bouquet?”

Matt watched as Violet elbowed her way to the front of the crowd.

“3...2...1!” Naomi tossed the flowers over her head and Violet practically shoved a middle aged woman to the ground in order to catch them.

“Yayyyy, Mommy!” Clark cheered.

Violet raised her arms in victory before she glanced over at her family. She gave Matt a soft smile and the man sighed as he turned his attention back to the bartender. “Can I get another shot?”

“Can I have a shot?” Clark asked as she batted her long lashes.

“Yeah, a shot of milk, little lady.”

“I'll take that.”

---

Matt carried his milk and cupcake wasted child into the house as Violet followed suit.

“Give her to me. I'll wash her up before you put her in bed.”

“She's already sleeping, you can bathe her in the morning.”

“Matthew, I'm not putting my child into bed sticky and dirty.”

“Violet,” he retorted with attitude, “I'm not going to let you wake her to bathe her and make her cranky just for you to get frustrated and have me come in to fix it. Going to bed a little sticky will not kill either of you.”

“No, but I'm this close to killing you,” she retorted.

Matt scoffed. “You probably would, psycho. And then clean up the crime scene like I never lived here to begin with.”

“I wish you didn't live here.” The woman didn't mean it, but her pride never failed to get in the way when the couple argued.

“Oh, tell me something I don't know. You never wanted me around and I don't even know why you bothered to fake it all these years.”

“Fake what? I've never been fake in my life!”

“Fake the obvious lie that you love me! I know that you'd rather have anyone be Clark's father but me. That shit hurts but I fucking stuck around because I don't trust you. If we broke up, you'd probably take her away from me and God only knows who you'd have around her playing 'daddy’.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

Clark stirred and whimpered in her sleep.

“Just shut up,” Matt hissed before going up the stairs. He entered his daughter's room and placed her in her princess canopy bed prior to tiptoeing out. The second that he closed door, he was caught off guard by Violet's hand slapping him across the face.

“Don't you ever tell me to shut up!”

The man simply pursed his lips and descended the stairs.

Violet quickly followed him. “Matthew, I'm sorry,” she offered. “You're saying that I'm fake and that I don't love you and I don't know where that's even coming from.”

“So you hit me,” he chirped sarcastically. “

Brilliant logic.”

“I’m sorryyy,” she sniffled.

“Yeah, you are.” Matt grabbed the bourbon from the cabinet. “But not as sorry as you will be, love,” he said as he dropped the bottle and let it crash on the floor.

“What are you doing?!”

The man began to pull anything and everything he could get his hands on to the floor, making the biggest mess possible. Dishes, food and even the paintings on the wall were sent crashing to the hardwood in the man's rage fueled tantrum.

“Matthew, stop!” Violet pleaded.

Matt smashed a jar of pickles against the wall. “Oh, sorry, I didn't mean it!” the man said sarcastically. “I'll just hurt your feelings or slap you and then take it all back because I didn't mean it!” He paused to catch his breath before knocking the toaster over. “And then I'll leave you to pick up the pieces.” Matt stormed out of the room leaving Violet to sob and hyperventilate over the enormous mess.

Matt made his way up the stairs and froze when he saw Clark in the doorway of her bedroom.

“Is there a hur-a-cane?” she groggily asked as she rubbed her eyes.

“No, baby, there's not a hurricane. Go back to bed.”

“I don't wanna go back to beddd.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

“Paint.”

“Arts and crafts, huh?”

---

Violet cried until she was able to compose herself enough to trek to her cleaning closet. She opened the door and frowned when she didn't see her hazmat suit. Violet heard Clark giggle.

“I like this one, Daddy!”

The woman rushed up the stairs, opened the door to her daughter's bedroom and screamed when she saw that the father/daughter duo had cut her hazmat suit to shreds so that they could use it for their artwork.

“Look, Mommy, I made you a flower,” the girl said excitedly as she rushed to hand over the bundle of glitter covered hazmat plastic.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Matthew,” Violet said through a clenched jaw. “May I speak to you outside for a second?”

“Nope.”

“We're busy, Mommy.”

“Clark Christine Lent, was I speaking to you?”

The girl pouted. “No.”

“Precisely, therefore I didn't need your input. And look! You've got glitter and paint in your carpet! What did I tell you about using that stuff in your room?!”

“But Daddy, said it was okay,” Clark sniveled.

“It is okay,” Matt said nonchalantly as he grabbed the bottle of blue paint and squeezed a glob into the light colored carpet.

Violet swore that she heard something inside of her snap. She calmly made her way downstairs, grabbed her phone and called her sister.

“Hello?”

“Rose, do you think Clark can spend the night with you? I don't want her to see this.”

“See what?”

“Me killing her father.”

---

A few minutes later, Rose arrived and Clark was ushered towards the front door.

“Wait, you didn't ask me if it was okay if Clark could go somewhere,” Matt said.

“But I want to go, Daddyyyy,” the toddler whined.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I'll miss you.”

“I know.”

“You know?!” he asked dramatically as he pulled the giggling girl into his arms. “See you later, munchkin.”

The second that Clark rushed out of the door with Rose, Matt was ambushed by Violet jumping onto his back and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“What the-”

“Die, motherfucker!”

The man dropped to his knees and when her chokehold began to cut off his air supply, he purposefully drooled on her arm; a surefire way to get her to let go.

“Eww!” Violet squealed as she released and then shoved the man before pulling him into a headlock.

Matt grabbed the woman's thighs and pinched them as hard as he could.

“Owww!”

“Let me go,” he wheezed.

“Not until you're dead! Now apologize for making such a huge fucking mess!”

“Kiss my ass!”

Violet tightened her grip on the man's neck while he twisted the sensitive skin on her thighs even harder. They both groaned out in pain and demanded for the other to give up when Clark burst back into the house, pausing when she saw them.

