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heyhilana · 2 years

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Say Yes (Javier Peña and Horacio Carrillo)

Summary: Carrillo and Peña work closely with you during the takedown of Escobar. With tension rising between you three and you inviting them in to your apartment, a drink turns into everything you fantasized about and more.

A/N: Ha, remember when I posted this accidentally? Welp, that's what happens when you don't check your queue for a few months LMAO. But at last, it's here after many months of writing this on and off since this was a new challenge for me as I've never written a threesome before. I'm 90% sure this is right because I'm running off of low sleep and I will come back to edit this if I need to but I hope you enjoy! As always, drink water and stay beautiful 💚

Pairing: Javier Peña and Horacio Carrillo x !f reader (I believe that's how you do it pls correct me if I'm wrong)

Warnings: (A list whew and I was even thinking about dp but another time) Light spanking, hair pulling, cunt spanking, f and m receiving oral, p in v penetration (don't be silly wrap it up like candy) cumshot on stomach, cumshot on tongue. I think that's it but I will add more if I need to :)

Tagged: @squidlywiddly87 (uh now you can read this LMAO but I hope you enjoy!)

Word count: 7.7k (I promise this was supposed to be shorter)

“Care to come up for a drink?” An innocent question led to a night that was unforgettable if it could be put into words. It sparked something that the three of you were oblivious to. There was tension between the three of you, a sexual tension to be exact, but it was unspoken due to work. Murphy would make note of it, seeing how Carrillo and Peña would look at you when it was ridiculously hot out, you having to strip off a layer or two to keep yourself cool. Your shirt would cling to your body due to the sweat, outline your breasts more than the shirt would do when you weren’t sweating.

He would also make note of how you would take notice of how their shirts would cling to their muscles, seeing how sculpted their bodies were. Carrillo’s arms were…intimidating for some people. But for you, they were what led to a pool of arousal to form in your underwear. Those pants that Javi would wear, that would shape the lower half of his body, mainly his butt, well, you always wondered what it looked like without his clothes on. The three of you thought that you were discreet about the lust that you had for each other, but Steve always took note of it, just to see the annoyed expressions on either one of your faces.

Was he wrong? Not exactly. It was obvious that there was something between the three of you, a carnal desire that was mistaken for something so little, almost nothing in your lives. Sure, there was flirting exchanged from the three of you. One-liners coming from both Carrillo and Peña that would leave you blushing. You playing with their stuff like taking Peña’s aviators or taking Carrillo’s walkie talkie, forcing them to chase after you and grab you, making you all feel slightly aroused by the close proximity that you all shared. It was friendly on the surface, but it was bordering a line of no return. You all were determined to keep it as nothing more, nothing less.

But the lines were getting closer to being blurred by touching each other. It was more frequent, and it was getting harder to never let it drift down to where it was actually needed. You longed for a touch on the arm to go to them grabbing your breasts, just like they longed for you to go to palming them in their pants. And maybe it had to go further with them going under your shirt, getting a chance to let their rough, calloused hands touch your soft skin. Maybe it was necessary for you to reach down, going to their underwear to feel the thin material only making their erections more prominent. Maybe it was necessary to just strip everything off, to act on impulse and do what felt right in that moment. After all, protocol could be broken in desperate measures.

Needless to say, it wasn’t hard to let your mind go down a road of endless possibilities of having just one of them take you, perhaps letting both of them take you. Late nights alone in your apartment could be filled with you moaning their names, one hand down your cotton shorts and the other palming your breast, letting profanities slip out as you drew yourself closer to an orgasm. You thought of having one fucking you senseless and the other fucking your face, neither one of them taking any action in slowing down their actions. How they could edge you closer to an orgasm, but deny it in the last second, seeing you whine at the loss of their touch that was a drug to you. You thought of how they would love to see you beg for more, to fuck you harder, to let you cum, to make you forget the day’s events until you were seeing white.

You just wished that they would take you one day so that you wouldn’t have to wonder how big they actually were in those pants that would occasionally outline their cocks. The image of them right before you, their cocks painfully hard and waiting to fill your mouth up and reach the back of your throat. To feel those soft, delicate hands of yours wrap around it, pumping it slowly and making eye contact with them as you did it, batting those eyelashes at them before taking them in your mouth again was what brought you on the brink of an orgasm. The image of them waiting to take you so they could ruin everything about you, leave you with your makeup running down your face and a hoarse voice from all the screaming of their names would be imprinted in your brain.

And in their respective homes your name could be escaping their lips, their hand down their boxers, pumping slowly and letting a finger circle around the tip, wishing it was your tongue on their cock. They wanted to look down to see that mouth of yours stretched wide open, trying to fit their cock in your mouth so it could reach new depths. They wanted to thrust into your mouth, grab your hair so they could take control while you took it all like the good girl that you were. They wanted to hear and feel you gag on their cocks, making them grunt and whisper sweet nothings to you about how you were doing a good job of taking them with no complaints.

Sweat would be dripping down their face as they thought of taking you in the office after seeing you in a tight blouse and equally tight pants, just wanting to rip the blouse open and hear the buttons fall on the floor as they took a breast out of your bra to suck on them, hearing soft moans come out one by one from you before they just took you on the fucking desk. Out in the open to relieve some stress and try to see who could make the other cum first before going home to finish the activities. Or even after a night of going out and going back to each other’s homes like this one, maybe acting on impulse to kiss you instead of watching you walk in, seeing the way your pants cuffed your ass the way they would cuff it with their hands.

The fantasy was alive in your minds, but you guys wouldn’t act on it. Escobar was what mattered, not having Pena and Carrillo strip you naked and take you until you just couldn’t take it anymore, your sensitivity making it impossible to take it from either one of them. Them fucking you until your juices are just coating their fucking cocks, screaming so fucking loud that the cars that drive by are barely audible. Them getting off on seeing you in a state of euphoria, the high of cumming multiple times would have you see white as your eyes rolled back. But Escobar was the top priority, and impulsive decisions were never good. They were unnecessary risks that led to consequences that the faint hearted couldn’t handle.

“One drink won’t hurt, right?” Peña looked at you, and then Carrillo. Carrillo was hesitant, not knowing what one drink would do. One drink was the fatality of all morally right decisions. It could be the drink that led to answers of questions that a sober person would normally omit. It could be a detriment to a friendship, a relationship even. It could change the dynamics of how you would all look at each other, knowing how you all were in a different environment without the looming pressure of catching Escobar on your minds. To let all the stress, whether it would be mental, emotional, or physical just escape for once. That was what one drink could do, but was it worth it?

“Just say yes. That’s all you gotta do.” You bit your lip as you said it, your fingers twirling your keys as you waited for his answer. Were you trying to entice Carrillo by biting your lip? Yes, but what would a little lip bite do to someone? It wouldn’t hurt anyone. What would hurt would be how they would take you objectively, just as you imagined they would. A pain that would be worth feeling as it drew you closer to climaxing and fulfilling a fantasy that was created in the depths of your mind the moment you transferred down to Columbia and laid your eyes on the two of them.

“Yes,” With the way that he said it, it was almost as if he was trying to familiarize himself with that word. After all, it was used in a context of agreeing to go upstairs to a woman’s apartment that he’s been waiting to fuck for as long as he could remember. A smile tugged at your lips from his response and you went to open the door, feeling both of their eyes on your ass. You decided to make it interesting for you by dropping your keys, bending down to reach them, putting your ass out on the forefront for them to look at and long to touch, as were you longing to have them touch you in the most intimate of places.

You finally opened the door, turning on the light and placing your keys on the table, moving out of the way so they could walk in. You took notice of their outfits, Carrillo in that dark green outfit that was a tad bit too tight around his arms, highlighting how strong he was on top. You looked over to Pena, seeing that his shirt was unbuttoned, sweating near his neck which only made it harder to ignore how his neck was a turn on for you. It was just so strong, and it only looked hotter when he was angry. The way his neck would be flexed, the tension reminding you of how his arms would be flexed when he would be man-handling a suspect. You forced yourself to peel your eyes away from them and walked over to the kitchen, going to the refrigerator. Knowing that beer was the “safer” option for three of you, you pulled out three bottles, feeling that wine would be a bit too formal for a night like this.

You handed them the beer after opening it up for them, letting your fingers brush past theirs. You wondered how they would feel on the rest of your body, caressing it or making it a point to feel pain that was more so pleasure for you. You walked back over to the kitchen to get your beer, taking a small sip, letting the alcohol enter your body after a day of no success in catching Escobar. It was disappointing, to say the least. You guys were putting your lives on the line, with no avail. Escobar was always two, three, maybe even four steps ahead of you guys and there was no one to turn to except each other.

The police? Not a chance with the way they were all on a payroll for Escobar and every other drug lord that could pay them off. The Columbian Government? They were just as bad as the police, maybe even worse as they were the ones setting the example for the police to follow. Your government? They were no help to you guys as their actions were the complete opposite of what they said they were doing on television. All they wanted was to ensure that they could get some money out of this and to have the chance to play captain on a boat that was sinking. The president could lie all he wanted to on television, to say that they were making progress in something that was only going to go down in flames in the end. But the fact of the matter was you were the ones that were out there that could see the lies. The government only wanted the glory of saying that they helped with the war on drugs, if you could even it call it that.

Were you guys perfect? No, not in the slightest bit. You got your hands dirty in the line of war, even when you wanted to stay dry for just one day. Blood covered your hands no matter how hard you scrubbed it off. It was still there, in memory. No number of promotions, awards, or congratulations from those that knew or didn’t know the situation at hand could make you guys feel relieved in what it was that you guys did every single day. It changed you guys, whether you believed it or not. You were not the same as you guys were before the wild goose chase of finding and capturing Escobar was set into motion. You saw things you wished to forget, did things that haunted your dreams, and wondered if everything that you guys were doing was for a noble cause.

In theory it was, saving the people from drugs that destroyed families, homes, and could bring down anyone that was against it. But in reality? It was just politics, something that you hated for as long as you could remember. Politics that only worked in your favor when it was something that could suit the ones in power. It was bullshit, but so was everything about this war on drugs and capturing Escobar. You needed a break from the bullshit that surrounded your life as a person trying to capture someone so far out, and so did they.

So, one drink was what brought things to a haze of some sorts, to where you said things that you would normally keep to yourself. You made a few flirtatious comments, letting the alcohol do the talking that you wouldn’t dare say with a sober mind. You guys all went over to your couch, and you were in between the two of them, Peña to your left and Carrillo to your right. The tv was on, playing a black-and-white Columbian movie that none of you guys were paying attention to.

Your beers were slowly dwindling away with each sip and the conversation started to take a turn from light to heavy. You felt yourself relax a tad bit, seeing them relax too and look more alive. You got another drink for the three of you, and the more the alcohol entered your bodies, the closer you got to making rash decisions. You would touch them in places that you only thought of when you would touch yourself, needing a release of some sort without taking it too far. Maybe the lack of eating made it easier to have the alcohol take over quickly, or maybe you were just done waiting for something that needed to happen. They did the same but were more subtle as they wanted to tread carefully, not wanting to blur the lines of friendship over a misunderstanding.

By the fifth round, it was decided that they would crash at your place for the night, seeing as though they couldn’t even call a cab for themselves without slurring their words. You felt yourself become wet at the thought of them staying over, knowing that they would only be in the next room over instead of being a drive away. You weren’t sure if your drunk self could keep your fantasies hidden away with that in mind, and they weren’t sure if they could last knowing that you were in the other room, in skimpy clothing that barely kept you cool with how hot it was down in Colombia.

Suddenly there was less space between the three of you, your arms brushing against one another and they leaned in closer to you, to where you could smell the hints of cologne that sent you on a frenzy. Maybe sometime in between they both made the accusation that you moaned when you got a whiff of their scent, but you only laughed, knowing that they had no clue as to how you really moaned when you were being pleasured. You playfully hit them, letting your touch linger a bit longer than it should’ve. You felt the goosebumps rise on their skin with your touch. The hair on their necks would stand tall as you leaned on either one of their shoulders, and you could feel goosebumps on your skin rise as they would casually place a hand on your thighs, to just grab something that was across from them. Their hands were strong and were interesting to look at, seeing that they held stories that you didn’t know about.

Their eyes would be a tell-tale sign that they had seen the horrors of trying to dismantle a drug cartel. But their hands were the proof of them trying to make a difference. They would move your hair out of your face, taking their time in studying your features. You were all treading on uncharted territory that was dangerous, but danger was what was needed in life. Danger was the fire that would keep you alive. To burn brighter and higher as you took chance after chance to live a life that was only shown in the movies.

Deciding to stop drinking after the fifth round, you got up, placing both of your hands on one of their thighs to balance yourself. You could feel them tense up from your hands gripping their thighs, but they didn’t say anything about it. You took their beers as they were done, and you brought them over to the kitchen to throw them out. You were getting ready to get some water when you heard them whispering. You couldn’t make out what they were saying but you figured it was nothing serious. Suddenly, they got up and went into the kitchen. You turned around and saw them eyeing you, making you feel hot. Their stare made you question whether or not you could last until you went to bed. You went to go to another part of the kitchen, but they got closer to you. You took a sip of your water, needing something to cool you off as you felt hotter with them being so close to you.

As you went to turn, Horacio came up behind you, placing his hands on your hips and dipping his head to bring it closer to your neck, his breath fanning it. Javier was in the front, looking down as he took his fingers and brought them to your chin, lifting it up ever so softly. You stared into those deep but gentle eyes where his irises had bloomed from the arousal that was building from the time he walked into your apartment.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks and you bit your lip, seeing that had a reaction on Peña as he let out a slight groan at the sight of your teasing. Horacio let his hands drift down to get closer to your clothed core, something that you longed for. While Horacio went south, Javier ventured away from the northern area and went to grab your breasts, lightly squeezing them. It felt so fucking good to be touched after such a long time of being denied of that desire.

“Bonita, don’t fight it. Let go.” Javier could sense that you were trying to hold back, not wanting to give in just yet. Horacio hummed in agreement as he continued to kiss your neck, wanting to make it easier on their end to get you to stop holding back. You let out a soft moan, barely audible once Javi got to your shirt, opening the buttons and letting his fingers touch your breasts. Horacio let his hands unbutton your pants, not needing to see what he was doing. Perhaps he had a lot of experience like his partner did.

“Just say yes. That’s all you gotta do.” Horacio mimicked your words from earlier as he let his hand go into your underwear, feeling how your arousal has been building for the both of them. Javier unbuttoned your shirt entirely, letting your lacy blue bra be exposed. You knew that you couldn’t fight it anymore. You managed to catch your breath and open your eyes, still seeing Javi’s eyes transfixed on to you, waiting for your answer.

“Yes,” You breathed out, feeling Horacio’s fingers go down where they needed to be at. Javi wasted no time in capturing your lips, and you moaned in his mouth as his lips were the perfect blend of beer and cigarettes and Horacio had gotten down to putting his fingers in between your lips, gathering your slick to then rub your clit.

“How long have you been like this for? Were you just going to go in your room and get yourself off without a little help?” Horacio whispered in the shell of your ear, rubbing nice and slow, making your hips roll with him. You continued to kiss Javi but Horacio’s words made your face burn with heat, moaning slightly in the other’s mouth as Javi touched you all over.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” Javi said in between kisses. You all separated but it wasn’t until Horacio carried you bridal style to the room where it finally hit you that this was happening. This was not a fantasy no longer. No, the two men that you were torn between choosing wanted you just as much as you wanted them. If that was not enough to send you over the moon, the way you were placed on the bed and both of them staring down at you, waiting to ravish you was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Javi turned to Carrillo, and the grins they both shared before moving over to you made your stomach drop. Before you knew it, your clothes were being discarded, shirt thrown to the side, your bra unclasped, pants shimmying down with your panties and you were helping them without a second thought, now with you completely naked and them still fully clothed.

“Let’s see how pent up you are,” Carrillo murmured, him trailing up to you to kiss you and Javi traveling down to your exposed sex, his fingers drumming in between your thighs to get them open.

“Open up for me, cielo.” Javi commanded as you were slowly getting lost in Carrillo’s kiss, his much rougher and hasty than Javi’s. You opened up and soon you felt that fluffy hair nuzzling between your thighs before he used his plump lips to suck on your clit. You moaned into Carrillo’s mouth as his hand traveled to your breasts to pinch and tease your raised nipples, the added sensation making you lose focus. You were biting Carrillo’s lip here and there as your hand was moving down to his pants, rubbing his prominent bulge that you were pleasantly surprised about. Before you could do much more, he moved his hands away to undo his belt, pulling down his pants in one swift move after.

Immediately you were clawing at Horacio’s shirt, trying to get the buttons undone so you could feel him, pull him closer to you so that when your peak reached you could fall apart with him all over you. He laughed in between feverish kisses over your neediness, pulling off his shirt too as he pulled away from you, your mouth falling agape as you realized that everything you thought about him was right and then some.

“How does she taste?” Horacio asked as he was stroking himself in his briefs.

“Like heaven,” Javi pulled his head up to speak and dove right back down without a second thought, making you whine more. Horacio captured your lips once more as he was moving his hand between both of your breasts, nipples become overly sensitive from it all. You didn’t know what to focus on more, but with the way Javi sucked on your clit and licked with the perfect balance, not letting up as if it was his last meal unlocked something in you. There was no guy that was more enthusiastic about eating you out the away Javi was. He put his all into it, occasionally licking from bottom to top, top to bottom to get every drop in your slit, giving you a minute to catch your breath before he went back to your bundle of nerves which made you arch your back. But when the deft fingers that you always found yourself getting lost into looking at slipped into your sex, the band of control snapped.

You moved your hand back down to tease Horacio, slipping your hand under the waistband of his briefs to touch him, semi hard already which put a smile on your face. But that smile soon went away as you felt Javi curling his fingers as he pushed them in and out, lightly grazing your spot as he sucked on your clit a little faster, matching the same pace as when he pushed in. You were a mess, sweat beading down your body, hands trying to find someone to grip to hold yourself together, and you were willing to lose yourself because of their ministrations for a lifetime. And so you did, the way Carrillo’s tongue slipped into your mouth, the twist of your nipple, the curl of Javi’s fingers, the way your bundle of nerves were sent over the edge, you were a goner. Blinding pleasure took up your body, mind, and soul as you stilled in stroking Carrillo’s cock and your legs tightened around Javi’s head. But neither of them stopped working you through it, only continuing and slowing little by little until you were done. With that, they moved away from and marveled at how you looked, the smirks on their face making you want more.

“You sure you’re ready for more?” Javi cooed, and you frantically nodded your head as you got up. Horacio was only in his briefs but Javi was still clothed, making you pout. He realized what you wanted so he undressed so he did as you moved to the edge of your bed. Horacio decided it would be more fun if he kissed your neck while you watched, and the show was more than you expected. You knew that Javi’s golden skin was meant to be worshipped, but to see him half naked as his white shirt was pulled off, undoing his belt as he took off his pants, briefs coming down with them as his cock hard, precum leaking when you didn’t even get the chance to touch him as much as you wanted to.

“Someone likes what they see,” Carrillo whispered in your ear, making chills run through you. He came back around and you realized he took off his briefs as well, leaving them naked right in front of you. Without much thought, you got on your knees, getting close to them. If this was how they were now, you wondered how they kept it together being around you so much. You took both of them in your hands, pumping slowly and looking up at them, seeing Javi gripping the bed and Carrillo trying to hold it together by biting his lip, blood threating to seep out if he bit down any harder.

“Who should I start with?” You batted your eyelashes at them, looking down at their cocks and seeing the precum leaking out over your finger.

“Do what feels right,” Javi encouraged, so you took his, still pumping Carrillo with a little more speed and kitten licking the tip to catch the precum, the salty taste making you smirk. You began to suck the tip, looking up at him with the innocent eyes you always teased him with, you both knowing that there was just a glint hidden in between your stare that meant something else, something beyond professionalism. Seeing that he was straining himself to not thread his other hand in your hair, you went ahead and began to take him all, no more teasing after dreaming of this for so long.

“That’s it, take it all,” Javi praised, grip on the bed getting tighter, his knuckles turning snow white. You flattened your tongue and began to take more of him with ease, and the guttural groans escaping his mouth you were in pure ecstasy. You kept bobbing your head, matching the pace of stroking Carrillo’s cock, your fingers swiping over his tip or you gagging on Javi’s cock. You didn’t care about how used you were for the moment, just that your biggest fantasy was coming true.

“Go please him now, pretty girl.” Javi pulled you off of his cock, and you shifted over to Carrillo, wetness dripping to your thighs with the way he looked at you. Instantly, he wrapped his hand around your hair and spat on his cock, getting it nice and ready before you were beginning to take him in your mouth, the stark contrast between the two driving you insane as you loved the gentle nature of Javi but Horacio’s roughness was just enough to make you want more.

“That’s it, let me fuck that pretty face,” He was thrusting into your mouth and you were taking it, Javi deciding to move your hand away to stroke himself and watch you in the act. You could feel yourself gagging here and there, his sheer size making your work overtime to take him, but when he would hold your head in place to fuck your mouth, you couldn’t help but moan. When you slapped his thigh to let you up, he did, bending down to kiss you afterwards.

“I knew with how much you talk I could put that mouth to good use,” He whispered in your ear as they both help you back up to your feet. Your jaw was a little sore, but it made you excited as you wondered what the stretch would be for you where you needed them most. Hell, if you knew this was going to happen you would’ve trained your other hole to take them both at the same time, feeling them both thrust in and out, the fullness that you craved from them finally being achieved. You pictured laying on Javi’s soft body, back flushed against his chest, his cock halfway in your hole, and Carrillo holding your legs up as he pushed in and out, the stretch making you cry from so much overstimulation as you would rub your clit to match his thrusts. You needed that to happen if this would happen again between you three, but you settled for laying back down on the bed and Carrillo and Javi joining you.

“Who do you want to go first?” Javi asked, hand rubbing in between your legs.

“Depends on what position you both want me in.”

“I want to see you. All of you,” Javi moved his hand down further, index finger swiping over your clit to make you buck your hips. “And considering how much this one looks at your ass, I think he’ll want you from the back. Am I wrong?” You both looked at him, and the amused smile confirmed it all.

“He’s right. Now choose cariño.”

“I want Javi to go first.”

“Say no more, bonita.” He kissed your cheek and moved down, putting his hand sin between your legs to open you up. Carrillo got up and started to stroke himself right above your mouth.

“I’m happy I get to use your pretty mouth once more,” You were smiling as he looked down at you, the way the moon was highlight the sharpness of his body, trailing its way up from his stomach to his chest, to the strong neck that you could see yourself leaving marks on. Your eyes shot back down to his cock however, still glistening and the tip leaking more with precum. You sat up and he tapped his cock against your lips, making you take him in your mouth to stop the teasing. You moved your head as best as you could but when he took control and fucked your mouth again, his cock hitting your throat repeatedly, you were moaning as you enjoyed how he used you, and how you could feel Javi gathering up slick from between your lips to smear on his cock.

“Such a good slut for him,” He murmured as he climbed on top of you and was rubbing the tip of his cock in between your folds, tip hitting your clit especially and rubbing around to make you jump. He pushed in without warning, the stretch making you moan loudly and Carrillo stilling inside your mouth. Your walls fluttered around him as he pushed in more, nice and slow to feel you, take his time with you. You could see from your peripheral the way he was biting his lip, holding it together as he softly sweared under his breath.

“So fucking wet, all for us,” He bent down to whisper it in your ear, making you clench more around his cock. He rutted inside of you, making sure every ridge and curve would be felt. It was a slower pace, but you figured he was slow as you were a little preoccupied with how Carrillo was still using you until he pulled you off, letting you rest your head back down on the bed.

“I want to watch. Give me a show,” Carrillo kissed your forehead and moved off to the side, leaving you to focus completely on Javi. He thrusted with more consistency, skin slapping as you could feel the curve brushing against your walls. You clawed at his back, trying to hold it together as you didn’t think in a million years that he would feel this good in just a few thrusts.

“Javi, fuck, you feel so good,” You were whining more, legs wrapping around him.

“That’s it baby, let it all out.” He cooed in your ear as he went a little faster, the speed finally giving you what you needed. It was as though you two were rocking a little, both wanting the other to pull out but the fullness you had and how your velvety walls clung around his size made it impossible to want to pull out fully. All you knew was that in this moment, you would go into any position for them just so that you could feel both of them fill you up in different angles. Tips pressing up near your spot, the stretch, the way your walls would cling to them out of desperation, everything you could want was happening as you moaned while sucking Carrillo’s cock and Javi was realizing how no matter how much he would tighten his hand it never matched to how you felt.

Javi’s hand snuck down in between you and the flick of his finger on your clit made you jolt, a sharp moan coming out of you and going right to Carrillo as he thrusted into your mouth a little more. Toying with you, he would match his thrusts and slap your clit a little making you whimper before rubbing it to soothe you. Before you could pull him out of your mouth to say anything, you came with a force so heavy it blinded you, the moan coming from deep inside you that vibrated through Carrillo as you moaned. Javi rode you through it while Carrillo continued to use you.

“You loved being used like this don’t you? A little slut for the two of us.” You hummed in agreement which made Carrillo buck his hips into your mouth more.

“Do that again and I might have to fuck your pretty face again,” Carrillo half warned, half made a promise on it. You contemplated on it, but the idea of testing your luck with the man that scared and also turned you on got the best of you. So you did, and the way he took hold of your hair and thrusted relentlessly made you tighten around Javi’s cock.

“Keep tightening around me, hermosa,” The strain in his voice, knowing that he was fucking into you harder, faster, all too consuming while you were testing the limits with your throat, jaw-slacked and looking up at him with the doe eyes that both of them loved once you regained control of yourself. How you managed to breathe through your nose and take it even when he barely pulled out of your mouth to let you breathe was beyond your understanding, but to have both of them was worth it.

“Gonna make him cum, little one?” You hummed in response as Javi’s death grip on your hips loosened and you unwrapped your legs, him pulling out and painting a nice cum shot on your stomach, thick ropes of cum that made you tighten around nothing. He was out of breath, perspiration lining his skin, biting his lip even. He squeezed the tip more to get some more out, and Carrillo pulled out of your mouth. You brought your hand down to get some on your fingers, swiping it up and tasting it. You could see Javi shutter and Carrillo transfixed by the way you lapped it up with each venture down to your stomach and back to your mouth.

“Cleaning up your mess like I knew you would,” Javi moved down to kiss the top of your head as you tasted the last bit of it, enjoying the saltiness of it all. “But how are you feeling?”

“I feel fine. Little tired but I can go on.” You were still catching your breath but the haze that was clouding your mind made you want to go on for more.

“You sure? I don’t want to push you.” Carrillo, surprisingly soft, pushed your hair back.

“If I can’t go anymore, I’ll stop.” You smiled at him and he held back a groan. How could you look so pretty below him?

“You think you can take me?” He countered, and the thought of being stretched out further excited you more than it should’ve. Oh, how did you last this long without having them?

“Doesn’t hurt to try now does it?” The glint in your eyes stoked the fire inside of him that he thought was already burning red hot the moment he entered your apartment.

“That’s a good girl. Turn around for me.” You turned around and got on all fours, facing your mirror and the window which let the moonlight shine on all three of you. He got behind you, hands settled right near your love handles and pulled you towards him, just when you could feel the curve of his dick pressed against your slit, rubbing right in between.

“Look at you coating my fucking dick, baby,” Slapping your ass, you jolted as he pressed the tip near your hole. “And now I get to feel you.” And he pushed in a little roughly, the stretch almost unbearable as you didn’t think you could take either one of them. But you did, the slow yet strong pumps to test you out was eliciting the wanton moans that could be heard out the window. Javi reached down to you and kissed your temple, tilting your head so you could look at him.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, bonita.” He pushed the stray hairs out of your face as you took the slow increase in speed from Carrillo, the tip brushing your walls with each thrust. Javi grabbed one of your breasts and teased your nipple, pinching lightly. You bit your lip as the pain and pleasure mixed together, building with each second that passed. You couldn’t see much but both Javi and Carrillo were looking in the mirror, watching you with intensity. Although Javi was through, he felt a jolt go through him as he helped you get off. Carrillo took glances at your ass and your reflection in the mirror, getting harder at the site of you arched down, taking it him whole.

“Ay, ella se siente increíble,” Carrillo threw his head back a little as you started to meet him halfway, your breath hard to catch as you were beginning to get overstimulated. Javi met you down to your face and kissed your temple, mumbling sweet nothings in Spanish that if you could translate you would probably flutter around Carrillo.

“Baby, take a look at yourself in the mirror.” He whispered as his hand moved from your breasts up to your head and grabbed a fistful of your hair. His grip on your hair as he lifted your head up to look in the mirror made you whine, but your walls only tightened when you saw all three of you in the mirror. Javi’s face so close to yours, lips grazing your temple, you bent over in obscene ways, Carrillo taking you where you could see the way his arms were flexed based on the grip he had on your hips. You watched as he fucked you harder, seeing that he was looking down at how he was going in and out of you. You reveled in how soft Javi’s lips were against your skin, how he worshipped you and Carrillo took you in ways you never would speak about in broad daylight. Javi pulled away to move up and face Carrillo.

“Doesn’t she look so pretty like this?”

“She does. Should’ve done this sooner,” Carrillo was throwing his head back as you were beginning to meet his thrusts to get ever inch. Your third orgasm of the night was gaining traction and you were beginning to move a hand down to rub your sensitive clit but Javi stopped you, swatting your hand away and moving his other hand there.

“You’ll cum on our command. Got it?” Javi was looking at you through the mirror. You nodded but then you felt Carrillo and Javi stop. “Use your words.” They were both staring at you and you tried to gasp for some air to speak properly.

“Yes. I’ll cum on your command, I promise.” You darted your eyes between the two and they resumed, much to your pleasure. Deft fingers toying with your sensitive clit, curved and thick cock exploring your walls, and you were in your world of desire that seemed to be taking new heights the more you continued this. But now, with your climax getting closer and closer to blooming, you were beginning to feel your body shake.

“Not yet. Hold it.” Carrillo stayed steady with his thrusts and the tight circles that Javi was rubbing was making you grip the sheets.

“Please! Please, please let me cum!” You were begging, so close to the thread snapping and you cumming undone. You saw that the two of them looked at each other and nodded.

“Cum.” That was all that you needed to hear before you cried out, collapsing your upper half but the lower half being held up by Carrillo as he fucked you through your orgasm and Javi slowed his circles. You soon heard the grunts and felt the slow and sloppy thrusts coming as Carrillo pulled out and Javi moved away. You turned around to face him, on your knees in the bed looking up at him with your mouth open. He came with a grunt, the cum landing right on your tongue and a little on your lip. You swallowed it all and cleaned up, giving him a smile and it made more shot out on his hand. You took his hand and licked it up too, winking at him.

“So proud of you, princesa.” He grabbed your jaw gently and kissed your forehead. You were a mess, albeit a happy mess as you were trying to catch your breath with all the pleasure washing over you. Soon it slowed, Javi’s hand moving away to rub your back and Carrillo helping you lay down. Javi gave you one of the pillows as you lifted your head up to lay on it as Carrillo got up to go to the bathroom. Javi laid next to you and caressed your face, making you blush.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I am. I don’t know how I’m going to get to work tomorrow though,” You joke, knowing that your legs were jelly at this point.

“We’ll drive you, but you better be walking since we can’t carry you around all day.” He kissed your forehead right when Carrillo came back with the towels from your bathroom. Javi took his towel and Carrillo tossed his to the side, tending to you. He got on the bed and was on top of you, wiping you off as you hummed in relief. Javi finished wiping himself off just as Carrillo got done with you. Still unable to move you were amused when Carrillo tossed your legs a little to get the sheet from underneath them. He then draped it over your lower body and then wiped himself off. Javi got under the sheet with you as Carrillo tossed the three towels in your hamper haphazardly.

“Someone’s gotta do their laundry now,” Carrillo teased.

“I’ll get to it eventually. Gotta find the feeling in my legs again to move.” Both laughed at your new state, used to you running around and now you were bed ridden for the night.

“By the morning you’ll be fine. But sleep.” Carrillo was getting ready to get dressed again as well as Javi, but you got up.

“Can you both stay with me?” You shifted your eyes between them, the little pleading as you moved to the middle of your bed igniting something in them.

They obliged after some thought, you in the middle with Carrillo on your back and Javi near your front. Carrillo’s hand rested on your ass and Javi’s was right near your shoulder. A little awkward, but both of them were softly snoring within minutes with all the energy you took out of them. Maybe you would end up not talking about it until the time came round again or even in passing, but for now you let the calm call of sleep lull you away.

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halfbakedideas · 4 months

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i can hold my breath, i've been doing it since he left

After Aziraphale leaves, Crowley does a lot of waiting. And drinking.

Notes:

EDIT: changed the title from 'curse the wind, fan the flames, yell 'till your lungs are drained' (Quiet Company by Jack Harris).

CW for alcohol and a character being drunk. Do I still need to warn for 02x06 spoilers or has it been long enough now? This is essentially just word vomit on one speculation I had for Crowley post-season 2 & written during one of my writing classes. Figured I might as well post this otherwise it’ll just rot in my drive forever.

Read on Ao3

—x—x—x—

Crowley sits slumped over at a bar. Beer cans, whiskey glasses, and even a couple of empty wine glasses forming a barrier around him.

The barkeep had started shooting him worried looks when he finishes a second handle’s worth of whiskey after about three beers and two glasses of wine, and was still (mostly) upright.

It takes a lot of alcohol to get someone of angel stock properly sloshed. But when Crowley has spent more of the last eleven months with some form of alcohol in him than sober, that doesn’t really mean anything.

A glass of red wine rests in his hand, still filled a quarter of the way. He didn’t care enough to know which one when he’d gotten the barkeeper to pour him another glass.

Crowley raises the glass to his lips and takes a swig. A drop of wine traces its way down his chin. He wipes it away with a hand. He nearly knocks an abandoned whiskey glass clean off the table when he sets it down.

“Alright, I think that’s enough for you,” the barkeep speaks up, stepping towards the demon. Her hand is outstretched as if she plans to take the wine glass out of his hands.

“Nuh — not yet, not even drunk yet,” he slurs. He waves a hand in her direction to make her forget about what she had just been about to do and the events of the last two hours too. Whoops.

He drinks some more wine and manages not to spill any of it this time.

By the time the bar closes half an hour later — or is it fifteen minutes? He hats that particular stretch of time: fifteen minutes — Crowley is still upright and on his feet, by the sheer force of a demonic miracle.

‘On his feet’ does not automatically mean ‘able to walk in a straight line’.

The demon makes his way down the street, the path in front of him swimming.

He believes that he is going to make it back to his flat without becoming a serpent-shaped pancake on the pavement, so he would. More or less.

Logically, the smart thing would have been to miracle all of the alcohol out of his bloodstream before he left the bar. But the thought had occurred to him when he first started doing this, and it had been quickly dismissed. He isn’t going to change his mind now, eight months later.

Existence is so much easier to deal with like this; being too drunk to be able to think straight means that he doesn’t have to think. Thinking is overrated anyway.

Surprisingly, this much alcohol in him keeps him from doing something stupid like yelling in the vague direction of the sky. Would he be yelling at Aziraphale or God, he isn’t sure. Or go charging into the elevator to do something phenomenally stupider.

Alcohol certainly makes passing the time easier. Makes it pass quicker. Makes waiting less boring.

That’s what he has been doing for the last eleven months, waiting. Because, after the initial shock and heartbreak wore off, Crowley choose to believe that Aziraphale hasn’t truly abandoned him for Heaven. That he took the Supreme Archangel position because he has a plan, whatever it could be.

He isn’t quite sure what he would do if the opposite turned out to be true.

Die, probably.

So Crowley holds onto that flicker of hope (You’re a demon, demons don’t get to hope. Stop that.) and resigns himself to waiting.

But it is in times like this, the very very early hours of the morning when he is staggering off back to his flat or over to his bed, that hope starts to wane. When the ‘what ifs’ begin to creep in.

What if Aziraphale doesn’t have a plan or isn’t going to come back to Earth (and Crowley) again? What if he stays up there forever? What if the angel has forgotten about him?

He will either find out or spend eternity waiting. Some days he isn’t sure which is worse.

Crowley has just climbed into the Bentley when a flicker of light catches his eye. And there is a see-through version of Aziraphale sitting in the passenger’s seat beside him. Turned towards him slightly with his mouth open as if he’s about to say something.

Not this again.

“Know you’re not really here, so fuck off,” he tells the hallucination.

“Crowley…“ Whatever the hallucination is about to say next gets cut off.

“No. Don’t care. You aren’t real, anyway,”

The Bentley pulls out of the parking space and onto the road. It takes off in the direction of Crowley’s flat faster than an eighty-year-old car should have been able to. Crowley doesn’t see the sad expression that ghosted over the hallucination’s face before it vanishes from the passenger’s seat.

This is something that has started happening whenever the demon thinks too hard about what ifs and Aziraphale, a hallucination of the angel would appear.

When it had first appeared, it scared the wits out of Crowley (not that he would ever admit that to anyone) who had been in the middle of a Golden Girls marathon. He yelled at the hallucination for nearly fifteen whole minutes before he realised he wasn’t yelling at the real Aziraphale. That had made him yell some more, just in the direction of Heaven instead.

The next day plays out much like every day before it had. Crowley wakes to find himself very much, disappointingly sober but with a ridiculous headache. The cure, which he decided upon months ago, was to get up and go drink some more.

It wasn’t like he has much else to do. Hell stopped giving him any assignments after Armageddon’t and stopped communicating with him at all as of eleven months ago.

So all he has left is an indeterminate amount of waiting.

—x—x—x—

End notes:

Is Crowley really hallucinating Aziraphale, or is it something else entirely?

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #crowley #good omens 2 #aziracrow #ineffable divorce #ao3 link #good omens season 2 #gomens #hbi fics

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existslikepristin · 2 years

Text

Been holding on to this one in a finished/unedited state for a few months now because I wasn't too happy with it. @worldsover did some editing for me. It still feels like something's missing (I'm not going to try to make Levi literally rewrite the whole thing), so feel free to give me critiques and suggestions, even if it's "yeah, I see what you mean and it is a little odd". I don't want to avoid posting it for forever, so let's call it a learning experience.

Regardless, I hope you enjoy! This is my first explicitly stated female reader insert, so that's yet another fun step.

(Also, I know I promised that the next story would be "normal" but you know what? Anything is normal compared to my last fic, so the only critique I will not be accepting is "Waaah, this isn't 'normal!'")