“Clark, baby,” Violet panted in a shaky voice. “What are you doing back?”

“I forgot Lex Luthor,” she said as she grabbed her teddy bear while her eyes stayed curiously fixated on her parents. “Is this what Mommy and Daddy time looks like?”

“...Yes,” her mother replied unconvincingly.

“Okay. Have fun!” she cheered before rushing back out, closing the front door behind her.

Her parents sighed in relief before their quarrel continued.

“Say uncle!” Violet shouted.

“As soon as you let me go!”

“Never!”

Violet swung her arm and delivered a punch to Matt's face. The man couldn't believe that she'd hit him like that. Completely annoyed, he used his arms to knock Violet on her ass and with her arms still wrapped around his neck, she took Matt with her.

The man bit into the woman's left boob and she hollered as she finally let go.

“You fucking animal!”

“You punched me!”

Violet attempted to swing again, but Matt slammed her arms against the hardwood.

“Oww,” she whined.

“Stop trying to hit me in the fucking face!”

“You're getting out of control! You and Clark drew on the walls: Fine. I let it go and we played in the water. But then you let her go to bed all sticky, look at what you did to the kitchen! And worst of all, my hazmat suit! You went too fucking far, Matthew!”

“No, going too far is having a baby by someone you don't even love!”

Violet's bottom lip began to quiver. “You don't love me?”

“You don't love me!” he shouted as he pushed away from her. “I remember it like it was yesterday! Christmas Eve, two years ago, Clark was like six months old. You were fighting with my Mom and you stormed upstairs with the baby. I go up there to see if you're okay and you said, and I'll never fucking forgot it, ‘I just feel so fucking trapped sometimes. I love you, Clark but why did Matthew have to be your father?’”

Violet didn't recall saying it, but she didn't put it past herself as something she'd say while upset.

“Who else would be her fucking father?!” he shouted as he punched the wall, effectively leaving a fist sized hole. “Without me, she wouldn't even be Clark and you wouldn't have that amazing little girl as a daughter! Bitch!” the man fumed as he released two years of pent up anger and resentment. “I've stayed this long for the baby, but fuck it. I can't live like this anymore.”

At this point, the woman was sobbing but she managed to get her words out clearly. “Matthew, this is all some big misunderstanding, okay? You have to believe that.”

Matt rolled his eyes as he made his way up the stairs and quickly Violet followed him, barely catching the door in time so that he couldn't lock her out. She watched in pain as the man began to pack.

“What are you doing?” she sniveled.

“I’m leaving.”

“Matthew, you can't do that. What about Clark?”

“I'd prefer it if my child grew up with parents who hate each other rather than no parents because one is dead and the other is in jail for their murder.”

“But we do love each other!” Violet cried. “Nobody wants to murder anybody.”

“Speak for yourself,” he grumbled as he messily tossed the rest of his things into his luggage. He locked it, snatched it up and began to make his way down stairs. “I'll be back to see Clark tomorrow.”

“But you can see her all the time if you just stayed! Matthew, I love you! What am I supposed to do without you?!”

Matt opened the front door but then paused, making Violet's teary eyes grow wide with hope.

“Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn,” he said coldly prior to continuing out of the door, leaving Violet to fall to the hardwood as her sobbing became uncontrollable then hysterical before she passed out on the foyer floor.

---

Violet had no idea what time it was when she crawled up the stairs, but when she found a mirror and saw the dark bags under her eyes, her matted curls, her uncountable bruises and ripped gown, the woman burst into tears all over again.

---

Matt strolled up to the hotel counter and the wide eyed receptionist reluctantly greeted him.

“Can I get a fucking room?” he asked.

“Umm...ye-yes. Should I call an ambulance as well?”

“Why would you call an-”

She held up her phone's reflective case and the man was finally able to see all the damage that Violet had done.

“Well damn,” he exhaled. “I didn't know that I was bleeding.” The man snatched a few Kleenex out of the box on the counter and placed them against his nose. “Bitch can't weigh more than 118 soaking wet and she manages to black my eye and put me into a fucking chokehold that almost made me black out. How was I supposed to react to that? I leave before I kill her, that's what I do,” the man angrily ranted to himself.

The receptionist slowly moved her hand to trigger the alarm, but she froze when Matt turned to look at her.

“I need a room for three nights,” he demanded.

“We’re all booked!” the woman shouted in fear before rushing out of the door behind the counter.

---

“She put you in a headlock?!” Shea asked over the FaceTime call before bursting into laughter.

Matt puffed out his marijuana smoke. “That's not funny!”

“It is though! I didn't think she had it in her.”

“She's a psychopath.”

“True, but you love her.”

Matt scoffed. “Fuck all the way off.”

“You do. You're just hurt over what happened and you held that in for so long that it's driving you crazy. But if you didn't love her, you wouldn't have given a fuck and you would've left a long time ago.”

“I stayed for the baby.”

“Oh, bullshit. I hate when people use their kids as an excuse to stay miserable. You stayed because you love her and you won't convince me otherwise. In fact, every time you call me, it's to talk shit and complain about her.”

The man took a puff of his blunt. “You look really pretty in that lighting.”

Shea rolled her eyes.

“Leave your boyfriend so we can get remarried.”

“You're funny.”

He chuckled as he blew out smoke. “I love you. Always have, always will.”

“Ditto, babe.”

“I'm going to try and get some sleep. I need strength in case she wants to go for a round two in the morning.”

“Take it easy on her. Wouldn't want to break your baby mama’s arm.”

Matt cackled. “Maybe I do.”

Shea simply shook her head and blew her ex-husband a kiss. “Later.”

---

“Please don't stain, please don't stain,” Violet whimpered as she scrubbed the tomato paste out of the hardwood. She heard the doorbell ring and reluctantly left the mess to go answer it.

“Oh my God,” Rose gasped when she saw the red spots on her sister's dress. “You really did it didn't you? That's his blood!”

“What? Oh- no! This is tomato paste, I'm cleaning.”

“Violet, you can be honest with me. If you did do it, let's get you out of the country now.”

“Matthew is alive...but I don't know if I am,” she sniffled. “He left.”

Rose pulled her sister into an embrace. “It'll be okay.”

“Mommy, Mommy!” Clark shouted as she rushed inside, followed by Clover. “I had waffles and Clover and me made cookies! See!”

Violet quickly put on a happy expression but Clark knew better.

“That's wonderful, sweetheart. I'm sure those cookies taste amazingggg.”

“What's wrong, Mommy? What happened to your dress? You stayed in it the entire night?” she asked, knowing that it was strange for her mother to do such a thing.

“Yeah, I was really busy last night.”

“With Mommy and Daddy time?”

Rose and Clover made faces.

“We'll take Clark to get ice cream,” her aunt offered. “You want ice cream, Clark?”

“No, I want to stay with Mommy.”

Violet nodded, assuring her sister that everything would be okay.

“Do you need help with anything?”

“No, we're fine. I'll see you guys later.”

The family shared hugs and kisses before Rose and Clover exited.

“Your dress is dirty, Mommy.”

“I know, sweetheart, it's okay. I'll get another.”

“Where is Daddy?”

“He's not here right now.”

“Are you mad at him?”

“Um…no.”

“Did you talk to him about a weddinggg?” she asked, large blue eyes full of hope.

“No,” Violet said honestly.

Clark frowned. “Grownups are so slow.”

Her mother laughed. “True. Let's go get cleaned up.”

“Can I pick you something to wear?”

“Of course, darling. And then we'll play the clean up game, okay?”

“Okay!” she chirped as she skipped along.

---

Matt took a deep breath as he made his way up the cobblestone path to the front door. With donuts in hand, he reluctantly entered his home and wasn't surprised by the floral scented cleaners that wafted through the air.

“Clark?” he called.

“Daddyyyy!”

The toddler came sprinting out of the living room and into her father's arms.

“Heyyy, princess!”

Clark gasped when she saw Matt's cuts and bruises. She placed both of her hands on her father's cheeks. “What happened to youuu?”

“I got into a fight.”

“With who?”

“Umm...Harley Quinn.”

Clark scowled. “I'll kick Harley Quinn's ass.”

Matt couldn't help but cackle. “Baby, don't say ass.”

“Well, if she kicked your ass, I'm gonna have to kick her ass.”

The man snorted. “Thank you, Clark. But say kick her butt because ass is a bad word.”

“Ohh...well, Mommy and I will both kick her butt! Mommy!”

“No, why are you calling her?” Matt rushed in a whisper.

“She has to see this and access this situation.”

“Access?” he chuckled at her misuse of the word.

“Yes! Mommyyyyyyy!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Matt intervened. “I brought you donuts.”

She paused. “Jelly ones?”

He scoffed dramatically. “Of course jelly ones.”

“Yayyyy!”

Matt sighed in relief over the girl's short attention span as he placed her to the floor and handed her the box.

Clark swiftly accepted the gift and ran to find her mother. “Mommyyyy, Daddy brought donuts!”

Matt groaned.

When her daughter rushed back into the living room, Violet closed her book. “What happened, sweetie?”

“Daddy brought donuts because Harley Quinn kicked his ass.”

“Clark Christine,” her mother chastised.

“I mean, kicked his butt. Look at his face, Mommy! You have to make his boo-boos better!” Clark waited for her father to round the corner, but when he didn't, she placed the donuts in Violet's hands and rushed around the corner. Matt was nowhere to be found. “Daddyyyy!” she shouted up the stairs. The man didn't respond, leaving the toddler with no choice but to cry as she rushed back to her mother.

Violet placed the donuts to the side. “What's wrong, Clark?”

“Daddy is gone! He's hurt and he's gone!” she sobbed.

The woman sighed. “Do you want me to call him?”

“Yes!”

Violet pulled out her cell phone and called the man who took at least six rings to answer.

“Hello?”

She quickly handed the phone to her daughter. “Hello? Daddy?” Clark sniveled.

There was nothing worse in this world to the man than hearing his daughter cry. It made him feel ten times as worse as Violet's tears used to, and it was truly his kryptonite.

“Baby, why are you crying?” he asked weakly.

“You left me!”

“No, I didn't, Clark. I'm in the driveway and I'm coming back into the house now.”

The girl dropped the phone and sprinted towards the front door, making perfect timing to jump into her father's arms. When she continued to sob, Matt squeezed her even tighter.

“Baby, I'd never, ever, ever, ever, leave you without saying goodbye. Do you know that?”

“Yes,” she sniffled. “But you upset meeee.”

The words felt like a dagger to Matt's heart. “How did I upset you?”

“You have to let Mommy and me fix your boo-boos before they get injected!”

“Injected?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, sweetheart,” Matt sighed as he kissed her head. “I'm so sorry for upsetting you. It won't happen again.”

Clark wiped her eyes. “Okay.” She shimmied out of her father's arms and pulled him along until they reached the living room. “See, Mommy! Look at what Harley Quinn did!” the girl fumed as she folded her arms.

“Oh nooo,” Violet said, barely convincing the child.

“Well?! Go get your first-aids kit!”

“But he's not bleeding.”

“But he is hurt!” Clark shrieked, quickly growing exhausted by her parents lack of understanding for the severity of the situation. “You love him so fix it!”

“You're right, Clark. I do love him...so I'll do my best to fix it.”

Matt understood the underhanded nature of the comment and rolled his eyes.

“Sit down, Daddy,” Clark ordered. “Mommy, we need that first-aids kit, now!”

“Is this the emergency room?” Matt asked.

The toddler nodded.