Tags: NSFW, TheLounge, Red Velvet, Irene, Female reader insert, anal, rimming, not a single line of dialogue, canonical silence, ass worship, massage oils, hand holding, yeah you’re deeefinitely the dominant one here

Open and Shut Up

~~~~~

No talking.

You can get behind that. That’s totally sexy. What’s less sexy… is a flowchart.

Obviously, you printed it out. Irene is going to be paying you for thi—It’s not payment, you remind yourself. It’s a mutual favor between acquaintances which may or may not involve money or goods/services which require it.

You scowl retroactively at Yeri’s so-called humorous insistence that you are, effectively, a prostitute. Performing sex acts in exchange, one time, for smoked salmon bagels is most definitely not prostitution, as you have reminded her many times.

Trying very hard to put that train of thought behind you, you glance around at the room. Low light, vanilla lavender sandalwood candles, obscenely soft towels, lube options, massage oils, and the stupid fucking laminated flowchart. You sigh—

NO! You don’t sigh, actually! Because the no talking rule was emphasized in great detail during negotiations, and included moans, groans, hums, whispers, grunts, and unnecessarily heavy breathing. And since a sigh is a heavy breath, you fucking hold that shit in tight!

But why do you need to hold in your sighs? Well, because of the final feature of the room that wasn’t mentioned two paragraphs ago: Irene, lying entirely nude on her stomach, on a bed of silk sheets, implying that your job—NOT your job, excuse you—has already begun. You entered the room mere seconds ago, so this should be extremely obvious to you, but you had to take care of a bit of exposition before you could really admire her body or get into the action. Perhaps you should do one of those two things now.

You can hardly believe what you’re seeing. Her slim legs and waist, the expanse of her back easily defeating the silkiness of the sheets she’s on, her elegant neck, her luxurious pitch black hair twirled into a loose bun, and the mild plumpness of her ass, peeking out from above the creases where her thighs meet it. Now, you’ve seen plenty of naked idols, but it’s the prestige that comes with this idol in particular that may have you so excited. Or it’s what she wants you to do to her. It’s hard to say. Point is, you’re wet, and you’re probably going to have to lay down a towel of your own.

On that note, you forgot an important aspect of the exposition: You’re not allowed to touch yourself.

That’s right. You’re in a room with a naked Irene, perhaps the most desired (per capita by fans and/or marketing departments) idol in history, preparing to gape her asshole in exchange for goods and/or services and/or currency totalling in value no less than the approximate equivalent worth of this spa treatment, and you aren’t supposed to get yourself off. But you are supposed to be naked, so you remove your shirt and bra, making just enough noise for her to hear you undressing, since that’s supposed to be how you let her know you’re about to start—

Oh, yes. Did you forget the most, actually, critically important part of your exposition? Oh, you think you caught on to it moments ago? Why, yes. You’re here, specifically, to gape her asshole. No more, except any action that will lead toward said gaping, and definitely no less. You are to take the role of dominant, while she takes the role of submissive. Never mind the fact that, per her instructions, you can’t speak, or make any noise, or touch yourself, or use her body to get yourself off, or choose your own state of undress, or touch any part of her not shown in the diagram on the flowchart, or do anything that isn’t explicitly spelled out on the flowchart… But you are required to spank her if she makes any noises. So yeah, you’re totally the dominant one here. (And, to be more specific, you are to keep track of which buttcheek you last spanked so that you can make sure to spread the ass-slapping evenly between cheeks and preserve symmetry, followed by immediate continuation of whatever action you were in the midst of prior to said spank.)

… Yes, that is the last of the exposition. What? You want to have a flashback to when the verbal negotiations were happening? Absolutely not. That’s dialogue, which is technically against the rules. It’s time to do things to Irene’s butthole. Stop stalling.

Once you remove your skirt, slippers, and underwear, you get onto your knees, noting that the floor seems slightly spongy and wondering what that’s about. Irene’s legs are closed. The crevasse of her ass on its own makes you want to scream, but the centerpoint of the cross formed by that crevasse and her thigh crease . There is the slightest gap at that point which reveals the tiniest sneak peak of what hides between. You bite down on your lips to suppress your instinctual lewd moan. Okay, you’re just getting started. Calm down, or this is going to be impossibly difficult.

You straddle Irene’s calves (without touching them!), take a deep and silent breath, and lean forward, placing your palms first on the flawless globes of her ass, then letting your fingers come to rest as well. They’re such a perfect combination of firm, soft, and smooth that it brings tears to your eyes. The inability to comment on them out loud brings you near-physical pain and certainly-mental anguish. If Irene cares, she’s not making it known. She’s deathly silent, and you only know she’s alive because of the way her back rises and falls with her breath.

Contact achieved. Looking at the flowchart isn’t necessary for now. You had a pretty easy time memorizing steps one through five since they don’t have any branching-off points. Step two is to inspect. You look away and take a couple more deep (and silent!) breaths, then increase the pressure of your hands on Irene’s butt and ever so slowly pull apart.

Within the realm of your imagination, you can see yourself comically hyperventilating. In the real world, you see a hole that you could only ever describe as manicured. Not a hair in sight, and some shade of pink so unrealistically perfect that it probably has a Pantone color named after it (Irene’s Butthole Pink? Pick a hex code). The miniscule folds of flesh are already very slightly gaped, giving you a near-imperceptible view into her interior, as if she’d had someone else very recently do what you’re about to, or as if she’d prepared herself with a butt plug. You wonder if Irene even owns a butt plug though, considering she can probably convince any person on the planet to open up her ass any time she would even want to use one. Or maybe she does have one. The Alexander III Commemorative Fabergé egg is still missing, after all…

You pull a little further, and can’t contain your shudder as not only her asshole opens by another couple millimeters, but her pussy lips spread and eventually split apart when the pressure barely overcomes the moisture holding them together. Your eyes and heart flutter, and you think you might faint. The vagina is one of many areas which is not indicated as touchable on the diagram, which hurts your soul because it’s the perfect number of shades darker than the surrounding skin and—

It’s time to focus! Asshole only! Get your mind out of the gutter!

Keeping one hand in place so she stays half-open, you get a handful of one of the massage oils. It feels room temperature, but you're supposed to hold it until it's warmer, so you stare at Irene's back as you try not to let too much drip away. The movement of her breathing is steady and subtle. In. Out. You try to match her pace. In. Out. In. Out.

When it's ready, you let the oil flow off your hand into the cleft of Irene's ass. She doesn't so much as flinch, which you obviously credit more to your excellent reading of body temperature and less to her ass-trance. But back to the butt in hand.

The oil travels leisurely down her crack, speeding up ever so slightly as the path becomes more vertical, and stopping to pool on top of her hole. You place your oily hand on its designated cheek again and repeat the process on the other side.

It’s time to really get started now… with step three-dash-C.

The tips of your thumbs meet just over her hole and press down flatly so that they do not enter her. You slowly shift them around each other and back, massaging with just the right pressure to stay on the rim. The rest of your hands are for massaging the rest of her derriere. It’s not necessary, but you want to show off your manual dexterity, and you want to make sure she’s as relaxed as can—She’s effectively already achieved Nirvana down there, from the looks of things, actually. The relaxation is for you. You’re the one who’s Nirvous about this anal—Is this a joke to you? It’s time for another spread test. You need to make sure Irene’s ready, because maybe somewhere between steps four-dash-E and four-dash-K you’ll forget to off yourself for that pun… Thank fuck you didn’t say that one out loud.

Step four is the first insertion.

Every ounce of fortitude you have is tested. You hold back your shaking. It’s just a finger. It is just a finger, right? You’ve done this plenty of times, to plenty of idols, no less. Well, not a silent butt-fingering, per se, but you’ve been knuckle deep in other idols before, and often more than one idol and often more than one knuckle! Irene just has a gravitas that makes yo—Don’t you dare say she has a gravitass. Stay. Quiet! And keep her ass spread with your free hand.

You watch the carefully trimmed, polished nail of your forefinger leisurely slip into her asshole. Then you pass your first knuckle. You stop on the second and quietly release your held breath. You don’t recall making an analogy about the feeling of her ass cheeks, but you’ll sure as hell compare the interior of her butt to cashmere. The minor gape you’d noticed previously has no effect on how tightly the hole hugs your digit.

Irene’s back rises a centimeter higher, and falls more slowly. Her pattern is broken. You catch your breath again. Did you do something wrong? Is the massage oil adequate? No, it’s only meant to be the starter. This was the whole intention. Right? You glance at the flowchart. Yes, step three, massage oil only, no additional lubrication. You do your best to relax and drag your finger back.

The way her asshole holds on to your finger is its own story of seduction, affair, and dramatic departure. She (her hole is a she) clearly doesn’t want her (so is your finger) to go, but she has to, lest her family shun her. But she cannot resist returning, leaving again despite all the kissing and languid hugging, and returning once more. One last time, she escapes completely, but after telling the story to a saucy friend, introduces Irene’s butt to them, and suddenly the sordid romance becomes a menage a trois.

Two fingers, two knuckles deep in Irene’s ass, you note your own wetness beginning to trail down your inner thigh. You aren’t sure exactly why the thought crosses your mind that you hope that it will somehow evaporate against your ragingly hot and bothered leg.

Now, out, and back in, out, and back in. With your breath. You match Irene’s. Out, and back in.

You gulp. You’re halfway through step four’s substeps. Next is the addition of another finger and more thrusting at a torturously slow pace for an actually timed five minutes. You find yourself hypnotized by it. The five minutes pass by in something more like twelve seconds, and the clock on the wall gently changes color to let you know it’s time to make the final preparations for step five. It’s not magical. It’s just connected by bluetooth to the phone to your left.

But what is magical? You’ve come this far, so you should know by now. It’s Irene’s asshole. You remove two of three fingers, then reinsert one more from the opposite hand, and as cautiously as you can, pull apart. There’s the magic.

Irene’s butt is open, and not just immediately around your fingers, but in a whole oval shape. It’s not enormously wide, but it’s enough that you could reasonably, without discomfort, insert the tip of your tongue.

… Hey. Wouldn’t you know it? That’s step five.

Rimming is always a questionable thing to do to your nose, ranging from the worst to a merely neutral idea. When you draw in close to Irene’s open ass, however, it’s the massage oil that overpowers your trepidatious olfactory sense. You’d noticed earlier that it was labeled as Fresh Linen, a scent that certainly makes sense given Irene’s reputation for laundry-doing, but it triggers a seemingly unrelated and entirely Loony memory of the smell of coffee. How the smells of linen and coffee are linked in your mind, you may never know. Perhaps you should see a professional about that.

But how’s the taste? Well, bland with the slight bitter spike of chemicals that improve viscosity but shouldn’t be ingested in large quantities. The risk of health complications is extremely low though, and you’d risk significantly more for this specific opportunity.

Irene’s butt cheeks and your face cheeks are still separated by your hands, but as of step five-dash-B that will no longer be the case. For now, your lips and tongue are in full contact, and that would be more than enough. To be licking around and inside the asshole of Irene, the rarely disputed queen of idols, you have to be infinitely lucky. You thank heaven you are.

Your focus is drawn in further and further. No more jokes. No more references to other stories. Even the most obvious pun/reference slips from your mind as you try your best to keep your tongue soft for Irene’s pleasure.

Your complete and total compliance doesn’t go unnoticed by Irene, somehow. The tiniest roll of her hips, that barest indication of her appreciation, kicks your core into overdrive. The trail down your thigh widens and it’s all you can do to beg the universe that you won’t drip on her calves.

It takes more strength than you knew you had not to squeal your desperation into her ass. Your thighs and your lungs and your everything else burn with desire. You know it’s not for want of air since your nose is still free, so it has to be your overwhelming need for Irene’s attention. You’d do anything. You are doing anything. A friendly agreement to gape her hole? No, this is a test, a labor, a trial. You’re proving your devotion.

You’re not licking a queen’s ass.

You’re worshipping a goddess.

It’s not a flowchart.

It’s a divine ritual.

The shifting color on the clock only mostly guides you out of your trance. You pull away with a heavy heart, staring half lidded at the strings of saliva still connecting you with what you now live for. There’s no difference in size, but you much prefer the sheen you left on her rim to that of the oil. Step five isn’t over yet.

Do rituals have steps? You try to think back to any hieroglyphics you’ve seen in old textbooks. There were no numbers… Obviously there were no numbers. They were hieroglyphics. You can’t read that shit—

Stop.

You remove your fingers, allowing Irene’s ass to close once more. It happens slowly. You nearly choke, watching her hole return to its previous shape with your breath held so tightly in your chest that it feels like something is going to burst. Hey, maybe it will, but that can’t happen yet. That would be too loud, and your goddess demands silence, so you open your mouth to simply allow the breath to drift out along with any comments you had on the subject.

You close back in once again, this time letting your face settle against Irene’s cheeks and gently nudge them apart, reattaching your tongue to her rim. You want to dive in, to feel her squeeze you, maybe even cum around you, but that’s not part of the ritual. You need to give her rest. The best is yet to cum—no. Come. You give her the lightest rimming you can, holding your tongue back to merely caress her asshole while you silently revel in the light press of her glutes on your cheeks.

Another slight roll of her hips sends you reeling. Your vision fades and Irene is all that’s left. You can see the movement. It’s not just her breath, but her oh-so-gentle rocking back and forth that makes the light and shadows play across her back like the grains of the Elysian fields waving in the breeze. It doesn’t seem right for you to be allowed to experience this, to taste this, to be treated to a view of paradise, to understand the touch of divinity.

The gently shifting color of the clock, magenta to yellow, broadens your vision again. You back away, taking a deep breath that you only now realize you desperately needed.

Without thinking, finally, you do as Irene has commanded. You place your palms on her ass: your altar. You slide your thumbs into her glorious hole, and you pull apart softly. Her muscles have relaxed so thoroughly that you meet no resistance. She is simply open, as if this is just how she was always meant to be, told in myths that cannot be written. Her soft ass doesn’t try to clench down. It remains a portal that entices you, begs you to enter.

And you could. Certainly, as is the case with other gods, Irene could forgive you for showing her your specialty. You, the heroic champion, could show her an unexpected pleasure. Touch her clit, lap at her juices, grind yourself on the back of her thigh. Her instruction indicated that you’re the dominant one here. Make it so.

You hook the first knuckle of each of your pointer fingers, as directed, inside.

No. You can’t get greedy now. You’re not that kind of hero.

Irene opens further around your digits with no effort. Now you see the depth of her abyss, and it does not try to close. Irene wants you to see into her. Even the beautiful spheres of her ass to either side, her graceful back, her soft legs, her captivating hair… It all fades away. You know what the next step is. You don't need the clock to intuit the moment she's ready. Your higher thoughts and your lust blend together.

Slowly, you pull further apart. Not much. It may not seem like it's so small, but this immortal gateway still needs to be treated with reverence. For every millimeter you actually widen her, though, you see miles more. It makes you feel light-headed, even a little dizzy. And when you slide your fingers out, those feelings become far more distinct. Irene remains open.

Gaping may have been an appropriate word for her to have described what she wanted from you, but it was far too crude to represent what you see now. Then again, you’re not sure what else to call it. It’s been a while since the thesaurus failed you.

Irene's muscles are relaxed. Serene, even. Like this is where they should naturally be. You simply guided them.

You lean back in and gently kiss her rim. It's dangerous, running your tongue around the defined edge of the mortal and everlasting, but exhilarating. The slight rolling of her hips is your indication that Irene is feeling the same passion, for all the hubris it takes to assume such a thing about your goddess. As far as you know, she could just be moving because your tongue and lips aren't in the right places and making up for your inadequacies.

Still, every slight, slow shade of her ass against your cheek is a divine caress, urging you further along the journey. Your kisses are as insistent as you can get them without making the grave error of smacking your lips.

In the foggiest reaches of your vision, a hand reaches out to you along the floor. Irene grasps at the air like she wants something. That’s not part of the ritual. You can only think of one thing in the moment, and you take her hand in yours.

Irene’s fingers close around yours and curl into your palm. They flutter every time you swirl your tongue across her rim, and, after a moment, they squeeze.

It’s terrifying, at first, when Irene trembles underneath you. It evokes thoughts of earthquakes, brought upon by the wrath of the gods. But no, it’s orgasm. Her asshole contracts slightly, but otherwise just quivers against your mouth. It ends almost as soon as it begins.

Irene takes her hand away, and a bit of your soul with it. She lightly presses on the clock, and it shifts to white. You don’t have to be reminded of what that means. Steeling your heart, you back off of Irene’s ass and carefully push yourself up to your feet. Even at your full height, you can see into Irene’s hole. Taking it in with the full picture of the rest of her body is an incredible sight to behold. Knowing that you contributed to it makes it even more beautiful.

As you look over her, your eyes go wide and you have to contain a gasp. Irene’s calves are covered in little wet streaks, right where you had been hovering over her. Embarrassment washes over you. It's hard to imagine being so turned on as to not have felt yourself dripping on her, especially after having worried about that very thing mere minutes ago. You want to reach for a towel to correct your mistake, but you know you're not supposed to touch her. You're supposed to be dressing yourself and leaving, so you step away, and reach down for your clothes.

Your arms feel heavy as you pull your underwear up, only getting more embarrassed about how soaked they immediately become.

As you put on your shirt though, Irene moves again. You can't help but stand perfectly still, mesmerized by the smooth motion of Irene getting up onto her knees and sitting back on her heels. Now upright, she's even more statuesque, back curved inward from her generous bottom up to her gentle shoulders. One hand releases her hair from its bun, and the night sky falls past her neck, simultaneously obscuring and enhancing that gorgeous expanse.

Irene’s torso twists a quarter in your direction. It's hard to think that for however long you've been here, this is the first you've seen her face and it's merely a silhouette, not even far enough around that she could look at you out of the corner of her eye. All you can see is her eyelashes, pointed down, to indicate that her eyes are closed. The movement also coyly presents you with the side of her breast, yet another of the endless curves of her body that you have had no opportunity to worship.

One graceful arm comes back. Her fingers find their way to the cleft of her ass and sensually feel their way down. You don't even think to wipe away your drool as you watch those fingers dip inward. They move in and out, unhurried and exquisite.

Your mind reels. Were you not enough? Is she just basking in the remnants of her pleasure? Is she doing this for you to watch? Should you even still be here?

Irene continues to toy lightly with her asshole while at the same time her other hand shakes out her hair from below.

Your legs twitch. You can't stay here anymore. You practically jump into your skirt, grab your shoes, and you're out the door. You keep the doorknob turned in your hand even as you whip yourself outside so the latch won't click when you close it.

In the hallway, you slump back against the wall. Your body is on fire. You need to be touched. You don’t live very far away. You can get home fast, and if you can’t grab someone on the way, idol or otherwise, you’ll be sitting on a vibrator all night—

The door you just came through opens again. Irene walks out in a shoulderless sweater, just long enough to cover her shorts, and sneakers. How she can look so casual, you’re sure you’ll never comprehend.

She doesn’t turn to leave, though. She steps closer to you, and closer, and closer. The hallway isn’t that wide. Are her steps inches long or is space expanding? Either way, she crosses and stands over you. It doesn’t matter what your height was. Your knees will only hold you against the wall at a height that makes it look like Irene is miles taller.

You open your mouth. You want to ask her to make good on her end of your bargain right now. Or maybe not. It doesn’t really matter. You just want to say something. But before you can, you feel the shock of physical connection. Irene strokes your cheek with the back of her fingers. Her eyes capture yours, holding you steady.

The distance becomes inches, and you’re paralyzed. She doesn’t blink as she gets even closer, but closes her eyes just in time to remove the final gap and touch her lips to yours. She kisses you so softly that you can barely feel it. In fact, the whole of your body seems suddenly light and cloudish, like a breeze could send you away. You even feel a drop of rain leave your eye.

When she retreats, she gives you the coyest smile to ever coy, and as she approaches her full height again, her fingers leave your jawline and the lightness you felt reverses. Gravity crashes your ass into the floor.

Then Irene turns to leave, breaking the line of sight to her eyes, freeing your own to wander. The last thing you see before she turns the corner is that she is not, in fact, wearing shorts under her sweater. You get one last glimpse of your handiwork. Though you can’t see very well and can’t imagine her ass is still gaped now that she’s back on her feet, it is still visibly wet, as are the backs of her thighs and calves.

#irene smut #irene #red velvet #red velvet smut #female reader #kpop smut

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littlemisslipbalm · 2 years

Text

Bottlerock - Part 2

Josh Kiszka x Fem!reader

Summary: After months apart, Josh makes good on a promise. Distance and communication are hard parts of relationships, can a tenacious journalist and the lead singer be enough for one another? Is love enough...

Heyyy so I'm finally here with an update for y'all! I am so excited for everyone to read this and I really hope you let me know what you think. This part is 19.6k but I already have another 4k written for part 3!! Enjoy and let me know what you think and reblog and all the good stuff...this fic feels like a child to me at this point, I've spent so much time with it.

Read Part 1 here!

Warnings: angsty! nothing too graphic I believe, some sammy drinking, (no weed use I believe this time or smoking of cigarettes surprisingly), SMUT (18+ as always)

18+ Warnings: unprotected sex, dom!male, sub!fem (mostly I think), soft/loving smut, degradation/dirty talk, mention of praise kink

Enjoy!

The last few weeks of term were almost like hell for Y/N. Thoughts of Josh plagued her mind relentlessly. So to remedy that, she threw herself into her schoolwork and her big piece. The big piece…about Josh. She forced herself to push off her feelings for Josh in order to finish the piece and get it into the paper.

When Y/N pitched it to the Editor in Chief, she had been so ecstatic that a member of the major had gotten such a big inside scoop. She’d given her a week to write it and have edits completely done because the physical paper was going to print a week from then.

So for one week, all Josh was, all he could be, in her mind was a subject. She balked at the recording of his voice from the original interview. Normally, she might listen to it so that she could write the words quickly and accurately but she relied on parsing the words from the flawed transcriber. She couldn’t bear to hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to her for the first time.

She recounted every possible detail she could about him and wrote it down. Painstakingly creating visuals for the readers so that they could imagine that they were at the festival and speaking with him. Not in his tour bus, not in a lawn chair beside him, not at the winery, but at the barricade speaking with him. Maybe a sprinkle of the visuals of the festival when they spent Saturday together, but other than that no more than the interview.

The sparkling jumpsuit, the sheen of sweat on his brow, his kind eyes and sweet smile. Scratch the sweet smile, maybe slightly gap-toothed smile was fine but sweet was putting her opinion on it. Same with kind eyes, but she hoped that could be forgiven. It mostly was just a fact. He was a kind man with kind brown eyes that made her want to melt. Fuck. Focus.

The story runs in print as the second long form story and is posted on the website as well. She posts it on her Instagram and plenty of people from her school and her family read it. Josh follows her on Instagram now and after he reads it, he messages her. It’s the first time he’s communicated with her since they parted ways in Napa almost three weeks prior. The tearful goodbye hadn’t really happened, but they’d certainly left on less than perfect terms.

He texts her. She gulps at the message when his name pops up on her phone. She doesn’t have read receipts on so she clicks on it almost immediately.

“I loved the piece you wrote, I felt like I was back there. I hope you get the recognition you deserve even if it’s just a school paper, best outcomes and all. Your mind is incredible.”

Her heart feels like it’s going to explode in her chest and stop working altogether simultaneously. Her lips are smiling as she forgets about the French work she was doing in order to study for her final that was at the end of this week. When she puts a hand to her mouth she realizes she’s smiling and drops it immediately.

Her mind races with Josh’s message. Three sentences. Three sentences more of him than she had before. He bothered to read the piece and tell her his thoughts about it. He felt like he was in Napa again from it. What did that mean to him? Because she knew what it meant to her and it made her heart ache. She ached for the warmth of his skin against hers in his tour bus bed. For the tickle of his facial hair against her when they kissed. For their time together when she hadn’t been scared, but felt seen and appreciated.

He harkened back to not one, but two of the things that had been so big in those three days. Best outcomes. They were still possible in Josh’s eyes. And her mind was still something he was attracted to. She shut her eyes at the thought. Three weeks of nothing, three weeks of pushing Josh away even though she had to think about him almost constantly. He was in the room with her for three weeks yet hundreds of miles away. Yet this was the first time he had spoken since Napa.

Her fingers hovered above the keyboard, no clue what to say in response to that. Should she say a simple thank you or should she spill everything she wanted to tell him for the past three weeks? Tell him how hard it was to write the piece? How much she missed him. How much she wanted to be beside him. How she almost hated him for how he made her want him so badly that it distracted her from her work, her studies and the rest of her life.

No. She imagined him sitting with his phone beside him doing something interesting or at least occupying. Working on music, practicing an instrument, reading a book, playing cards and drinking with Jake. Something. Anything. He wasn’t waiting at the phone for her, they’d started touring again last week. He had sent a nice message because he cared and she cared too so she should send a reasonable response.

Her fingers began to type.

“Thank you, Josh. I’m glad you think I did the interview justice. Hope your short break went well, you deserve it.”

She reads through it three times before sending it, worrying over the use of his name. Was it too formal or too intimate? She couldn’t get a handle on what it was. Deciding to go with her gut, she left it in, sending it and putting her phone on the charger after she decided to shower.

When she’s out, her phone has a new message but she leaves it, not prepared to worry over whether Josh’s response warranted a response on her end.

Y/N doesn’t actually read the text until the next morning. But it’s not the first notification that pops up on her phone when she wakes up. Instead there are a flurry of text messages from various friends and hundreds of Instagram notifications. She had an influx of followers and comments since last night. One of the notifications caught her eye the most.

“@GretaVanFleet tagged you on their story.”

The band’s account had reposted her school’s newspaper post about her interview with Josh and tagged her as well. She had new followers that were mainly fan accounts and comments on her posts asking how she had gotten the interview if she was just a student.

She grimaced and closed Instagram, not particularly upset, just unsure what to do with that. Her messages app opened and she began to field the questions from her friends about her story getting posted on the band’s story and her getting tagged as well. Her answers varied based on how close she was with people. Eventually she got down to Josh’s text from last night.

“Of course.”

Followed by.

“I asked if they’d post your story on the band’s socials. Hope that’s ok!”

She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. On one hand, of course it was okay. It was more than okay. This was amazing for her potential career as a music journalist. Having the band repost the story was huge for that. On the other hand, it raised more questions about the interview and how she had gotten such an in depth look at the band. People were already confused how she’d gotten the quotes, now they were going to be shocked that the band cared enough to post about it.

“Yep! All good. It’s very kind of you to do that, but why’d they tag my personal account?”

She had to ask. It didn’t make any sense. Her name was on the byline so if anyone wondered who wrote it they could’ve found her easily without the tag.

Josh’s response is almost instantaneous.

“No clue! Looks like even more people get to read it now, though, and know you wrote it. Congratulations.”

She sighs. Of course that’s what he said. The text bubble shows up under his last response and she wonders what he possibly could say next. She wonders if radio silence or communication like this was better for her heart with Josh.

“A little birdie told me you’re going to be in Dublin when we are performing and that you perhaps already have tickets to the show?”

A little birdie…Sam. Sam had gotten her number before they parted ways, originally, so that he could get Chloe’s number from Y/N. But after one week of texting with Chloe, Sam had gotten bored, according to himself, and now pestered Y/N whenever he felt like it. They were closer in age and it seemed to her that Sam liked the idea of college life and that he sometimes felt like he missed out on the whole experience. She assured him that it was not as glamorous as being a famous rockstar and he would assure her in return that being a rockstar had plenty of its own downsides.

For that reason they texted every other day or so. So, Sam knew she had tickets to their Dublin concert but she had told him to not mention it to Josh. They had a strict rule of no talking about Josh when they texted so it’s clear that Sam had fucked up and accidentally told Josh and then refused to fess up to her about it.

“Tell that bird that he can count his days to Dublin now.”

She can’t see the laugh that Josh sounds when he reads the text or Sam’s flushed face when he reads it aloud to him. She wonders whether they’re all together right now though and pushes it to the back of her mind. The thought makes her too sad, reminding her of the last time she was with all of them. After the winery, after the walk back to the car. Them parting ways…it was all too much. She continues her response to Josh.

Y/N: “Yeah, I’ll be there for about a month after school ends and I bought the tickets for the show last December.”

Josh: “We should meet up while we’re there.”

Y/N: “Sure, let me know when you’re free while you’re there bc I can imagine y’all will be far busier and there for a short amt of time.”

Josh: “Sounds like a plan. See you soon, sunshine.”

She actually chokes on her own breathing this time. They had been texting rather normally. Cordially. And then he’d gone and stuck ‘sunshine’ in there. Sunshine. She wanted to scream. Instead, she threw her phone across the room and got ready to go on a walk. Her headphones were turned up to one below the loudest setting. She let Remi Wolf and any other music that wouldn’t remind her of Greta Van Fleet, or Josh at all, sing into her ears until her legs were starting to get tired and she turned around to walk home.

Fucking sunshine. Why would he do that to her?

She doesn’t text Sam for a few days. Ignoring his pestering texts about her weekend plans in her college town and how the bar scene was. She relented by Thursday and sent him a video of a band playing at one of the bars. She sent it with a follow-up text.

Y/N: “Better than the grotty Greta Van Fleet you’re in, snake.”

Sammy (he’d insisted that his contact be that in her phone – “We’re just close like that.” She had rolled her eyes.): i thought i was a bird, sunshine?”

Y/N: “Don’t. I hate you.”

She didn’t but she wanted Sam to know it wasn’t cool that he had told Josh about Ireland. She didn’t know why she didn’t want Josh to know. She wanted to see him again, that was supposed to be their whole deal. But she still worried that it wouldn’t be the same and she’d just keep getting her heart broken. She didn’t want what Jake had said happened before to happen to her. She didn’t want to be hurt by Josh and then have Josh be hurt that he hurt her. It just sounded horrible and messy.

She got it into her mind that staying away was for the best. She was planning on seeing the concert because she’d spent the money but she wasn’t going to mention it to Josh. Maybe by then she’d have wanted him so much that she surprised him but that was only a small possibility that was now off the table.

Sammy: “c’mon Y/N, it’s finee. joshy is so excitd to see you and im sure ur excited to see him too.”

Y/N: “Learn to spell, please. Maybe you did need to go to college. Also Rule 1.”

Sam laugh reacts to her message which makes her smile. Maybe it would be nice to see the band again.

Sammy: “fine, still wanna go guinness tasting in dublin tho???”

Y/N: “Obviously. Now go light some shit on fire or whatever you do with your free time in EUROPE. I need to free my hands up for drinks and dancing.”

Josh mainly stays off Y/N’s mind for the next week and a half. Finals, moving out and her first week in Ireland with her family kept her plenty busy. Sam was busy with touring and being a rockstar so their texting was more intermittent than when they were on break.

The day before the Dublin concert, she received an email from Ticketmaster telling her that her General Admission tickets had been upgraded, one to VIP and one to Press All Access. VIP wasn’t even an option to buy so she didn’t exactly know what that meant, but as she scrolled through the email there was a personal message attached at the bottom.

“Can’t wait to see you tomorrow! These passes will get you backstage, in front of the barricade and free drinks at any of the vendors. I’d love to meet your mom too if you want. Best outcomes. - Joshua Michael.”

Her hand went to cover her mouth. Her jaw had dropped. He had upgraded their tickets and invited her to bring her mother with her backstage. It was settled. Josh wanted to see her. Her heart was beating so fast. It finally hit her. She was going to see Josh finally. In reality it had only been about a month but everything with Josh felt bigger than it actually was. Time took so long with and without him by her side.

At the venue, she went up to the box office and showed them the tickets and the message she had gotten yesterday. They hand her two lanyards, one with VIP and one that said Press All Access. She smiled down at the press pass and thought about how intentional it was of Josh to provide her with that kind of pass. It was likely going to be the first of many. She gave the VIP to her mother who looked at her curiously, still not understanding what was going on between her daughter and the band they were seeing.

“Why did he give us these tickets again?” Her mother prodded as they walked to get drinks right away.

Y/N felt the need to be anything but sober right now and she had no way of getting high so getting drunk would have to suffice. “It was a thank you gift for how good I made him look in my piece. Plus, I’m kind of friends with him and his brother. We text occasionally.”

The emphasis on ‘friends’ makes her mom back off and Y/N takes a large gulp of the tall IPA she had gotten from the vendor, leaving a tip since it had been free.

“They might want me to go out with them tonight,” She adds, trying to figure out a way to tell her mom to be okay with it if she didn’t return to the hotel tonight…just in case.

“So you might not come home?” Her mother finishes for her with an arched brow.

“I don’t know,” She sighs exasperatedly, gesturing insignificantly towards nothing. “Maybe. I just want to be prepared for anything. This could be really good for my career… Networking and such.”

“Sure, honey. Just text me when you know.”

She nods and they walk to the front and get let in front of the barricade. The band isn’t supposed to go on for another 30 minutes so her mom and her chat while Y/N tries to push away the nerves in her stomach that are threatening to make her throw up. Her heart stops when she feels a tap on her shoulder. Thinking it’s Josh, she whips around, but a long-haired, bearded tall man stares at her with a grin on his face.

“Sam!” She smiles.

He pulls her into a hug, glad to see a now familiar face. Somehow the weeks of texting had brought them together, making Sam feel like a close friend that she hadn’t seen in a while. So different than how she had first experienced him, smug and a little bratty. She had kept his Queen shirt originally in spite and convenience but now it felt like it was a token to feel close to a friend.

He says her name in response and pulls back with a friendly wink before turning to her mother and introducing himself. His lanky frame flops about in a casual manner that makes her want to laugh in comparison to her mother’s expression. Her mom was used to meeting celebrities from her husband’s old work, but this was different. Sam was a young rockstar on foreign soil chatting her up. He was effortlessly flirty and her mother was laughing, flushing with schoolgirl embarrassment as he showered her with compliments.

Y/N laughed and smiled as the three of them talked about how the touring was going so far in Europe and how they had enjoyed their stay in Ireland for the last week. Sam has a security guard escort her mom to the bathroom backstage when she asks about one. Y/N thanks him and when they’re left alone she can’t help but ask about Josh.

“You know how he is. One strand was out of place and now he’s been fixing his hair for the last 30 minutes,” Sam glances down at his phone and sees the time. “He probably can’t come down here before the show, I honestly should go finish getting ready, too. They’ll start sending out search parties for me if I don’t get back there…Kind of the “talent” as they say. Big deal and all.”

She rolls her eyes at his grandstanding but she knows he’s just joking now. The first time she’d met him she thought he was serious, but Sam just found all the official-ness of the band silly. If it were up to him, it would be a much more chill experience, relaxed instead of commercialized. All he cared about taking seriously was the music and even with that he was so at home with the bass and the keys it didn’t feel official, it felt natural.

He gave her one more hug and retreated backstage, waving to her mother as she returned from her escorted bathroom run.

“Well, he was nice,” Her mom says with a raise of her eyebrows.

“That’s Sam. Josh is the one I did the interview with.”

“I know, but it’s nice that Sam came out to say ‘hi’ to you.”

“Josh is busy getting ready to perform. He said to come backstage after the show.”

Her mom nods and takes a sip of her drink. Y/N left her with a stagehand when she realized she needed another drink before the show started. Sam told them just to come backstage to get drinks from their rider since they usually had surplus. A PA points her in the direction of the food and drinks. As Sam’s rider would, there are two cases of White Claws. She takes two and an IPA that Jake probably asked for.

“Stealing, are we?” A raspy voice that sounds chipper questions behind her.

She spins around to find another Kiszka, but not Josh, once more.

“Y/N? I didn’t even realize it was you!” Jake looks at her with wide eyes. He was already in his embroidered suit and shiny boots that he was going to perform in rather than whatever ratty clothes he’d normally be wearing, most likely those blue ripped up jeans and a button down with one poor button utilised.

“Who did you think it was, then?” She tilts her head in curiosity.

Jake laughs and waves her off, not answering the question. She quirks an eyebrow at him. He could be so strange sometimes. He pulls her into a hug in a similar fashion as Sam did.

“Good choice,” He nods at the IPA in her hand.

“Sam said I could grab drinks from here.” She supplies and cracks the IPA, still not tipsy enough to not be anxious about being back here when Josh could walk up to her at any moment. She just wanted to get back to the front.

“He was right to say that,” Jake nods. “It’s good to see you, again. I liked the article you wrote on Josh. You wrote him well. Didn’t sound like such an obnoxious ass.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “He’s not.”

“Most of the time, no.” He pauses, considering something and then deciding against it. “Well, I’m gonna go check with the techs about my Les Paul. Someone had misplaced its plug in and I might have to use a different electric tonight if they haven’t found it yet.”

She nods and lets him leave before hurrying back to the front of the stage where she hands her mother one of the White Claws and sets the other beside her on the ground.

The band comes out less than 10 minutes later. Danny first, then Sam, Jake and finally Josh. She’s struck with the memory of seeing them come out at Bottlerock. Before she really knew them. Before everything. They were just a band with music she loved. They were a project and now they were friends. And more. They were complicated. Far more complicated than she had originally thought.

Their intro played and they played their first song of the night.

Sam is the closest to them and despite how close to the stage they are, she still can’t hear what he says to Josh as they move around, getting settled on the stage. Whatever it is must make Josh look her way, though. His eyes scan in front of the barricade and see her standing with the same black jeans on and a red plaid corset top on. The smile on her face is bright as she looks back at him and he gives her a tiny nod of his head as he smiles back. He returns to looking out at the rest of the crowd, beginning the show.

It was so inconsequential. That 30 seconds. Maybe it was less, but when he looks away she releases the breath that she had been holding. Almost unable to move with his gaze on her. Her mother refrains from commenting on the way her daughter had frozen up.

Sam interacts with her and her mom a lot throughout the show, sending winks their way and tossing a flag their way after it had been thrown on stage. Y/N wraps the Irish flag around her shoulders as the night wears on and she starts to get a little colder.

She moves her eyes around the stage trying to watch all of them perform. Jake’s talent at the guitar is always transfixing and she watches him lose himself in the music. Danny is a force to be reckoned with behind that drum kit. Sam moves with the bass, shutting his eyes and living for the music he makes. Josh is the hardest to watch but also the hardest to keep her eyes off of. He’s so close yet still so far away. She watches him lose himself in the music along with his band mates. Throwing his voice to the extremes and back. Smiling at the crowd and talking them in circles all while stealing glances at her that she pinkens at and then averts her eyes to look at someone else on the stage.

About half way through the show, she opens up the second White Claw she had procured for herself and drinks about half of it before Sam is gesturing to her. His hand mimics holding a cup as he looks at her while Josh talks to the crowd. Sam waves his hand a little more and pouts his lips before holding the actual cup he had with him upside down, showing that it was empty. She laughs and nods at him to come closer and she walks to the edge of the stage.

He bends his lanky figure down into a kneeling position, with his cup outstretched and she pours the remaining liquid into the golden plated copper cup. “Thanks, doll.”

“Gotta reward the talent,” She smiles at him and he winks before clambering back to his feet.

When she looks away from Sam she notices Josh is looking at their exchange and he smiles but it looks a little forced. She hopes the tightness is from his jaw getting tired from singing. The rest of the show finishes without a hitch, more winks from Sam and glances from Josh, but it all feels okay.