“Are you a nurse or a doctor?”

“Nurse.”

“May I please have some water then?”

“Coming up!”

While Clark rushed into the kitchen, Violet returned to the living room. Matt refused to even look up at her.

“Listen, um,” the woman began, “I want to be in this uncomfortable situation just as much as you do. All I can say is that I'm sorry, but I don't know what else I'm supposed to do to fix this.”

“Hmmm, have you tried eating a pound of garlic?”

“But I'm allergic to...oh.”

“Here's your water, Daddy,” Clark chirped as she rushed around the corner with a bottle.

“Thank you, Nurse.”

“You're welcome. Now, be a good patient and let Mommy doctor fix you. Don't be a crybaby.”

Matt laughed. “I'm never a crybaby.”

“You are sometimesss.”

“What?! When?”

“When Mommy plucks your eyebrows.”

“Hey, hey, that was once and only because I lost a bet.”

Clark giggled.

“Why you laughin’ at yo Daddy's pain, girl?”

“Cause it's funny sometimes.”

“Fair enough.”

Clark climbed onto the couch and stood next to her seated father while Violet retrieved her first-aid kit. She grabbed the Neosporin and gently began to dab it along his black eye and cut nose bridge. Matt winced.

“Sorry,” Violet said softly.

“It’s okay,” Clark assured.

Matt fought the urge to smile.

“Is that better, Daddy? Is Mommy a good doctor?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Matt sighed. “Yes, Mommy is a good doctor.”

“She takes care of both of us.”

“Mm hmm. She surely does,” he said dryly.

“This is why we need to do a wedding!” Clark squealed.

“What wedding?” her parents asked collectively.

The toddler threw her arms in the air out of sheer frustration. “Your wedding!”

“Clark,” Matt exhaled. “There won't be a wedding.” He cleared his throat. “Um, Mommy and I are breaking up.”

Clark frowned. “What does that mean?”

“We... I-I won't be Mommy's boyfriend anymore.”

The girl gasped. “Why not?!” She aggressively grabbed Matt's cheeks. “Mommy is the most beautiful woman in the world!”

“I know she is.”

“No you don't if you don't want to be her boyfriend!”

“It's not that I don't want to be her boyfriend, I just...hey, do I really have to explain my relationship problems to you?”

She squeezed her father's cheeks even harder. “Yes!”

“You want me to be to honest?”

“Yes.”

“I don't think your Mom loves me as much as I love her.”

“No,” Clark protested. “She loves you and thinks you're more handsome than Thor.”

Matt laughed.

“She does! Don't you, Mommy?”

Violet bashfully tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “I do.”

“See, Daddy? She thinks you're hot stuff.”

Both her parents laughed.

“Seeeeee, you guys love each other.”

“Of course I love your Mom, but I can't be with her.”

Clark dramatically fell back onto the couch. “That doesn't make senseeee!”

“It doesn't have to make sense to you, little lady. All you need to know is that we love you and that you'll always be taken care of.”

“But I'm not happyyyy,” she groaned.

“Why not, Clark Lent?” Matt asked as he placed his hand underneath his chin.

“Because I'm only happy when Mommy is happy and now she's not happy! She wants to marry you but you don't even want to be her boyfriend! You're driving me coconuts!”

Violet pursed her lips in embarrassment over the girl's revealing rant. “Um, I have to go to the bathroom.”

When Violet left the room, Matt turned to Clark. “Mommy wants to marry me?”

“Yes! She told me.”

“Wow…” Matt exhaled.

“She loves you and you're being so self-righteous.”

“Self-righteous? Where are you getting all of these big words?”

Clark folded her arms.

“Are you ignoring me?”

“Hmph!” the girl huffed as she turned away from the man.

“Oh noooo, not Grumpy Clark. What can I do to fix it?”

She continued to ignore him.

“So, when did Mommy tell you that she wanted to be married to me?”

“Yesterday,” the toddler grumbled.

“Oh…” So did her opinion on me change over the years or is she just saying that to tell Clark what she wants to hear? the man asked himself. “I'll go with the ladder.”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, sweetheart. Want to go to the zoo?”

Clark jumped up. “Yes!”

“Go get dressed.”

“Okay.” The toddler raced out of the room and up the stairs.

When Violet finally exited the bathroom, it was obvious to Matt that she'd been crying.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she said quietly.

“I'm going to take Clark to the zoo.”

“Okay.”

“So...yeah.”

“Daddy, can I wear my cape?!” Clark shouted down the stairs.

“Of course, sweetheart!” Matt pushed himself off the couch. “Do you need anything while we're out?”

Violet shook her head just as Clark skipped down the stairs. “I’m ready!”

“Alright.”

“Are you coming, Mommy?”

“No, I'm a little tired, baby. You'll have fun with Daddy.”

Clark frowned. “But the go-ril-lasssss, Mom!”

“They'll be there when I go next time.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Let's go, Daddy!”

“I'm coming. I'll start the car, you say bye to Mommy.”

Clark rushed towards her mother and Violet groaned as she picked her up. “You're getting so big, my love.”

“I'm growing up,” she chirped before cupping her hands around her mother's ear so that she could whisper. “Don’t worry about this, Mommy. Daddy will marry you because I have a plan.”

Violet sighed. “Okay, sweetheart. Have fun at the zoo. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

She kissed her daughter's cheek before returning her to the floor. The woman watched as Clark's cape floated through the air while she rushed out of the door. Violet was close behind to make sure that the girl made it out safety. After she was buckled into her carseat, Clark waved goodbye to her mother as the car sped away.

“Fuck, she's getting so big.” Feeling nostalgic, Violet made her way to the living room and dug out all of the old home videos. She popped in the first DVD and tears were brought to her eyes nearly instantly.

“Oh my Goddddd. I was so fatttt.”

Push, Violet, push! Matt encouraged on the video.