She walks backstage after the band finishes the encore and she tells a PA her name and they take her to a green room where the band would come before leaving. She and her mother sit on a surprisingly clean couch, awaiting their arrival. The anxiety of seeing Josh up close creeps in again. She remembers his warmth that radiates from him, the smoothness of his skin, the gap in his teeth that she was so enamored with.

But once again the moment is there before she is prepared. Josh walks into the room and he’s standing before her.

“I told you,” Josh says as the first thing he’s said to her in person in a month. “Only the best outcomes, sunshine.” He picks her up and spins her around in a circle. She pushes her head into his neck, a relaxing breath leaving her mouth and Josh grins.

The embrace is long and tight and she can’t help how tight she holds him back, not caring about the sheen of sweat that transfers from his skin to hers. He smells clean still and a bit like the heady smell of expensive beer and vape juice. His jumpsuit is a deep crimson with shiny gems that press against her as she wants to stay attached to him forever. She never wanted to let him go but the thought that her mother was watching this made her pull away from the hug.

“Mom, this is Josh. Josh, my mother,” she gestures at them respectively and her mom stands to shake Josh’s hand.

Josh must think about his sweaty state and clasps her hand with both of his instead of going for a hug as he might normally. “It’s lovely to meet the mother of such a talented young woman. You must be tremendously proud.”

“Of course. It was very nice of you to get us these special tickets. Your band is very talented.” Her mother responds with an air of caution. Josh is about the same height as Y/N’s mother and they look at each other curiously.

She doesn’t quite understand, but Y/N pushes forward, not wanting to ponder on why her mom had liked Sam so much but not Josh. He was lovely. The literal sun in her eyes. Maybe that blinded her to him, but how would she know that?

“Did you like the show?” Josh looks at Y/N to respond, a tilt of his head and a half smile on his face.

She nods with a smile on her lips, the giddiness of being next to Josh again was hard to contain. “Loved it, of course. The crowd here was so different from Bottlerock.”

Josh hummed as he thought about it and then nodded, “Yeah, I think you’re right. Different energy. I was worried, though, you weren’t dancing as much as last time.”

Her mom shoots her a look since Y/N had said she hadn’t met them until after the show – which was true.

She laughs with a shake of her head, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t front and center so it’s not like you could see me the whole time.”

“Yeah, you were on Sam’s side this time.”

“I wanted to be off to the side so the fans in the front didn’t have to look around us.”

Josh nods in understanding and then lights up with an idea. “Do you want to come get a drink with us after we’re all refreshed?” He turns to her mother, “You’re more than welcome to join us, as well.”

As her mother is about to decline, Sam waltzes into the room, overhearing Josh’s question as he enters. “C’mon at least for the first round, Mrs. Y/LN. I promise they’re all on Josh and you can tell me what you thought about the show. Plus, I need someone to keep my company since Y/N originally promised to go Guinness tasting with me but now I doubt she’ll have time tomorrow.”

Her mother laughs and Sam gives her a side hug which causes Y/N to wrinkle her nose in mild confusion. Her mom agrees to go for the first round and Josh watches his little brother interact so well with the mother of the woman he had been longing to see for the last month.

After the first round, where Sam continued to woo Y/N’s mother, she bids her farewells and leaves her daughter with the band that was seemingly helping her to become the music journalist she wanted to be. Her mother also seemed to really trust Sam so she didn’t exactly have a problem leaving her daughter alone with all four of them anymore.

Finally alone with the band, everything seems a little more relaxed. She wasn’t worried about Jake or Sam ratting her out about her more-than-friendship with Josh to her mother. Not that it wasn’t obvious to her mother, but she didn’t need to know explicitly what had gone down between the pair.

Y/N finds herself tucked under Josh’s arm rather quickly and she rests her empty palm on his thigh. It starts out as a comfort thing, just a way to be close to him, but as more rounds happen, her hand slips higher and closer to his inner thigh.

“I like this little onesie,” She whispers to Josh when Danny, Jake and Sam have gotten fascinated with another conversation that wasn’t of interest to her.

He smirked down at her, tilting his head in the oh-so-familiar way she had missed.

He was wearing a dark cream colored jumpsuit that was made out of soft fabric and had a triangle graphic on the right side of his chest in dark brown thread. It tied at his waist and was loose in most places besides his waist where the tie pulled and accentuated his groin. Her hand was just about to brush over it when Jake said his twin’s name, pulling them out of their little universe that wasn’t as private as they thought.

“Next rounds on you,” Jake says with a tilt of his head and a shake of his glass. “I closed my tab last time,” he says with a smirk.

Josh grins widely, a little drunkenly even, and slides out of the booth with a silly wink towards her before walking away. Her side is now cold from where Josh’s body had just been hugging against her. Her hand falling to the worn vinyl beneath her instead of its place on the firm yet plush covered flesh of Josh’s thigh. She readjusted her position in the booth, crossing her legs over themselves.

Sam, to her left, engages with her about something she mentioned seeing in Ireland last week that he had wanted to go see while they were there but wouldn’t have the chance. She pulls her phone out to show him some of the pictures she took at the cliffs of Moher. They lean into one another to look at them in the dimly lit pub.

Josh returns with a sloshing pitcher and she smiles, still giddy and excited by the prospect that Josh was here with her and everything was back to how it was. He had promised that they would see each other again and things would be okay and he had been right. There was a nagging voice inside of her reminding her of Jake’s words from the winery still. But she tried to push it off. She was content being with Josh when they were together and not being really with him when they were apart. It made the most sense anyways. Plus, it wasn’t like he was doing this with other people. It was just her. He wanted her, she just had to continue telling herself that.

He slips into the booth and she indulges in pressing her head into his shoulder and looking up at him with fluttery eyelashes.

“Hi, sunshine,” He greets softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead that is a little more wet than it probably should have been. She didn’t care, any touch from Josh was welcome, it all felt so right.

Her hand returns to his thigh and his arm goes back around her shoulder comfortably. Another conversation picks up as Jake and Sam get sloshed, Danny slows down, realizing he was going to need to be in charge of getting the two of them back to their hotel rooms with Josh preoccupied with his journalist.

As they’re getting ready to leave, her excited to have Josh pressed against her once more, she sends a text to her mother confirming that she won’t be coming back to their hotel for the night but not to worry because she was safe. Her fingers are a flurry over the keyboard before slipping it back into her pocket. Jake looks at her with Josh’s arms wrapped around her and tilts his head, a smirk on his face.

“Getting ready to write a follow-up?”

“I think I’ve had enough of the Greta Van Fleet interviews, for now.” She replies, not really understanding Jake’s jab or maybe it was an innuendo. She didn’t get it either way.

He waves her off and stumbles a little, relying on Danny to continue standing still. She grimaced at Josh’s twin’s inebriated state and looked to Josh in concern.

“He’s fine, sweet pea. Jakey just drinks himself under the table for fun sometimes.”

She shrugs in agreement, but doesn’t love the sound of that. Her own drunken mind doesn’t stay focused on it for long, Josh’s warmth distracting her once more. She needed to feel him again. Ever since Napa, she’d felt empty. She needed Josh to fill that void both emotionally and physically. She needed him to cradle her now and then wreck her in his hotel room. It made her so happy to be his, happier than any other man had ever made her.

After stumbling their way back to the hotel, the band parts ways. Sam and Danny give her hugs and nods of heads to Josh. Another wink from Sam, similar to the first time he had left them and they’d made out. Jake salutes them and tells them not to be too loud, this place was old and didn’t really have any soundproofing. The guys laugh and she feels herself flush. Danny drags Sam and Jake towards their rooms when Jake starts rambling about the wonders of soundproofing.

In Josh’s room, the lights are off and they stay off as the two of them almost trip over one another. Josh locks the door behind them haphazardly with his lips crashing against hers. A moan leaving her lips immediately at the feel of him against her. She drops the jacket he had lent her earlier carelessly on the floor, preoccupied.

“I’ve missed you so fuckin’ much,” He rasps and talks against her skin. His hands smoothing over her hair. “I hope you’re well rested, baby, because we’re not going to get much sleep tonight.”

She laughs as Josh nods in complete seriousness. His hands roaming around her body, unable to get enough of the feel of her skin. He flicks on the bedside lamp and groans at the sight before him. She was barely undressed, just the first few snaps of the corset were undone exposing more of the tops of her breasts and the button of her jeans was open, but Josh couldn’t help himself. Seeing her lying back on his bed, already flushed with anticipation. He wanted her so badly. Had imagined this moment in various ways since they had parted. Fucked his hand as a sad replacement for her cunt, imagining it was her writhing beneath him, moaning his name and whimpering so beautifully. And now it was here. She was here in front of him, ready for it all.

“I’ve missed you so much, Joshua. I didn’t let myself admit just how much until I saw you.”

His eyes darken at the use of his full name. She remembered what it did to him to hear her say it.

“I’m gonna make up for it, angel, promise. Gonna make the sweetest love to you, worship this body the way it deserves. Fuck you how you like so you make all those pretty sounds again.” He kisses over her skin as he talks, continuing to unhook her top and squeeze her covered breasts. “I dream about it every night. The way you said my name and came so hard around me. You’re so precious to me, fuck.” He loses his train of thought when she moans and arches up into his touch.

“Too many clothes,” He mutters, unhooking the corset completely and moaning at the sight of her now naked breasts.

She smirks at his expression, jaw slightly slack as he took in her naked form. She loved the way he looked at her, making her feel like she was perfect. She kisses him quick before shimmying her pants off and kicking them to the floor. Josh’s lips find themselves on one of her nipples, sucking it in and laving his tongue over it needily. Josh’s shirt and pants were gone in an instant or maybe he’d pulled his shirt off the minute they were at the bed. It was all happening so quickly she could barely keep up. Plus, she was mostly focused on Josh’s sweet, plump lips that had been smiling at her all night. His kiss was intoxicating and she never wanted to sober up.

With his lips occupied around her tits, she was left to caress other parts of Josh. Her hands ran through his soft curly hair as he sucked on her, each nipple receiving quality time between his lips. He groaned at the heavy feel of them in his mouth. She arched her back further as he caressed her ribcage with his hands, his blunt fingernails scratching her ever so softly, and hers fell to his shoulders. His smooth, broad yet also petite shoulders. In the warm glow of the lamp, she could see the little freckles that littered them, invisible in photos, but inches away, clear as day. His shoulders were strong and taught as he held himself against her and she squeezed his upper arms, needing to feel every part of him. So soft, she wanted to never let him go.

Eventually, she whines for Josh to move on from his showcase of love for her tits. As much as she enjoyed it, she needed him to focus elsewhere. Her clothed core was almost quivering with the lack of friction it had received so far. Josh was between her legs but mostly hovering his hips above hers, teasing her with his hard, covered cock occasionaly rubbing against her and keeping her from getting any friction by herself.

He shimmied down with a knowing smirk on his lips. “Does something else need a little attention?” He looks up at her as his hands ghost over the fabric and she wishes she had just taken off her panties with her pants. Josh seemed to love to tease her. He presses his slender fingers firmly against her already pulsing clit and covered folds. “Your needy little cunt…Fuck, soaked again, angel. Were you wet at the bar tonight?”

She bites her lip to suppress a whimper as he presses his hand harder against her, rubbing tight circles over her clothed clit, getting the fabric between their skin more and more drenched. Her hips buck unintentionally and Josh’s other hand moves to hold her right hip down as his right hand remained constant.

“Answer the question, baby.”

“What question?” She asks breathily and Josh wonders if she really hadn’t heard him or was just playing coy.

“Were you wet thinking about me fucking your cunt while we were sat at a table with my brothers?” He speaks slowly, expanding on his question as he pushes the wet almost uncomfortable fabric against her pussy.

She tries to collect her thoughts and not think about anyone but Josh because he was all she wanted. She wanted him and she wanted him to give her what she needed. Relief. Ecstasy.

One of her hands ran through his hair as he stared patiently, waiting for her response.

“Got wet when I saw you come on stage in that red velvet jumpsuit. You look so sexy in that one. Fuck, please Josh…Joshua.” She adds his full name and she’s rewarded with him swiftly pulling down her panties and discarding them somewhere unbeknownst to her.

Josh’s moan is almost a growl as he plunges one finger inside her slick folds. “Fucking gushing, just like last time.” He gets distracted by her arousal. She’s too enamored to ever feel embarrassed about it with Josh, he makes her feel so warm with his words.

His hips grind against the bed and she whimpers at the thought that just fingering her is turning him on so much.

“Thank you for telling the truth, angel. I think you deserve a reward.” He tilts his head as if it’s a question but his tone is clear that it’s not. He keeps his eyes on her as he lowers his face down and kitten-licks between her folds, bumping her clit.

One of her hands flys to her mouth to muffle the guttural moan that almost escaped her, the memory of Jake telling them not to be too loud echoes in her mind. Why was Jake’s voice always in her head?

Josh spreads her folds with his hand that was pressing down her hips and sucks at her clit with more vigor. Her body starts to arch and constrict without much choice of her mind. He adds another finger to pump into her and his eyes are half-lidded as he watches her fall apart before him for the first time in a month.

“Have you touched yourself thinking about this moment, angel?” Josh questions against her core, pumping his fingers languidly into her to prolong the pleasure as he curls them ever so slightly. “I have.”

She moans out and bucks her hips once more, “Always think about you when I touch myself.”

“Fuck, baby.” He rasps, almost in disbelief, but he knows it’s the truth. She’s so fucked out already, she seems incapable of lying.

When her first orgasm hits, Josh removes his lips from her pussy with a gentle kiss to her clit and pumps her through the waves. “Just like that, baby. So pretty when you cum. Absolutely breathtaking,” He compliments. He crawls back up to kiss her lips and moves his hands to lift her legs up, bringing her knees up beside her chest. She moans just from that movement, with Josh’s core against her.

“Are you ready to be fucked, angel?”

And again she’s moaning just from her lover’s words because the way Josh says ‘fuck’ is possibly the best thing in the world. Even better when he rasps it right against the shell of her ear.

“Please fuck me, Joshua. I’ve felt so fuckin’ empty without your cock.”

He loved her voice and how it sounded so sexy yet simultaneously innocent when she asked him sweetly to fuck her. When she shared her secrets about missing his cock, that missed her so much in return.

Josh’s eyes slip shut at her words and he nods his head, brushing his unruly curls against her forehead before placing a soft kiss there. “Let’s fuck,” He breathes her name and it feels more filthy than anything else he had said or any name he might’ve called her before.

He lined up his cock immediately, wanting to please her immensely. They breathe and whimper together when Josh slips in and bottoms out completely after a few moments.

“So full,” She says softly as Josh looks in her eyes again.

“Feels so good, my cock fucking loves your cunt, baby.” He rasps, steeling himself for the drawback of his hips.

Her pussy flutters around him at his words and he smirks down at her, knowing exactly why. His hips begin to slam into hers. The angle of her hips with her legs in the air allows for a lewd clapping sound to fill the room that spurs on both of them, but especially Josh.

“Taking me so well,” Josh grunts, slamming his hips hard yet measured. One of his hands comes down to tweak one of her nipples and she moans, open-mouthed as she stares at him. He licks into her mouth and she hums in happiness.

“God, you’re just so fucking hot, baby. I wanna fuck you forever. Perfect cunt, so wet, so soft, so tight. Holding the secrets of the world right inside that pussy.”

“Josh,” She moans with a bit of a laugh and he thinks she’s close, feeling her tightening around his shaft.

“Cum if you want,” He breathes. “I’ll happily make you cum again.”

“No,” She manages, putting her feet against the mattress.

Josh slows his movements in confusion.

“I wanna ride you, Josh. Wanna cum on top.”

Josh’s eyes widen and she feels electric with the look of wonder he’s giving her. “Of course, angel. Whatever you want.”

He slips out of her and positions himself at the top of the bed, opening his legs a little and waiting for her to climb on top of him. She kisses up his warm, heaving, slightly sweaty chest as she moves her legs to the outside of his hips.

Her hands push back his hair and run through it as she rubs her pussy against his shaft. Josh shivers at the connection, knowing he needed to release soon. Her back arches as she writhes and kisses him. He lets her do what she wants as his hands trail up her thighs and squeeze at her ass. They travel up her hips and her back, following the arch of her spine and go to the front.

“C’mon now,” He speaks with a tilt of his head. “Stop teasing.”

She smiles at him and kisses his lips before moving along to his jaw. “I just like touching you, Joshua. Can’t get enough, I get distracted.”

His hands roam back down to her ass and squeeze and knead the soft flesh there and she moans against him. One hand snakes down between them to finally slip Josh’s cock back in. He sighs in relief and instant arousal now that his cock is back inside its heavenly home. She grinds experimentally as Josh’s hands give her an eager guide. She follows the push and begins to bounce down on him, making her arch her back further in pleasure. This presents her tits directly to Josh’s eyes and he takes the opportunity to have them back in his mouth. She moans out at the warm wetness of Josh’s lips and tongue against her skin. And he hums happily at her response.

“It’s a privilege to be fucked by you, angel,” He breathes wetly against her skin. “Experience of a lifetime.”

Her hips bounce faster at his words, almost shocked by his admission, and Josh can’t help but slap the cheeks between his hands to aid her towards her finish.

He releases the nipple that had been being lovingly sucked in his mouth in order to encourage her to finish around him.

“Are you gonna cum, angel? Will you let me feel all your sweet juices release around my cock?”

She nods her head, saying breathlessly, “Of course.”

“Then cum, want you to cum right now for me. Because I’m about to explode, your pussy’s so good to me, I can’t take it.”

“You can cum in me, Joshua,” She reassures, smoothing her hands over his chest as she begins to bounce down harder on his cock, the first waves of her orgasm beginning to rise within her.

“Wha- are you sure, Y/N?” Josh asks, almost losing composure.

“Yeah, baby, I want you to cum in me.” Her head touching the top of his. “Wanna feel your cock inside me when you cum.”

“Fuck,” Josh rasps, his head falling into her chest. His ropes of cum almost immediately spurting inside her walls.

She works him through his orgasm, forgetting momentarily about her own to bounce more steadily around his cock. The throbbing of him inside of her was making her clench harder around him and her fingers dug into his shoulders harder in an attempt to stay concentrated. Josh’s chest was heaving as he came back to Earth, his cock beginning to feel overstimulated inside her cunt.

When he pulls his head back from her damp chest and looks in her eyes, she slows and moves to pull off of him. Josh’s hands on her hips keep her from slipping him out of her.

“Josh, no, you’re almost shivering with how sensitive you are,” She pets his right cheek, bright and flushed from the exertion.

“Just give me a minute, you’re one hell of a motivator.” He rasps, still sounding fucked out from his orgasm minutes prior but he tries for a smile on his face. “That was so fuckin’ hot, baby.” His lips capture hers in another searing kiss, but she can feel his exhaustion seeping through.

“It’s okay, Josh, I’m good. I’m content with stopping. I just want you to hold me and we can kiss a little.”

Josh nods but seems saddened when he should be happy, elated even. “But I wanted to make you cum again.”

She smiles at his adamance but removes herself from his body to go clean herself up. The lost orgasm was there inside of her and Josh’s tone didn’t make her want him any less, but it wasn’t going to be his dick that got her off – at least not right now.

“You can,” She calls from the bathroom, “Just maybe give your dick a breather, old man.”

“Hey,” Josh says and he’s closer than she realized, thinking he was waiting in the bed for her.

He’s behind her in the reflection of the mirror in an instant. His lips trail along her neck as she looks up from the sink, her hands falling away from the faucet.

“I am not that old,” He breathes against her and she feels frozen. He connects his lips against the skin of her shoulder tenderly and she sighs. His hands came up to hold the sides of her arms, keeping her in place and holding her up as his warmth encases her.

“Josh,” She responds in a broken voice. He felt so good, she wanted him to make her cum so badly. It was euphoric to fall apart for him and to see him want it so badly. “I need you…your fingers or something. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m back on Earth and truly all I want is to see you orgasm beneath me. It’s magnificent. Your body is a wonder.” His lips continue ghosting over her skin as he trails his hands down her arms and onto her stomach, twirling around her sides and hips, her thighs, her cunt.

Her breathing getting heavier again, she feels his touch and the strength of his body behind her, supporting her as he cages her between himself and the counter top. A flick of his expert fingers causes Josh to swipe through her still wet folds. She whimpers, sensitive and ready for him.

Josh pauses and uses his free hand to push them further together, it feels so safe and comforting yet so hot and filthy, her head falls onto his shoulder.

“Perhaps back to bed, hmm?” Josh questions with a press of his fingers on her sternum and a nibble at the shell of her ear. She nods meekly and lets him guide her back.

He guides her to lay on her back, pillows propping her back so she can still see Josh without having to strain. His hands gently bring her knees to bend and then spread them slowly, agonizingly showing herself to him. The sound that emits from Josh’s throat could be categorized as a growl as he is so enamored with her body warm and weeping for his touch.

His deep brown eyes flicker up to her face with a seriousness she can’t place. An intense passion she was unconsciously unaware of. They bore into her soul as he speaks, his hands still rubbing against the skin of her inner thighs, making her wriggle.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, angel. You don’t have to ask to cum, just take your pleasure. I want you to let go whenever you want, don’t hold back. Please.”

His voice is deep and she moans just at his words. She knew Josh was a giver but this was too good. It was so good it was almost painful that she would have to go without it for an unknown period of time after this. Almost too painful, but she focused on Josh here and now.

He starts with his fingers again, gently massaging around her clit and her entrance that was sufficiently wet and open from Josh’s dick earlier. She moans and writhes with his movements, telling him how good he was with his fingers until something wet and warm makes contact with her clit making her gasp louder than before. Her eyes had been closed so she had missed when Josh had dipped his head down and decided to lick her cunt again. The sight in front of her made her moan, the mess of curls atop Josh’s head that bobbed as he moved his tongue around her cunt. Licking and sucking at her nub and twirling around her entrance with a ferocity she had never experienced before. Josh was intent upon her pleasure with his tongue. An expert tongue at that. The way it moved was reminiscent of his singing, the way he opened up his mouth and let his tongue come to the front, moving about as he sang incredible notes.

He hummed against her flesh which sent vibrations through her, drawing her closer to her orgasm that kept building and building, promising to be earthshaking.

“Feels so good, Josh,” She feels herself lose control of her words as the waves of pleasure overtake her. “Never want it to end. Love having you between my legs.”

Her words push Josh to work her further through the waves of orgasm that begin rippling through her. Her words turn to whimpers as her body writhes against the bed and he uses a free arm to splay across her hips and hold her down.

When she comes down with a few extra pumps to her core from Josh’s fingers and a final kiss to her clit, he smiles down at her. “Fucking beautiful,” He breathes her name and she smiles shyly at the intimacy of hearing her name on his lips. The lips that had just brought her to euphoria.

He kisses her sweaty forehead once with a caress of her cheek before retreating to the bathroom to clean her up more. A warm wet cloth is passed over her forehead and then her chest and then between her legs. Josh works gently, kissing her heated skin and rubbing fingertips along it. His caress is so sweet, if she weren’t so blissfully content she might have cried. She wanted this to be her life. To be with Josh and have him care for her after he makes love to her. Every day. Because what was that if not love that they had just made in his bed. It had been hot sure, but once Josh had cum he made sure to attend to her body with the utmost care, pre and post her orgasm.

The thoughts barely crossed her conscious mind as she was too wrapped up in the reality of Josh right in front of her. His soft rosy cheeks that lifted when he smiled at her and the smooth warm expanse of his chest that he offered as a pillow for her head when he returned to the bed. The content smile on his lips was exquisite, her fingertips reaching up to dance over their pinkness with familiarity. He puckered them to press a soft kiss to her pointer finger and she giggled.

“Can I play with your hair?” She inquires with a quick look up at Josh’s face above hers. His eyes flicker down to her from their focus on the ceiling.

“Of course. Whatever you want, sunshine.”

She nods her head and nestles it against his chest again before blindly tracing up his face to find his scalp. His hair was feathery soft and curled to perfection. Her fingers loosely meandered around them. Josh’s hands hold her body close to his, one hand on her waist, the other between her shoulder blades. Their legs intertwined together. Their naked bodies innocently pressed together with a single blanket near their hips.

Josh’s eyes slip shut at her caress and he doesn’t mind the silence. A secret comfort of his he didn’t seem to indulge in too much. Silence. Silence with Y/N wasn’t overwhelming or indulgent, it felt peaceful.

“This might be too much,” She speaks, breaking the silence as her hand trails back down Josh’s face and down his neck, across his collarbone, finding rest at his shoulder. Her voice is a hair above a whisper as she says her next words, face still against his chest, her eyes mapping across the room. “But…I think I love you, Josh.”

“I love you, too,” Josh replies easily, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Her head flicks up and squeezes his shoulder, imploring him to open his eyes and look at her. Her eyes are wide and questioning at his words. “More than how you love other people?”

“In a different way than how I love other people.” Josh confirms.

“Like in love?”

“What is ‘in’ love?” He questions, his voice still calm and at ease, not feeling the need to flee from this conversation with her. “I love being with you, I love your mind, how it works, how you interact with the world. When I see you, I light up. I am happy with you. I love you.”

It’s so simple to him. She tilts her head in confusion.

“I don’t like when people say ‘in’ love, like it’s a state you can get out of, that people can fall from. The way I love you, I’m never going to be able to get out of that. Does that make sense?” He continues.

She nods her head and pushes herself up to kiss his lips softly. Her breath is soft yet heavy as she presses against him for a moment before resting her forehead against his. Their eyes meet. Josh’s wide and earnest as she looks in them.

“I don’t think it’s a state I’ll ever be able to get out of either. I’m in constant wonder when I’m with you.” She shuts her eyes for a moment. “I wanted to tell you I loved you when you were about to make me cum, but I was worried I’d make it weird, but I knew I had to say something since you’re leaving tomorrow.”

Josh’s hand leaves her waist to caress her cheek now, the back of his hand a gentle reminder of everything that had transpired between them in the last few hours. She smiled, albeit a little sullenly. The moment was bittersweet. She didn’t want it to end and neither did Josh, he was just a little better at being optimistic than she was. It was getting harder, though. Each goodbye was clearly always going to be harder than the last.

“It wouldn’t have made it weird,” He chuckles and kisses the tip of her nose. “Thank you for telling me. I don’t know if I’d have had the courage to say it otherwise.”

She awwed and continued to see this sweeter, quieter Josh that she loved just as much as the initial confident and flirtatious Josh that had trounced off stage at Bottlerock. It had been there, just below the surface when he had given her the chance to speak but he was revealing more and more of himself to her as time went on, which she loved and appreciated.

“We can spend a half day together tomorrow, before our flight. Sammy was right, we have a bit of time.”

“Okay,” She nods and moves back to her position with her head against his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Josh holds her close.

She felt giddy that she could just those three words and know it was reciprocated. Being with Josh, just the two of them, it was perfect. It was magnificent and she was content. It was almost incomprehensible how happy she was to be in his arms, she never wanted it to end…

They go to a museum the next day. Josh was eager to soak in the Irish culture, apparently. The rest of the band said the same but said that going to a Guiness tasting seemed like a better way to do so. Josh rolled his eyes at his brothers and hugged Y/N tighter before leading them off to walk to her hotel and then the museum that were both close by.

The half of day transpires how it should. Josh laughs at Y/N’s jokes and she, in turn, laughs at just about everything Josh does. He regales her with his travels that have occurred since they’d last seen each other – South America and Europe.

She watches him move through life and tries to commit every part of it to memory. He pulls her along into the museum and up to various paintings he finds fascinating.

She has a film camera that she produces and takes a few pictures of him being entranced by the world. Last time, in Napa, she had refrained since it had felt so new. Now it felt steady, constant, safe to do the things she might normally with a friend or somebody whom she loved.

He notices it after the second picture she takes and he grins, insisting that they have someone take a picture of them together. She tries to tell him it’s alright, but Josh is already walking up to a random passerby and imploring them to take a picture of the pair. His unique American midwestern accent is jarring to the other museum goer but Josh’s personality in this situation is so exuberant they have a hard time keeping a smile from their face and immediately agreeing.

Y/N blushes and tries to still shake her head at Josh, but he shrugs at her and whispers a ‘c’mon’ with an accompanying hand gesture. He hugs her close and she smiles at the proximity as well as the now familiar scent that was Josh, maybe a little less weed than last time. Just as the stranger signals they’re about to take the picture, Josh does something rather uncharacteristic of himself, in her opinion, and instead of smiling goes to kiss her cheek.

She had felt the movement and turned to look at him with confusion, causing his lips to catch the edge of her own and a surprised look to raise on her face. The shutter of the camera and the film advancing sounded a few feet in front of them. Josh’s lips stayed attached to her face and they spread into a smile against her. She laughed at the sheer oddity and pulled away after giving him a quick peck on his lips.

She took charge and thanked the stranger, taking her camera back from them. When she turns back around, Josh is grinning at her with wild eyes and she shakes her head in amusement once more.

“What was that?” She asks, but it’s loving and not at all upset by his antics.

He takes her into his arms, wrapping them around her shoulders and tucks his head to her shoulder, “Just couldn’t help myself. Looked over and saw how beautiful you looked with that big ol’ smile on your face.”

She smiled and wrapped her arms around Josh’s slender waist, tugging him tighter against her. That comment right there was enough to make her never want to let him go.

The hours flew by as they laughed and talked together, going to a pub for some lunch before she walked with Josh back to the band’s hotel. They’d dragged it out as long as possible. It had to end. She had to let go, there was a plane waiting for him. There were fans and stadiums and roses and memories that all didn’t…couldn’t involve her, waiting for Josh when he walked away from her.

When Josh walked into the foyer with his suitcase – he had insisted she stay down there rather than in his room because he said he wouldn’t be able to control himself with her and a bed in such close vicinity, she had laughed but been slightly dismayed – she tried to will away the tears that were beginning to form behind her eyes.

Josh was in a different darker brown onesie with matching vans. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she kind of hated high top vans, it didn’t matter with Josh. The rest of the band was already in their car, a manager was waiting impatiently next to her, tapping their foot and checking their watch. Josh had really really cut it close.

“Until next time, Sunshine?” Josh asks with a quirk of his head, a smile trying and failing to take residence on his face.

She rolled her lips into her mouth, flattening them into a straight line, and looked up to the ceiling. She could barely look at him anymore, she had had half a mind to just run before he had come back down, but she had stayed. God, she wished she hadn’t. This was so hard. Too fucking hard. Best outcomes meant they’d see each other again, but when? When would she see him again?

Josh’s hand on her shoulder brought her eyes back to his face. His honey brown eyes wide and expectant as he awaited her answer.

She sighed and managed a watery smile, “Yeah, of course. Best outcomes.”

“That’s my girl,” He smiles and leans in to kiss her lips. The passion is there behind the sadness. His lips on hers are insistent, trying to communicate his care for her and she feels it, grasping the fabric on the front of his outfit, pulling him as close to her as possible.

A gruff cough pulls them away from each other and she tries to sneakily wipe a stray, pesky tear from her eye before anyone else can see.

Josh nods to his manager and then gives Y/N one last quick hug with a murmured “I love you” in her ear.

She smiles when he pulls away and her voice won’t come out louder than a hoarse whisper, “I love you, Josh.”

She lets him walk out of the hotel and she sits down on a couch in the waiting area giving it a solid 10 minutes before she gets the strength to walk out of the lobby. The car is gone, thankfully. Her hands tremble just at the sight of the street, who knows what might have happened if they hadn’t pulled away yet.

As she walked home, she tried not to feel so sad about the whole situation. It wasn’t an ending, it was to be continued. Josh loved her. She loved him. They’d be okay. She felt more sure of it this time.

The next few months go by in a whirlwind. Y/N returns to the United States, spends a month at home and then packs up for her study abroad in France.

She tries to not think about Josh or dwell on the thoughts of his face and his warmth and his kindness…She finds herself getting caught on thoughts of him more often than not and it makes her so anxious to think about where he is or what he’s doing that it’s a struggle to focus on anything else. She listens to a playlist she made with Josh in mind on loop. It’s filled with John Denver, mostly, and she tears up to his beautiful voice, hoping and wishing that Josh might happen to be listening to the same songs.

They’ve kept in touch more since Ireland, but Josh is busy and terrible with keeping his phone on him, let alone using it properly. If it were any other man, she probably would’ve broken it off by now because of the issues with communication but she knew he was actually trying. The excuse of being busy wasn’t usually a good one in her book, but with Josh, she knew he was actually busy and not just blowing her off. He was seeing the world, making memories, living a dream life. She didn’t want to hold him back from that life just as she wouldn’t want the same thing to happen to her, so she never held it against him when a text wasn’t responded to instantly or whatever.

Josh also liked to call on the phone, rather than text, which she honestly appreciated. She loved hearing his voice, his strange accent that was just to the left of truly midwestern. He’d mumble about things he missed about her and grumble about the various things that were disturbing him of late – she could listen to him talk about whatever he wanted for hours on end if either of them had the time. She shares her plans and he lights up at the thought of her being abroad in the Fall – especially France, a country he and the band had adored while touring in the summer.

They weren’t really dating, if she was honest. When they talked over the phone, it felt more just like they were friends. Neither of them had said ‘I love you’ since Ireland and she tried not to feel saddened by that. It made sense and she just needed to be confident that Josh’s feelings hadn’t changed since they’d been apart.

She and Josh agreed that they wouldn’t be in contact for her first month in Paris. She had told him that she needed to get settled and try to make friends in the city and her new school. He had agreed to give her the space she needed. Their friendship/relationship felt rather adult in her mind. She communicated her needs and Josh respected them. Granted he was now an ocean away, so giving her space wasn’t necessarily hard. Still, at the beginning of the month, she fell asleep and woke up thinking about Josh and wishing she could really call him hers. As it went on, she didn’t realize, but some of those thoughts became less constant.

Her and Sam kept in touch even more than her and Josh, which she chalked up to him being better with his phone. A fact she thought was incredibly funny since he always espoused how much he despised cell phones, more than any of his brothers. What she didn’t know or couldn’t have realized was how Josh might have felt about her still talking to Sam during her first month in Paris when she told him she couldn’t talk with him.

On a slightly rainy day in Paris, about a week before Halloween, she heard the buzzer for her apartment. She thought that maybe Allie, her roommate, had forgotten her key when she had gone out to get coffee half an hour ago.

She goes over to the intercom and presses a button, “Allie?”

A person responds with a slightly gruff sounding voice warbled out, “Une livraison.” A package.

She purses her lips and shrugs. It was getting close to Halloween so maybe her parents or Allie’s had sent a care package since Halloween wasn’t all that big in France. “Okay, un moment. Merci.” She presses the button that unlocked the door to allow the delivery man to bring up the package. She hoped it wasn’t too big so he didn’t have to struggle up the five flights to her floor.

After less time than she expected, a knock sounded on the door and she was once again intrigued to see what it could be. A passing thought was that it could be from Josh but she pushed that thought to the back of her head since she hadn’t spoken to him in over a month besides one check in text a few days ago and she didn’t want to get her hopes up.

She opens the door with a “Bonjour” already on her lips, but it slips away at the sight in front of her. Her door was clutched in her hand and she uses it to steady herself as her jaw drops slightly and is then replaced with a bemused smile.

“Sam?!”

“Bonjour, mon petite chouchou!” My little darling, he exclaims with a terrible French accent as he opens his arms wide, inviting her to hug him.

She laughs and shakes her head at him before wrapping her arms around his slender waist that was covered in a clean oversized linen overcoat that hid a black turtleneck beneath it. He was warm with a bit of dampness from rain droplets, no umbrella in sight. She inhaled his scent, cigarettes and a musky yet natural cologne – very Sam.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Samuel?”

He pulls back and grins down at her, his hair even longer than the last time she had seen him in person and falling past his jaw. He had the strands of his hair tucked behind both of his ears, giving him the goofy youthful look he almost always sported. His goatee was almost completely full, but thankfully nicely trimmed and his eyes were as big as always, looking down at her like a dreamy baby animal. She widened her eyes at him since he still hadn’t informed her of what he was doing in the doorway of her Parisian apartment.

“You said no one sounded like they were that interested in celebrating Halloween, so me and the big bro decided to come out and surprise you! Make sure you have people to celebrate one of the best holidays ever with.” He shrugs after letting his hands fall from her shoulders, where they had rested after the hug had concluded.

Her eyes widened further and looked around the hallway behind Sam, the words he said processing in her mind. The hallway was empty, so empty it almost echoed with their voices.

“When you say ‘big bro’ you mean Josh right?” Her voice is anxious as she looks back at him before attempting to peer down the staircase, maybe there would be a second surprise guest.

Sam laughs and deadpans, “No, Jake was worried about you and flew out. Josh stayed home to twiddle his thumbs while we hung out in Paris for two weeks with you. Danny’s here too, but nope not Josh.” He finished with a roll of his eyes.

She elbows Sam in the ribs with a big shove of her body, trying to communicate how unfunny she found that. Her heart skipped a beat thinking about Josh being in the same city as her once more. But if Sam was here in front of her breaking the news, where was his brother, her sometimes lover?

Her hand gestures for him to come into the apartment and he closes the door behind himself.

“So, where is he?” She looks down at her hands nervously. Why was it Sam who surprised her rather than Josh or even both of them?

Sam sat on her couch beside her and crossed his legs before leaning back and running a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face as he looked at her. His lips were slightly parted like he was thinking of what he wanted to say as his body relaxed and made himself look immediately comfortable.

“He stayed back at the hotel. He checked us in and then he said he felt a migraine coming on from flying. It happens to all of us Kiszkas when we travel far distances sometimes,” He tries to sound light with his accent catching on his last name.

“Doesn’t sound great for a touring band,” She says, dejected only slightly. Of course Josh had a reason. “But he should rest so he can actually have fun while he’s here.”

“Yeah, that’s why he told me to go ahead.” Sam leans back further and rests his head on the back of the couch, still watching her, relaxing further now that he didn’t see the panicked look on her face. “Trust me, I’m sure that Josh wants to be able to have a fun time while he’s here…If you know what I mean.” The mischievous smirk on his lips and the raise of his eyebrows makes it abundantly clear what he meant.

She rolls her eyes and shoves at Sam’s shoulder, “You’re gross, Sam. Plus…Like, obviously that would be great, but I feel like Josh and I might be in a friend place right now, maybe. Like, this has been the longest we’ve been apart since we met – which isn’t really saying a lot, but still.” She sighs and huffs, looking around the room. “I don’t know, I’m gonna be so happy to see him and all I’m saying right now will probably go right out the window once we’re in the same room. But this month has been kind of really nice. It’s been the first month where I haven’t been desperately trying not to think about him, it’s gotten easier. How I feel about him hasn’t changed, but I’m different and I kind of like it. I don’t know if sleeping together is the best thing for the rest of my time here.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Sam leans forward, his droopy eyes boring into hers. His hand drops to touch lightly at her shoulder, she doesn’t think much of it.

“Sure.”

He breathes deeply as the tops of his cheeks begin to flush ever so slightly, boyishly.

“Selfishly, I’d prefer if you two became just friends, but this last month has been so hard on Josh. He lights up when you two talk on the phone almost as much as when he’s on stage or working on new music…This last month he’s been particularly resigned, very unlike himself… And I can’t be selfish when my brother’s feelings are involved.”