“I need a glass of wine for this.”

After settling onto the couch with her Merlot, Violet laughed at Matt's Spider-Man costume.

“Crazy man.”

---

Say Mama. Sayyyyy Mama! Violet prompted.

Her first word will be Dada, Matt intervened. Mark my wordsss.

The woman laughed. “I can't believe he was right,” she said as she took another sip of wine. “But of course. Dada has simpler syllables than Mama.” Violet popped in the next video.

Oh, fuck, Matthewwww, the woman moaned as Matt sucked on her clit.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Violet panicked as she rushed to eject the sex tape. “Why is that with Clark's baby videos?” The woman marked the DVD with a big red X before moving on to the next. “I'll watch that later.”

---

Matt held onto the chubby 10 month old’s hands, but once she steadied herself he let go.

Come to Mama. Comeee to Mama, Violet urged from across the room as she crouched on the living room floor. Come on, baby.

The toddler took one cautious step, then another before she lost her balance and plopped to her butt.

Awe, it's okay, Matt assured as he grabbed her hands to help her up. You can try again.

Clark babbled and took one bold step towards Violet before tumbling.

Babe, she needs the cape.

Matthew, that cape looks ridiculous.

Noooo, I swear she took more steps last time with the cape on.

Violet huffed. I guess it won't hurt.

Yes! Don't worry, Clark, help is on the way! Matt said as he bolted up the stairs while Violet turned towards the camera as Susan continued to film.

So ridiculous, she mouthed to the lens.

Moments later, Matt rushed back down the stairs with the bright red toddler sized cape in had. He secured the velcro loosely around his baby's neck.

Be careful, Violet ordered. Her top is Burberry.

Matt smoothed the baby's cape and clothes prior to helping her to her feet again.

Come on, Super Clark, he encouraged. You can do it.

Dada, she cooed as she reached for him.

Within a second, Clark was in Matt's arms. He kissed her cheek and blew air bubbles against it causing the baby to laugh.

Don't spoil her, Matthew. I can barely get her to try walking as is.

The man sighed and returned his daughter to the floor. He held onto her tiny fists until she could find her center of gravity prior to letting go.

Come on, Clark. Come to Mommy.

Matt blew a gust of air underneath the baby's cape to make to flow. Super Clarkkk.

Clark giggled.

Matthew, stop distracting her.

It wasn't me. Her powers are activating.

Violet groaned in exasperation and it made her baby frown.

Mamaaa, she whined as she took a step towards her. Always in tune with her mother's emotions, Clark used the woman's frustrated expression as motivation to get to her.

The woman extended her arms. Yes, baby! Come to Mama.

The toddler began to wobble, but she refused to give up as she took one unsteady step after another.

Mom, is the camera still on? Matt practically squealed.

Yes, Susan excitedly replied. She's doing so good.

With one last shaky step, Clark fell forward into her mother's arms.

Yayyy, everyone cheered in unison while Clark laughed and clapped for herself.

It was totally the cape, Matt assured.

---

The next video started with the camera facing Violet as she walked. Do you want to know what happens when you leave your baby daddy alone with the baby? she asked as she entered Clark's nursery and turned the camera to Matt.

Babe, babe, look, Matt barely got out through his laughter. He'd placed the six week old baby in the front pocket of his apron. She's like a kangaroo.

Violet cackled. “I can't believe she was tiny enough to fit in thereeee. Well, hell I remember her fitting in one hand as a newborn.”

---

Clark's first Christmas was printed across the screen before it faded into Violet holding the chubby baby as they hung ornaments.

It looks good, ladiesss, Matt complemented, circling them as he filmed.

Dada, Dada, Clark babbled as she bounced on Violet's hip.

Hi, babyyy. I love you.

Clark flashed a toothless grin. Matt reached for her but she turned away.

How rude, he gasped.

Say go away, Daddy. We're decorating.

Clark spewed out an unintelligible rant that made her parents laugh.

Violet watched the endless footage of Christmas Eve and then their party on Christmas day as her sister filmed.

What are you expecting to get today? Rose asked.

Violet scoffed. I'm not expecting anything. She looked around and laughed. Wait, where's Matt?

In the snow with Clark.

Oh, okay so get this. He asked me for my ring size a few weeks ago, she squealed.

Oooo, you know what that means.

I need ten carats, henny.

The sisters laughed.

I have to practice my surprise faces for when he proposes.

Violet paused the video and took a large gulp of her wine. “I never got to use those fucking faces.”

---

Every time that Clark would bring up Violet, Matt would distract his daughter with toys or treats. The father/daughter duo made their way around the zoo twice and when the toddler passed out from sheer exhaustion, Matt loaded her into the car and took her home.

“We're backkk,” the man announced as he entered. He didn't hear a response but he made his way to Clark's bedroom and tucked her in anyway. “Violet?” he called when he returned to the main floor. The man entered the living room and found the woman passed out on the couch with a bottle of wine next to her. “Drinking alone is never a good lookkk,” he whispered.

Matt turned to leave, but stopped out of curiosity when he and saw the paused shot from a video that he'd never seen before on the television. He pulled the remote control from Violet's hand and pressed play.

Show me the face you'd make if he proposes, Rose continued.

Violet placed her hands on her cheeks and gasped dramatically. Matthewwww, it's so beautifullll! Yes! Yes, of course I'll marry you!

Rose giggled. Perfect! And I better be your maid of honor, bitch.

Wait, what's this about maid of honor?! Naomi shouted from across the room.

Nothinggg, Violet assured. At least not until we open presents, the woman said hopefully. Keep the camera rolling.

“Damn,” Matt exhaled. “Wait, this is...after I overheard her, so-”

What'd you get, Vi? Rose asked as she continued to film everyone open their gifts.

I don't know yetttt, Violet said excitedly as she pried into the small box. And it doesn't say who it's frommm. The woman beamed from ear to ear only to have her face fall when she finally got the box open and saw the watch.

Do you love it, sweetheart? her father asked.

Oh, this is from you, Dad? Yeah, it's beautiful.

As Matt continued to watch the video, he noticed how Violet became more and more anxious after each gift. At the time, what he thought was bitterness and resentment, was actually disappoint that he hadn't gone through with his proposal.

Are there anymore gifts for Violet?! the woman shouted.

Once you have a baby, all your gifts become gifts for them, Rose informed.

Yeah but... nevermind. The camera caught Violet pushing herself off of the couch and making her way towards Matt.

“God, I look miserable,” the man groaned when he saw himself on the screen.

Violet's words couldn't be made out, but Matt did his best to read her lips.

Are you okay?

I was, he replied as he downed another glass of eggnog.

Oh...well, I hope you're having a good time. Clark is really enjoying her first Christmas.

I'm only here for her, Matt slurred before the camera panned the room.

“Damn it,” the man hissed as he paused the video. “So much fucking time wasted…for nothing.” Matt reached out to stroke the woman's hair but then stopped. “All those times I was mean or when I knew she wanted affection-”

“Hmm?” Violet groaned as she stirred in her sleep.

“Baby,” Matt cooed, sliding onto the couch beside her. He kissed her neck then her jaw.

“Matthewww,” she slurred. “It's too hotttt.” When Violet attempted to push him away, she ended up rolling herself off of the couch, hitting the hardwood in a muffled thump. “Ow.”

The man suppressed his laugh until he saw the woman's expression. “You look like Grumpy Clark.”

Violet snorted. “Help me up?”

Matt leaned over to assist the woman, but she pulled him onto the floor next to her. The man didn't seem to mind as he walked his fingers along her collarbone.

“Violet?”

“Whattttt?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“I don't know. You want me to eat garlic and break up and-”

“No, no, no, I didn't mean it. I mean, I did at the time, but I was mistaken.”

“But when I say I don't mean something, you get all mad,” she hiccuped. “I hate your double standards and I hate youuu.”

“You don't hate me,” he said as he rolled on top of the woman.

“Oh my God, you're fattt. You're going to make me puke.”

“Puke on me if you have to, I deserve it.”

“Nooo, Matthew,” the tipsy women groaned. “You're beautiful and you deserve the world.”

“Awe...you really feel that way or are you just drunk?”

“Both.”

Matt laughed and kissed her. “I'm sorry for being such an asshole to you all these years.”

“It's okay, Matthew. Just get off of me.”

The man stole another kiss before finally giving Violet some breathing room. “You won't believe what I found earlier,” she slurred as she struggled to get to her feet. When she did, she popped in the DVD marked with the bright red X.

Oh, fuck, Matthewww, Violet moaned on the screen.

“Whoa!” Matt exclaimed. “When did we make this?”

“I don't know...back when you still cared about me. Back when we made love and not that rough, cold stuff that makes you just roll over and go to sleep when you're finished without kissing me goodnight.”

The man knew that he was guilty of making the woman feel that way and he wanted it to end. Matt pushed himself off of the couch and approached Violet from behind. As he wrapped his arms around her waist his lips found her neck.

“Mmm,” she exhaled.

Matt eased the straps of the woman's nightgown off of her shoulders causing the silk negligee to fall to the floor, leaving Violet in nothing but her favorite pink thong. The man smiled as he slowly ran his hands along her arms and then her breasts. Violet turned around and their lips met in a tender kiss. Matt gently glided his hands along her curves, stopping at her ass which he cupped to lift the woman. She wrapped her legs around his waist, making it even easier for the man to walk backwards until they flopped onto the couch.

They laughed and continued to kiss while Violet's hands fumbled with Matt's belt but he stopped her.

“I wanna take care of you tonight. I have two years to make up for.”

The man eased the woman onto the cushions but she wouldn't release her legs.

“Not on the couch,” she whispered.

Matt smirked and kissed her. “Come on, big baby.”

He lifted her off of the couch and bolted towards the stairs.

“Waittttt, don't forget my nightgown.”

“You don't need that,” he assured.

“Yeah, but neither does the floorrrr. If you don't get it now, it's all I'll be able to think about."

Matt groaned and retaliated against the woman's difficultness with a firm bite on her neck before doubling back and picking up the negligee then rushing up the steps. Instead of tossing her onto the bed, Matt gently eased his lover onto the mattress and took his time to practically worship every inch of her body with tender kisses.

“Nooo, Matthewwww,” Violet squealed. “Not my feetttt.”

The man laughed and tussled with the woman until he was able to kiss the top of her foot.

“I'm never kissing you again.”

He laughed. “You kiss me after I go down on you.”

“Yeah, but my cooch is pristine.”

“And your feet aren't?”

“I guess you have a point.”

Matt kissed the woman's freshly pedicured big toe. “I have no problem appreciating every part of your body, whether you think it's gross or not.”

Violet smirked while she rolled her eyes. Those same tawny brown eyes rolled into the back of her head when Matt kissed her thong. The thin cotton was the only thing that separated her throbbing clit from the man's eager mouth.

The woman gently gnawed on her bottom lip as Matt's nibbling and warm air from his exhales gave her new and exotic sensations that quickly began to drive her crazy.

When Matt could feel how wet the woman was through the thong, he knew that he'd teased her enough. He pinched the thin pink straps that clung to her hips and slowly slid them down.

“I hate youuu,” Violet playfully grumbled.

He frowned. “Why?”

“Stop teasing me.”

The man grinned and tossed the woman's panties over his shoulder.

“Nooo, Matthew, you have to put them in the hamper.”

“Can't it wait? I-” Matt relented when she gave him the look. He retrieved the thong and sniffed it as he made his way to the bathroom.