Her eyes widened at Sam’s words. First, an admission she’d never thought she’d hear from his lips coming out so casually, so effortlessly. Maybe she had an inkling that Sam liked her more than a friend might, but she just chalked it up to his flirty nature. It was those ‘fuck me’ eyes he had, it wasn’t like he could just turn them off. But there it was, if it were up to him, his brother wouldn’t see her and what would the reason be if not because he wanted to be with her himself. It was flattering, Sam was beautiful. Too beautiful to be interested in her, but then again that’s what she thought about Josh too. The way Josh saw her soul, though, it was wholly different from her relationship with Sam.

Second, him saying that Josh had been terribly saddened by their lack of contact over the last month. She didn’t realize how hard it might be for him and for that she felt horribly selfish. She always thought he was fine without her, like he liked being with her obviously, but he was content without her. She didn’t realize he needed her just as much as she needed him.

“Oh…” She replies dumbly, reflexively moving out of Sam’s touch.

Sam’s eyes flicker to life with anxiety and rushes to say, “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I thought it was kind of obvious.” He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed at the back of his neck followed by an awkward chuckle he tried to mask as a cough. “…but like I said, I’m never going to get in the way of you and Josh. You and he are the closest thing I’ve seen to love at first sight.”

“It’s-it’s alright. I’m sorry that I don’t feel the same way, I know it’s hard being the unrequited one. I appreciate your friendship, though.” She offers a small smile towards Sam as he looks back at her and he returns it with a small smile as well that doesn’t reach his eyes… “I should probably go see him, then, huh? Does he really have a migraine?”

Sam’s smile widens, genuinely this time. He had been settled with disappointment when he had decided to lay out his feelings for her, knowing her response would be as such. He lets it fade away, content to just be her friend and loving how she could pick up so quickly on what had initially been a fib.

“Yeah,” Sam stands, “He said he wasn’t feeling super great and told me to go ahead and see you, but I don’t think it’s actually a full migraine. I think he was just anxious to see you. You know how he gets.”

She nods, but in reality, she didn’t really know how he gets. Her body straightens beside Sam’s and begins to gather the necessary items she would need to leave the apartment for however long it might be. She felt a little stupid, because she knew Josh got anxious about various things. It was a side of him she knew about in theory but rarely saw exhibited around her.

Memories of Jake’s initial warning back in Napa about Josh being saddened when a girl was sad they couldn’t continue flitted across her mind, but she had thought that was different. Thinking about it now, it was clear, Josh got anxious over making the previous women in his life upset to the point of sadness. And now, she had made him anxious to the point of sadness that he couldn’t bring himself to surprise her. He had come to Paris, but let Sam break the news. She felt sick, she needed to make this right.

God. This felt so stupid. She was on the verge of crying and she hadn’t even seen Josh yet. Simultaneously, she was overjoyed and dismayed at the prospect.

Once at the hotel the Kiszka boys were staying at, Sam directed them to their floor, but separated from her, slipping into his room across from Josh’s with an encouraging nod of his head.

She knocked timidly on Josh’s door, feeling like she was intruding upon him. Like it was forbidden for her to be in this hallway in this nice hotel just ten minutes from her apartment. She felt like she was choking on the air as she waited for what felt like an eternity. There was no sound coming from inside the room, maybe Josh had fallen asleep and not heard her knock.

When it swung open, Josh’s petite frame was revealed in a nice cream sweater and fitted sweatpants. His face made her instantly brighten. His skin glowed with a slight blush and his eyes were wide and a little sleepy. His hair was perfectly messy and his pink lips parted in question.

Upon seeing it was her, his expression changed, going from confusion to happiness to something similar to apprehension and then back to happiness.

“Sunshine,” He breathed and she grinned, falling into his arms as he enveloped her.

“Fuck, Josh,” She said into the crook of his neck after taking a deep inhale of him. “I missed you.”

His scent was intoxicating, his warmth was addictive. She craved him, but every little issue nagged at her brain, unable to be forgotten so easily even if being in his presence tried to convince her to just let it go. Best outcomes or whatever.

“Are you alright?” She pulls back from him and tilts her head to the side, her tone clearly asking more than just his alleged migraine.

His eyes shift from admiring her face to the door behind her and then to the floor. “Do you want to come in?”

“Sure,” She nods and offers a small smile of encouragement before Josh leads them into his room that looked relatively unused.

His hand remains encircled around her wrist as he seats them on the deep burgundy loveseat the room was equipped with.

Josh looks at her with a slightly pained expression on his face, like he’s trying to hide it away but it’s not exactly possible. She feels the prickle of tears behind her eyes just at his face before her and all of the guilt that’s been growing in her since Sam told her what’s been going on.

“I’m really sorry, Josh,” She starts after a moment of pulling back the tears.

“What? Why are you sorry?” Josh looks slightly confused, but once again it feels like he’s just trying to downplay the real situation. “I’m sorry,” He repeats, beginning to ramble about his migraine.

“Josh,” She huffs and her eyes search his face. “I know this month has been hard on you and I’m so fucking sorry that I didn’t think about how much us not talking might affect you.”

“Oh,” He says, almost blankly, eyes casting down to their clasped hands between them. “I am, uh, yeah…it wasn’t great. It’s always hard when I’m away from you, you know, but this time, knowing that you were there able to talk to Sam but not me…sucked, if I’m honest.”

She scrunches her nose at how dejected he sounds and she feels her tears once again threatening at the back of her eyes, a tightness in her throat. “I was selfish and unfair and I realize that now. I shouldn’t have done that. If I really wanted to experience Paris with no distractions I should have limited my contact with everyone, not just you.”

“But I get it,” Josh starts, eyes flickering to her face finally. His eyes wide and piercing. “You wanted to get settled in and meet new people, experience new things, not be tied to some guy that you’re only half with. Sam’s your friend, it shouldn’t have hurt so much.”

“Don’t apologize for how you felt, Josh,” She insists, her free hand pressing into his chest, over his heart. “Sam also mentioned something else…”

“He did?” Josh’s eyebrows quirk in interest.

She hesitates, unsure whether she should share with Josh what Sam had said. Did he already know? That would make it make more sense as to why Josh was especially dejected this time around at their communication.

“Yeah, um…I guess I didn’t realize and maybe you did, but I guess he had – has? – a crush on me. He told me and it made me think that maybe that was another reason for why you might have felt..the way you did.” She pauses for a moment with an awkward laugh. “Sorry, I feel like I’m not making any sense right now.”

Josh sighs and it doesn’t sound particularly upset, his hand runs over his face. “I’m glad he told you.” He pauses and gives her a smile, trying to communicate that this wasn’t particularly upsetting for him at this moment. “I figured it out relatively quickly, but he’s my brother and I can tell when he likes someone just by the way he says their name. I wasn’t really worried about it, but I guess it did make me more anxious when he’d mention you and he had been talking so frequently because, irrationally, my brain would suggest that it was because you actually had feelings for him back.”

“I’m sorry, Josh,” She swipes at the tear that had managed to sneak its way from her eye.

“Stop apologizing, Sunshine.” She begins to protest, but Josh takes the moment to cup her jaw and looks into her eyes. “I forgive you if that’s what you need to hear, but I’m really not upset with you. Maybe myself a little, but I came to Paris because I knew being with you would make my worries disappear. When we’re together, I have no worries.”

The breath she releases is more relieved than she imagined and her smile is watery as she leans into Josh, opting to embrace him tightly rather than kiss him yet. She melts into his strong warmth and his subtle muscular form.

“I love you,” She secrets into his ear before pressing her face into the crook of his neck further.

“I love you,” Josh repeats into her hair, lips ghosting across it before breathing through his nose.

Josh admits that he really did feel a bit of a migraine coming on so they agree to spend the rest of the day lounging around in his plush hotel room.

Y/N takes Josh and Sam to her favorite shops and stores that she had found since she had been there as well as her favorite sunset and dinner locations. It’s not awkward with Sam tagging along most days. Sometimes he will do his own thing for dinner or just go back to the hotel afterwards when it’s clear that she and Josh want some alone time.

She still has classes during the first week they are visiting so Josh and Sam fill their days together, but her break starts after Halloween. She had already figured out a few possible costume ideas because she really loved Halloween, but Josh and Sam had only planned one costume each. The journalist insisted that they have at least two, and she’d be more satisfied with three if she was honest.

They’re at a thrift store on the Friday before Halloween finalizing Josh and Sam’s second option for costumes when it happens.

Y/N and Josh are in a corner looking over plaid button downs for a book character Josh wanted to be when Sam gets recognized. Neither of them recognize that he’s having a conversation with a fan when they round a corner with their hands clasped tight and Y/N with her free arm wrapped around Josh’s bicep, effectively curling herself into him like she did the first night they scurried back to the tour bus at Bottlerock. She’s giggling in his ear about a bad joke he’d just told when they round on Sam.

Josh’s eyes widen at the fan in a slightly confused way, it’s like his brain immediately going into appraisal mode: who is this person and how are they going to interpret this situation. The fan’s eyes widen back, recognizing Josh just as she’s finishing saying something to Sam.

It takes Y/N a moment to realize Josh has released her hand that he had been holding so lovingly before. She releases his arm as inconspicuously as possible. The fan seems to be preoccupied with ogling Josh’s face so she misses the two of them detangling.

Y/N finds herself shrinking back as the two become preoccupied with the fan and she doesn’t want to intrude upon the time. Not too long ago, she had been in the other girl’s shoes, hoping to have a moment with them, she didn’t want to take from that moment in any way.

Soon enough, Josh is back at her side with a curious look on his face. She smiles at him reassuringly so try to communicate that it was fine what had happened but she also didn’t necessarily want to talk about it. He lets it go.

Halloween is on Sunday and Sam and Josh agree to spend Saturday night in with Y/N to prepare decorations and snacks for the pregame party she was hosting before going out to the clubs in costume. She had informed them that they were likely to be the few people dressed up. Josh had beamed and pecked her lips, telling her that he would happily be the only person in a costume in a club if it made her smile. Sam had gagged but she couldn’t hold it against him, it was admittedly sickeningly sweet of Josh to say.

It’s around dinner time on Halloween when Josh has to calm Y/N down again.

“Okay…so – fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” She says as she starts to scramble around the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” Josh asks curiously, his tone light as he hopes that her worries can be easily placated.

She paces quickly around the small kitchenette, opening cupboards and drawers. Sam and Allie, Y/N’s roommate, stop what they’re doing in the living area of the apartment to listen in.

“I forgot to buy food coloring,” Y/N moans with a hand pressed to her forehead. “Ugh, fuck, none of these fucking little shops probably have any and if they do they’re probably closed by now,” She thinks aloud as she looks at the time and then up to Josh with a pained look on her face.

He goes to her in two steps, the silver lines of his Halloween makeup already painted on his face making him further radiant. His hands take hold of her biceps and pull her the rest of the way into him as her eyes meet his. Her eyelashes flutter as she stares up into his deep brown insistent eyes. They’re wide and calming as he stares at her with confidence and kindness.

“Take a breath, sunshine,” He soothes, rubbing her arms now. “We don’t need it, this place looks great and I’d far prefer not to drink something that looks poisonous. As fun as it sounds.”

She rolls her eyes affectionately at Josh’s attempt to soothe her. Rationally, she knows there’s no point in getting upset over the one thing she forgot but she can’t help herself. Having Josh with her is a nice comfort, his presence makes it easier to forget about things she might normally spiral about. Her hand snakes its way up Josh’s chest and neck and rests at his jaw, her fingers gently running across the skin. He tilts his head into her touch and she mirrors his small smile – which wasn’t really all that small but a closed lipped smile on Josh was small compared to the absolute grin he sported otherwise.

“I love you, Joshua,” She whispers before pecking his pink lips. Her thumb runs over his cheek, careful to avoid the line of glitter.

He hums his agreement into the chaste kiss before pulling back and moving his lips against her ear, her hand falling away. “I love you, but you can’t call me that when we’re supposed to be going out. Unless you’d rather we stay in and fuck?”

His enunciation on his final question makes her shiver and her hand falls to Josh’s waist to steady herself. His stomach is warm and firm beneath his shirt and she’s unsure if it’s helpful in the situation she has found herself in.

“We gotta go out, but we don’t have to stay out too late.” She murmurs in an attempt to keep them on track.

“Oh, my love, we can stay out as long as you like. You know I’m just teasing,” He beams with a quick wink and then a peck to her cheek. “If we stayed in every time I wanted you – carnally – we’d never leave the bed.”

She smiles after the giggles subside from Josh’s word choice but an odd sense of dread and anxiety falls over her when Josh said ‘my love’. It wasn’t that he said it, she had no issue with that, but suddenly she had this feeling inside her that they were coming upon an ending. This was soon to be a memory. She often had these feelings but with Josh they usually didn’t occur because she thought she had worked for them not to happen, the compulsion to write it all down wasn’t usually there. But here it was, her mind looking at this as a memory, as something that had already come to pass and there was no getting it back. No getting Josh back. It made her heart ache even though he was right in front of her.

She tries her best to push it away, the dread. Focus on Josh, on Allie, on Sam. On living rather than remembering, but her silly writer brain had a hard time. Drinking helps, though, and before she knows it, her vision is blurry as her arms cling to Josh’s slightly damp skin at the back of his neck.

His hands are hot against her hips and for a moment it’s just Josh in her senses. His strong earthy spiced cologne mixed with a little sweat in her nose. His chest pressed against hers. His lips at her temple and her ear and her jaw and her neck. Everywhere all at once, somehow. The pulse of the music moves them together and she feels free. Breathless. Josh takes a beat and pushes pressure on her hips, twisting her around. She moves slowly, her arms falling and then one snaking back up to keep hold of Josh’s neck.

His head dips down and presses a hot wet kiss to the juncture between her neck and collarbone. Her ass is now flush against Josh’s front. The bass centered house music isn’t exactly either of their first choices for enjoyable music but with enough alcohol in their systems and the high of being in each other’s presence, they both are happily dancing to the music.

She pulls Josh’s lips to her once more when she feels his lips beginning to retreat from her skin. The low chuckle he releases against her is enough to make her shiver despite how hot the club was. Her other hand finds a home over Josh’s hand on her left hip. He squeezes her tighter to him and she leans her head back to mewl slightly in his ear. The growl that comes from his chest makes her grin and twist further to peck his cheek.

“Do we need to leave?” He wonders into her ear, his grip like a vice on her hips.

She hums and presses closer to Josh, further cementing their bodies together, attempting to fuse them. “Why not, Joshy?”

In a sobering moment, Josh giggles and the hot and heavy tension that had built around them dissipated for a moment. It’s just Josh and Y/N. The original versions of themselves they had presented to one another. Josh, genuine, funny and a little bewildered by the girl before him. Y/N, unabashed, lively and feeling just a little out of her depth with the guy she’s with. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me that,” He chuckles breathlessly, almost bewildered.

“Too much?” She asks as she lets him begin to pull them out of the milieu of people.

He shakes his head of curls as he weaves their bodies out into the road. The open air on the street is almost stinging when the cold hits their overheated skin. She breathes a heaving sigh of relief. Her fingers grip to Josh when he pulls her into him. One hand falls to his chest that had been exposed from his need to cool down inside the club as much as possible. His skin is clammy from the shift in temperature but it feels oddly comforting to her.

“Take me home, Josh,” She whispers into his neck, arms wrapped back around his neck. She loved hugging him, it felt so safe.

“Right away, sunshine.”

When they get inside of Josh’s hotel room, after the two had decided it was better than her shared apartment with her roommate, Josh’s hands push her body against the hallway wall. His body pressed firmly against her and she felt out of breath, instantly, with his lips hot and searching against her throat.

His kisses are blinding and rough and he begins whispering the dirty words she likes to hear so much in her ear. When her hand presses against Josh’s chest in an uncharacteristic way, he pulls back in confusion, feeling her hesitance radiating from her body.

“Will you make love to me, Josh?” She murmurs softly when he meets her eye.

Over the past week, when they had sex it was like usual. She had never asked Josh to fuck her softly, but that dread was creeping back in and she wanted to savor this. His brown eyes widen slightly before they soften into a kind of pure bliss at her question. He loved to please her in the almost unforgiving way that they fucked, it was extremely pleasurable for him too, to really take control, but he was happy to oblige this request. He loved her and a small part inside of him had been wishing to make sweet love to her as well, but it always felt like they were rushed for time and they needed to fuck rather than truly feel one another.

Tonight was different.

“Of course, Sunshine. I love you.” He laved a tender open-mouthed kiss onto her neck and she moaned. It was more so about his words and the tenderness she felt from his lips rather than the actual kiss.

Josh dimmed the lights in the room after placing her gently in the center of the bed. There they looked at each other as they sat on their heels. Carefully, they simultaneously reached out, hands touching skin. Her fingers smooth over Josh’s soft skin. His face, mapping his cheeks and jaw, down his neck and over his collarbones. She unbuttoned the rest of his shirt before tugging it off his shoulders and smoothing over his lightly freckled skin.

She whimpered and Josh smiled at the thought that it was just his body that turned her on. His hands fell to his thighs as he grew engrossed in her ministrations. She leans forward and presses a kiss over his left pec and her eyes flutter to look at his face. Her hand reaches out and presses over his chest, more in the center now. They are silent then for what feels like eternity. Eyes focused on one another, connected only by her hand on his chest.

Her hand then trails down his body, sweep softly so that Josh shivers from her fingertips. Then they’re back to undressing each other. Then it’s Josh’s turn to kiss his lover’s body. He kisses down her sternum and presses her back gently into the soft sheets when he gets lower. Over her thighs, his fingers ghosting at the seams where her thighs met her pelvis. She felt like hellfire was against her skin, hotter than any regular fire, more electric than any lighting. It felt unreal, but there it was, all Josh, it was all him.

Heavy breathing and wet kisses and Josh is moving back up to her. His delicate fingers swirl through her folds and he brings her slick up to brush gently against her clit. It’s enough to make her moan and arch against his body. His warm skin feels like velvet. “Sunshine, are you ready?”

“Yeah, of course I am. Always ready for you.”

He pecks a kiss to her lips and smiles down at her. “You’re so beautiful,” He speaks softly, almost in disbelief. “Fuck, you’re so perfect for me. I am so grateful for your love.”

The whiney breath of his name on her lips after that sentence would have been embarrassing had it not been the best thing she had ever been told while having sex. For as much as she seemed to like to be degraded every once in awhile, praise made her soul soar.

Josh’s hand slips out of her and presses his cock against her cunt, pushing it between her folds a few times before easily sliding inside with how wet she is. He breathes a low “Fuck” into her ear and then he kisses the shell of it. Her hands hold Josh’s neck and his back, holding him close as he whispers sweet nothings into her ear and presses kisses to her lips.

One of Josh’s hands grips her breast and the flesh in his hand is tender, another moan escapes her and it surprises her, causing it to end in a gasp. Josh smiles down at her and even in the bliss of coitus, on her way to orgasm, she smiles easily back before shutting her eyes, overcome by the pleasure of this moment. She smiles again but this time it’s really just for herself.

With every final thrust, Josh whispered an “I love you” in her ear. By the time he brought her to the peak, there were tears in her eyes. Josh’s final request was a whispered ‘look in my eyes, Sunshine’ and she did. She had never felt more whole.

He came short after, thrusting into her and kissing beneath her earlobe and brushing a hand through her hair. They cuddle in each other’s arms, content in this moment, both of them committing it to memory, to heart, to soul. Rather than sleeping in a spooning position or with her head on Josh’s chest like usual, they slept chest to chest, Josh’s head nestled into her neck, one of her hands wrapped in his hair. Her fingers raked through his curls until she heard soft breathing puffing from his lips.

“I’m never getting out of the way I feel about you, Joshua Michael.”

On the last day before Josh is set to leave, Y/N finally allows the realization she had been trying to push off be known. She allowed the realization of what the dread was on Halloween into her mind and it’s one that hurts her deeply. The sorrow outweighs any joy she has ever felt. It’s like cinder blocks in her heart, weighing her body down, breaking her from the inside out.

She can’t keep doing this. It hurts too much. She just hopes that Josh can forgive her for what she needs to do. And he does. He takes it better than she could have ever thought because in her head she assumes he’ll hate her just because of the worrying in her mind. So much had changed since they had met six months ago, but Josh couldn’t fully get rid of the doubts and anxieties that plagued her mind.

Their time in Paris together was unforgettable, just like Bottlerock and Dublin, but it would have to be the last installment of their love story. All she could do was be friends with Josh if she wanted to be able to focus on anything else besides missing him and wishing for him.

“I’m going to miss you profoundly, Josh, maybe I’ll write you a text or an email or maybe a letter and I’ll slip it into a book you’ll find someday. Then I’ll be able to explain it more but about all I can say now is I’ll miss you profoundly.”

“I think that’s supposed to be my line,” he smiles at her with an almost saddened twinkle.

“Huh?” She asks, too caught up in trying to stop her crying once more. There couldn’t be more crying in front of Josh.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to say weird big words like missing you profoundly.”

“Yeah but you’d ramble on for ten more minutes, I’m saving us time by emailing you later pouring my heart out.”

He chuckles and pulls her close, the hug is friendly but the passionate affection shared between them simmers just beneath the surface. It’s in the pressure of their bodies against one another. It’s in the deep breaths they take. It’s in the air.

“Best outcomes, Sunshine. Best outcomes.” He whispers like a promise, like a prayer.

If she wants to just be friends, if that makes it easier for her to say goodbye to him, Josh would willingly be her friend. If she wanted him to never speak to her again, he’d do it. He’d throw his phone out and lose her address if that’s what it took to stop himself. He could do friends. For her.

And they do friends for about a year. Intermittent texting, a few calls here and there, she sends him a few letters in the mail including her graduation announcement and grad party invitation. Neither Josh nor Sam are able to make it out to California for her party, but each of them sends her gifts that she promptly sends thank you letters for, as well. If she cries over a forest green hare pin and the letter Josh writes along with it, no one can see as she sits in a corner of her own party. The note attached to the pin includes Josh harkening back to their time in Napa, “A rabbit to eat your garden vegetables,” referencing the ceramic plate he had painted for her over a year prior.

The first letter she wrote Josh was indeed slipped into a book. A book she sent him in the mail that was a copy of a book they had discussed while they had been in Paris together. He had pointed it out at a bookstore but decided against it, citing that he didn’t want to add it to his luggage on the trip home. Y/N had passed by the bookstore every day on her way to and from class for the next week before she couldn’t stop herself and went in and purchased the book.

Josh received it about three weeks later. The letter is folded up in the first page of the book. His name written neatly on the outside of the last folded page. It reads as follows.

Joshua Michael,

I fear I am far better with my words on paper than I’ll ever be with them spoken. Maybe it’s a good thing I want to be a writer. It seems like my thoughts are always faster than my mouth. On paper, I can collect them and organize them. Do you ever feel the same when writing lyrics or your poems? There’s so many questions I could ask you here that I’d never muster the courage to ask in your presence, even after the interview and everything. You still make me nervous. I know I’ve never said that…but it’s true. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to voice all my thoughts I have about you accurately in your presence either. No amount of time would ever be enough and it seems that we’ll never have the time anyway. I also worry that I may also not have enough page space to get everything I want to say out on paper either. So maybe it’s not a good thing that I want to be a writer.

Firstly, I want to apologize for myself. The minute you left Paris, I cried rather uncontrollably, but please don’t feel guilty because it was entirely my fault. I know I explained myself, but I still feel like I’ve been unfair to you. I hope you move on from me and still see the world in the vibrant colors that I know you do. Find someone who can travel the world with you and loves you as much as I do, more if it’s possible (selfishly I don’t want to believe that, but can you fault me?).

You gave me a chance in May of this past year and I will forever be grateful for that. I have never known a love like yours before now and I wouldn’t have, had you not given me the time of day after the show at Bottlerock. You taught me so much about myself and for that I am forever indebted to you (don’t try and fight it). Because of you, I try not to get so in my head and try to believe in only best outcomes (I know it doesn’t seem to have worked in our case). The world has felt brighter ever since you came into my life. So, thank you.

I told you I’d write this love letter as a means to wax eloquent on how much I would miss you and I find myself avoiding it because of how it hurts. I feel like I’ve told you this before or maybe you’ve read it somewhere else, but in French, to say you miss someone, one actually says ‘you are missing from me’. But I don’t feel that way, I can still feel you. You’ve touched places inside of me I didn’t know existed and you have nestled your way into my heart where I know I will never lose you. In spite of that, I still will miss you feverishly, fervently, profoundly. I miss your touch, your smile, your voice, your being. Your soul has touched mine and I fear it will miss yours until they are reunited somewhere down the line, a different dimension where time and space carry no weight. Somewhere in the ether, our souls will reunite, I just have this feeling.

If this were easy, it wouldn’t be so painful now would it?

I know this goodbye is hard and that it’s still technically a ‘see you later’, but I know in my heart that this is better for both of us. To no longer keep torturing ourselves in this state of limbo we have found ourselves in. It hurts now, but time will make it hurt less. Friends will be possible because best outcomes means we can do it. Don’t get in your head about any of this because as we know, it’s my job to be in my head and overthink just about everything. Just tuck this letter away if it’s too much. I’ve been told I come off as grandiose in letters, what can I say? I truly can’t help myself. But seriously, there’s no need to respond to this letter with any text or call, it would probably make me terribly embarrassed to address it aloud (or awifi). I’d smile awkwardly and become anxious, thinking about all the things you hated about it or took issue with. I hope this is enough.

P.S.

The way I love you, I am never getting out of that. I will never forget you saying that to me and I hope you know that I still feel the same way. I love you, Joshua, and I always will. While you may call me your sunshine, you are my sun.

Forever your friend.

Josh cries when he reads the handwritten note and sniffles a few laughs at her clear voice in the writing. So much was said yet he feels the weight of some things she left unsaid. She said it herself, there isn’t even enough paper for her to get all her thoughts down. He folds the letter up and tucks it back into the book before placing the book on the highest shelf of his bookshelf. He tries not to ever think too hard about all she said in the letter lest it bring tears back to his eyes.

After Y/N graduates, she tells Josh about the first job she got over text. It’s based in California and it keeps her so busy with travel and other tasks that she rarely has time to respond to his queries and messages. Eventually they both stop reaching out, but remain followers on Instagram. They both send each other birthday wishes on their respective birthdays, but the messages are only met with a ‘thank you’ and a well wish in return. She convinces herself this hurts less than pining after Josh for weeks or months before she chances to see him again.

It’s a little under two years after Paris that Josh and Y/N’s paths cross again.

Apologies....

#josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka x you #josh kiszka x y/n #josh kiszka fluff #Josh Kiszka gvf #josh kiszka fan fic #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka angst #greta van fic #greta van fleet fluff #greta van fleet fic #gvf smut #gvf series #josh kiszka series #gvf fanfiction #my writing #bottlerock

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electricbarnes · 3 years

Text

tell me you still see me

steve rogers x reader

summary: steve has been working a lot lately. you begin to have doubts about your relationship.

↳ songs i listened to for inspiration

wc: 5.9k | warnings: some angst, overthinking, self-doubt, implied smut

note: this is a repost from my old account that was deleted. so if it’s familiar, that’s why! i wasn’t planning on reposting but i read it over and decided why not. i have another steve fic that i’m almost done with, so i wanted to post this in the meantime. i made a few minor edits. i hope you like it! and if you decide to reread it, thank you x1000 !!

You arrive at your apartment, hands filled with groceries for the week. You struggle to open the door with the many bags on your arms, but eventually make it inside. You kick off your heels and set the bags down on the kitchen counter. After freeing your hands, you reach into your purse to find your phone. You unlock it and tap on the first name at the top of your recent calls.

The phone rings for a bit before you hear the sound of your boyfriend’s voice saying “Hello”.

“Oh my god Steve, you’re never gonna believe what I saw at the store just now,” you say, thinking of the wild thing you witnessed during your shopping trip. It’s not everyday that you see someone throw themselves into a cereal box display. It was a hilarious sight and you just wanted to tell someone about it.

“So, I was just strolling through the isles looking for some snacks when a-” you’re cut off before getting too into the story.

“Honey, can this wait? I’m about to go into a mission briefing,” Steve says in a hushed tone. Immediately, you feel guilty for interrupting him while he’s busy. It was well into the evening and you had assumed he wouldn’t be working.

“Oh, uh yeah of course! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” you apologize.

“That’s okay,” he reassures you, “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, talk to you later then.”

The phone beeps, indicating the call was over. You sigh and go back to the task of putting your groceries away.

You decide to lounge around the rest of the day, trading your work clothes for some comfy sweats and a tee shirt. You spend the night mindlessly scrolling through social media while reruns of some sitcom play on the tv. You even send Steve a few memes here and there. You’re not really sure if he’ll understand them but they reminded you of him.

After eating a late dinner, you channel surf for a bit before putting on a random movie. When the movie finishes, it’s nearly 11pm and you realize that Steve hasn’t called you back. You pick up your phone, tempted to call him but decide it’s better to wait till tomorrow. He hasn’t replied to your texts, so there’s a chance he’s still busy despite the late hour.

Unfortunately for you, being a superhero is a full time job, which means that Steve can be busy at any moment of any day. You knew this going into a relationship with thee Captain America. To be fair though, you didn’t think you’d actually get to know the super soldier like you do now.

When you met Steve, he was just some handsome guy at the park who helped you with directions when you were visibly lost. You ended up seeing him at the park again a couple days later. Recognizing you, he stopped and asked if you wanted to get a coffee. Who were you to deny this man?

You spent two hours in a café getting to know each other before exchanging numbers. In hindsight, his vague answers about his career were a little suspicious. It wasn’t until you went home that night and saw a picture of Steve in a tweet captioned “idc that captain america is like 100 yrs old, he can still get it 😍”.

Needless to say, you were shocked. While you were feeling dumb for not recognizing him sooner, you also wondered why he didn’t say anything. After an awkward confrontation about the subject, he explained how he didn’t want you to go out with him just because he was Captain America. You were quick to ease his worries and reassure him that you were interested in Steve for Steve, not for his heroic persona.

Since then, your relationship with Steve has been nothing but amazing. He was always so sweet with you, taking you on simple but romantic dates. There was something about that 40s charm that was so endearing. You loved the small things, like how he would always open the door for you or how he would bring you flowers on each date. It was so easy to talk to him about anything and everything. You felt like he was not only your boyfriend, but also your best friend.

There were times where you wondered why he ever picked you, an average person compared to the super people he’d work with everyday. He could’ve had anyone he wanted. Steve would say that you were like his sanctuary from the hectic world of being an Avenger. It meant a lot to you that you could be that person for him. You thought he deserved some peace after everything he’s been through. He wanted to protect you from the evil that inherently came with the job, which you understood, so he rarely spoke about the missions he’d go on. The less you knew the better. Though sometimes, you would wish he’d open up more about what was going on while he was away. Especially since he would be gone for days on end.

It was only a month into your relationship that you realized how hard it’d be when he would leave to be Captain America. It was his first time leaving for a mission that lasted longer than a day. He had to spend a week in some place on the other side of the world with no way of contacting him. Of course, you were worried the entire time he was gone. Despite trying to distract yourself with work and personal tasks, Steve was always at the forefront of your mind.

You had never felt such relief than the day he called you after a whole week of silence. Steve had even asked you shyly if he could come over that night. You felt butterflies in your stomach when he told you that he needed to see you. It was the first time he had spent the night at your place. Having Steve’s arms wrapped around you the entire night just felt right. You knew as early as then that you loved him.

Over the year that you had been together, those long missions became easier to manage. You’d always trust that he’d come back to you in one piece. Steve would sometimes feel guilty about being away for so long that he’d try to make it up to you by taking you on an extraordinary date. But you always assured him that you were happy to just be with him, even if it was just something like the two of you watching a movie at your place.

Lately, Steve has been more distant with you. You’ve chalked it up to the fact that there’s a literal distance between you two since he’s moved upstate to the newly built Avengers compound. Before, he was just a short drive away from the Avengers tower to your apartment. Now, he’s hours away from you. There were discussions of you moving in with him, but your job was in the city and you couldn’t leave that behind.

You both decided to make the best of the situation, calling and texting whenever possible. FaceTiming was the usual occurrence throughout the week, often before bed. You’d tell him about your day in the office and he’d tell you about the new recruits he would train. On the weekends, he’d stay over at your place. It was rare that you’d stay at the compound. Steve said he’d preferred your apartment, claiming it was homier than the compound. Plus, you’d actually have some privacy.

For a long time, it had been a good system. You love Steve and did anything to make the relationship work because he’s worth it. Yet, you couldn’t help the lonely nights where you wondered if he felt the same.

Calls were less frequent. Texts were unanswered. Weekend plans were cancelled because Steve would be assigned to missions during those days. You’d understand, of course. He’s out there saving people! You can’t fault him for that, but it doesn’t stop you from missing him.

Now, it had been almost two weeks since you’d last seen him in person. You had texted him throughout the day, but texting wasn’t his favorite thing. Texts were usually reserved for quick check-ins and reminders of I love you’s. He preferred calling and you did too, hearing his voice was much better.

After learning that he had been back from a short mission, you texted him.

You: FaceTime later? ☺️

You were eager to see him, even if it was through a screen. You were just hoping he had the time.

Steve ♡: Sure.

Later that night, you sat on your bed with your laptop, opening up FaceTime. After a few rings, Steve’s face appears on the screen. A smile immediately breaks out on your face.

“Hi babe!” you say cheerily, finally getting to see your boyfriend after what felt like forever.

“Hi honey,” he says with a soft smile.

Your smile dims a bit, eyebrows furrowing when you recognize the background. “Are you still in your office?” It was pretty late and you assumed he’d be in bed by now.

“Yeah, I was finishing up on some mission reports,” he explains, shuffling some papers on his desk.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you’d be done by now,” you apologize, recalling the last time you had interrupted him from his work.

“No, no” he waves his hand, “I thought I’d be done by now too, but it’s a lot more than I expected.”

You frown at the thought of your boyfriend overworking himself. You want to ask him about it, but you know he’ll say what he always does when you ask about his missions: It’s classified.

“You’re not stressing yourself out too much, are you Steve?” you ask, concern evident in your voice. Even through the hazy quality of the webcam, you can see the tired look in his eyes.

“Never,” he says with a smirk.

“Somehow, I don’t believe you,” you say with a teasing tone.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about honey,” he reassures you. “Besides, I wanna know what you’ve been up to.”

You scoff, “well, it’s definitely not nearly exciting as your week must’ve been.”

“I still wanna know,” he says with that boyish grin you love.

Steve always knew how to make those butterflies appear. You end up telling him about the incident you witnessed at the store which makes him laugh as he imagines the odd sight. He tells you about a prank Tony pulled on him and Sam and you beg him to send you the recording of it. He refuses, but you know you’ll get your hands on the footage eventually. Things felt normal again, just talking to him.

“So I was mixing the dough and halfway through I realized I completely forgot about the eggs,” you were in the middle of telling him about the new recipe you ended up ruining earlier this week.

Steve hums in response. You notice him looking to the side, not looking at the screen and you hear the sound of typing.

“and then a blue monster broke into my apartment,” you make up in an attempt to get his attention.

“Mhmm”

“and he stole all the cookies,” you continue.

“Hmm”

“Steve,”

Silence.

“Steve,” you say with a little more force.

“Huh?” he finally looks up at the screen.

“You’re not listening to me,” disappointment laces your voice.

“I was,” he quickly defends but you don’t buy it.

“Uh huh,” you cross your arms and lean back against your headboard. “What was I talking about?”

Steve glances elsewhere, not meeting your eyes when he mumbles “something about a party?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “yeah, like 10 minutes ago.”

“I’m sorry honey, I was listening, really… but these reports need to be done,” he says with an apologetic look on his face.

You couldn’t stay mad at him, but you did feel hurt that he would pretend to listen rather than just telling you something.

“Okay,” you sigh. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

He must notice the disappointment on your face because he apologizes once more.

“I’ll make it up to you honey,” he promises.

“Are you coming this weekend?” you ask hopefully. He couldn’t come last weekend and you were missing him terribly.

“Of course,” he gives you a tired smile that you return.

“Okay, finish those reports and get some sleep,” you instruct, emphasizing the last part.

“Yes ma’am,” he raises his hand, mock saluting you which makes you giggle.

“Goodnight Stevie, I love you,”

“Love you too sweetheart”

The call ends and you go to bed with a smile on your face.

The rest of the week goes by quickly. You’re excited to get to the weekend because that means you can finally see your boyfriend, in person! Not just behind some screen. It’s been almost three weeks since the last time he came over and you miss his touch.

It was Friday afternoon and you were sitting at a small table in the cafe you frequent, taking a lunch break. Halfway through your break, you got a call from Steve. You were a little surprised to see his picture pop up on your phone since you’re usually the one to call him. Nevertheless, you smiled and answered “Hi babe.”

“Hey honey,” he greets.

“I’m glad you called, I was thinking of picking up a few things from the store after work today. Do you need anything?”

“Uh… about that,” he says in a low voice. Your heart immediately sinks, already knowing what he’s going to say next.

“You’re not coming.” A statement, not a question.

“I’m sorry honey. A mission came up and we leave tonight,” he explains and you almost want to laugh. Of course he’s leaving again.

“How long?” you ask. Maybe it’s just for a day and he can still come on Saturday or even Sunday.

“Two days… maybe three,”

You take a moment to process his words. Part of you saw this coming. It seemed too good to be true that you’d finally have him all to yourself. You glance up, trying to fight the sudden feeling of tears in your eyes. You didn’t want to cry in the middle of a busy café.

“There’s… there isn’t a chance you can skip this one?” you hesitantly ask. Normally, you’d just accept it, but your patience was running thin. This is the second time in a row he’s cancelled on you.

“You know I can’t. This is important,” he says it so sternly, like he doesn’t realize he’s breaking your heart. The missions are always important. More important than you.

“Yeah, but you’ve been working nonstop. I mean, don’t you want a break? Aren’t there others who can go instead?” you argue, voice raising.

“Y/N, I’m going. I have to,” he insists, leaving no room for an argument. You knew how stubborn Steve could be, so you knew he wasn’t going to change his mind on this. Rationally, you knew he probably had no choice in the matter but you took a chance anyways.

“Okay,” you relent.

You can hear Steve sigh before saying, “I’ll make it up to you.”

He’s been saying that a lot lately, but you know they’re empty promises.

“Okay.”

“I love you,” he says much softer than his previous tone.

“Love you too,” you say back, but your heart hurts.

Before you met Steve, sleeping alone wasn’t so bad. Some nights you would be on your phone, scrolling through social media till you eventually got sleepy. Other times, you’d lie in bed staring at the ceiling thinking about your day and mentally planning the next. Too often you found yourself overthinking about something you did, something you wish you could change. Or you would be anxious about something coming up, running through different scenarios of how it’d go. For some reason, your mind wouldn’t let you succumb to the sleep that your body desperately needed. But you were used to it.