“You're so grossss,” Violet said as she bashfully covered her face.

“If loving everything about you, inside and out, is gross, then I don't wanna be... whatever the opposite of gross is.”

The woman laughed but didn't remove her hands from her face as Matt positioned himself between her legs. He returned to giving the woman soft kisses along her inner thighs and vaginal lips, but he didn't want to torture her completely so he took her clit into his mouth sooner rather than later.

The man started with gentle sucking with the occasional firm lick thrown in.

Violet finally removed her hands from her face. One found its way to the sheets while the other found Matt's hair as she gripped it. “That feels so good.”

“I'm just getting started,” Matt assured as he added the swirling of his tongue to the mix. The man traced rhythmic patterns along Violet's entrance and love button, listening as the woman's breathing became more labored.

“Matthew, you never do thissss,” Violet panted. “It's usually so r-ushed!” she squealed when the man began to shake his head from side to side with her clit still nestled between his smooth lips.

It only took a few more minutes of this before she began to tingle all over.

“Oh my Godddd. I'm cominggg.”

Matt didn't even need the heads up as the sweet and tangy taste of the woman flooded his mouth. He didn't waste a single bit of it and even used it to lube up his fingers before slowly sliding them into the woman. In addition to his gentle sucking, Matt knew exactly what angle to thrust his fingers in order to find her G-spot. He always knew that he'd found the tender bundle of nerves when Violet arched her back.

“Fuckkk,” Violet moaned as she arched her back.

The man curled his fingers upward and firmly massaged the sensitive spot.

“Ahh,” she groaned in pleasure as she tightened her grip on the sheets and Matt's hair. “You're so good, baby, oh my Godddd.”

It wasn't long before the woman was climaxing again and Matt enjoyed every second of her sugar walls contracting around his fingers. He took advantage of the human slip-n-slide as he began to vigorously work his hand up and down.

Violet tried to pull away but Matt held her in place and continued until she begged him to stop.

“Fuck,” she whimpered weakly.

Matt kissed the woman all over her trembling body as he undid his belt. After dropping his trousers, he distracted Violet by taking her lips so that she wouldn't notice him toss his clothes to the floor. The woman heard the soft thump, but she was too far gone to care.

Matt fished a condom out of the nightstand and ripped it open prior to sliding the rubber onto his rock hard dick.

“Are you okay?”

Violet nodded.

“Are you ready for this?”

“I don't know, but I'm willing to try. I mean, I feel so amazing already.”

“Welp, I told you I'm just getting started.”

Matt grabbed the woman's thighs and slowly pulled her towards him prior to rubbing his cock against her clit.

“Mmm.”

After making sure that the woman’s engines were still warm, Matt aligned his dick with Violet's entrance and slowly slid into her. They both sighed in pleasure as they adjusted to being so intimately connected.

“That never gets old,” Matt exhaled.

“What never gets old?”

“Your face when I put it in.”

Violet blushed. “It feels good.”

The man smiled and kissed the woman as he pulled out and then slowly pushed back in. He made sure that Violet could feel every inch of him as he kept his strokes steady and deep, causing her to pant with each movement.

Matt took advantage of the missionary position and stared into the woman's tawny brown eyes. The couple hadn't been this intimate during sex in nearly two years and the man nearly forgot how perfect the woman's expressions were.

“Fuck, you're so beautiful,” he exhaled.

Violet buried her face into the crook of Matt's neck as she secured her arms and legs around his body while the man continued to thrust into her.

“I'm gonna come.”

Matt was surprised. “Already?”

“Yes,” she whimpered before digging her nails into his back.

“That's not an orgasm,” Matt scoffed as he sat up, pulled the woman's legs over his shoulders and began to roughly pound into her.

“Oh my God!” Violet moaned out as her toes curled and her fists twisted in the sheets. “Shittttt!”

“Now that's an orgasm,” the man proudly panted.

The woman continued to moan, groan and convulse.

Matt kissed her foot. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she managed to get out.

“You had enough?”

Violet shook her head. “It feels too good.”

Matt grinned and repositioned them so that Violet was on top.

“Shit,” the woman moaned as she adjusted to Matt being so deep inside of her. She closed her eyes and slowly began to ride the man while Matt caressed her breasts.

He loved seeing how Violet's hair fell to the sides of her face and how she exhaled through parted lips, letting out the occasional 'Fuck’ whenever the stroke was just right.

Matt caressed the woman's body all over but when he reached her hips, she stopped him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she panted as she returned his hands to her boobs.

He made a face. “What's up?”

Violet sighed. “I don't want you to feel my ripples.”

“Ripples?”

“My stretch marks!”

Matt attempted to look but Violet palmed his face. “Stopppp.”

“Babe, you don't even have stretch marks.”

“Yes, I do,” she sniveled. “You just haven't noticed because you're used to a quick fuck from behind.”

“Not even,” Matt retorted. “I like when you're on top too,” he joked. It earned him a playful pop on the chest. “In all seriousness, I've never seen a stretch mark on you and if there is, there's nothing wrong with that.”

Violet frowned and guided the man's hand to her hips so that he could feel the scars. “I noticed it a while after Clark was born. My body went through the craziest fluctuations.”

When Matt saw that the woman was visibly upset over the change in her body, he grabbed her hand and interlocked their fingers.

“Can I look at it?”

Violet paused before she reluctantly nodded and dismounted when Matt eased her off of his lap. The woman laid on her stomach and buried her face into the pillow while the man examined the two pale scars on her hip.

“Babe, these are badass.”

“Really?” she replied, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Well, for one, they're barely noticeable. But babe, guess what? You carried a life. Without you, Clark wouldn't be here and I'm so grateful for that. You should be proud of these tiger stripes. I know I am.”

Violet peeked up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, woman! Do you need proof? Like-” He licked her hip where the stretch marks were.