Then Steve came along and he’d be there to ease your mind. On the nights he would stay over, sleep came much easier. There would still be nights where your mind kept you awake, but Steve would be lying right next to you. You’d be on his chest, his hand soothingly rubbing your back as you told him about that meeting you were nervous about or how you got in trouble by your boss for a simple mistake. Steve would assure that everything would be okay and you found it easy to believe him.

He always knew when you needed a distraction from your worries, bringing up mundane things like last night’s baseball game or telling you about the modern music he actually started to like. Sometimes, he’d tell you a story from his life in the 40s. Stories like how his friend Bucky would drag him all over town, trying to find a date for the evening. Or about that time he had to star in an action movie when he just started out as Captain America (which you made a mental note to find later on Youtube). You loved hearing about Steve’s old life, curious about what made him into the man you love today.

Sometimes he’d just entertain your wild thoughts, especially when you’re half asleep. Conversations like how different life would be if dinosaurs never went extinct or if flat earth conspiracists were right. You’d be lying with your back to his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist while you mumbled any thoughts that came to mind. He’d listen till he heard your soft snores and he’d give you a gentle kiss on your head before he’d fall asleep too.

Then there would be nights where words would rarely be spoken. A night of soft moans as he took care of your body in ways only he knew how. He’d whisper praises, drawing out moans from you as he hit all the right spots. It was always different and exciting. You never knew what to expect, but he would always be so loving. You’d always stay close, basking in the afterglow.

After having the comfort of Steve in the night, the times he’s not there feel a lot lonelier than before.

Like now, you’ve got your eyes closed but you’re not sleeping. Your thoughts seem louder than ever and they’re all about Steve. It probably doesn’t help that you decided to wear one of his tee shirts to bed, the faint smell of him making you miss him even more. After he cancelled on you (again) this past weekend, you started to wonder if he even wanted to see you at all.

You want to be mad at him, but how can you be? He’s Captain America! He has a responsibility that he can’t ignore, not even for his girlfriend. Lately, you can’t help but be worried at how many missions he’s been going on. To make matters worse, you’re left in the dark about all of it. He says it’s safer if you don’t know. You just have to trust him and trust that he needs to go.

But what if he doesn’t actually need to? What if he wants to go so he doesn’t have to see you. Okay, that’s extreme, but it’s a possibility? It seems like he doesn’t even want to talk to you at all sometimes. You’re always the one texting and calling. It’s never really him unless it’s to let you down (again). Maybe you’re just being needy. Were you asking for too much? Are you overreacting? Probably. But it’s normal to be upset about not seeing your boyfriend for weeks, right?

You shake your head, trying to get rid of these thoughts. You pick up your phone from the nightstand. The clock reads 3:12am. You unlock your phone and open your messages to see the last few texts Steve sent.

Steve ♡: I’m sorry.

You: just be safe

—

Steve ♡: I’m back.

You: okay

Your thumb hovers over the call button for a good bit, contemplating if you want to bother him so late at night. Before you can overthink it, you hit the button. You turn to lay on your side with the phone against your ear, anxiously waiting for the ringing to stop.

“Hello,” Steve answers, voice deep and filled with sleep. You feel guilty for waking him up, but at the same time feel relief at the sound of his voice.

“Hi,” you say shyly. Honestly, you weren’t expecting him to actually pick up. You were prepared to just leave a voicemail.

“Is something wrong?” he mumbles.

“No, no. There’s nothing wrong… I just…” you can feel the heat rising in your face, suddenly embarrassed for some reason. “I just miss you,” you say quietly, not even sure if he’s heard you.

You can hear the shuffling of sheets.

“I miss you too sweetheart,” he says and it warms your heart for a moment, “and as much as I wanna talk right now, I have to be up in a couple hours for a mission.”

“Oh,” the small smile you had on your face quickly disappears. You had no idea he was leaving again even though he just got back the day before.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay hon?” he says tiredly.

You feel a lump in your throat forming but you push past it, “yeah… yeah, of course.”

“Love you,”

“Love you too,” you practically whisper.

The phone call ends and the tears start to slide down your face. You didn’t have the energy to fight them anymore.

The last call you had with Steve a few days ago left you torn between logic and your emotions. You knew he was just tired, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed between you two. In the past, he never seemed to mind talking to you, even in the odd hours of the morning. You always believed that you guys were so in sync. It seemed like he knew when you needed comfort and would be there to provide it.

You would be able to tell when something was off with Steve and though you would always offer to talk about it, he would brush it off. Thinking back to it, maybe he never really opened up to you for a reason.

You began to question if you are more invested in this relationship than he is. It feels wrong to even think so, considering how sweet and caring he is, especially with you. But everyone has their limits, right? Maybe he’s just gotten tired of you. It’s clear that work is his number one priority right now, maybe he doesn’t have time for a girlfriend anymore. He always makes promises of making it up to you another time, but maybe there will never be another time.

The thought of him leaving completely sends a pang of hurt to your heart.

You: can we talk?

You had sent Steve that text what felt like forever ago, but in reality has only been 20 minutes. You had spent that time repeating in your head what you were going to tell him while you paced back and forth around your living room. You were going to ask for a break. You didn’t want to break up with him completely, no, but you thought that this would be better in the long run. You’re hoping a break will give him the space he needs and then you guys can go back to the way you were. You figured it was better to let him focus on being a hero. You didn’t want to become the clingy girlfriend that he’d eventually resent.

You had no idea how he would react. Maybe he would agree. It’ll be tough, but every couple goes through something like this, right? Sure, it’s a special circumstance with you dating an Avenger, but other people have busy partners. You wonder how they manage a relationship when they don’t see each other so often. Maybe you were giving up too easily? But you’re tired of feeling pushed aside, like you aren’t his priority when he’s at the top of your list. You’re tired of feeling guilty for being upset when he can’t come see you. You’re just tired of feeling like you’re losing him.

Just as you start to doubt your whole plan, your ringtone breaks the silence. You pick up your phone with a shaky hand and tap on the answer button.

“Hello,” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice the nervous tone of your voice.

“Hey honey, you wanted to talk?”

“Uh, yeah…” you reply, already struggling to keep your voice even.

“Is everything alright?” he’s concerned and you can imagine the look on his face.

“Yeah…yeah,” you lie, “I uh… I just wanted to talk… about us.”

“Listen honey, I’m sorry about last week but it was really-“ he begins to apologize, but you shake your head, not wanting to hear another excuse.

“It’s more than that Steve,” you interrupt.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” you hesitate, trying to gather your thoughts. “Do you realize it’s almost been a month since we’ve last seen each other?”

There’s a pause before he answers, “…I didn’t know it had been so long.”

“Do you even care?” you ask, voice giving in to the mix of anger and sadness you feel. The tears begin to well up in your eyes.

“Of course I care, you know I do” he defends.

“Do I though?” you question. The rehearsed words you mentally prepared are long gone. “…I’ve been sitting here thinking of what I’m doing wrong because I feel like something’s changed between us.”

“What are you talking about?” he sounds genuinely confused, “Nothing’s changed.”

“Steve… we don’t talk like we used to, I barely get to see you. I miss you all the time.”

“I know I’ve been working a lot lately,“ he acknowledges.

“And I don’t blame you for that,” you clarify.

“I know how important your job is, but… but I’m feeling a little left out here,” your voice cracks at the end. You wipe the few tears that started to fall down your face. “I mean, I feel like I barely know that part of your life. You’re gone most of the time and you never talk to me about it.”

“I can’t, for your safety. We’ve discussed that.”

“Yeah and I thought I could handle it, but you’re giving me nothing here,” you argue. “I wanna be there for you Steve, but it’s hard when you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“I... I can’t. I want to but it’s better if you don’t know,” he says pleadingly. You want to believe him, but you just can’t seem to let this go.

The silence lingers over the phone.

“Maybe we should take a break,” you eventually say with defeat.

“A break?”

“Maybe we just need some time to sort things out. You can focus on your work and when things get better… we can try again.”

“No, no…” he starts to argue, “that’s not fair.”

“Steve, please…” you beg, “just try to see where I’m coming from. I still love you, I always will. I just think we need this.”

He doesn’t say a word, making you anxious.

“Steve-”

You’re cut off by the phone hanging up. You sit in disbelief, letting the weight of the conversation fall on you.

You spent the rest of the night just curled up on the couch. You keep questioning your decision. In your mind, this was the right thing to do, despite the heartbreak you knew you’d be feeling. But you didn’t think it would hurt as much as it does now.

Steve’s reaction made you rethink the idea of a break. You worry that he thinks you don’t love him anymore when it’s the complete opposite. You did this because you love him. You didn’t want to lose him completely, but it looks like you lost him anyways. Maybe, deep down, a part of you was trying to save yourself from the inevitable heartbreak.

The living room was dark, the only light coming from the street lights outside. The tears have stopped flowing, but the headache lingers. It’s almost 2 in the morning and despite being worn out from crying, you have trouble sleeping. You’re about to get up for a glass of water when you hear a knock on your door.

Your first reaction is to panic, because you weren’t expecting anyone at such a late hour. You mentally run through the self defense moves Steve insisted on teaching you. Slowly, you approach the door, trying to not make any noise.

Knock knock knock.

“It’s me.”

It’s softly spoken, but you hear him loud and clear. You quickly open the door to reveal Steve with a look of sorrow on his face. You can’t help but stare at him in shock, taking in his disheveled appearance.

“I don’t want a break,” he says hoarsely, breaking you out of your trace.

You all but pounce toward him and wrap your arms around his neck. He immediately wraps his arms tightly around your waist. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling the familiar scent that reminds you of home. Despite everything that happened over the phone, you feel a flood of relief from finally being in his arms.

You stood in his embrace, relishing the feeling of him being there for a good minute before you pulled away. You meet his eyes, noticing the tears surrounding them and it hurts your heart.

“We should talk,” you say, voice rough from the crying just hours ago.

You’re sitting side by side on your couch. You look at him and can’t believe that he drove all the way to your place in the middle of the night. You can see the worry on his face and you want nothing more than to comfort him, but you hold back because you want an explanation first.

“So..” you start off, “you don’t want a break?”

“Y/N, I know I’ve messed up, but please don’t give up on us,” he says with pleading eyes.

“I don’t want to. I thought that’s what you would’ve wanted. I thought…” you shy away from his stare, “maybe you didn’t want me anymore.”

Steve looks at you with guilt, realizing for the first time how much he’s hurt you, “I’m sorry… I know I’ve been saying that a lot lately but I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t want to be with you.”

“Then what's been going on?” you ask, looking back at him, determined to know why it took you asking for a break to get him here.

Steve looks down at his hands, visibly nervous. Why? You have no idea.

“Talk to me Steve,” you encourage him. “Please.”

He turns to look at you, taking a breath before saying “I’ve been looking for Bucky.”

You’re immediately confused. Out of all the things you thought of him saying, this was never one of them.

“Bucky? Bucky Barnes?” you question. You knew of his friend from the stories he would tell you. Bucky was practically a brother to Steve.

“Yes,” he says easily, but it just makes you more confused. The thought of Steve going crazy briefly crosses your mind.

“He’s the Winter Soldier,” he explains. You recognize that name from the news. He was a part of the incident that happened in DC.

“What? H-How would that even be possible?” you question, not really being able to wrap your head around it. From what you knew, Bucky died in war back in the 40s.

“HYDRA was using him. They found him after he fell from the train and they brainwashed him for decades until I was able to snap him out of it when we fought in DC,” Steve continues, “After he saved my life, he disappeared.”

The pain in his voice is evident as he talks about his friend. You scoot closer to him and you take his hand into yours, offering him comfort.

“Sam and I have been following any lead we could to find him,” he explains, “I’ve been doing that along with all the other missions I get sent on. That’s why I’ve been gone so much.”

It finally makes sense to you.

“Oh Steve,” you say, “I wish you would’ve told me this sooner.”

“I know honey, I should have…” he squeezes your hand, which you reciprocate.

“HYDRA is evil. I’ve seen how cruel they can be,” he continues. “The thought of them coming anywhere near you kills me,” his voice filled with emotion and his eyes gloss over with tears. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to get out of that headspace…”

He looks away from you, head down, “you shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

You reach over with your free hand to touch his face. “Steve,” you turn his head to look at you. His blue eyes shine even in the dim lighting. “Please don’t shut me out. I want to know these things. You don’t have to tell me everything, but I just want to be there for you. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

Your eyes beg him to understand you. “And I get it now. Bucky is your friend and I know you’ll find him again someday. Just don’t put all that stress on yourself,” your thumb wipes away a stray tear falling down his face. “I want to help you in any way I can. You can always come back to me.”

He subtly nods and looks at you, faces only a breath apart. “I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly, like he’s in disbelief.

He closes the distance, lips finally meeting yours. Your eyes flutter shut, as you continue to cradle his face in your palms. You focus on conveying all your love for him into the kiss. You pull away briefly to move on to his lap as he leans back into the couch. His hands naturally fall on your hips as you get impossibly close.

You break the kiss again, “Promise not to leave me again,” you plead, but your tone is much lighter this time. You never wanted to leave his arms again.

He looks up at you, eyebrows furrowing a bit, “I can’t promise that,” you give him a sad smile, already knowing that. His hand leaves your hip to push a stray hair behind your ear, “but I can promise that I will talk to you more and show you how much you mean to me more often. ”

You genuinely smile at that.

“This is important to me,” he says, pulling you closer, emphasizing his words, “you’re important to me.”

“I love you”

“I love you too,”

You lean back in to kiss him again, smiling in between because you’re happy to have your Steve back. And you know things will get better from here. There’s still going to be some tough nights when you miss him and he can’t be there, but you know he’ll be missing you just as much. You won’t have to doubt his love for you again.

You pull away once more, “Remember how you said, you’d make it up to me?” you question with a mischievous look in your eye.

“Yeah,” he says looking at you expectantly.

You simply raise your eyebrows and smirk at him. He catches on and mouths an “oh”.

You’re lifted from the couch so you latch onto Steve’s shoulders, giggling loudly at the sudden movement. He carries you into your bedroom, where he definitely made up for lost time.

You slept much easier that night.

hope you enjoyed reading! 🤍 reblogs and feedback are much appreciated!! let me know if you liked it :)

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers oneshot

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crackheadgeminibby · 3 years

Text

better for you

pairing: chris evans x female!black!reader

warnings: age gap, angst, language

word count: 2.7k

a/n: this lowkey sucks and is very poorly edited, i’m sorry but on the plus side, i surpassed 400 followers yesterday!! so thank you to those 400+ people🤍🤍

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape of form or reposted on any other platform

not my picture

You didn’t consider yourself a jealous person. Much less a jealous girlfriend. Not at all. Never had and you thought you never would.

You had practically raised yourself as your parents had always been more preoccupied with their jobs. You loved your parents, you really did, but when your high school counselor told you that you could graduate high school a year and a half early, you took the opportunity to start college immediately and move out of your parents’ house. This drastic change when you were so young made you become extremely independent. Which is why your relationship with Chris worked almost perfectly. You valued your independence, as he did his, and you respected his independence, as he did yours.

As a corporate lawyer that had multiple firms around the country, you traveled a lot, needing to meet with clients. Chris, as an actor, also traveled a lot.

You both trusted the other without a doubt at the beginning of the relationship despite that Chris was, at first, a little wary of being with someone as young as you. As a 24-year-old, he thought that you should be living your life, partying, sleeping with whomever you wanted without being tied down, but you had explained to him that despite your age, those were not the things that you wanted.

You and Chris were truly made for each other, knowing the other more than they knew themselves. You would even dare to call yourselves soulmates.

Which is why you could not fathom why you were in your current situation.

You had left early in the day for California, where you were overseeing the opening and start-up of your newest firm. Chris, on the other hand, had left 3 days ago to go on some trip his publicist had arranged for him. You hadn’t bothered asking what it was about, assuming that it was about ASP. Plus, you didn’t mind it: he had to do what he had to do.

But now, you couldn’t believe yourself.

You were sitting on your hotel bed, in a white and fluffy robe, fresh out of the shower. Your computer was open in front of you, the TV was blaring the news and you had your phone in your hand. It was almost 11pm but you had been doing this for at least 3 hours. All three electronics were talking about the same thing: Are Chris Evans and Lily James dating??

It was a bit your fault that people gave themselves the right to assume things like that, to be honest, since you had been the one to pressure Chris about keeping your relationship secret. You knew that people would talk and judge you for your 15-year age gap. You, personally, didn’t care and neither did Chris but his career was dependent on his public image and you didn’t want to hold him back, especially not at a pivotal moment in his life like right now.

So, you had agreed on telling your families and your very close friends and Chris had convinced you to let him tell his publicist, Megan. God, she fucking hated you. When Chris arranged for you guys to meet, she had called you “a walking, breathing PR disaster”. You had laughed it off calling her funny, but you knew that she was 100% serious. You really shouldn’t have been surprised that she would do something so fucked up at some point.

A bunch of different news outlets were pumping out new stories every 30 minutes, each article a little more detailed than the previous. It was all over the Internet and it seemed to be the only thing that people cared about today.

Considering the 8-hour difference between London and San Francisco, you hadn’t been able to talk to Chris at all since you got to your hotel. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to talk to him. He hadn’t even tried to talk to you. Why was he avoiding you and acting like he had something to hide?

You’re reading the latest Daily Mail article on your computer about how Chris and Lily apparently got to his hotel in the same car when you hear your phone ring on the nightstand. You don’t even bother looking at the caller ID as you reach for your phone, eyes still glued to your computer and answer,

“Hello?”

You hear a loud exhale on the other end of the phone before you hear Chris’ tired voice, “Baby, hi.”

You tense up slightly before asking, trying to seem nonchalant, “What’s up?”

“Have you watched the news today?”

You bite your lip, thinking, before replying, lying through your teeth, “No, why? What’s going on?”

Chris sighs again before answering, “Nothing, it’s fine. How was your day?”

You roll your eyes. Was he seriously not going to say anything?

“Fine, but it’s really late and I have to get up early tomorrow so good night.”

You hang up the phone before Chris can answer anything. You throw the phone at the end of your bed, frustrated beyond belief.

You continue to read the Daily Mail article as you hear a message coming in. You don’t bother to get up to pick up your phone as you see the message appear on your computer screen a couple of seconds later.

chris💙, 11:01pm:

Good night baby girl. Good luck tomorrow🤍

You groan loudly at his message. Even when he had pissed you the fuck off, his words still brought butterflies to your stomach.

You disregard his message and finish reading the article. You roll your eyes as you close your computer and get up to put it on the hotel desk. As you’re walking back to bed, you take your phone from the end of the bed and put it on its charger, ready to go to bed.

You’re not sure how you manage to fall asleep that night as your mind swirls with unending thoughts.

When your alarm wakes you up at 6am the next day, you feel groggy, having slept very badly last night. Which was to be expected.

You get up and change while eating a protein bar before heading to the hotel gym: you needed to do something to get your energy up. Once you finish your workout, you head back to your room to get ready for the day.

When you get out of the shower, you open your computer and, having left the Daily Mail website open last night, you see a new article posted 2 minutes ago: Chris Evans and Lily James seen on a date in a London park.You groan loudly, closing your computer as you hear that your cell phone is receiving multiple texts.

You reach for your phone on the hotel desk and your eyes widen as you see your lock screen.

5 missed calls

12 messages

You open your Phone app seeing one call from Chris, two from your best friend, one from your brother and one from your mom.

You open the Messages app as a new message from your brother comes in.

will, 7:31am:

When did you break up with your boyfriend? And why didn’t you tell me?

you, 7:32am:

i didn’t

yet

will, 7:32am:

You know i’m gonna fucking murder him right?

You smile fondly at your brother’s concern, chuckling softly as you type your reply.

you, 7:33am:

as you should(:

You open the rest of your messages, mostly asking the same thing. You didn’t feel like talking about it anymore so, you ignore them until you get to your conversation with Chris.

chris💙, 5:22am:

Hey, I’m sure you’ve seen the articles by now.

I’m so sorry

Call me when you can, please. I really need to talk to you.

You bite your lip as you think about what to answer. You didn’t have the energy to deal with this right before your firm’s opening. Shaking your head, you lock your phone, putting it back on the desk, getting dressed.

As you get back to your hotel room, exhausted from your day, you hear your phone signal an incoming text for the millionth time today.

You sigh loudly: you knew it was Chris texting you again. You had been ignoring his texts all day because you didn’t want to get in a bad mood while you were opening the firm.

You put your purse and work bag on the floor, unlocking your phone. You open the conversation with Chris, scrolling through his messages.

chris💙, 6:15pm:

I’m leaving a bit earlier than I planned, I should be home tomorrow morning.

Are you back in Boston or are you gonna stay in LA?

You sigh, feeling guilty that you had been ignoring his texts all day. You start typing a reply, your finger hovering over the send button for a couple of seconds before clicking on it.

you, 6:17pm:

i’m still in san francisco i’m leaving tomorrow morning

As soon as your message goes through, you see the three dots pop up in the conversation.

chris💙, 6:17pm:

Oh my God, hi. Are you okay?

Can I call you?

You chew on your bottom lip: you really didn’t think he was going to answer that fast.

you, 6:18pm:

i’m about to take a shower then i’m gonna go to bed i’m really tired sorry

chris💙, 6:18pm:

Okay, I’m sorry

Good night

You groan loudly. You really didn’t know why you felt so guilty: he was the one running around with another woman. As you think about this, you realize that you didn’t really know who she was.

You shake your head at yourself as you pull up Google on your phone and look for her. You don’t even realize it but, 20 minutes later, you were now at the oldest post on her Instagram.

You curse at yourself, dropping your phone on your bed, and head to the shower.

You stay under the hot stream of the shower for at least an hour before you finally get out, toweling off.

You order some room service for dinner, settling down in front of a random show playing on the TV. After pushing your food around for half an hour, you sigh loudly, put the tray on the hotel desk and get under the covers before finally falling asleep.

You had not slept very well so you had been in a rush to leave the hotel and catch your flight to LAX in the morning. You were exhausted and hungry when you got to your shared LA home with Chris but there was no food in sight, considering that neither of you had been here in a couple of months.

As it was not too late in the day, you decide to take a nap and order some food after.

When you wake up a few hours later, the sun has already completely set and the house is pitch black. You rub the sleep out of your eyes and take your phone before heading to the living room to order some food.

As you enter the kitchen and are about to head to the living room, you hear a deep voice, “Hey, you’re up.”

Taken by surprise, you throw your phone in the direction of the sound and scream, “Holy shit!”

“Ow… What the fuck?”

You’re breathing heavily, clutching your chest as you turn on the kitchen lights, brightness illuminating the area as you see Chris holding the side of his head.

“Jesus Christ, Chris! You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!”

Chris rubs at his head as he looks towards you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your heartbeat starts to slow down as you roll your eyes.

“What are you even doing here?”

Chris frowns and replies, “Well, you never told me where you were going to be but when I got back to Boston and you weren’t there, I assumed you were coming here.”

You groan silently, crossing your arms over your chest and raising your eyebrows,

“So, London seemed to be very fun.”

Chris shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling, before making eye contact with you, “I didn’t know that’s what the trip was about.”

You chuckle humorlessly, “Really, Chris? Since when do you go on trips, not knowing what they’re about?”

Chris exhales loudly, taking a couple of steps towards you, “I promise that I didn’t know. Megan planned everything and just sent me the info.”

You snort loudly, rolling your eyes. Chris frowns before asking, “What?”

“Megan, Chris? Really? She fucking hates me, of course she would pull a stunt like this.”

Chris frowns again, shaking his head, “What are you talking about? She doesn’t hate you.”

You laugh, this time, actually finding this funny, “Chris, she literally called me a walking disaster.”

Chris struggles to find an answer to that: he knew that Megan used this exact kind of formulation so he couldn’t deny it.

“And you know what? It’s fine. Maybe you really should be dating her instead of me.”

Chris’ face contorts in a mix of hurt and anger, “Why the fuck would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true, Chris. She’s better for you. She’s actually your age, not a fucking child compared to you. She can give you the things you want from life that I can’t. Maybe it’s better that way.”

“What way?”

You shrug your shoulders, looking at your feet, mumbling, “If we weren’t together.”

Chris scoffs, “You literally have to be kidding me.”

Chris takes large steps, making his way towards you and takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Y/N, I’ve told you before and I will tell you again. I do not give a shit about your age. And I thought you didn’t either. So, what’s the problem here?”

You bite your bottom lip nervously, “Because what if what Megan said is true? I mean… If people find out that we’re dating, the shit talking would never stop. I can’t do that to you.”

Chris sighs, enveloping you in a hug.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters if we’re not together.”

He lets you go, stroking your cheek, “You’re it for me. There is no one better for me than you. And no one is going to take that away from us. Not you. Not Megan. And certainly not my fans. If they love me as much as they say they do, then they’ll respect you.”

You chuckle slightly, “Chris, I don’t know what kind of fantasy you live in, but in real life, that’s not how things go.”

“Okay, but who cares? There’s two people in this relationship, you and me. Not you, me, Megan and my fans.”

You scoff, mumbling, “Yeah, tell Megan that.”

“I will. The same goes for her. I didn’t know she actually meant those things about you and I’ll tell her that she needs to knock that shit off.”

You sigh, nodding slightly, “Okay.”

“And, baby, I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows, trying to understand, “I never should have agreed to Megan’s little plan thing. But, most importantly, I should have told you as soon as I knew. It’s just that I kinda owed Lily a favor and she needed this. But it doesn’t erase the fact that I should have been honest with you and I’m sorry I wasn’t.”

You sigh, “I know, it’s okay. I knew this kind of thing could happen when I decided to be with you, and I overreacted a bit so I’m sorry too. I knew it wasn’t true and I should have asked you about it instead of ignoring you. I just… couldn’t let go of the fact that maybe you should be with her.”

Chris shakes his head, “I shouldn’t. And I never will be.”

Chris laughs a bit before continuing, “Sorry, but you’ll have to try harder to get rid of me.”

You laugh loudly, throwing your head back. Looking back at Chris, you smile warmly before hugging him,

“I love you, Chris. Like, a lot.”

Chris chuckles, squeezing you tighter, “I love you too.”

#chris evans #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans fanfictions #chris evans fanfics

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issaxcharlie · 4 years

Text

Owen hosts Couple tag

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Artist Fem Reader

Summary: We play pretend world guys✨ (I missed them, I’m SoRryyyy.) So, Charlie wants some reassurance after starting to prepare his proposal to Y/N and makes this “genius” plan with Owen to find her answers without being suspicious. (She totally knows tho) also a lot of friendship fighting between Owen and Y/N because I had to, I made myself laugh a lot so I’ll hope at least makes you smile🤧🤣Anyways, have fun!

This is also my weird and nonsense way of doing sweet @marvel-ousnesss request of the we play pretend couple to do a couple buzzfeed quiz 💖

The blonde takes a deep breath before picking up his phone and heading to the living room, where his couple of friends and roommates are on the couch. Charlie is lying down watching television and Y/N is lying on top of him with her face snuggled into his neck, he hugging her around the waist while gently running his fingers down her skin.

The plan was simple, to help Charlie plan the perfect proposal and give him an idea of what she expects from her wedding, they were doing a “Couple tag” video. That way the questions wouldn’t be as suspicious. Of course, there are easier ways but we are talking about Charlie. They convinced Kenny to call her and tell her that it was to promote the second season that is currently being filmed, and she agreed.

Charlie mentioned many times that someone else had to ask her the questions because she reads her boyfriend like an open book, so his improvisation had to be perfect to keep his best friend’s clever girlfriend out of the hook.

He decided to start the live from his room so as not to give the singer the opportunity to think much about it, so he sits in the living room and focuses the image on his friends who are not affected in the least by their positions. After all, everyone already knows that they are a couple and that they live together.

“Hello, I’m Y/N Y/L! And yes, that sexy, beautiful, adorable and talented man is my boyfriend, Charlie Gillespie.” He blushes as the memory of their first night back as a couple invades the mind of the Canadian, who had his girlfriend in exactly this position when she was, as she said, 'practicing' her introduction. Sadly, this time it will not end like that night because his best friend and about 500,000 people are watching.

“Welcome to my first edition of the Couple tag everyone! Here's my first guest couple, I know it’s not much, but I promise to find someone worthwhile next time, this is just for practice." Charlie laughs but looks nervous. Instead, his girlfriend sits down and rolls her eyes.

"I can't believe you chose him over a puppy or a hamster." The girl says to her boyfriend while laughing at her friend's offended reaction.

“I'm going to write that down in my long enemies list, but for now I have a live to lead. Okay guys, so basically I will ask them questions and I will also choose who answers them because I’m the only one hot enough to call the shots here."

She laughs and sticks out her tongue. Charlie sits down too and she takes his hand to fiddle with it. She keeps arguing for a few minutes with Owen but shows no signs of not wanting to play the game so he starts before she regrets it.

“Okay, first one is for Charlie. How did you guys met? This is actually a good one because a lot of the fans think you met on set and are like this really intense couple who started to date the very first week without even knowing each other’s last names.”

They both start laughing at the comment. The truth is that they have seen multiple posts and comments online from people judging their relationship and how fast they were going, especially when they did that last interview together and Y/N said that Charlie was taking his sweet time to ask for marriage, since for the fans they only have one year and months of knowing each other.

“We have known each other since forever. Our moms were best friends and we were born only a few weeks apart so we've always been together. We grew up as best friends and were dating before Y/N moved to New York to play Daniela on Stardust." Charlie tries to shake off the memory of the last tearful kiss before Y/N got on the plane. Hopefully he’ll never have to part from her for so long again. Sometimes he can't even understand how he managed to get through those 5 years.

"So no, we don't know each other for just one year, but 22." She adds, kissing his nose.

"Y/N, honey. I didn't ask you, don't be rude and wait for your turn." Owen says teasingly, the girl laughs and throws a pillow at him.

“Okay, rude again. Y/N, What is the first thing that he ever gave you?”

“Oh my, this beautiful valentines card! We were like eight I think. The paper is red, and it is filled with gold and silver glitter stars. Inside is a big star that has written in the middle, “My bright star, happy valentine’s day. I love you. And a lot of doodles of my favorite things, like my guitar, a microphone, chocolate, and a little Charlie. Just adorable, I still have it and to date it is one of my favorite gifts.”

The emotion with which she responds makes Charlie's heart melt. That was the first time he called her bright star, and he kept saying it to her during every audition, every performance, every practice. The exact reason not even she knows, but maybe one of these days he'll tell her.

“Rude and a liar. The 22-year-old Charlie's handwriting is horrible, the 8-year-old Charlie handwriting could only be close to a squiggle, nothing more. Oh, and probably only you had the ability to read it. I very much doubt that was beautiful."

She opens her mouth in surprise and wrinkles her nose, feigning annoyance. “I liked you more when you had a crush on me. You were nicer.”

Owen's eyes widen and he turns to see Charlie looking for help but he just starts laughing. “Wh- What are you talking about, mean girl?”

“Oh c’mon, you totally did, Ohio.” She smiles at the camara while showing a superiority face.

“Really? I already told you a thousand times, I'm from Oklahoma. But hey, how funny, forget about Stardust and audition for Funny Girl!”

“Jokes on you, I would nail Fanny Brice.”

“Man, defend my honor!”

“Bro, I can’t. You totally did, I even got worried for a second there.” It is incredible to think about how their friendship has grown and matured over time. They went from Owen fangirling every time he saw her to being really good friends. All these fights are more of a show than anything else, the truth is that when nobody is recording they tend to be very cool around each other and the three of them have quite a pleasant dynamic now that they are living together for the show.

“I won, Idaho. Now, please continue.”

“Well, my friends embarrassed me on my own live. I can already imagine the headlines tomorrow. Anyways, Charlie, Would you let yourself in danger to save her?”

Charlie starts laughing as he drops his head on the girl's shoulder. "I think she's not going to let me lie, I always have and will continue to do so. For me it's always her safety first."

"Which has given me more than a scare but he's so freakin stubborn." She adds while looking stressed and Owen can't help but imagine all the situations Charlie must have put himself in before.

“I prefer you scared than in danger, beautiful.” He grins and kiss her lips, her facial expresions relaxing at his touch.

“Gross. Y/N, do you prefer a small wedding or a big wedding?” She can feel Charlie tense at the question, so she leans her body back to support it against him and give him a lowkey reassurance.

“I hadn't really thought about it, but I know that my almost mother-in-law has been planning it all her life so you should check with her.”

His mom. Y/N is right, as always. His mom is their biggest shipper and the wedding is probably something she’ll want to be an importart part of, maybe way more than with his brothers since she adores the girl as much as her own kids, and the fact that his girlfriend is even more aware of that fact than him makes him smile.

“Do you love it when someone refers you as ‘her boyfriend’?”

“Always. Especially if it's her. She has that little knack of saying it whenever she can and it’s the most adorable thing in the world.”

“Oh I thought she was just showing it off to me because she was intimidated by our chemistry. I don't feel so special anymore.” Charlie chuckles and sends a secret air kiss to his friend, who just smirks and fakes to blush.

“How would you handle it if you thought another man was hitting on her?” Owen asks the guitarist raising an eyebrow.

“She usually takes care of that situations, her method is to take me by the shirt and kiss me hard on the lips. I’m never going to complain about that.” Charlie says smirking and blushing.

“We are a celebrity couple, for better or for worse. I’m not having him in a fight when I can just kiss that beautiful lips and solve the problem.” Charlie smiles as he wraps his girlfriend in his arms, so she can't see his face with the next question.

“What do you dream of your marriage? Mmm, let’s go with Y/N.”

“Anything will be perfect if I spend it with the man of my life. My Char is my everything and my biggest dream is to live my whole life laughing by his side.” Owen pretends to vomit as Charlie fills her with kisses under the ear, clearly moved by her answer.

“Let’s get to someting less cheesy because I really can’t with you both anymore. Has anyone ever tried to break your relationship?”

Charlie rolls his eyes and thinks for a moment. “Yes. We were like seventeen, and this guy from hockey had this big crush on her, so he tried to flirt with her many times even though everyone knew she was my girlfriend, until one day that he made her too uncomfortable and things escalated between him and me. Luckily my brothers intervened before something else happened because he was much bigger than me. I would have totally lost.” He chuckles while his girlfriend turns to see his face and gives him another sweet kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Yes guys, they are this annoying all the time. How do I survive? A lot of yoga. Next question, If three guys are standing, and you have been blindfolded, then how would you recognize him? Guys we actually did this like three days ago on set.”

“It was awesome! We put my bandana on her eyes and since it had my smell she couldn't be guided by that to choose.” Charlie explains excited.

“We got the three of us, first Jeremy then Charlie and then me in front of her, then she began to lightly touch Jer's hand. Then she went to Charlie's, it didn't take her a minute to recognize him and she took him from the hair and draw him to her lips, it was actually a pretty smooth and risky move, I’ll give you a point for that, prodigy brat.”

“Char's body inadvertently reacts to mine. It was pretty easy to tell the difference, especially after touching Jeremy's hand.” She turns her head to give Charlie a soft kiss on the lips and then Owen starts laughing like crazy and telling her to come see a specific comment.

She gets up and goes to sit next to him, Owen changes the camera so that now they are the ones in the image and she begins to read aloud. “Charlie I could give you my... Oh my god!” Owen continues laughing, resting his head on his friend who simply watches the screen in shock.

“Thank god Charlie doesn’t know how to read.” Owen, who was just recovering from his giggling fit, laughs again as Charlie giggles and sticks his tongue out at his girlfriend.

"Who needs to read when you look this hot with sleeveless shirts." He jokes while winking at his partner, which seems to melt in front of the camera that is still pointing directly at her.

“The man has a point. Okay, Y/N move your ass back there I’m still in charge of this show. Would you prefer a silver or gold ring?”

She makes sure to move off the screen and sticks her middlefinger at Owen before heading back to her place with her boyfriend. “Good and really random question.” She smirks, not making contact with her boyfriend. “I don't have a preference, but I would love Char to design it. Obviously with the correct guidance, but yeah he choosing every detail and then explaining to me why he choose it would be the dream.”

Charlie smiles. He was already imagining something like this after so many years of gifting and has already been visiting the jewelry store several times to make sure he designed the perfect ring for his girl, a slight feeling of pride filling him.

“Which series does she thinks resembles your relationship?”

“She loves Boy Meets World and see a lot of us in Cory and Topanga. I can totally see it too, after all they too have known each other their whole lives and have a bond as strong as ours.”

“Well that explains why she’s always telling me ‘Life is though, get a helmet’ instead of actually help me.” She grins at the memory of Charlie’s last prank on Owen a couple of days ago, it was really good since she secretly helped him plan it.

“Man, It wasn’t personal. I do the same with Char. I’m not going to be known for being the one ruining prank war. Take it to the end of the road, if you need me to take you idiots out of jail I totally will... eventually.”

“My girl, everyone. Isn’t she awesome?” He watches her adoringly and she blushes in response, buring her head on his neck.

“She always has this enormous energy and personality but all it takes is for you to see her for her to melt, that’s... kind of cute actually. Okay next question Stardust, What about If Charlie tells you to marry him tomorrow?”

For the thousandth time that night Y/N can feel Charlie stressing out. The fact that he planned together with Owen and Kenny all of this just to make sure he was on the same page with her is the most adorable thing in the world.

“I’m pretty sure he knows I would always say yes. He could have gotten on a plane when we were 18 and told me ‘I don't want to be without you, let's get married.’ And I would have said yes. He’s my person, I have nothing to think about, I have always known it’s him."

Now it's Charlie's turn to melt, and Owen himself can't help but smile.

Charlie's confidence in what he has planned is higher than ever, and the day when he can finally make it official is near. He has been dreaming of this day with his Y/N for years and he will finally get it.

“Well guys, that was it, give it up to my favorite couple of dumbasses and please stop asking obvious questions. Will I be Y/N’s maid of honor? Of course I will. Oh, and tune in next week to see me becoming Kenny’s new favorite after I challenge Y/N in a dance duel with I got the music. Golden star is GOING DOWN."

Thank you for reading✨

NEXT PART HERE

Taglist: @writerinlearning, @ghostofmgg @strangerthanfanfiction713, @thebloodthirstyvampress @kinda-really-lost, @kcd15, @magnet-girl, @aliandthephantoms, @stxrkspidey, @pinkrockstar19, @s0uz4s, @shycupcakealissa @cookiebuba, @fangirlangioma, @sageellsworth05, @twist3dtinkerbell, @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve, @caitsymichelle13 , @ifilwtmfc, @luckylouiebug, @bibliophilewednesday, @totomoshi, @siennanoelle01, @lunashadow6955, @bookfrog247, @morganayennefertyrell, @kiss-themoongoodbye, @rachelle3musicals, @imsydneywalker, @really-dont-forget-it @agentstarkid @talksoprettyjjx @kaitieskidmore1 @lukeys-giggle @katie-navarro @crybabyddl @cocopuffs0211 @marvel-ousnesss @blackhood5sos @dpaccione @tuttigunner

#charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie one shot #jatp one shot #jatp fanfic #jatp luke #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #luke patterson fanfiction

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carlyraejcpsen · 3 years

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alright, i’ve tried to keep quiet because i truly believe in karma and wanted this rp to close through the admin’s own actions and not give them any opportunities to blame it on me instead. it also felt like beating a dead horse, because i was sure they’d close the rp after losing a huge proportion of their active members and the majority of their diversity. however, after seeing multiple people sharing their experiences today, they are still posting promo posts and starting their event. so yeah, here’s my experience with @thevillagerp

NOTE: i no longer have screenshots from my conversations with the admins, as i blocked them when i left the rp for the sake of my own mental health, but i did save the text in my drafts, so the messages below are copy pasted. i have not edited them in any way. They also deleted my original anonymous messages off of their blog.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: racism, very vague allusions to homophobia and transphobia

so i was a member of this roleplay for around two months. during my time there, it was startlingly obvious that white fcs were preferred and prioritised, both from the fact that they got more plots and interactions in general and from the fact that admins never promoted diversity on the main. even now, they repeatedly say they “would still love to receive some more male and non-binary apps” while ignoring that they currently have a ratio of 8 fcs of colour to 24 white fcs. their diversity rules at the time were that 1/3 of a mun’s characters had to be played by an fcoc. so people could easily just play one or two white characters.

a while ago, i sent an anonymous message to the main asking if they had considered perhaps changing this rule to be 2/3 characters instead of 1/3, since there were so few muses of colour in the roleplay (as i said before, they’ve since deleted this from their blog so i cannot provide a screenshot). they responded that they had been thinking of upping the character limit to four instead of three, with a rule that 2/4 must be played by an fcoc. i gave them the benefit of the doubt and the time to enact this change, but nothing happened.

so a few weeks later, i sent them this message on anonymous:

I was wondering if you had thought any more about the diversity rules here? I know you said before that you were considering increasing the character limit, but I noticed that hasn’t happened and I wanted to know if that was a change we’re going to see or if you would consider changing the rules in another way? I’m really disheartened by the lack of diversity in the roleplay

at the time there were 18 characters of colour out of a total of over 60. they responded (again, i’m sorry i don’t have the actual wording since they’ve deleted the messages) that they had thought about it and decided against upping the character limit, but instead would be having a weekly “poc acceptance day,” where they would only be accepting apps with fcs of colour. they also said they were doing this “now that the waitlist was mostly cleared,” which meant that the rp was mostly at capacity anyway, so they needed to look more at how to encourage their existing members to promote diversity, since there weren’t spaces open for new people to bring them in.

i responded with another anon expressing my disappointment and pointing out that they had done more to prevent having too many celebrity characters than too few muses of colour, as at the time they had a ban on celebrity muses. i wouldn’t usually suggest a ban on certain fcs, but as it was something they had done for celebrity characters, then i supposed it was a reasonable option.

they didn’t even respond to this message and instead posted on the main asking me to come off anon to discuss it. so i did, and i sent them the following dm:

i didn’t want to come off anon because i honestly feel really ostracised in this group and didn’t want to make it worse, but i don’t want to drop this issue and you aren’t comfortable addressing it publicly so here we are i guess. like i said in my previous message, i really don’t see how a “poc acceptance day” is going to make anywhere near enough of a difference. people will just wait for the opportunity to play their white characters. there are only 18 characters of colour in a roleplay with over 60 characters. that’s less than a third, which is obviously concerning. what’s even more concerning for me is that these characters are more often than not overlooked. i am often ghosted when plotting, or people don’t even reach out at all when i like plotting calls or intro posts. and then i have to watch characters like leo almost exclusively interact with white women (i’m sure that’s not the only example, but it is the first that comes to mind as he is one of the more active characters).

so this issue goes so much deeper than there just not being adequate representation in the rp. i really tried to help, i suggested making it a rule that 2/3 characters need to be poc in my original ask and you mentioned upping the character limit in response. i was worried that my concerns were being brushed aside, but i waited a while to give you the benefit of the doubt and the space to discuss the issue. so you can understand why it was really upsetting today to learn that the one thing you suggested was dropped and instead replaced with something that is barely scratching the surface of the problem. and i don’t know if it was your intention, but by saying that you were waiting for the waitlist to clear, it comes across as not wanting to receive any backlash from people who would want to join with only white characters. and even if people did want to join with faceclaims of colour, they can’t because the waitlist is cleared. like i suggested, you could change the rules so that 2 out of 3 characters must be people of colour. or, as was your proposed idea, up the character limit to four. you could also put a temporary ban on white faceclaims until the ratio evens out. as i mentioned, it’s really distressing that this was something you were willing to do for celebrity characters, but not to aid diversity.

i also just want to make it clear that these have been the only anons i’ve sent, i know you’ve been getting other ones, but those weren’t from me!!

( for context, they were receiving anons from someone else claiming that they felt left out in the rp ).

i had hoped that coming off anon would show them that this was a very real issue which was affecting their members, as well as giving them a space to discuss it privately instead of on the main. they responded with:

Hi Em, thank you for coming forward. We really, really appreciate it and we understand it’s not an easy thing to do. We also appreciate you flying the flag for diversity so strongly. We can always strive to be better, we are on the same page with you here.

Let us just explain our decision making. Firstly, just to address the waitlist, that was certainly not at all our intention when we brought it up. It was a logistical decision with 5+ applicants having already waited a week for acceptance and aware of their position on a waitlist.

When we decided against upping the character limit (and therefore the 2/4 POC character rule), we thought a POC acceptance day could be a good alternative course of action. In our eyes, this was something that would probably bring more POC characters to the group than the 2/4 rule because we knew there weren’t going to be many muns taking up an additional fourth character. This was a rule we’ve seen other groups enjoy success from so we wanted to try it out here. Plus, we think a day that explicitly highlights diversity every week would bring the message to the forefront of everyone’s minds. As we said, we’re going to monitor this over the next couple of weeks to see if it brings any improvement because we’d really like to have it as an ongoing rule.

The non-POC ban is actually a measure we’ve spoken about too and we are considering putting one in place should this fail. Thank you for raising your concerns, know that we’ve taken them very seriously and we hope that you’ll trust our judgement in trying this rule out first to see where it leads.

first of all, i don’t think i even have to mention the wording of “flying the flag for diversity.” but the real crux of the issue here is that they supposedly wanted me to come off anon to discuss the issue, but instead just explained their idea further and didn’t take anything i said on board. they didn’t even say a single word about how i told them i felt ostracised and regularly got ignored. i knew from speaking to other muns in the rp who played muses of colour (and just from looking at the dash) that they felt the same way too, but of course was only speaking from my own experience.

i thought long and hard about how to respond to this, as i was so disheartened by their unwillingness to listen to their members and the fact that they didn’t care that i felt left out. it felt like they had asked me to come off anon just so they knew who was messaging them and therefore put a target on my back, so honestly the thought of being on the dash or talking to the admins made me incredibly anxious. before i had a chance, however, they responded again with:

Hi hun, we’ve continued discussing this issue over the last couple of days and we wanted to let you know that we’ve decided to put in place a non-POC ban instead. Thank you again for holding a mirror up to the group. We do hope that this will recorrect the balance.

so i waited to see how things would play out. they posted about this new ban here and pinned the post to the top of the main:

[ IMAGE ID: a screenshot from thevillagehq of an admin update, which reads: in the interest of keeping the village a diverse space, we are currently only accepting applications for POCs. please note that any apps or reserves submitted to us for faceclaims that are not POCs will be deleted. we will lift this rule once we see fit.

thank you for your understanding and your efforts in making this group a brighter, more inclusive and diverse place for all. /END ID ]

this rule remained in place for around two weeks, during which time they made almost no effort to promote it. the above post was pinned to the main page, but that was the only mention of the ban anywhere on their page, they didn’t update the rules page or even put a note on the application page about it. during this two week period, the admins posted 10 promo posts, none of which suggested fcs or even mentioned the ban or diversity at all. the ban was then lifted suddenly when the pinned post was removed and the admins just went back to accepting apps with white fcs. the ratio had only evened out in those two weeks (from 18 out of 65 to 24/50) because of people going inactive or leaving, and there was nothing put into place to continue to promote diversity after the lift of the ban. in the three days after the ban was lifted, the admins posted over 10 promo posts, the same amount they had posted during the entirety of the ban. it was clear that they had no intention of actually making changes in their rp and had only done so because i refused to drop the issue.

again, i thought a lot about what i wanted to message them. i knew at this point that they didn’t want to make any real changes, but i still felt like i had to make it clear to them how disappointing their actions were. once again, i was messaged before i even had a chance, this time for bubbling.

as you can see in the above correspondence, i had told the admins point blank that i felt left out and ignored in the rp because of the characters i played (aubrey plaza, mj rodriguez and keiynan lonsdale fcs. all of my characters were queer and used either she/they or they/them pronouns). as a general rule, the only people who wanted to write with me and have interesting plots with me were people who played other muses of colour. the rp had a rule that you must reply to 3+ muns on every character, which i had been doing. i had only been back from my hiatus for a few days at this point and had responded to 6 different open starters the day prior. their message to me read:

Hi hun. There’s something we wanted to address to you directly. It’s been expressed to us by multiple members during these last few weeks that they have felt excluded by your character within the group, especially when it comes to the friend bubble that has formed between Mars, Bowie, Luvena, Asher and others.

While we encourage the development of friendships and trust that this isn’t intentional, we have a zero tolerance for bubble roleplaying at The Village. We are aware that our three mun activity rules have been met by all parties involved, however, bubbling is usually a little more nuanced than that and it seems it has unfortunately begun to create a bit of a divide within the group.

We have already issued individual warnings to a few people within the bubble, however with multiple members still expressing their concerns to us, we decided it would be better to address the group as a whole. We hope that by pointing this out to you, you will try and branch out to your fellow members a little more from now on - and try and be a little more inclusive when it comes to everyone else in the group.

We take such matters very seriously as admins, and while we hope it won’t have to come to this, there will be consequential steps taken should we not see any changes in your interactions in the weeks to come.

as you can imagine, i was incredibly upset to receive this message after already telling them i didn’t get plots from many of their members and they had done nothing. even people who i had previously messaged continued to only write with the same few white characters. i don’t deny that we definitely had a friendship group between our characters, but there were multiple people in that roleplay, including the admins, who only cared about ship plots or plots with the same few muns. me and other people who received the same message had all previously told the admins that people aren’t plotting with us and gotten ignored, so receiving this message made it clear that they neither cared about us nor wanted us in their rp. and so i responded as below:

yeah i literally told you i felt left out because there are multiple people only writing with white characters and you never addressed it, so this message is honestly insulting. i have reached out to almost every new member, responded to multiple open starters and have tried to plot with as many people as possible. like i told you, i am often left on read or people don’t even message me at all. if people do message me, i am usually expected to put in all of the effort and if people aren’t interested in actually developing plots with me then i am obviously not going to force my characters on them. all of my characters are queer, non binary people of colour and the harsh truth of this roleplay is that people don’t care about them. i even wrote out a whole list of 20 detailed suggested connections in an attempt to get more plots and nothing came from that either. i’ve even gotten anonymous hate saying that offering to explain my characters’ pronouns was “patronising,” which i didn’t feel like i could approach you about because, when i told you about how i’m feeling excluded, you didn’t care.

so if i only have actual plots with the people who actually care about my characters, i make no apologies. i also don’t even have threads with half of the characters you named, asher being the only one, and have literally only just come off hiatus. so please explain how i am bubbling, because this really just feels targeted at this point.

you’ve made it endlessly clear that this rp isn’t a safe space for people who want to play diverse characters. the main was practically silent while you had a ban on white faceclaims, which you never actively promoted, and then you dropped that suddenly without putting anything else in place. you also deleted my initial anonymous messages asking about diversity as if you were trying to hide that there was ever an issue. you turned anonymous messages off, so that no one can safely criticise you. because i did that off anon and ever since it has felt like there is a massive target on my back. my characters have been “accidentally” on the activity checks multiple times despite me being on hiatus (people get a notification that they were tagged even if you remove their name from the list btw). plus when i asked for an extension on my hiatus, you said that you would allow it “just this once” which now makes me feel like i can’t come to you if i’m busy. right now, for example, i am in the middle of moving house, but i’m also stressed about trying to stay active because you have made yourselves completely unapproachable.

the ratio only evened out slightly because members left. then suddenly after the ban you’re posting multiple promo posts a day??? you couldn’t get more obvious. i came to you about diversity in good faith, hoping that it was something you were unaware of, but you have made it abundantly clear that you actively do not want to promote diversity in your roleplay, we are just here to be witnesses to your ship. there are multiple members who are actually bubbling who have been brought to your attention, but nothing has been done. leo continues to only write with the same three white and white passing characters. charlotte pretty much only appears to write with leo and post a vague “message me for plots” post that wasn’t even tagged. both of you only put effort into your ship threads with each other and the occasional text threads. even with something like group events: while i’ve been here, there’s been a pride event that neither of your characters were even in new york for (an event where i was the only one reaching out and posting multiple starters, by the way); there was no event last month, and this month all you’re talking about is this housewarming party.

i’m really disheartened that it’s come to this, but i can’t be here anymore. please post unfollows for all my characters. you’ve said multiple times that we should trust you as admins, but this message shows again that i simply can’t do that. from the disregard of trigger warnings, to the way you treated being held accountable for the lack of diversity, to how you respond to people asking for hiatuses, this isn’t a safe space. even if i stayed, the target you have placed on me is making it insufferable to just write my characters in peace.

the other muns who received the same bubbling message (copy pasted btw, we all got the same one word for word) all responded with their own concerns and criticisms in responses of a similar length to mine. none of us received a reply, our unfollows were just posted the next day without any further responses from the admins. a few of the other members who had written and plotted with us chose to leave as well, which the admins wrote off as us just dragging them with us as opposed to them being able to make their own decisions and being aware of the situation (which was incredibly obvious. no promotion of a white fc ban, suddenly being active on the main once they try to stealthily drop the ban, then the majority of their muses of colour leaving???)

i haven’t paid the rp much attention since i left, as i mentioned above i blocked the main and the majority of the members just for my own mental health. but from a quick scroll through today i can see that the only change in diversity rules is that now instead of your third character having to be a poc, it is now your second. however, you still only have to have 1 character out of 3 have a fc of colour. so very little has been done, but of course i’m not surprised in the slightist.

these admins don’t want diversity in their roleplay. if you play any character who isn’t a rich, white, cishet neurotypical, please avoid it at all costs. it’s not in any way a safe environment.

#rpc #rpt #rp #thevillagerp #hope this makes sense i think there's a lot that needs context and hopefully i did a good enough job explaining #sorry to my non rp followers this blog is such a mess

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yuzukult · 4 years

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from home 05 || jjk & reader

title: from home pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in later chapters word count: 7.5k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: i was really excited to write this chapter and i still couldn’t get myself to make it longer... :( i suck...

please let me know if you’re interested in being tagged! but also let me know if you want to be removed! taglist: @scalubera @strugglingartistno16-2 @taestannie @teresaisla @drumsofheaven @vampgguk @christiandosworld @madjammil @jungkookieyoongs @bananagguknim @shuttheelleup @yobroitsjayden

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Stating that Jungkook was 'on edge' is an understatement.

His palms and armpits were sweaty from the moment he arrived at your apartment to grab you before going to meet your parents, despite the amount of layers of deodorant he has on. He's never had a real relationship before, let alone met any girl's parents, and he can't help but feel something churning in his gut. "Good to go?" You ask, and he merely nods, suddenly bashful because he feels like he is definitely not ‘good to go.’ "Alright, let's head out."

The ride on the bus to your family home is only 30 minutes away, and truthfully, he has never ridden on one before. Walking to yours, Hoseok, and his home were less than 15 minutes, the thought of taking the bus being the absolute last thing on his mind.

Jungkook isn't exactly sure how he feels about the bus. The constant starting and stopping makes him nauseous; then the unsteadiness of having to hold the bars and handles throughout the vehicle all around seems unsafe. When there's an available seat, you sense his fear, nudging him cautiously, gesturing him to take the seat. "Sit," and granting he wants to offer it to you instead, Jungkook complies to the demand because he swears he's going to vomit.

After getting off the public transportation that he vows to never take again, you guide Jungkook through a narrow road, he notices the neighborhood here was more concentrated than the ones in Busan; tightly knitted with homes that stacked on top of one another, side to side, and back to back. People hung their clothes on lines that stretch from apartment to apartment, piles of boxes stored on balconies, and plants resting on the borders with owners sitting idle on their porches, fixated on their hobby of people watching.

Jungkook is known to be popular to the public, from magazines, gossip TV channels, social media posts, and the types continue on to the point that you couldn’t name them all on your own ten fingers. People don't often recognize him on the streets anymore because he's unrecognizable in regular everyday clothes but today, he learns that you're the celebrity.

The people in their homes say their greetings, making comments here and there as you entertain them with a response back, laughter dispersing in the air. There's an old lady that lounges on the steps of her home, a smile stretched so wide that her eyes disappear, all with a blanket laying across her lap, knitting away. "I haven't seen you around, I assume your mother is having a dinner party for the kids? I see you brought a friend!"

"Something along those lines," you retort indirectly, nose snug into your scarf. "You're not staying indoors? It's cold out."

"My husband keeps the heater on the home too high, I sweat like I'm going through menopause like I’m forty all over again, so I much rather be outside here. Anyways, I don't want to hold you up too long, but please come by for Christmas, I do have a sweater I knitted for you as well!"

Then there's a grandfather, another grandmother, and a couple who seems just a bit older than the two of you, and the list just goes on. Despite the whisper exchanges at the supermarket mentioning that you're intimidating, mean, and scary, it's obvious that you aren't or else you wouldn't be swooning the hearts of these strangers.

But there will always be an exception. Especially when the two of you run into a girl who looks close in age, hair dyed blonde with her lips painted fusion red. He could tell how curvy she was with how tight the winter coat hugs her frame, swaying her hips toward your direction as she eyes you both suspicious. "I see our town loser brought a friend."

"Mm," You nod, attempting your best not to amuse her, or else you’d be pouncing on her back by now. "Jungkook, this is Somin. A classmate of mine when I was in grade school." He bows in politeness, zipping up his jacket further while stepping closer to you. "Nice to meet you, Somin."

"Oh, no!" She gasps, a hand on her chest in exaggeration, completely flabbergasted by something he said. "Don't call me that. I go by Bella, since... you know, I am an American now. Being an American deserves the right name."

"You got your citizenship there?"

"No, but, I spent enough time there to know." She grins, shrugging her shoulders. Spent enough time there—you want to call out on her bullshit yet again, knowing she barely spent a month there before dropping out of school and coming back, but it'd be humiliating to mention that with Jungkook standing by, a stranger that she had only met a mere few seconds ago. "You said Jungkook... Are you perhaps, Jeon Jungkook of the Jeon Corporation?"

You furrow your brows. "How do you even know that?"

"Well, daddy invests in their stocks, of course." Fluttering her lashes, she manages to make her presence known to Jungkook as she moves in his direction. "And I saw his pretty little face in a magazine and couldn't help but admire."

Possessively, your hand slips into his pocket, intertwining your fingers together, causing warmth to creep up his neck and into his cheeks. "Well, great to see you, Somin. Jungkook and I have dinner plans with my parents."

"Whoa, wait, dinner plans?" Somin nearly exclaims, shifting aside to block your way. "Also, it's Bella, get that straight, will you? And why is Jeon Jungkook with you anyway?"

"We're dating," Jungkook interjects, clearing his throat. The words are still unfamiliar on his tongue yet he loves to flaunt them anyway. "I'm her boyfriend." He adds, tightening the grip on your hand as if Somin could see it. Her mouth drops open, unable to grasp onto the fact that you were able to land on a hunk like him. If only she knew how much knowledge of basic life skills he didn't have... actually, she might still have the same perspective. "There's no way. This is fake, right? You realize how rude she is, don't you?"

"No, it’s not fake, and well, kind of," Jungkook admits, scrunching up his nose at the thought. "But it's endearing. Wouldn't be as exciting if she wasn't always trying to banter with me, so I don't think I'd have it any other way. People mistake it for her honesty. I love a woman who can be true to herself and genuine with her words."

Just then, your mother peeks out of the front door of your childhood home, waving her arm eagerly, calling out your name. "Well, that's our cue. Thanks, Somin, for congratulating us on our new relationship. Hope you find someone yourself soon!"

"What—" Somin barely finishes her sentence before you're zooming past her, tugging Jungkook along.

"I didn't know you had so many enemies," Jungkook says jokingly, a playful smile upon his lips. You roll your eyes before squinting them at him, squeezing his hand hard as he winces. "Now you know how little I care for them, watch out because you might become one."

Upon entering the home, Jungkook observes too many things at once. Your mother is in the kitchen, frantically maneuvering through the junk that your family has hoarded over the years, searching for whatever it is she needs for the task at hand. Your father sits comfortably on the couch, feet on the coffee table with a controller in hand, dozing off with a combination of quiet and loud snores escaping from him. As a family home, Jungkook believes it's small considering that you had mentioned previously that you had two other siblings. To think that your parents are still living in the same home they grew up in is amazing to him, knowing that his parents moved at least five times within his youth while you only stayed in one home.

"Uh, hello," He greets your mom, bowing as she places her hands onto his shoulders, shaking him in excitement. She looks almost like a replica of you, except older and much brighter. "You must be Jungkook! It's so great to meet you, I'm so happy that my daughter found someone. She's known to be a bit... cold, so knowing that you were able to warm her up means that you're definitely special!"

"You make me sound like a bad guy." You hiss before your little sister walks in, in the midst of tying her hair up into a ponytail. She resembled your mother than you did, a delighted expression that matched exactly the one your mother had on. "That's because you are, and any guy who dates you seem to run away once they find out." She halts in her steps when she notices Jungkook's face. "Oh my god, you're that model."

"Model?" Your mother reiterates, glancing back at Jungkook and then your sister. "Yeah, yeah, that model in the new edition of Elle. He was in it—he's listed as one of the 10 most desirable men under 30. No flipping way, how'd you even get him to even date you?" She pauses before pointing at Jungkook with a suspicious look on her face as his eyes widened. "Unless... you need her for something. What's she offering? It can't be her body, she's not sexy... is it her brains? You heard about her—"

"Miyoung." Your mother says sternly, interrupting your sister. "Just because Jungkook is a model, it doesn't mean that your sister is incapable of being loved by a man like that."

"Actually—"

"Oh, hey. You must be the boyfriend." A taller male enters the room, his hair messy and lids hooded from waking up barely minutes before. He's still in his pajamas, a loose grey shirt and red checkered pants, but from the outline of his shirt, Jungkook could tell this guy was built. "I'm Daehyun, also known as their big brother. It's nice to meet you." Jungkook is in awe, hand extending to shake with Daehyun's. He knows he's straight, but even as a straight guy he knows a pretty man when he sees one.

Jungkook was starting to pick up as to why your exterior was so tough. With a younger sister who didn't have a filter to an incredibly handsome older brother, of course as the middle child you had to protect yourself. "Uh, yeah. And that's my little sister, Miyoung, who basically just attacked me for all of my insecurities within a minute. Thanks, kiddo."

"No problem, Unnie." She grins cheekily, seated on the high stool. "Did mom tell you I was back home from college for the weekend? That's why you're here?"

"Something like that," you respond ominously, hanging up your jacket along with Jungkook’s. Despite her preceding interrogation, she’s chewing on her bottom lip skittishly. "More like she forced me to come. Well, she didn't say anything yet but I felt a guilt trip coming so I just decided that I would come instead."

"Typical," Daehyun scoffs, leaning against the wall beside Miyoung. He sneaks a glimpse into the kitchen where your mother secretly runs back into, resuming in her work. "She's been desperate to get us all back together since the two of you moved out. Remind me again why I'm the only one stuck here?"

"Because you can't find a job." Miyoung and you remind him in unison and he frowns. The interaction between the three of you is crystal clear evidence that you guys are related. "Well, geez, hurt a guy, why don't you? See what I have to deal with, Jungkook?"

With some time left until dinner, the four of you crowd at your small dining table, conversing away about updates in your lives. Miyoung is in University an hour away from home, residing there for an easier commute, and Daehyun stays at home with an ambition to find a job that fits his degree. Daehyun still dates from time to time but he admits that he can’t tend to his needs because well, his mother is a room away, and oddly enough, albeit Miyoung babbles on about other things, she’s silent about her love life. Neither Miyoung and Daehyun are able to hold a steady job, he observes, and he’s starting to pick up as to why you’re so adamant about keeping both of yours. Jungkook learns that everything seems to gravitate toward one of the two phrases from your siblings when it comes to finances and they are: “Mom can handle it,” or “I’m going to let Dad do it so I don’t have to.”

From what Jungkook can gather, your siblings seemed to have different outlooks on life compared to you—they still depended on their parents whilst you were already hunting for opportunities of your own before Miyoung’s age so you didn’t have to ask for money.

“Are you still upset with me about what happened a year ago?” Miyoung finally asks you, chewing on her nails nervously. It seems to be something she’s been holding back from you, Jungkook takes a note of the way her eyes were filled with worry. “Of course,” You reply nonchalantly, leaning back against your seat with your arms crossed. “How could I not be? But you’re my sister, so I can’t actually be mad at you.”

Miyoung begins to tear up— glassy gaze with her bottom lip quivering, in spite of the previous aggressiveness she presented when you first entered the house. Before Miyoung could get another word in, your mom comes in with a guilty expression on her face. She calls your name faintly, a pout upon her lips. “Can you and Jungkook go out and grab me a couple things before dinner?”

Jungkook can’t get the question that Miyoung brings up out of his mind. In the middle of an aisle at another one of his mother’s grocery stores, your lips are pursed in thought at which brand of soy sauce would your mom like more.

“What was Miyoung going on about?” He eventually asks, but he holds his breath in case you decide to sock him for querying you about something so personal. Strangely enough, you open up. “Miyoung fell in love with my ex. He told me they didn’t do anything but he was in love with her, so we broke up. I thought I was going to settle with him but— guess not.”

Jungkook’s eyes expand like a deer in headlights. “Your little sister is dating your ex-boyfriend? And they were in love with each other during your relationship? I would’ve given her an uppercut if I were you— are you seriously still buying the banana milk she asked for?” He’s trailing behind you as you lead him toward the drinks; your face brightening from the lights from the fridges. How could someone who lost their boyfriend to their little sister seem so put together in the first place? Was this was Hoseok was talking about that your men streak was horrendous?

“Because she’s my little sister. At the end of the day, I want her to be happy.” Throwing a pack into the cart, Jungkook continues to push it while following you, mind still foggy and angry about the situation. Here you were, with a guy who you’d fallen in love with to the point of considering settling down, then finding out he’s been in love with your sister... he feels like this is all a fever dream and isn’t an ounce real. “You’re fucking with me right?”

You look at him with perplexity. “What do you mean?”

“This sounds crazy. You’re serious? Miyoung stole a guy from you and you’re just going to be the bigger person here and not do anything about it?”

“What am I supposed to do? Throw a tantrum? Get in the way of their relationship that is obviously blossoming in a good way?”

Jungkook pauses. Was this what it was like in another family? Or at least yours?

In comparison, he perceives that within his family, outbursts were everything. Getting attention and being recognized for any wrongdoing was immensely important— he knew that if he stole a girl away from one of his brothers, he wouldn’t make it out of the house alive. His mother, including father, would never forget it. The chattering would be heard through the grapevine amongst the housemaids, drivers, and employees of the company. Even news media outlets would dabble a bit into the family drama, adding fuel to the fire. He could never react the way you did, at least, he hopes he would, but realistically speaking, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.

Yet, with you, it seemed simple enough. Sure, your heart was broken, but how were you going to be with someone who didn’t love you back?

“If you love someone, you let them go.” You say calmly when Jungkook doesn’t respond back. “Keeping them around for your benefit doesn’t solve anything. If he wasn’t truly happy with me, I want him to be happier with someone else. And if that person so happens to be with Miyoung, what am I supposed to do?”

“But... you’re not happy.” Jungkook declares with no hesitation. He recalls the time where you felt bad for him for not having the best upbringing, and he’s starting to understand the emotion that ran through you. “I’m happier now,” You concede, placing the last ingredient your mom has on the list for you to purchase, turning your back at Jungkook. “Now that I met you.”

His heart flutters at the comments, and he’s desirous about bringing up the topic of the kiss again. Jungkook resists the urge to because he could tell from the way your silhouette begins to quicken its pace toward the checkout line that you really didn’t want to talk about it.

When the two of you arrive back at your house, your father is jolted awake. Jungkook greets himself to the elder man who only grins brighter than the sun—something Jungkook is trying to grasp where your grumpiness comes from— and instantaneously directs him to the dinner table where your mom has a ton of side dishes laid out with six place settings for you all.

During the meal, there was nothing but exchanging stories, laughter, and elation that swarms the room. If this was what family meant, Jungkook wanted it. And the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it to be with you.

Nothing is working out for Jungkook.

This week, the pipe in his apartment burst. Something about— it’s winter and when it’s cold, the water freezes within the pipe and it expands the material, causing the pipe itself to burst, he doesn’t quite understand how the whole plumbing system works, but he knows that he can’t use the water in his apartment and has to go to yours and Hoseok’s for the week for a shower until the landlord can get it fixed.

Then, one of the deli guys called off because he apparently had the runs which meant that there was a shift change— Jungkook having to cover since whomever was working that day didn’t have the skills to do it.

Skills? Jungkook curses underneath his breath when he recites that word in his head repeatedly because he cuts his finger on the meat slicer as he winces, calling out your name. Coming to his side, you pull out the first aid kit and force him to sit down on one of the stools, tying elastic on a higher point of his finger to stop the blood from gushing out. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just... I didn’t need to be put here, right? Someone else could’ve done this, I have no idea how to use a slicer.”

“I know,” You coo, wiping some of the antiseptic on the wound as he whimpers at the sudden sting. “The new shift manager panicked, she wasn’t sure what to do since the guy with the actual food preparation license is going to be here a bit late so she put you here. Not exactly the best plan.” After bandaging him up, you wash your hands underneath the faucet as Jungkook slouches in the seat.

Nothing really was going his way.

It doesn’t even stop there. Unexpectedly, his mother calls for dinner but you’re on shift, therefore you wouldn’t be able to attend. He’s tempted to down a glass of whiskey on ice, his signature drink, but when he opens the cabinet in his kitchen, he falters at the image of your face. Would you be disappointed if you saw what he was doing? And Hoseok? What would he say?

Retracting his hand back, he immediately slams the door shut at the thought of the consequences.

Dinner is the usual at the Jeon residence. Father sits at the end of the dining table, the typical beige cloth napkin spread across on his lap while in his usual work attire, glasses rested on the tip of his nose as he’s ready to dive in with a fork and spoon in hand. Mother is settled beside him, pretty as ever and calm in comparison to the hell that’s going to let loose in a couple minutes. The unknown? Who is going to blow up this time and who will they be comparing themselves to?

The answer? Jongseok and Jungkook.

Jongseok is upset to the point that he articulates every word with spit nearly projecting from his mouth to the opposite side of the room. The vein on his temple is stressed to the point that all Jungkook can think about is when it’s going to pop. “Why are you guys always babying Jungkook? You realize the kid is fucking working at a grocery store right? And not just any grocery store, either, but it’s mother’s chain.”

“Okay?” Father retorts, forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. “Isn’t he trying to prove himself worthwhile? Didn’t he find that job himself, despite it being your mother’s chain? He’s paying for his mistakes, learning basic life skills along the way, and even landed himself a serious girlfriend who can hold his hand through these tough times, since, after all, you’re the one who suggested we cut him off. If I’m being honest, I think we should give him access to our funds again.”

A scoff of incredulity comes from Jongseok. He’s a ticking time bomb in this moment; jaw twitching in frustration with the tips of his ears heated red. Even though he’s the target yet again, Jungkook is sober now, mind clear of the fog and the ability to defend himself for once. “I don’t get it. Why are you even mad at me? I’m trying here, right? You’re the one who wanted me to get cut off so desperately— and congrats, by the way, because I did. I had to find a job myself, one I’m not a fan of, and I’m barely making it by. I lost water in my apartment this week, cut my hand on one of those deli slicers, sprained my ankle on my way to work— and that’s only a portion of my bad week. Yet here I am, sitting at the dinner table with people who claim that they love me when you’re here flipping shit at father. What do you want from me?”

“For your name to be completely off the will.” Jongseok finally says what he has been actually feeling unperturbedly, not an ounce of affection in his tone with a gaze that could pierce through Jungkook. “You have nothing to offer to this family. Why we keep you around— I don’t know. Why should you have any portion of our estate and company assets when all you’re doing right now is working at the supermarket. Tell me, Jungkook, why do you deserve to be part of any of this?”

Jungkook hates how childish he’s being, but he feels like he has the right to. The flickering colorful lights and music booming through the speakers of the club are tuning out the words his brother exclaims at his parents, and the amount of alcohol passing through his lips are numbing the pain that tears through his chest. Your face pops up in his head; your laugh, your smile, and the comfort in the underlying messages through your tough love— he wishes that all of that was enough to heal the sting in his heart and fill the hollowness that his family left.

He doesn’t remember any of these people sitting at this table with him, even though they’re hollering in excitement that “Jungkook is back again!” The girl placing a hand on his chest with his arm around her shoulder isn’t you, but he knows that if it was, you’d be so displeased at how wasted he is. Honestly, this feels wrong. Nothing sits right in his stomach and when another pretty gal with her dress hiked up to the point he could see her thong from where he’s on the couch, he’s not even attracted to her. All he could think about was you, and that scowl on your face when he tells you about this night. He could hide it from you but he’s not going to lie to himself— if he wanted to improve for the better, it meant being straightforward and authentic. Jungkook came here to let loose because the events that occurred at the estate tonight was something he wants to forget.

Turning to the girl beside him, his eyes are hooded and vision is blurry when he asks, “What’s your name again?”

When her rosy plump lips open, she says her name but the voice that comes out of it is deep and oddly familiar. “Hyeri?” Why does she say it like a question, and why is her voice so low? Just then, a hand clenches the fabric of his shirt, pulling him up and he meets the proprietor of the response. Hoseok.

Hoseok drags Jungkook’s weak and frail frame out into the alleyway behind the club, fuming to the point that smoke could’ve been whistling out of his ears. “What the fuck are you doing here? And with Hyeri, of all people! I thought I told you to stop fucking around, dude! I-I thought you knew how much she means to me. Out of the people I’ve partied with— you were my actual friend.” He clenches his jaw before Jungkook could even answer, a fist tightening in his hand. “You’re such a fuck up, Jungkook. So much for a friend.”

Then everything blacks out.

His entire body hurts. His head is pounding, he can barely open one of his eyes, and his legs are so sore he can hardly shift on the bed— on a bed? He doesn’t have a bed. He has a futon but not a bed. Startled, he attempts to sit up against the bed frame, the other eye opening to skim through the room.

He’s never been in your bedroom before, but the pictures of you graduating college hanging on the corkboard above your desk, concert tickets, Polaroids, and holiday cards thumbtacked beside them is all the evidence he needs to know it’s yours. Jungkook wants a closer look at them, he can scarcely make out the cute little smile on your face with your family in attendance in the picture, but when he puts weight onto his arms, he groans. Seconds later, you’re bursting through the door, out of breath and worry in your eyes. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Voice hoarse, he realizes how dry his throat is and you lean over to the bedside table to hand him the glass of water you had there originally. “Don’t move, idiot. You’re actually really torn up if you didn’t feel it with all that alcohol in your system.” Inviting yourself onto the foot of the bed, Jungkook frowns after he finishes the entire glass, much more dehydrated than he initially thought. “Trust me, it’s gone now. I feel every ounce of pain. What happened? I blacked out.”

“No shit,” you retort harshly, rolling your eyes at him. “You were drunk as hell, but you didn’t black out from that. Hoseok saw you getting all cozy with Hyeri and knocked the shit out of you. What happened, Jungkook? Why were you there in the first place? Did something happen?”

Reading the expression on your face, he fears for the worse but he doesn’t see any hint of dissatisfaction anywhere. There’s no anger, no resentment, no frustration— none of that. Just curiosity smeared across, genuinely worried about his well-being. “Are you upset that you found out I was there?”

“I was mad that Hoseok called me to come grab you, at first, so kind of, yeah. But if you’re trying to figure out if I’m disappointed in you, then no, I’m not. Old habits are hard to kill, so I understand that you’re trying to cope with something. I just want to know why you were there in the first place and why were you getting all lovey dovey with Hyeri—“

“I wasn’t getting lovey-dovey with Hyeri,” Jungkook exasperates, head falling back against the headboard, closing his eyes shut, interrupting before you lead the conversation into a lecture. “She was just some girl that sat down and claimed a spot next to me. I didn’t even know she was Hoseok’s girl.” There’s a pregnant pause in his explanation, and you don’t break off his train of thought. “I... I went because Jongseok called me useless tonight, yet again. It didn’t bother me as much as it did before, you know, before I met you, and it’s probably because I wasn’t intoxicated or the fact that I’m actually trying now and he still thinks I’m useless. He wants me out of the will.”

“He’s jealous that he’s the problematic child now, not you.” Making your way up the bed, you’re seated on top of the covers, settled adjacent to Jungkook. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re way more useful than you had been initially. I usually do the dishes at my parents’ house, mostly because I’m the middle child, but you did it for me instead. I consider that a huge accomplishment from who you were before.”

As much as he hates to admit how warm and fuzzy he feels inside just from that small achievement, it’s a resemblance of the time when he was younger and won an award for being most creative in his kindergarten class. How are you able to lift up his mood so easily by just saying a few words?