“Ewww!” Violet squealed.

“I told you that you look amazing. You're perfect, you're beautiful, you look better than Linda Evangelista, okay? You're a model. No part of your body grosses me out. You could sneeze on me and I'd probably thank you.”

The woman laughed before Matt met her lips and stole a kiss.

“You ready for more?”

“Mm hmm.”

Matt climbed off of the mattress and when Violet followed suit, they smooched before he gently bent her over the bed. The man showered the woman's shoulders, back and ass with more kisses before he slid his cock into her entrance. He started off with slow and steady strokes prior to adding deep, forceful thrusts that made the woman moan his name every time he tapped her G-spot.

“You feel so good, baby,” he panted.

“So do yo- fuckkk,” Violet groaned as her legs began to shake. “I'm coming,” she squealed.

“How many orgasms is that?” Matt smugly asked.

“I don't knowww,” the trembling woman groaned into her pillow.

Matt pulled out, lifted Violet back onto the bed and positioned his head between her legs before wrapping his mouth around her clit.

The woman's back involuntarily arched. Her body was near the brink, but she didn't want the pleasure to stop. In addition to licking and working his tongue, Matt added his fingers to the mix. Once they found Violet's G-spot the woman began to tremble even harder.

“Fuck! Shittt! Matthewwww, okay, okayy! Stop!” she pleaded as she squirmed.

After pulling away, Matt sat up and slid his cock into Violet's sensitive entrance. The woman winced, but she didn't tell him to stop as he began to pound into her.

Matt enjoyed every moment of Violet's animalistic moaning and as his own toes began to curl, he buried his face into the crook of her neck.

“I'm coming,” he whispered against her goosebump covered skin. “Fuck.” As Matt moaned and filled the condom, Violet convulsed and whimpered when the man pulled out.

“I love you,” Matt exhaled, kissing her face, neck and collarbone while he waited for her pleasure induced convulsions to stop. “Did you get enough?” he teasingly asked as he gently touched her clit.

Violet flinched at the contact. “Don't,” she whimpered. “God, it's so sensitive.”

“I hope this makes up for the past two years.”

“It m-m-makes up for the last five years, plus a t-ten year cr-credit,” she managed to get out while she steadily trembled. “God, Matthew!”

“Whatttt?”

“It was amazing. I literally can't stop shaking.”

“Did I rupture a nerve or something?”

“I don't knowww.”

“Well, you're still beautiful. Even if you are all twitchy.”

Violet laughed and pulled the man into a kiss. The couple's lips remained connected until Violet's body finally managed to calm down. Matt pulled her into a cuddle and when the duo was practically asleep, Violet grumbled.

“Matthew.”

“Hm?”

“Put your clothes in the hamper.”

---

“Good morninggggggg!” Clark shouted into the walkie talkie her parents had gifted her to prevent awkward moments such as walking into their bedroom to see her father's naked butt in the air.

Matt groaned as he blindly reached for the device.

“Are you guys awakeeeee?”

When he found the walkie talkie, Matt pushed the button and spoke into the microphone. “Good morning, Supergirl. How did you sleep?”

“Good,” she chirped. “What about you?”

“I'm still tired,” he grumbled.

“Well, I would let you go back to sleep, but I'm hungry. Can I have pancakes?”

“You certainly can have pancakes. Start brushing your teeth and washing your face. I'll be right out.”

“Thanks, boss man,” she said with a giggle before hanging up.

Matt turned to Violet who was flat on her back and snoring. He knew that the toxic combination of alcohol and great sex would have the woman out for awhile. The man smirked as he kissed her cheek prior to pushing himself off of the bed. After he brushed his teeth and splashed water on his face, Matt made his way to Clark's bathroom. He peeked around the corner and found the toddler brushing her dark curls.

“12...84...26...19...41,” she said as she counted the brush strokes.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Matt greeted.

“Hi, Daddy!” Clark squealed, dropping her brush prior to jumping into his arms.

“Gonna help me cook?”

“Mm hmm.”

Matt carried the girl down the stairs then into the kitchen.

“Okay, chef Clark, get your Batgirl apron on and we'll get started.”

After he grabbed a medium sized bowl, Matt let the toddler dump in the the pancake mix and pour in the water before he stirred. When the ingredients were lump free, he dolloped some of the mix onto her nose.

“Heyyy!” In retaliation, the toddler stuck her finger in the batter and smeared it on her father's cheek.

“Ahhh, you got me!”

Clark laughed as her dad guided her to the barstool, far away before he proceeded to pour the mix onto the hot griddle, making the mini pancakes just the way that Clark liked them.

When he was finished, he presented the toddler with a plateful of tiny pancakes and a generous helping of syrup while he settled next to her with his BLT.

“Yummy, yummy,” she said, kicking her legs while she ate.

“Clark?”

“Yes, Daddy?”

“I need your help with something.”

“You need my help with what?”

“I want to marry Mommy, so I need your help figuring out how to propose to her.”

Clark slammed both of her sticky hands onto the table. “Now you want my help?! I told you that Mommy loved you a long time ago and you did not want to be her boyfriend but nowwww,” she said as she rolled her eyes, “you want to marry her?!”

“Sssshhhhh! She'll hear you. And yes, little lady. I want to marry her.”

The toddler groaned and stuffed another mini pancake into her mouth.

“Are you Grumpy Clark right now?”

The frown on her face didn't budge as she continued to eat her pancakes.

“Come on, boo, don't be like that. Don't you want to help Daddy?”

Clark rolled her eyes.

“Heyyy, if we have a big wedding, you can eat all the cupcakes you want.”

She paused. “Cupcakes?”

“Yeah, cupcakes. And you get to wear a pretty dress. Maybe even with a cape.”

Her eyes grew wide in excitement. “Okay, I'll help you!”

#pearlet #pearlet fanfiction #knocked up fic

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