“I… is Hoseok really pissed?”

“A bit,” you reply sincerely and apologetically, even though none of this had been your fault. “He’s been in love with her even before I met him. She was all he could talk about, and I guess she finally gave him a shot, only to drop him a month later. I don’t know much about her, but I know she’s a gold digger from the stories he shared.”

Jungkooks face drops when his gaze meets yours. “Have you ever told him that?” You laugh—the melody that practically heals his wounds on the spot. “No, are you crazy? He’s blinded by love, Jeon, and any interference with that, I’m done for, probably cut out entirely from his life. Have you never been in love before?”

He wants to say that he hasn’t, not until he met you, but you continue without expecting a response from him anyway. “Well, that’s just how he is. You could tell him a billion times that this girl isn’t for him but he’s never going to care about what I say until something actually happens.”

“I really care about Hoseok, though, and I want the best for him.” His doe-brown eyes are glossy, full of cherish for his friend. “And he cares for you too, Jeon. Just give him some time.” Quickly, Jungkook twists away, gaze avoiding yours as he clears his throat a couple times.

“Are you... okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” He says, choking up on his own words. “Hurts a little. Hoseok is strong.”

You furrow your brows. “Hey, look at me.” He doesn’t react. “Jeon,”

“Can... you give me some space?”

Pulling your lips into a straight line, you contemplate whether or not to listen to his words or go against him. He’s been living in a home full of people yet still feeling alone, with no one to listen to his perspective on things. Maybe it’s time you change that.

Abruptly, you swing your leg over his thighs, hands cupping his cheeks just like you did that fateful night. He swore his heart stopped beating. “What are you—” There’s tears brimming in his eyes, you realize, with some escaping, trailing down his cheek. He sniffles. “You’re crying?” You’re stating the obvious, yet somehow it comes out as a question. “Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

“I’ve never had a friend love me before, a friend who actually liked me for me and only wanted to spend time with me because of who I was, not who my family was. Did I really fuck up with Hoseok?” You frown, thumb rubbing against his cheek to wipe away his tears. Truthfully, you never really knew how to react when someone fell apart like this, but with Jungkook, it felt natural, the comforting. It might’ve been the sunlight peering through the windows of your room that made everything toasty, thawing out your cold heart, or it was just Jungkook. “Maybe. But I doubt he wouldn’t give you a chance to explain yourself though. I mean, yeah, you’re bruised all over because he really beat you up... but, I’m sure this evens things out. Plus, I’m your friend and I love you too.”

He sighs, shoulders plunging with his hands creeping up to your waist unconsciously, tenderly steering you to sit on his thighs. Swallowing at the feeling of his body flattened against yours, you’re attempting to shake your head from the dirty thoughts. Jungkook feels at ease, detecting the words come from your mouth, yet he wants more. He craves for more, especially since that night in Busan and he isn’t sure he can hold himself back anymore.

“I... What happened that night in Busan?” Lifting your weight off him, he only stops you by putting down more pressure to stop your escape. Despite being in an awful lot of pain, he still manages to overpower you in strength. “Please don’t avoid this. If Jongseok didn’t come to our door that night, it would’ve led to something more. I want to know, please, what does it mean?” Cheeks burning, you stare at the wooden headboard behind him, except Jungkook knows your next steps before you do because his finger is already on your chin, guiding your view back onto him. He doesn’t need to say anything because the look he gives you says it all, tell me.

“Okay, okay,” You cringe, the idea of talking about this makes your stomach feel queasy and want to recoil in dread. “White flag. I’ll talk.”

“Enough of this white flag nonsense, just tell me.”

Belatedly gathering enough courage, you spill. Although your heart feels like it’s jumping through hoops from suspense, you realize that you can’t hold yourself back any longer anyway. “I’m... attracted to you, alright? I mean, I’m not sure how I feel about you 100% emotionally, because I still feel like we’re on different pages here, but I feel like I kind of like you? If this goes any further, I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.”

That’s... it? Admittedly so, Jungkook was hoping for more of a confession, something along the lines of, ‘I really like you, Jungkook’ but he’d have to settle for this. This was definitely a step closer to where he wants to be. “So... you’d date me, that is. There’s still an opening somewhere.”

“I-I mean, I guess so... why?”

“Because well, I can’t stop thinking about that night, and I know that for sure that I like you.” He discloses. “And if there’s even a bit of an opening, I want a shot at it.”

You scoff. “With me? You want an actual shot with me? After spending time with my family, you want to still try to swoon me?” There’s a smile tugging on Jungkook’s lips; there’s a blackish-bluish bruise underneath his eye, the side of his lips red and blotchy and the entirety of his body is either swollen or bruised, and yet, he still endures the pain to be beaming brighter than the stars. “Of course, you met my family, right? Yours is nothing complicated in comparison... well, maybe your sister. But for once, I feel like I belong here, with you, I feel like I’m home. So, will you give me a chance to win you over?”

“Don’t you think you’re rushing this whole thing? This... you thinking you like me kind of thing.”

“Are you going to keep wasting your time?” He blurts, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “You wasted how long with some guy only for him to ditch you for your sister. What about your happiness, and what you want? None of this is fair to you. What if I could possibly give that to you, that happiness? Would you actually give me a chance?”

Sincerely, you didn’t know what the relationship with Jungkook held and what it would mean in the future. But what he asserts is right with the things he repeats in Busan about being selfish for once replays in your head again, and you finally decide to take a shot at it.

Was it the high of saying ‘yes, okay’ to Jungkook or the painkillers he took earlier because when your lips meet with his, he feels like he’s floating in mid-air. Your tongue is wet and soft when it fights with his, and when his hands on your waist pull you in closer, the bulge in his pants isn’t discreet, raging for attention, twitching against your thigh while your fingers knots through his hair tightens in response to your bottom lip suddenly tucked in between his teeth. The room feels steaming hot, especially when your hips start to move against his, emitting a groan from him as hand trails down to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze in consequence. His jeans from last night are still on and they’re straining in his crotch uncomfortably.

This is escalating so fast—just as quickly as his heart is beating in his chest, almost popping out of his chest cavity. Your natural scent is intoxicating, clouding up his mind to the point that he doesn’t think he needs the alcohol to forget the pain his family has caused him anymore, because you’re mending the pieces of him together. Your hands trail down to his neck, tugging him closer before they wander down to his biceps, giving him a gentle squeeze that releases a wince from him.

Just as abrupt as the kiss, you pull away with a concerned and panic expression, with your mouth open in aghast. “Oh my god— I forgot you were still injured—” As you’re trying to move back, you stumble on his legs and collapse onto the floor.

“What— hey, are you okay?” He says, breathless as he leans over to check on you sprawled on the floor. Swiftly hopping back on your feet, he observes you clearly with your hair disheveled, cheeks tinted pink, and swollen lips. There’s a look of achievement on his face from the sight of a disoriented you. “Uh, um, yeah. I-I’m good,” Flustered, you push a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m... I’m going to get dinner ready for the both of us, uh, I’m going to leave you to it,” you’re awkwardly gesturing his crotch before rushing out the room and slamming the door shut.

He can only laugh at your reaction. At least his week wasn’t that bad after that kiss, right?

Jungkook stirs awake from the sound of chatter in the living room, voices familiar that he can associate them as yours and Hoseok’s. Unexpectedly, he sounds melancholic, the muffled sounds from your walls, almost to the point of whimpering mixed with your soft assuring words. He figures he should get a closer perspective of this, maybe enough where he can make out what the two of you are conversing about.

He’s not far off from shrieking when he angles his leg too far, but he bites his bottom lip in prevention of any sound, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the torment. Careful, he reiterates like a mantra in his head, chanting it until it’s engraved in his brain. When he reaches the door, he opens it slowly and just barely, to peek out and see the scene unfold before him.

“She told me that they didn’t do anything,” Hoseok exclaims, face in his hands as his elbows are resting on his knees. “That she chose to be there, and Jungkook was just lounging on the couch. That if anything, she wanted him to fuck her. Isn’t that ridiculous? How could she say that?”

You’re seated on the armrest of the loveseat, hand rubbing against Hoseok’s back soothingly. “I know, Hobi, I know. You might’ve been the right one for her, but at the end, she wasn’t the right one for you.”

“I could’ve changed,” He emphasizes, spinning his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are crimson and swollen from his tears, restlessness fills in those orbs. “I love her so much.”

“Well, and you love Jungkook. He’s in the other room, beat up and crying because he thought he lost you. He didn’t do anything wrong and you tore him to shreds! Earlier when we were making—“ You pause, clearing your throat when you realize where you were leading the conversation, Hoseok raising a brow in confusion at the action. “Earlier, I mean, I went to check on him and he was whining in pain. You really hurt him, Hoseok, and not just physically either. He’s both hurt emotionally and physically.”

He frowns. “I mean, I guess... I guess it wasn’t his fault.”

“There’s no guessing, idiot. It wasn’t. He was honestly too wasted to even realize that she was sitting beside him. Poor kid reeked of alcohol that I almost made him sleep on the porch. But he would’ve gotten robbed so... I let him stay in my room and I slept on the couch.” Jungkook glowers at the thought of you struggling to find comfort on the small sofa, wishing you would’ve chosen to sleep by him instead.

“Can I... talk to him?” Hoseok finally asks, looking down at his hands in embarrassment. His knuckles were red, contused from the one-sided fight he had with Jungkook the night before. “I fucked up, and I’m sure he thinks that he really fucked up.”

You hum for a moment before an idea pops into mind. “How about... you go out and get takeout? I’ll check on him, prep him for your appearance, and then you guys can hash it out?”

You don’t take no for an answer, pushing Hoseok out the door shortly, and a soft smile tugs on the edges of Jungkook’s lips before he lightly shuts the door and tip toes back into bed, pretending to be deep in slumber.

When you come into the room afterwards with a wet rag in hand and a bucket of warm water, his heart swells. Patting the towel against his wounds while seated at the edge of the bed, he hastily has a hand wrapped around your wrist, shocking you in the midst of your activity. “Oh— you’re awake?” He gingerly kisses the palm of your hand, heat clogging your face . “Yeah. And, thank you. For everything. I owe you a lot.”

“I—uh, maybe you’ll reciprocate this for me as well, one day?” You respond dubiously. “But... you also might not know how to do it so—“

“Are you still trying to make jabs at me after I made such a sweet comment?”

“Well, I’m just being honest, do you even know how to take care of another person?” You shoot back. “You couldn’t even get yourself back home, I had to be called and drag you back here myself, and my god, you’re heavy—“ He hauls your arm closer, dragging you along with it until your nose is inches away from his. “Can I kiss you again? I miss the way your lips feel with mine.” Even when he says the words in a volume that’s barely a whisper, his breath fans against your skin harshly, causing goosebumps to crawl up your spine.

The door pounds shut and before you can tear away from Jungkook’s hold, Hoseok is already standing in the threshold of the bedroom, mouth wide open in shock before it immediately fades into a mischievous grin. “What did I tell you, Kook? Which one was it first? You or her?”

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts #bts smut #jungkook x reader #gyukult fics

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crimeculturepodcast · 3 years

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Hispanic/Latino horror movies

In honor of Hispanic Heritage month, this week we talked about horror movies out of Latin American and Spanish speaking countries. There were some we couldn’t get to so here is the full list:

Spain

The Devil’s Backbone (2001)

Rotten Tomatoes: 92%

Audience Score: 89%

Google Score: 85%

IMDb: 7.4/10

Critics Consensus: Creepily atmospheric and haunting, The Devil's Backbone is both a potent ghost story and an intelligent political allegory.

Description: “Set during the last years of the Spanish Civil War, The Devil's Backbone is a Spanish gothic horror movie that follows Carlos, a young orphan boy who is deposited at Santa Lucia School among several other children who have been displaced by the conflict. Though he finds friends in the professor and the head mistress, he is plagued by a wandering spirit with a link to the violent caretaker's secret past.”

Trivia: The movie, which he wrote in college and was in development for 16 years, is strongly inspired by Del Toro’s personal memories, especially his relationship with his uncle, who supposedly came back as a ghost. It is also included among the "1,001 Movies You Must See Before You Die" edited by Steven Schneider. Although filmmaker Guillermo del Toro is Mexican, this film is set in the Spanish countryside (largely filmed in Madrid) that’s why it’s on the Spanish list. The Devil’s Backbone has all of the impactful elements of spirituality, horror, and the supernatural that come up again and again in Del Toro’s work. This film has been referred to as the “brother film” of one of Del Toro’s best known works, Pan’s Labyrinth.

[REC] (2007)

Rotten Tomatoes: 89%

Audience Score: 82%

Google Score: 85%

IMDb: 7.4/10

Critics Consensus: Plunging viewers into the nightmarish hellscape of an apartment complex under siege, [Rec] proves that found footage can still be used as an effective delivery mechanism for sparse, economic horror.

Description: “Late-night TV host Angela and her cinematographer are following the fire service on a call to an apartment building, but the Spanish police seal off the building after an old woman is infected by a virus which gives her inhuman strength.”

Trivia: The movie was filmed chronologically in real locations (no sets were built for the movie). The actor’s were never given the script in its entirety and didn’t know what was going to happen to their characters until the day of filming. The movie is also a big inspiration for the horror survival game Outlast.

Considered The Blair Witch Project of zombie movies, REC had a lot of competition in the found footage style (it came out the same year as George Romero’s Diary of the Dead and the first Paranormal Activity movie). It more than holds its own among them, so much so that an American remake called Quarantine came out the next year. Director Jaume Balagueró keeps the movie disturbingly real and doesn’t fall prey to jump scare after jump scare.

Veronica (2017)

Rotten Tomatoes: 88%

Audience Score: 49%

Google Score: 80%

IMDb: 6.2/10

Critics Consensus: A scarily effective horror outing, Veronica proves it doesn't take fancy or exotic ingredients to craft skin-crawling genre thrills.

Description: “During a solar eclipse, a teenage girl and her friends want to summon the spirit of the girl's father using an Ouija board. However, during the session she loses consciousness and soon it becomes clear that evil demons have arrived.”

Trivia: Based on the true story of 18-year-old Estefanía Gutiérrez Lázaro. I won’t go too far into it because we may do an episode on it in the future but if you want spoilers, watch the movie (if you dare).

Directed by Paco Plaza (same as REC), the possession theme is done over and over again in horror but this movie is a terrifying and fresh take.

The Bar (2017)

Rotten Tomatoes: 88%

Audience Score: 55%

Google Score: 75%

IMDb: 6.3/10

Description: “In bustling downtown Madrid, a loud gunshot and two mysterious deaths trap a motley assortment of common urbanites in a decrepit central bar, while paranoia and suspicion force the terrified regulars to turn on each other.”

Directed by Álex de la Iglesia, it’s labeled as a horror-comedy. You can watch it on Netflix.

Who Can Kill A Child? (1976) - Tells the story of a happy couple, two English tourists who decide to vacation on a secluded island in the Mediterranean. There they discover – almost too late- that the island has been taken over by a group of murderous children.

The Baby’s Room (2006) - Featured on Six Films to Keep You Awake at Night. A new family renovates and moves into a grand old house. Nervous first-time mom installs a baby monitor but hears mysterious sounds on the other side. Once they install a high-tech video baby monitor, what they see chills them to the bone.

Sleep Tight (2011) - Apartment concierge Cesar is a miserable person who believes he was born without the ability to be happy. His self-appointed task is to make life hell for everyone around him, a mission in which he has great success. It has big home invasion/stalker vibes.

Timecrimes (2007) - A man accidentally gets into a time machine and travels back in time nearly an hour. Finding himself will be the first of a series of disasters of unforeseeable consequences. It sounds like a “Happy Death Day” type of plot (but proceeding it by a decade).

Thesis (1996) - Angela is doing her thesis on the effect of violence in the media when she discovers a snuff film. This discovery leads her down a dark path where she must confront her greatest fears and question everybody around her.

Witching and Bitching (2013) - One article I read said it perfectly, “What Shaun of the Dead did for zombies and What We Do in the Shadows did for vampires, Witching & Bitching essentially did for the cinematic depiction of witches, albeit on a less visible scale.” Great pick if you’re looking for something a bit more lighthearted.

Mexico

Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)

Rotten Tomatoes: 95%

Audience Score: 91%

Google Score: 90%

IMDb: 8.2/10

Critics Consensus: Pan's Labyrinth is Alice in Wonderland for grown-ups, with the horrors of both reality and fantasy blended together into an extraordinary, spellbinding fable.

Description: After the Allies invade Nazi-occupied Europe, a sadistic captain sends a troop of Spanish soldiers to flush out rebels,bringing his new wife and her daughter along on his exploits. While his family resides in the countryside, he leads his men on a murderous rampage, much of which is witnessed by his step daughter. In an effort to escape her reality she plunges into Pan's Labyrinth, a mystical world at the border of her own.

Trivia: Guillermo del Toro is famous for compiling books full of notes and drawings about his ideas before turning them into films, something he regards as essential to the process. He left years worth of notes for this film in the back of a cab, and when he discovered them missing, he thought it was the end of the project. However, the cab driver found them and, realizing their importance, tracked him down and returned them at great personal difficulty and expense. Del Toro was convinced that this was a blessing and it made him ever more determined to complete the film. Del Toro also repeatedly refused offers from Hollywood producers, in spite of being offered double the budget, provided the film was made in English. He didn't want any compromise in the storyline to suit the "market needs" (he even did the English subtitles himself). The film received 22 minutes of applause at the Cannes Film Festival and in 2007, it became one of the few fantasy films ever nominated in the Best Foreign Language Film category at the Oscars. It’s another on the list "1,001 Movies You Must See Before You Die" edited by Steven Schneider with The Devil’s Backbone. It was on more than 130 top 10 lists in 2006. It is also the 5th highest grossing foreign language film in the US.

The Similars (2016)

Rotten Tomatoes: 95%

Audience Score: 49%

Google Score: 75%

IMDb: 5.9/10

Critics Consensus: A smart homage to genre filmmaking, The Similars is a fun and frightening film that balances socio-political issues with aplomb.

Description: A monstrous, once-in-a-lifetime thunderstorm strands passengers in a remote bus station outside Mexico City in 1968. As they listen to the radio, they realized that the storm has spread all over the world. As they look at each other, they also realize that everyone’s faces are slowly changing, and not for the better.

Trivia: The film used make-up and special effects techniques never before done in Mexico. Director Isaac Ezban was influenced by B-movies of the 50s and 60s as well as TV shows and movies like “The Twilight Zone”, “The Thing”, and “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”.

We Are What We Are (2010)

Rotten Tomatoes: 72%

Audience Score: 48%

Google Score: 77%

IMDb: 5.7/10

Critics Consensus: We Are What We Are is elevated horror that combines family drama and social politics, with plenty of gore on top.

Description: After a family patriarch dies, his survivors are tasked with continuing the rigid family rituals that involve hunting meat, preparing it for consumption, and eating it. The “meat” in question is human flesh, since they’re a family of cannibals. With two detectives hot on their tail, the family of cannibals strains to maintain their family traditions in a modern urban environment.

There was an English language remake in 2013 (86% on Rotten Tomatoes) with Wyatt Russell and Odeya Rush (Lady Bird, Dumplin’, and Goosebumps)

We Are The Flesh (2016) - A joint French-Mexican production released in Spanish as Somos la carne, this post-apocalyptic nightmare involves a brother and sister who roam the land desperately seeking food until a kindly old man takes them in under the condition that they help him renovate an abandoned building. Oh, and they also have to have sex with one another while he watches. And after he breaks their will by getting them to do that, he makes them do all sorts of other things. This film was one of only four in Mexico to receive a “D” rating—which is reserved for subject matter that is considered extremely disturbing and/or pornographic.

The Witch’s Mirror (1962) - An abusive and cheating husband kills his wife so that he can be with his mistress. The woman’s godmother was a witch who originally tried casting a spell on a mirror to protect her from domestic violence, but the spell failed. Still, she is able to bring the woman back from the grave, and the two witches set out to destroy the evil woman-beater.

Here Comes The Devil (2012) - A married couple lose their children while on a family trip near some caves in Tijuana. The kids eventually reappear without explanation, but it becomes clear that they are not who they used to be, that something terrifying has changed them.

Chile

Downhill (2016)

Rotten Tomatoes: 60%

Audience Score: 22%

Google Score: 43%

IMDb: 3.5/10

Description: Deeply upset by the passing of his best friend, a professional BMX rider accepts to partake in a race in Chile. Everything goes as planned until he stumbles upon a man who is infected by a mysterious virus and becomes the target of local assassins.

Trivia: Filmed in 13 days

Post Mortem (2010)

Rotten Tomatoes: 88%

Audience Score: 61%

Google Score: 70%

IMDb: 6.5/10

Description: In Chile, 1973, during the last days of Salvador Allende’s presidency, an employee at a Morgue’s recording office falls for a burlesque dancer who mysteriously disappears.

Aftershock (2012)

Rotten Tomatoes: 39%

Audience Score: 24%

Google Score: 61%

IMDb: 4.8/10

Critics Consensus: Aftershock hints at an inventive twist on horror tropes, but ultimately settles for another round of mind-numbing depravity that may alternately bore and revolt all but the most ardent gore enthusiasts.

Description: In Chile, a group of travelers who are in an underground nightclub when a massive earthquake hits quickly learn that reaching the surface is just the beginning of their nightmare.

Trivia: Horror icon Eli Roth wrote and stars in this film.

To Kill A Man (2014) - An attack on his daughter leads a mild-mannered family man to take revenge on the vicious street thugs who have tormented him and his family for a long time.

Columbia

Out Of The Dark (2014) This is in English

Rotten Tomatoes: 24%

Audience Score: 22%

Google Score: 77%

IMDb: 4.8/10

Description: A family moves to Colombia to take over the operation of a manufacturing plant, soon they learn their new home is haunted.

Trivia: Starring Julia Stiles (10 Things I Hate About You, Dexter) and Scott Speedman (The Strangers, You)

The Squad (2011)

Audience Score: 53%

Google Score: 82%

IMDb: 5.3/10

Description: After a secret military base ceases all communications, an anti-guerrilla commando unit is sent to the mountainous location to discover what exactly happened. The squad expects to discover that the base was attacked and taken over by guerrilla units, but instead find only a lone woman wrapped in chains.

Trivia: In one scene where the actors are shooting guns, one actor accidentally picked up a real gun instead of the prop and fired a real shot (no one was hurt).

Cord (2015) - On a post-apocalyptic world of never-ending winter, a sparse cast of outsiders live underground. Due to their unsanitary conditions, sexual contact has become dangerous. Masturbation has become the paradigm of sexual experience and an array of low-tech devices with this purpose has come into existence. In this bleak reality, a dealer of such machines a sex addict make a deal: she will allow him to experiment new devices on her body in exchange of pleasure. Soon however, their relationship goes out of control.

The Hidden Face (2011)

Rotten Tomatoes: 80%

Audience Score: 72%

Google Score: 86%

IMDb: 7.4/10

Description: Shattered by the unexpected news of their irreversible break-up, an aspiring orchestra conductor is puzzled by his girlfriend's mysterious and seemingly inexplicable case of disappearance. But, can he look beyond the facts?

Trivia: There is a Turkish version of this movie and a 2013 remake out of India called “Murder 3”

At The End Of The Spectra (2006)

Google Score: 83%

IMDb: 6/10

Description: A young woman who has become agoraphobic due to a traumatic incident is holed up in her apartment, she begins to suffer from hallucinations, paranoia and an obsessive neighbour.

Trivia: There is a Mexican remake called “Devil Inside” and there were once rumors of an American remake starring Nicole Kidman but that’s the end of that.

Uruguay

The Silent House (La Casa Muda) (2010)

Rotten Tomatoes: 68%

Audience Score: 37%

Google Score: 63%

IMDb: 5.4/10

Critics Consensus: Shot in a single take, The Silent House may be a gimmick movie, but it's one that's enough to sustain dread and tension throughout.

Description: A girl becomes trapped inside a house and becomes unable to contact the outside world as supernatural forces haunt it.

Trivia: The plot is supposedly based on a true story that occurred in the 1940s in a small village in Uruguay. With a budget of just six thousand dollars, it was filmed using a handheld high-definition digital single-lens reflex camera (the Canon EOS 5D Mark II), 2 handheld lamps, and a couple of lightbulbs over a time period of just four days. The claim that the movie was filmed in one continuous take are suspect. The Mark II camera can only record up to 15 minutes of continuous video at a time. Uruguay's official submission to the Best Foreign Language Film category of the 84th Academy Awards 2012.

Monos (2019)

Rotten Tomatoes: 92%

Audience Score: 85%

Google Score: 69%

IMDb: 6.9/10

Critics Consensus: As visually splendid as it is thought-provoking, Monos takes an unsettling look at human nature whose grim insights leave a lingering impact.

Description: On a faraway mountaintop, eight teenaged guerillas with guns watch over a hostage and a conscripted milk cow. Playing games and initiating cult-like rituals, the children run amok in the jungle and disaster strikes when the hostage tries to escape.

Trivia: Moises Arias (Hannah Montana) and Julianne Nicholson (I, Tonya, August: Osage County) most of the other actors had never acted before. The movie draws inspiration from Lord of the Flies. Included among the "1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die", edited by Steven Schneider. It was selected as the official Colombian entry for the Best International Feature Film at the 92nd Academy Awards.

Peru

The Entity (2015)

Google Score: 66%

IMDb: 4.3/10

Description: A group of students decide to study 'reaction videos' and are led toward an old film, hidden in the archive room of a cemetery. It appears that everybody who has witnessed the film has met an untimely demise under suspicious circumstances. When the students view the footage, they discover first hand, what the demonic spirit is capable of. Fulfilling the ancient curse of a woman cruelly killed during the Spanish Inquisition.

Trivia: The Entity has been billed as Peru's first 3D horror film and to have been loosely based on true stories. Review websites Flickering Myth and Nerdly commented that the movie suffered from being too overly familiar to pre-existing works (Blair Witch, The Ring).

The Vanished Elephant (2014)

Rotten Tomatoes: 89%

Audience Score: 72%

Google Score: 88%

IMDb: 6.5/10

Description: Crime novelist Edo remains obsessed with what happened to his fiancee Celia after she disappeared during an earthquake. When an enigmatic woman brings him photos that may help him solve the mystery, he senses he is being drawn into a dangerous game.

The Secret Of Evil (2014)

Google Score: 65%

IMDb: 5/10

Description: Video footage depicting a supernatural encounter is all that remains of a filmmaker and his crew who disappeared while exploring a haunted house.

When Two Worlds Collide (2016)

Rotten Tomatoes: 91%

Audience Score: 69%

Google Score: 93%

IMDb: 7.6/10

Description: An indigenous environmental activist takes on the large businesses that are destroying the Amazon.

El Vientre (2014)

Google Score: 81%

IMDb: 6.1/10

Description: Silvia, a beautiful 45-year-old widow, is obsessed with having a child and finds in attractive but naive Mercedes the perfect candidate to bear it. Silvia kindly offers her a job and a room in her house, and then manipulates her into seducing a young man named Jaime. They soon fall in love and Mercedes becomes pregnant. Silvia will do anything in her power to keep the baby, even if it means leaving a couple of bodies behind.

Argentina

Terrified (2018)

Rotten Tomatoes: 77%

Audience Score: 65%

Google Score: 82%

IMDb: 6.5/10

Description: Paranormal researchers investigate strange events in a neighbourhood in Buenos Aires.

Luciferina (2018)

Rotten Tomatoes: 83%

Audience Score: 25%

Google Score: 69%

IMDb: 4.6/10

Description: Natalia is a nineteen-year-old novice who reluctantly returns home to say goodbye to her dying father. However, when she meets up with her sister and her friends, she decides instead to travel the jungle in search of mystical plant.

Francesca (2015)

Audience Score: 67%

Google Score: 73%

IMDb: 5.3/10

Description: Two detectives track a serial killer who has been targeting the impure. To catch him, they'll have to solve the case of a girl who went missing 15 years ago.

Cold Sweat (2010)

Rotten Tomatoes: 75%

Audience Score:

Google Score: 58%

IMDb: 4.8/10

Description: The movie follows Román, who stumbles upon his ex-girlfriend Jackie, who has somehow gotten caught up in a torture cult run by two sadistic, old men. The aging political radicals have managed to put Jackie’s life in incredible danger. But when Román and his friend try to help Jackie out of her confines, the elderly psychos prove to be more than meets the eye.

Penumbra (2011)

Rotten Tomatoes: 50%

Audience Score: 26%

Google Score: 75%

IMDb: 5.5/10

Description: A woman desperate to find a tenant for her decrepit apartment apparently finds the perfect candidate, unaware of a sinister plot involving an imminent eclipse.

Venezuela

The House At The End of Time (2013)

Rotten Tomatoes: None

Audience Score: 72%

Google Score: 91%

IMDb: 6.8/10

Description: Dulce encounters apparitions in her house and unleashes a terrible prophecy. Thirty years later, Dulce, now an old woman, returns to unravel the mystery that has terrorized her for years.

Trivia: Winner of the Audience Award at Gävle Horror Film Festival 2016 (Sweden). Not only is it Venezuela’s highest-grossing horror film, it’s also the most distributed film from the country. By August 2016 it was announced that the American studio New Line Cinema acquired the rights of the film to make a remake for the American public. Hidalgo is still at the wheel so its chances of success are high.

Ecuador

Cronicas (2004)

Rotten Tomatoes: 71%

Audience Score: 77%

Google Score: 80%

IMDb: 6.9/10

Critics Consensus: An unsettling and absorbing cautionary tale with John Leguizamo playing an unscrupulous TV reporter who uses the medium to further his own goals.

Description: Reporter Manolo Bonilla (John Leguizamo) goes to a jail in Ecuador to interview Vinicio Cepeda (Damián Alcázar, Narcos, Narnia), a hit-and-run driver whose crime incited a riot. After Cepeda tells him he knows where a murderer called the Monster of Babahoyo buried a young female victim, Bonilla posts bail in the hopes that he'll learn more about the crime. Bonilla finds the girl's body, but, as he nears the scoop of his career, it looks as if Cepeda might be withholding some key details.

Trivia: Inspired by a true story? As well as being both a Cannes and TIFF favourite, Cronicas is the official submission of Ecuador for the 'Best Foreign Language Film' category of the 77th Academy Awards in 2005, it was produced by Guillermo del Toro and Alfonso Cuarón (Children of Men, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban) This is John Leguizamo’s first film in Spanish. He said he felt awkward talking in Spanish while acting, like he didn't know the language.

English Language Horror

The Silent House (2011) This is in English

Rotten Tomatoes: 43%

Audience Score:

Google Score: 72%

IMDb: 5.3/10

Critics Consensus: Silent House is more technically proficient and ambitious than most fright-fests, but it also suffers from a disappointing payoff.

Description: Sarah is working with her father and uncle to renovate an old family home to prepare it for sale. Long vacant, the house has no utilities, forcing the trio to rely on battery-operated lanterns to light their way. Sarah becomes separated from her relatives and soon finds she is trapped inside the cabin, with no contact with the outside world. Panic turns to real terror as the young woman experiences events that become increasingly ominous.

Trivia: Elizabeth Olsen (Wandavision) The plot is based on a true story that occurred in the 1940s in a small village in Uruguay. Contrary to the marketing's claim that the film was shot in one uninterrupted take, the entire movie was actually shot to mimic one continuous real-time take, with no cuts from start to finish, as a result the time span of the film's plot is exactly 86 minutes. It was shot in roughly 10 minute segments then carefully edited to hide the cuts.

Night of the Living Dead (1968) - This along with the rest of the Dead series are the work of George A. Romero, whose father is from Cuba.

Ash vs. Evil Dead - I love the Evil Dead movies and although this series wasn’t perfect (I’m sure die-hard fans will say it's far from it), I still think it kept to the heart of the main story. Bruce Campbell is obviously perfect and the addition of Lucy Lawless is amazing, it’s really Puerto Rican actor Ray Santiago that steals the show.

The Others (2001) - Directed by globally renowned Spanish director Alejandro Amenábar, The Others starring Nicole Kidman is a Spanish gothic horror movie that combines elements of the supernatural, psychological, and mystical. It focuses on the strange events that occur at the estate of a woman and her young children, plagued by spirits in the aftermath of WWII. It has the distinction of being the only English-language Spanish movie to be given the Best Film Award at Spain's national film awards, the Goyas. In total, the movie has seven Goya Awards, including for Best Director. Although it might not read as particularly “Spanish,” it was produced, written and filmed all in Spain, shooting in Cantabria, Northern Spain and Madrid.

#Crime Culture #podcast #crime #true crime #murder #tcc #true crime podcast #pop culture #episode 198 #hispanic horror #latino horror #spanish horror #hispanic heritage month #horror #horror movies #spanish language horror #movies to watch

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years

Text

Watching You

Walter Marshall x Reader

Summary: Walter did not like to waste time on stupid things, and being asked by some young troublemaker to start following an ex-girlfriend around fell under that category. At least, it did, until he found out just who the ex-girlfriend was.

Words: 2334

Warnings: Cursing. Slight smut. Not Edited or anything of the sort, so expect little!

Note: This is just something I had saved that I thought I’d post while I finish up the Vampire Henry Series (Unexpectedly Bitten). I plan to post the rest of that fic all at once, most likely this weekend. As always, comments are appreciated :)

What a no-good loser. That’s what Walter thought the second Jimmy Masters walked through the front door of his office on a Saturday evening. He was a good six inches shorter than Walter, much scrawnier, ten years younger at least, and in desperate need of a haircut. He was the kind of kid Walter hated, the kind of kid that had probably seen the inside of a jailcell for a night or two for some stupid, petty crime, yet refused to learn his lesson.

Walter’s eyebrow arched in disinterest and he sat back in his chair, arms crossed as a coworker led the kid inside.

“We think this falls in your area, Marshall.”

Walter had only nodded and told the boy to sit to explain his reason for interrupting the first moment of peace in the day.

“I got a friend who says detectives know how to follow people real well,” Jimmy said, his voice an aggravating tone that Walter already couldn’t stand.

Walter cleared his throat. “Your friend is rather astute.”

“What?”

The detective blew out a breath, exhausted after speaking with the kid for less than a minute. “Just tell me what you want.” And when Jimmy was done with his pitch, Walter said with a sigh, “You want me to follow a girl that clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you?”

“No, man. She loves me. She does. She’s just confused right now, and I gotta make sure there’s no other guy, ya know? I don’t want her messing around. It’s disrespectful.”

Walter heaved out another long sigh, rubbing at his temples. “But she’s your ex-girlfriend.”

Jimmy shook his head, his shaggy, dusty-blond hair swaying vigorously with the motion. “That’s temporary.”

Snorting, Walter sat up in his chair. “Sure it is. Look, you think maybe she just isn’t interested anymore?”

“Hey, I’m not here for additional commentary. Can you help me or not?”

“From what you’ve said, she’s not breaking any laws, she’s not a danger to herself or others, so I have no reason to—”

“Please, man. Please,” Jimmy said, putting his palms together in lame prayer. Walter was sure this boy hadn’t prayed to anything in his entire life. “I’ll never step foot in here again if you help me out just this once.”

Walter eyed the kid, trying to weight the pros and cons of wasting his time on something so inane, but if it got the little, blond twit to go away, then he figured there were worse things. It had been a slow week as it was. He groaned and grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. “Fine. What’s her name?”

------------------------------------------------------

“Walter,” You said, trying to hold back any emotion in your voice as you moved aside to let him pass the threshold into your small apartment. As habit had it, you were much happier to see him than you wished. Walter always had a way of lighting your every nerve on fire from just your bodies being in the same room. You couldn’t help wanting him, missing him, but you hid it well.

As he walked in, his body trailed the outside chill behind, sending a shiver down your spine. Then he pulled the beanie you’d bought him off his head and turned to face you. Though the irritated look on his face was not an uncommon one, you didn’t appreciate it directed at you.

You crossed your arms. “Well?” Walter hung around quite often until you had asked him to quit it, and though he didn’t usually listen to you--putting his own concerns above your wishes--you knew he held a respect for you that made him at least try to keep his distance. If he was stopping by now…well, it could only bring you trouble, but not seeing his face in so long had you more lenient.

“Why is some punk walking into my precinct and asking me to follow you?”

Your eyebrows rose. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. How many punks could you possibly have hanging around?”

Being a decade older, Walter often made you laugh at his distaste for younger adults. You were the one exception, he’d always said, but all others were ‘punks.’ He feared the day Faye had to deal with boys your age, if she were ever so unlucky. “You met Jimmy?”

His fists kept clenching and unclenching, his shoulders somehow broadened, and the frown on his face made his eyebrows pinch and dip deep. “This idiot is really attached to you, Y/N.”

The more he spoke, the more you realized that ‘irritated’ may have been too sweet a word for what Walter really was. “He just doesn’t like his ego being bruised.”

Walter shrugged off his winter coat and tossed it on the couch as if it was still normal for him to do so, then ran a hand through the dark, messy curls you always loved. “Why the hell are you messing around with a--?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not messing around with him anymore.”

“Well, he seems to think it’s temporary.”

“It’s not.”

Crossing his arms, Walter shook his head like a disappointed parent would at their bratty, misbehaving child; the way you’d seen him look at Faye every time he found out she was spending too much time on social media. “Stay away from this guy, alright?”

“You would tell me to stay away from any guy,” You mumbled to yourself with a snort.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.”

“Do not give me attitude,” He snapped back. “You’re not being safe! If you were, maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation!"

Instantly, your shoulders stooped and the same old headache began to form. “Not this again, Walt. According to you I’m never safe unless I’m in your line of sight.”

“Yes!” He yelled, stomping your way, stopping just short of ramming his body through yours. “Now if only you could stay in it!”

“You can’t have eyes on me all day every day.”

“The hell I can’t!”

“You promised, Walter.” You let out a small whine. “I told you it was too hard for me to keep seeing you around wherever I went, and you promised you would stop watching me.” You wished it didn’t have to be that way. You wished seeing his face didn’t bring on such a potent punch of pain, but it did. Every single day when you left your apartment, you saw him standing by his car, a coffee cup in hand, unashamedly watching you like some creep. Eventually, you stopped looking in the direction you knew he would be, hoping you may forget he was there at all, but you always felt his eyes on you; such a strong stare, he might as well have been touching you. But you couldn’t take it. Months of your every move being tracked by the man you loved but couldn’t have was taking its toll, and so you begged him to leave you alone, to give you some relief.

“I did stop, and what happened? Barely a month after I made that stupid promise, some dumb, obsessed kid comes asking me to stalk you.”

You leaned back against the wall, growing more exhausted by the minute. “Well, with all the past practice you’ve had watching my every move, I’d say he was rather smart to pick you of all people. Shitty coincidence that he would though, since now I’m getting lectured.”

“I am not lecturing you.”

“Fine, but whatever this is you’re doing here, you’re out of line. My business is not your business anymore. It hasn’t been your business for the last five months.”

“Your little boyfriend came to me,” He said, pointing a finger at his chest, “so yes, it is my bus--”

“It is not!” You bit back. “You could’ve turned him away. You could’ve told him not to follow me around unless he was itching to get a restraining order, but you didn’t, did you? You took this opportunity to check up on me. Again!”

He stepped back, looking as if you had slapped him. His aggressive, guarded barrier of emotions cracked, and you could see the vulnerability he hadn’t shown since your relationship ended.

“Walter” You sighed, “You’re the one who stepped back. You’re the one who said it would be best if we weren’t in a relationship. You said I was a distraction and—”

“I said you’d be at risk, not that you’re a distraction.”

“It doesn’t make a difference.”

“Damn it, Y/N, it does! I only did it because I love you!” He said without hesitation, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You know that!”

You blinked. “No, I did not know that! You seriously broke up with me because you love me? That’s ridiculous.”

“I broke up with you to keep you safe, but I clearly suffered for nothing seeing as you put yourself in unsafe situations even without my association.”

You wanted to believe him, so bad, but people don’t leave behind the ones they love. After all, you loved him and the thought of leaving him made you nauseous, even now. When you were together, he may have appeared in love, but after a year he still hadn’t told you and you knew you’d let yourself get a little too hopeful. If you were honest with yourself, him breaking up with you was not as much of a shock as it should’ve been. But as you looked at him now, you could see that he truly believed you already knew.

“It doesn’t make sense that you would do that,” You said. “People don’t just break up with someone they love.”

“Fuck, Y/N, did I ever seem unhappy with you? Did I ever come across like I didn’t want you every second of every day? My every other thought was of you,” He said loudly, like a rant, and you were having a hard time figuring out who he was mad at. “So don’t try to tell me how I felt, and feel now. I still love you and that’s not going to change, but I can’t have criminals, murderers even, coming after you because they are pissed at me for hunting them down or having a case against them. It would take nothing for the average officer or detective to figure out that you and I were together even if we were hiding it. How hard do you think it would be for some psychopath?”

You hadn’t realized a tear slipped down your cheek until you tasted it at the corner of your lips. It was salty but somehow bitter and left a thick burning path along your skin. You quickly wiped it away. “Why didn’t you tell me this months ago?”

“Because, stubborn as you are, you wouldn’t have listened. You would have told me it didn’t matter.” He fell backwards onto the couch, closing his eyes and letting out a groan. “I try to do the right thing. I try to protect you, thinking everything will be fine as long as no one can link you to me, but I can’t…stay away.” His eyes met yours. “And then you beg me to, and it’s excruciating to obey. When I was able to watch over you, it reminded me that I did the right thing. You were safe and I could constantly be reassured of that.”

You walked over to him, your heart thumping with every step, then sat on your knees in front of him, placing your hand atop his own resting on his thigh. His other hand reached for your face and his fingers softly grazed your cheek before they tucked some hair behind your ear. “Walt—”

“That kid…Jimmy,” Walter interrupted as he began tracing the back of your hand with his thumb. “He thinks you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not.”

“You swear?”

“Of course, Walt. I told you--”

“I know,” He said with a single nod of his head. “I know. Maybe I’ll actually get some sleep now.”

You rested your cheek on the inner side of his knee and said, “You could sleep here.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” You bit your lip nervously. You couldn’t even dare to count how many times you’d had sex during the course of your relationship, but now, asking him not to leave made your pulse thrum in your ears.

He leaned forward and looked down at you. “Because I don’t think I can say no to you.”

“Then why would you bother trying,” You whispered without a second thought and slowly inched up on your knees so you could connect your lips with his.

It lasted only a second or two before he broke the kiss, grabbed you by the arm, and yanked you onto his lap. His grip at the back of your neck pulled your mouth to his as your hand slipped between your bodies and quickly started to undo his belt buckle.

“God, baby,” Walter groaned against your lips when you wrapped your fingers around his thick cock and released it from his jeans. He pulled the ratty, old t-shirt of his over your shoulders and softly settled his hands on your hips. “Damn it.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just…missed these,” He said, placing a kiss on one bare breast, then the other. “I missed you, so much.” He placed his lips to the curve of your neck, then met your eyes. “I miss you every fucking day.”

You kissed his forehead, and his arms tightened around you as you lifted your hips and sank down onto him. “I missed you too, Walter,” You said, but the words melted somewhere within the mix of your moans and his groans.

------------------

Tags: @agniavateira @forthebrokenheartedthings @summersong69 @starlite13 @mstgsmy @purplelove75 @defffcc @the-soot-sprite @kissthatlifeaway @atomicpaperhairdouniversity @aquariuslavenderhoney @harrysthiccthighss @the-problem-of-leisure @meganwinchester1999

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sierraraeck · 4 years

Text

The Jailbird and the Mouse

Spencer x Fem!OC (Aundreya)

Masterlist

Summary: When Aundreya shows up to consult on a case, Spencer seems less than pleased to see her, but his actions tell a different story. Bonus chapter!

Category: Smut. Hate fuck. Apparently I’m incapable of writing a single thing without some angst, so we’ve got a sprinkle of that in there at the end, too.

Warnings: Cussing. Choking. Nicknames. Degradation. Cuffs are used. Unprotected penetration, female masturbating, oral (male receiving), fingering. Semi-public at the beginning.

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: Okay so this is supposed to take place during How to Lose Friends when they are both in their fresh, post-prison forms and are beyond pissed at each other, but you don't have to have read that chapter or the series to understand this. Also, shoutout to @writing-in-april for looking this piece over and helping me make some edits!

Things to Know: All you really have to know is that Aundreya was a criminal who’d already been to and broken out of prison, joined the BAU, Spencer and her had a previous relationship, Aundreya got Spencer sent to prison, broke him out, then took the fall for something Spencer was being accused of that she didn’t do, getting herself sent to prison again.

I’d been called back to help the BAU solve a case. Fascinating how when it was convenient for them, I held some value. But, after that I was just easy to throw in a jail cell to be forgotten about.

I didn’t want to be there, but unfortunately I didn’t have a choice. So, I closed my eyes, and took a long, deep breath before forcing the door open. I had barely entered the room, barely had made eye contact with Hotch standing opposite me, before both my shoulder blades were shoved against the wall behind me, with long fingers wrapping around my throat.

“What is she doing here?” the hiss in Reid’s voice sounded exactly how I’d imagined it in my head preparing for this encounter. He looked almost as bad as me. His curls were going in a million directions, and I could only imagine the amount of times he’d run his hands through them, probably due to stress. His eyes were blood-shot, slightly puffy, and the dark bags underneath seemed more defined. The only thing that contrasted all of that, and let me know his head was still in it, was the darkness he now held in his eyes. There was nothing lighthearted or soft about them anymore, at least, not for the moment and certainly not for me. Plus, there was a red-hot rage I could see boiling at the surface. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror, a warped version of myself being reflected back to me. I’d seen the same fury and darkness in my eyes every morning that was in his now, and the irritation that radiated off him matched my own. Really, the only difference between Spencer and I, was he still had his gun and badge and I didn’t.

“I was invited to help consult,” I snapped through my somewhat restricted breath. “So you better get the fuck off me.”

He gave my throat one last tight squeeze before stepping back, his intense gaze never leaving me. I met his gaze with a wicked smile while brushing my fingers over where the ghost of his hand used to be. I wanted him to see that he didn’t affect me. Angry or not, he held no power in our dynamic anymore.

“Chambers, good to see you,” Derek mocked, giving me a side eye laced with suspicion.

“Can’t say I feel the same,” I deadpanned, then turning on Hotch. “So, why am I here?”

“We have reason to believe that a rogue gang member is kidnapping and killing ex-military if they refuse to join,” Hotch explained with seemingly no emotion, as if he was unaffected by my presence.

“Cool,” I deadpanned again before asking, “So why do you need me?”

“We wanted to know if you know anything or have heard anything-” Derek started.

“Heard anything?” I cut him off with a scoff, “You mean besides the constant clanging of metal bars when I’m not left in complete silence by myself? No, I haven’t heard anything.”

“Can you find them?” Spencer asked as if it would be a difficult task for me.

“So you do want my help,” I clarified.

“I want your skills.”

I let out a disgusted chuckle in response to his quip. Venom dripped from my words as I voiced my thoughts from only moments before stepping into the room. “Oh, I get it. You only want me around when it's convenient for you. Otherwise you just wanna give up on me and let me rot in a cell.”

“What was I supposed to do!”

“What were you supposed to do?” I asked in disbelief, eyes wide. “What were you supposed to do?” I mumbled to myself again in a mocking tone, rolling my eyes. I put my hands on the back of the empty chair in front of me I assumed had held Spencer at one point, and leaned in toward him. He’d retreated behind the table since releasing me, and I quietly snarled towards him, “I don’t know, but sitting there on your tiny, plushy ass, wasn’t it. I’m leaving.”

Spencer was back over to me in a flash, slamming his hand on the door before I could even reach for the handle. Someone got better reflexes. I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“We have a suspect list that we want you to review.” Hotch caught me before I pushed Spencer out of my way.

“Fine. Make it quick.” I looked over the list Hotch gave me that contained about 30 men, none of which rang any bells. “This was a waste of time.”

“Hold on, guys,” Garcia trotted in, “I just found something.” She was in such a rush that she initially didn’t see me, bee-lining it straight for Hotch. Handing the iPad over to him, her eyes lifted to take in the rest of the room. That’s when she noticed me. Her eyes grew to the size of beach balls, and her perfectly done lips hung open. I tried not to feel too hurt, knowing that my presence would come as a shock to her, but it still stung seeing her at a loss for words, possibly even scared. She’d really been the only person who still had any hope left for me, and I was starting to wonder if that was true anymore.

My voice softened as I greeted, “Hey, Penelope.”

She struggled for words, a few ‘uhs’ and ‘ums’ headed my direction, ultimately being saved by Hotch. “Dave, you’re with me. Prentiss, Morgan, I want you to go to the ME, Garcia we’ll need you on call, and JJ, Lewis, I want you to go talk to this man.”

“What about me?” Spencer asked.

“You’re going to stay here and watch her,” Hotch commanded. I started laughing at Spencer’s visible discomfort. Spencer glared at me before opening his mouth to argue, but Hotch stopped him with a voice filled with authority, “I know you won’t be able to focus out there if you know she’s still here unattended. Let’s go.”

When everyone had left and the door shut behind them, I sang, “Well if it isn’t Doctor Reid drawing the short end of the stick, yet again.”

“Just sit down and shut up,” he tried to order with confidence as he took his own advice, sitting as far away from me as possible. Not once had he looked me in the eyes since I’d initially walked in and he had attacked me. Sure, his eyes were on me, but they never connected with mine.

“Is that a demand, doctor?” I challenged him.

“No, but it could be. I just don’t want to be the one responsible for letting you get away.” He shrugged in his chair, resting the ankle of his leg on the knee of the other.

“So you’re just gonna trust me to do what you ask?” I questioned. Throughout the entire time I’d known Spencer, he’d never gotten super riled up over something, but this was a whole different Spencer, one that I didn’t recognize or know . He was more on edge, confident, and clearly willing to wrap his hand around my throat with no hesitation. A type of Spencer I was more than happy to get to know. And let’s face it, I’d been in prison for 15 months. There wasn’t a ton of action going on in there that I wanted to get involved with. I just wanted to see how far I could push him before he snapped. “You don’t trust me, and you know you can’t. I put you in prison, just because I could,” I shrugged, contradicting what I’d insinuated earlier for my own entertainment, “and you think that I won’t just walk away from you when given the chance?”

“You’ve had the chance. For the past three minutes and forty-six seconds you could have left and you didn’t. What’s keeping you here?” he smugly fired back. Oh yeah, he’s definitely going to be fun to mess with.

“What’s keeping you here?” I copied, “Why’d Hotch bench you again? Because you can’t focus when I’m around?”

“No one can focus with you around!” he huffed hotly.

“Not well, but they certainly can do better than what you’re doing right now,” I patronized, “What is it about me that makes you all so nervous, huh? I’m just another criminal who happens to be a former co-worker. I thought you were used to working with those day in and day out.”

“Criminals or co-workers?”

“Either.”

“None of them are like you,” he bit.

“Oh I know,” I ran my tongue over my lips, “So I’ll ask again, what is it about me that makes me so different?”

He looked up at me. In contrast to the first time he locked eyes with me, his expression was stone cold. “You were a part of this team, and you betrayed us. You betrayed me. I don’t know how I could’ve been so stupid to believe you were actually helping us! I just want to know why you picked me. You were going to take one of us down, why’d you choose me?” I could see the gears spinning in his head, and was about to answer when he frustratedly added, “Was it because you thought I’m the weakest?”

That’s it. That’s what’s always made him tick. And he used the present tense. We were still an entire table length apart, so I started slowly sauntering toward him. I prodded, “Is that what you think? You believe you’re the weakest on the team? Or do you just think that’s what I thought?”

“We all have our roles,” he responded, but not nearly as confident as he had been before.

“That’s not an answer,” I pushed.

“You still haven’t answered me, either,” he growled, and I decided to let this one go. We didn’t need to fully delve into his insecurities, no matter how much I wanted to.

“It was similar to that. You were the most afraid of me, I could smell it in the air.” I closed my eyes and pretended to revel in the stench of fear. “But, I could’ve gotten any one of them if I wanted.”

Spencer scoffed at that, “I think you overestimate your abilities.”

“I don’t,” I quickly fired back, “I could’ve gotten any of them, and to be honest, I was going to go after Derek, or maybe Emily, but then you spoke up from the corner of the room and I knew it had to be you.”

“Why?”

“Why this, Aundreya, and why that, Aundreya? Is that the only question you can ask?”

“Is it the only question you can’t answer?”

I was about halfway to him now, and decided to give him a little false hope. “I picked you, not because of your intellect, or how the rest of the team coddles you, or how relationship starved you are. I picked you because I could see something in your eyes that was different, something dark. And once I heard your full back story, I realized just how similar the two of us are.”

“We are nothing alike,” he insisted.

“Really? Because had you made one different choice or one thing went just a little bit wrong, you could have ended up just like me, with no family and no one to give a shit about you or what you do, except for the cops who just wanted you locked up and controlled.” I was dangerously close to him now, his head tilted to look at me, but he didn’t cower away. He actually seemed to welcome it. Which reminded me of something, “After knowing all of that, my past and everything I was, you still agreed to let me on your team.”

“I was the last person to say yes to you joining,” he informed me. This was news to me, but I couldn’t even be sure if he was telling me the truth. “I didn’t think it was a good idea for you to be working with us, but I was outnumbered and outranked.”

“No, you caved to their wishes,” I twisted his words to suit my needs, “Like you caved to mine.” I slowly reached down to place a hand on his chest. He eyed it all the way until I made contact with him, and it was like flipping a switch. He grabbed my wrist and held it close as he pushed out of his chair, the wheels spinning it wildly back into the monitor. He reached for my other wrist, which I let him grab, and held me against the wall, arms pinned next to my head. I did everything I could to not smirk. And he’s still caving.

“I didn’t want you here. I resisted the idea of you being around us,” he spat.

“Like you’re resisting the idea of being around me right now?” I arched an eyebrow, scanning him from head to toe, and I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on a few spots. He opened his mouth to say something, but he shut it again, locking his jaw. I could see his genius mind at work, trying to come up with some way out of the little mouse trap I’d set up for him. I watched his eyes trail down to my lips and neck, soaking it all in. When his eyes met mine again, I tried to reach for him, but he forcefully slammed my hands back, pinning me to the wall again. Though, I wanted him to touch me this time. He was taking too long to make a move for my liking, so I decided if I couldn’t use my arms, I might as well use my legs.

All of his weight was already leaning toward me, so it wasn’t difficult to wrap my right leg around his waist and bring him all the way to me. The moment that they were within inches of my face, I attacked his lips. I was almost disappointed by the fact that he didn’t seem surprised at all, as if he knew how impatient I was and knew that I would force the first move. But, I wasn’t disappointed for long.

Spencer’s whole body was pressed against mine as he quickly swiped his tongue across my bottom lip, looking for entrance. I granted it, but I wasn’t going to give him the complete dominance that he wanted over the kiss. Instead, our tongues slid over each other’s searching for more than the other was willing to give. It was hot and messy, and he released his grip on my wrists, moving them to apply the same amount of force to my jaw. With my hands free, I made quick work of the buttons on his dress shirt, ripping it open. I was expecting skin and sighed when I found yet another shirt. This man and his layers.

Spencer took advantage of me sighing, giving him more access to my mouth, which I wanted to be annoyed about, but couldn’t care to be. I decided to make better use of my hands, running them down the sides of his body as he wrapped his behind my back. He pulled away from me so abruptly when I tried to massage him through his slacks, he basically dropped me on the floor. It was like being left out in a cold winter storm, just barely out of arm's reach of warmth.

Spencer shook his head, eyes on the floor, as if that would clear his mind of what clouded it, which was me. But I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “There. You got what you wanted.”

I gaped at him before retorting, “We both know it wasn’t just me who got what I wanted. I’m sure you had a hard time pulling away.”

He glared at me as he rolled the chair back toward the desk and took a seat, “Not really. I have important work to do.”

I stood there staring at him trying to compose himself. His face was red and he tugged at his pants before crossing his leg over the other. I pressed my lips together, but still failed to contain the small laugh that escaped through my nose.

“Sure,” I mocked, “Especially since everyone else on the team is already doing that work for you.” He didn’t look up from whatever papers were on the table, trying in vain to ignore me, though I wasn’t ready to have his attention off me yet.

I shut the folder that he was in the middle of reading, not like he was actually reading it considering how long it was taking him to flip the page, and sat right on top of it. He was about to reach for it again, but retracted his hand at lightning speed when my legs got in the way. I flashed another mockingly sweet smile his way, but he looked out toward the window, right next to the wall I’d just come from. I swung my legs back and forth off the side of the table just a bit, careful not to completely kick Spencer in the shin, though I couldn’t help but let my toes accidentally tap him a few times. As with all of the other times I’d touched him, he moved out of the way, uncrossing his legs with a perfect foot-sized gap in between his knees. I rested my foot in that small gap on the chair, rolling his body closer to me. Then, for no other reason than wanting to feel him squirm underneath me, I plopped down on his lap, my legs straddling his. I pretty much had him locked in his seat.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, a look of complete indifference gracing his face, but I knew it was just a front.

“Just making sure you’re doing your job,” I replied, winking at him.

“And… how do you think this is helping me do my job?”

“I’m making sure you’re paying attention to me,” I whispered in his ear seductively, lacing my fingers together on the back of his neck, “Plus, I’m doing what you asked me to. How did you put it? Sit down and shut-”

Using his thumb and forefinger, he pinched my cheeks and brought my lips to his forcefully. The kiss was just as hungry as the last, teeth clashing and tongues furiously fighting. He moved his long fingers onto my hips with a bruising grip, which I had absentmindedly started grinding against his. He pulled away from me for a moment, and his harsh tone reminded me that this was nothing like the last time we’d been together, when we’d both been a bit more innocent. “You never did have any manners at work.”

I smirked, “I know. Imagine my manners at home.”

A low, almost inaudible groan came from Spencer’s throat at my suggestion, but he tried to cover it up by moving my hair out of the way and latching his lips onto the side of my neck. I gasped at the contact of his teeth pulling at my soft flesh, paired with the feeling of his growing bulge pressed against my core. His fingers gripped my hips harder and moved them faster, drawing a small whimper from my lips. I felt him smile as he trailed kisses down my neck to my collar bone, leaving a single bite mark there. I tried so hard to contain my high-pitched moan when he moved one of his hands from my waist to pinch one of my nipples through my shirt.

But I was supposed to be the clear-headed one, so I forced myself to not get too wrapped up in the feeling. If I wanted to get to my end goal, I was going to have to leave him wanting more, which unfortunately in turn meant leaving myself in the same condition.

My hips had gotten faster along with Spencer’s hands, but when I felt him start to buck his hips up against me, I knew that he was getting close and it had to end. Immediately, I stopped my movements and untangled myself from him, but not before dragging a finger up the column of his throat, sneering, “Too bad. I could’ve helped you, had you done anything to help me.”

I left that open for interpretation, either as a jab to his masculinity or to what started my rage in the first place: being left in prison. He didn’t ask for clarification either, clearly too bothered by being left on edge. He did, however, follow up with, “Help you? Why would I want to do that? You’re a terrible person.”

I grinned as if receiving a medal of honor, “That I am, Doctor.”

I moved the lay down on the couch while Spencer attempted to refocus on his work. I made a show of sighing a couple times and rolling around ‘to find a comfortable position’ on the couch, just to piss him off. I could tell it was working based on his clenched fists turning white, and the way his leg was jumping. He was resting his head in his hand, which almost perfectly shielded my face from his.

He still wasn’t turning the page, so I offered, “Can you flip the page by yourself, or do you need some help?”

He wasn’t given the opportunity to respond, because Hotch, followed by most of the team, came barreling through the door.

“Colby Ulton, 43 years old, has a long record and wasn’t home,” JJ announced, following Hotch. It’d been a while since I had to deal with their inhuman pace when it came to talking about unsubs and profiles, so most of the stuff they said next flew over my head.

I was way behind in the conversation, but none of that mattered when Hotch turned to me, “Colby Ulton. I want you on him.” He'd barely gotten the command out before I was reaching for the door handle.

“I don’t.” The words were hot and dry and coming from none other than Doctor Reid. I rolled my eyes. He moved to step in front of the door, blocking my passage out again, leaning casually with his back against it, arms crossed. Our faces were barely centimeters apart.

“Why not?” I asked in a mock-curious voice.

“I don’t trust you. Who’s to say you won’t just run off? Then we’d let a high-profile criminal walk free. Plus, we’re not even sure he’s the right man,” Spencer pointed out. I was going to point out how I had just made that same argument about me leaving, and he refuted it himself only to bring it back up now, but I didn’t get the chance.

“He’s the best we’ve got right now,” Derek countered. I could tell he sort of just wanted me out of the room, but Spencer’s motives appeared very different.

He never took his eyes off of mine as he recited, “We think it’s a rogue gang member who’s either left or been kicked out within the past year. Ulton’s been in prison, which could mean he’s gone rogue, or it could mean he’s joined a new gang, one that, as you probably know, wouldn’t allow this type of acting out. Either way, he hasn’t demonstrated gang affiliated behavior in almost three years. Not to mention he had his tattoo removed and is out of our age range. I don’t think putting her on, most likely, the wrong man’s trail is worth the risk of letting her walk free.”

The room was silent as we all waited for someone else to make the first move. I decided to be that person. “So what do you suggest they do with me, hm?” I questioned, walking my two fingers up his chest with each word. Then I leaned in and made it very clear, “Because I am not going back to prison.”

I bit his earlobe on the way back, and I saw the way his pupils dilated just slightly at the feeling, “I’ll watch her for the night.”

“What?” Derek and I said at the same time, but our facial expressions were very different.

“Yes,” he stated, more confidently now, “She has nothing to do right now, but we might need her later in the investigation, so sending her all the way back to prison doesn’t make sense.”

“And you'll make sure she doesn’t escape?” Derek questioned.

“She hasn’t so far, has she?” Spencer challenged. When he got unnerved looks from the rest of the team, he assured, shooting a small smirk my way, “Trust me, she won’t.” How cute. He thinks he can wrap his skinny little fingers around my neck and pull a moan from me once, and all the sudden he’s in control. He switched our position, pinning me up against the door, clasping the handcuffs back around my wrists in front of me. I was starting to think he had a thing for pushing people into walls. It was his turn to whisper in my ear, “And you won't want to.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When we arrived back at his apartment, I took a moment to survey the room. It looked almost exactly as it had the last time I’d been there. Books piled up everywhere, papers strewn all over the desk, a little dark and dusty, maybe a bit more worn, but nothing too out of the ordinary. The only difference was that it no longer suited him as well anymore. He used to be this shy, studious, loner-type that didn’t really like people, and he had a certain innocence about him. There was nothing innocent about him anymore. He didn’t seem shy either, much more confident; still studious and a loner though. However, I bet he liked having at least one person over at all times, or not being home at all. It meant that he didn’t have to be alone with his own mind, and after being in solitude myself, and knowing that he’d been in there too, that feeling of complete silence, utter aloneness, was something we’d never want to experience again. We were honestly perfect for each other in that way.

The other thing I’d noticed, based on what I'd seen of him within the last few hours and what I knew prison could do to a person, I guessed he went off of instinct rather than intelligence more than he ever had in his life.

Spencer had to take the time to shrug off his satchel and kick off his shoes, neither of which I even had. All I had was myself and what I was wearing, which wasn’t much. At least I wasn’t in an orange jumpsuit anymore.

“Wow, you’ve really renovated the place,” I snickered. Spencer didn’t say anything, just rolled his eyes and brushed past me. I forced my wrists outward a couple times, making a clanking sound with the cuffs, asking, “You gonna take these off?”

He faced me with a smirk and shook his head slightly, “Don’t think so.” Pulling out a chair at the puny kitchen table, he sat down, and I felt like we were much in the same position we’d been in at the office. I was in his home turf, if I could even call it that, but I wasn’t just going to let him be in charge.

I decided to go straight for the jugular, “Why’d you bring me home, Spence?”

“This isn’t home, not for you,” he snapped.

I scoffed, “Doesn’t look like it is for you, either, but that doesn’t change the question.”

“I told you. I didn’t want to risk you running away.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” I inquired. He could hear the way I was rephrasing it to change the narrative, not like I was wrong, but he successfully dodged it.

“I didn’t want to lose an asset over the wrong man, tipping the right one off, and potentially risking him going underground. I’m just trying to catch an unsub,” he shrugged.

“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?” I shook my head in amusement.

“You don’t?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“Of course I do,” I quickly answered.

“Then answer this,” Spencer squared his shoulders, now completely facing me, “Why didn’t you run the moment you got the chance?”

“I had three FBI personnel in the car with me, then a team of BAU agents surrounding me, and then was left alone in the same room as an agent who can shoot 100 on his test. I am many things, but I am not stupid nor am I suicidal.”

“How’d you know I shot 100?” Spencer followed up.

I smiled, “I know things.”

“How about all the chances you got when you were in prison? You’ve broken out plenty of times before, why not do it again?” He was leaning forward, and he seemed genuinely curious.

It was a good question, one that I actually hadn’t pre-thought the answer to. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting to even make it this far. “I was biding my time.”

“For..?”

“Leverage.” It was a simple word, but one that seemed to make a great impact. Spencer leaned back in his chair and contemplated my answer. It wasn’t a complete lie either, I just didn’t want to give away too many details.

Spencer finally whispered, “Against?”

I flashed him a wicked smile. “You.” His face contorted into something I couldn’t fully recognize, eyes narrowing. “You, Spencer. I’ve been waiting for you to make an error, a mistake. That was the one flaw in my plan, that while I picked the easiest to emotionally manipulate, I picked the hardest to mentally manipulate. And you don’t make very many mental mistakes, do you Spencer?” I asked, approaching him. I’m really hoping you’d like to cash one in right now, though. I could practically see the internal argument being fought inside Spencer’s head; one side telling him to give in, it wasn’t that bad, the other telling him to resist, that somehow, this would corrupt him further. I needed the former to win. “You wouldn’t let yourself get caught up in the moment, would you? You wouldn’t crack, take what you want, what you need, what you deserve against your better judgement. Because you’re all brain, Spencer. All brain, and no heart.”

That’s what did it.

Spencer literally swept me off my feet, tossing me onto the couch like a rag doll. His hand returned to my throat as if it belonged there, and he pushed open my legs with his knees. My hands may have been cuffed, but they could still be useful. I moved them to start unbuttoning his shirt when he swatted them away. He spat, “I’m not heartless. Not like you.”

“No,” I agreed, “You’re worse. At least I can admit to what I am. You just hide behind a badge and gun.”

Spencer shoved two fingers in my mouth, probably trying to shut me up. I smirked, running my tongue up and down the long digits, making sure to give him a preview of what was to come if he’d let it. His other hand trailed down the side of my body until it reached the waistband of the pants I was wearing. Forcefully, he yanked them down, taking my panties with them. I knew I was already pooling, but of course he had to rub it in. Snarky, he mocked, “For someone who talks a big game, you’re already looking pretty weak.”

I silently cursed my body for finding him arousing, and was about to have to come up with a clever comment when I saw Spencer pause. He was charging straight into this, and then he just stopped. I tilted my head, “Worried you don’t have it in you?”

Spencer met my eyes, and cooly stated, “I’m not going to let you be my mistake.”

Dammit. When I felt him start to pull away, I knew I had to say something to get him to stay. I needed to turn this into an advantage in his eyes, not just mine. “Why? So you can let this rage build up inside of you, eat away at your every thought, until you snap? What then? You lash out during a case, which causes someone to die, either because of your incapabilities or at your hand? And what for? Because you’re still mad at me? I’m right here in front of you, Spencer! You’re never going to get a chance like this again, so just do something!” By the end, it was a plea, and one that was brutally answered.

Spencer pushed two of his fingers inside me, already moving at a quick pace. I let out a small yelp at the sensation which clearly pleased Spencer. I attempted to refocus on unbuttoning his shirt, which became increasingly difficult because of how he was curling his fingers to hit that spot just right. I barely finished, pushing his shirt away from his shoulders when he leaned away from me, taking both of his fingers with him. I was about to complain until I saw him dropping his shirt to the ground and unbuckling his belt, pushing his own pants and underwear out of the way in a similar fashion as he’d done to mine. He pumped his fist over his shaft a couple of times before lining himself up between my wide open legs. He teased my clit with the tip of his cock, and I could feel the precum beading there. I bit my lip as I looked up at him.

Spencer’s eyes were blown when he quietly demanded, “Say it.” He wants me to beg. I was okay with him thinking he was in charge for now, so I played into it by shaking my head. He slammed my cuffed wrists against the arm of the couch just above my head, bringing his face so close I could feel his lips brush mine as he repeated, “Say it.”

It was more forceful the second time, and something about his hot breath on my face and the feeling of his hips trying, and failing, to stay still against mine pulled a whimper all too genuine from my lips, “Punish me.”

At my words, he slammed his cock in my entrance, setting a merciless pace. With no time to adjust to his length, the heat burning between my legs got fiercer. The sounds of his hips hitting mine filled the room, both of us trying to control our moans, not wanting the other to know how much we were really enjoying it. My back arched off the couch, sending my fingers over the arm, brushing over thin objects on the small table there. A pen and paper clip.

I pressed my lips together to contain the grin that just about took over my face. Looking down at Spencer, who was way too busy biting marks into my skin, I could tell he hadn’t noticed the detrimental error I’d just realized he’d made. I made quick work of unclasping the cuffs from around my wrists, but left them on loosely just for show.

The coil in my stomach was getting tighter and tighter, and while I usually would have tried to control myself, I let the moans tear through my lungs. This caught Spencer’s attention, perring up at me with a twinkle in his eyes, one that told me he thought he had me. He mouthed into my neck, “This too much for you to handle, Jailbird?”

I scoffed at his pet name. Alright Doctor Reid, you’ve had your fun. Now let me show you how to really be in charge. “Not in the slightest, Mouse,” I quipped. Before he could think, I wrapped my legs around his waist, and put my hands on the back of his head. I flipped us off the side of the couch, landing on top of Spencer. With the wind knocked out of him, I quickly grabbed his wrist, clasping one of the cuffs around it, looping the chain behind the couch leg, then synching the other around his free wrist. I placed his head on the ground and leaned back, tracing patterns on his chest.

It took him a moment to realize what had just happened, but I saw the moment the light went off. “You filthy bitch.”

I chuckled, “It seems as though that genius memory of yours forgot that I’m a criminally sound escape artist.”

He was fuming, but contained himself long enough to ask, “What changed?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Since last time? You had no problem letting me take control then.”

I simply stated with disgust, “I was soft then.”

“Who’s to say you aren’t still now?” Spencer challenged.

I laced my fingers with his as I pinned them to the ground, my turn to be the one looking down on him, faces only centimeters apart. We locked eyes as I explained, “You can see it too, I know you can. I wake up and see it in the mirror every day, and I see it in you too now. It’s in your eyes. That darkness. That feeling of destruction, of being broken, of being a monster. It’s there. I can see it like it’s my own.”

I expected him to snap at me. To argue with a clever quip. But he didn’t. Spencer leaned up as far as he could and kissed me. Not in the angry, predatory-like way that we had earlier, but really kissed me. I was so taken aback by the gesture that I practically jumped off him after a few seconds. I hated myself for letting it happen for even that long.

I stormed away from him, hissing, “Don’t try to get my sympathy now that you’re the one chained like a dirty animal. I’m not gonna fall for it.”

I saw something quick flash across his face before it hardened again. I could feel his eyes following my every move as I walked away, so I decided to make a show of it. I swished my hips back and forth, and even bent all the way over to pick up our clothes for no reason, just so he could have a perfect view between my legs. I heard the rattle of the cuffs against the couch and smirked to myself.

Tossing the clothes as far away as possible, I reached under my shirt to unclasp my bra, slipping it out one of the arm holes. I spun it around my index finger a couple of times before letting it fly off in the direction of the rest of our clothes. Toying with the hem of my shirt, I rhythmically moved it around my body so that he could only see some exposed skin at a time. I slowly pulled it higher and higher until I removed the garment completely. Standing completely bare in front of him, looking down on his naked body, I’d never felt more in control.

Spencer was drilling holes into me as I got down on my knees, crawling toward him. Again, his hands shot forward only to be stopped by the metal. I tutted, “Now, now, Mouse. That’s not how this works.”

I stroked a single finger up his length, and when it brushed over the tip, he squeezed his eyes shut. I wetted my lips as I wrapped a single hand around his cock, starting at an agonizingly slow pace, a stark contrast to the one he’d set earlier. I had barely started moving at a faster pace when Spencer started to buck his hips up into my hand. I slammed his hips back down with my other arm, giving him a cold look. His hips stilled and I knew he was getting desperate.

I flattened my palm against his lower belly, making sure he’d stay in place as I steadily picked up the pace. Spencer threw his head back when I swiped my tongue over his tip, and huffed when I retracted my hands, breaking contact all together.

I hummed, “Actually, this isn’t that interesting.” I scooted back on the floor, holding eye contact with his piercing irises as I spread my legs wide open for him to see. Neither one of us has had our release yet, so I might as well take mine and leave him high and dry.

I brushed my fingertips down my body, cupping my breasts on the way, until I reached my clit. I started to rub circles over the bundle of nerves, not realizing how close I already was. I let out exaggerated moans as I continued my ministrations, steadily pushing myself toward the edge.

“Stop.” It was barely a whisper, and I wasn’t sure if I even heard it, so I ignored it. Right as another moan ripped through my lungs, I heard Spencer say, louder and more demanding this time, “Stop.”

I was too close to stop. I barely had the mental capacity to smirk down at him before I felt my release crash over me like a tidal wave. For dramatic effect, I whined out Spencer’s name as my walls clenched around nothing, helping myself through my orgasm. Slowly coming down from my high, my head lulled back, release seeping into his rug.

Barely allowing myself to catch my breath, I leaned forward onto my knees, and looked at Spencer’s face, which was red with anger or desperation I couldn’t tell, but brought my lips down on his dick regardless. He grunted at the sensation, and I could feel the heat radiating off of him. I swirled my tongue around him until I couldn’t anymore, opting to just trace a protruding vein instead. I started to hollow out my cheeks when he bucked up into me, forcing me to take all of him in at once. He groaned when I started gagging around his length, and when I coughed after pulling off him, he had the audacity to laugh.

“Having trouble there, Jailbird?” Spencer smugly asked. I looked down at his length laying against his stomach and saw that it was a deep red, and had to have been painfully hard at that point. With that in mind, along with my recent release, I crawled over him.

I looked at him as I hovered my pussy just above his cock. “I wouldn’t be worried about me. I’d be worried about how you’re gonna take care of yourself with your hands cuffed if I decided I’m done with you.”

That threat wiped the smug look right off his face. I was already wet again, and allowed him to only barely feel what was waiting for him if he behaved, lowering myself down so his length was just brushing my lips.

His face contorted and then he said the word of my victory, “Please.”

Taking hold of his cock in one hand, I lined myself up, and slowly sunk down. He filled me up completely, a bit thicker than I remembered, and I sat comfortably in his lap. This was clearly what Spencer wanted, but there was no way in hell it was going to be that easy. I just sat there looking at him, and based on the crazed look on his face, he was expecting me to start moving immediately.

We stared each other down for a moment before his whole body jerked forward, hands yanking on the cuffs. It was my turn to laugh at his pathetic struggles, but I still didn’t have quite what I wanted yet. Raising my hips up, I quickly slammed them down, pulling the loudest groan I’d heard from Spencer. When I didn’t move again, he started squirming underneath me, and I asked, “What is it you want me to do, Mouse?”

Then he broke, his strangled pleas music to my ears, “God, fuck me, please, just fuck me!”

I grinned as I captured his lips in a vicious kiss, pulling his bottom lip between my teeth. Steadying myself with my palm on his chest, I lifted my hips up, only to let them fall back into his lap. I started slower than either of us wanted, letting myself adjust to his full size before bouncing freely on his dick. The sounds of our heavy moans filled the air, sweat collecting on our bodies.

I was honestly surprised at how long Spencer had lasted when he let out one final shriek before coming undone below me. He’d given up, completely relaxed on the floor as I started chasing my second orgasm. Spencer peered up at me through hooded eyes, and soon enough starting letting out cries, and I knew I was pushing him. I didn’t want to completely overwhelm him but I was so close…

I wouldn’t get there, not yet anyway, because Spencer did something I was not expecting. The couch hit the floor with a loud thud, giving Spencer the freedom to move his arms. He wrapped the chain of the cuffs around the back of my neck and flipped me over in one swift motion, almost identical to how I’d just done it to him.

I was completely caught off guard, and let a surprised squeak leave my lips. I was almost impressed. Almost.

As if he could see straight into my mind, Spencer remarked, “I’m a quick study.” His entire body weight was over me, and there was very little wiggle room for an escape.

I followed Spencer’s eyes as he scanned around the room, glanced at his wrists, then sighed when he spotted his pants. Must’ve been where he put the key.

I raised my pitch and snidely sang like a schoolgirl, “Whatcha gonna do Mouse? You gonna fuck me like the inmate you are, or are you gonna free yourself, hm?”

Pressing his hands down on either side of my perfectly laid out ones above my head, the chain between the cuffs digging into my forearms, he chided, “I’m sure I can handle you just fine with them on. I’m not quite done with you yet, Jailbird.”

My walls fluttered around his cock at the gravelly sound of his voice and the threat that accompanied it. It’s as if he’s chained to me. I shuddered happily at the thought.

“Is that what this is about?” Spencer hissed, clearly catching my pleased look and the way my pussy pulled him in a little more at his harsh words, “You just enjoy seeing me as some twisted killer?”

“I enjoy seeing you for who you truly are.”

I wasn’t able to form another coherent thought after that one, the pace Spencer was pounding into me like one I’d never felt. He fucked his cum from only seconds ago back into me, the wet sound of our mixing fluids filling the room. I could barely focus on where his hands had moved to, teasing my nipples, because the fire between my legs was jumping higher and higher. As it finally burned through me in the sweetest way possible, I reached to grab onto anything, the first thing my fingers found being Spencer’s hair. He growled when I tugged, but his pace never let up.

As I came down from my high, Spencer didn’t stop. The feelings were becoming too strong, too overpowering, pleasure bordering on pain. I tried to pull my hips away from his, but there was nothing I could do. To stop my squirming, he sat back slightly and pressed his large palms down on my hip bones. Moving also changed the angle he was slamming into me, now bottoming out with each thrust. I needed some reprieve.

“Spencer,” I whined, but there was a nothingness in his eyes.

His hands snaked up to my throat, applying massive pressure to my windpipe. “Is this what you wanted?” Spencer yelled, “Is this what you think I truly am?”

I was having trouble getting the air into my lungs, let alone respond. I wanted to force him to face his reality of being an ex-con, knowing how shitty it was to be on the inside and just letting me sit in there. A consequence of my own actions, but considering I was doing it to save him, I was looking for a little bit more effort on the getting out process.

But he’d left me in there. He didn’t care. He didn’t care despite the fact that he knew what I was going through, that I could tell he was still dealing with his own PTSD and not well, and that everything had changed for him. People looked at him and treated him differently. He was a different person. Corrupt. And he’d only been in there for not even three months.

I’d been in there for five times as long.

I wanted him to realize just how much damage him and his useless team were doing to me by not helping me get out. I wanted him to realize how fucked up that was, and how terrible of a person that made him. I wanted him to realize he was just as big of a monster as I was.

I accomplished that. But I underestimated how much darkness he’d really been holding back.

My head started to feel light, and I could tell I was on the brink of my third release. The sound of skin slapping skin was sinful and I couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of his tip hitting my a-spot, the way my legs were shaking around his body, the way the muscles in his back felt against my nails as I clawed them down it. My release came quicker than Spencer’s, who wasn’t too far behind me. His thrusts became shallower, as he spilled into me for the second time. It was as if all the energy had been drained out of me in an instant, along with my anger and hatred. Spencer rolled off of me, and I saw his figure weakly collapse to the ground.

It was an eerie calm, the sound of absolute nothingness, the only disturbance being our labored breathing.

I didn’t know how long it’d been when Spencer’s voice, the softest I’d heard it since the day’s start, whispered, “Are you okay?”

I glanced at him with a confused look. He let out a small sigh at my non response, collecting himself before walking over to his long forgotten pants for the cuffs key. After freeing his wrists, he walked back over to me and helped me up, ushering me to the bathroom.

I could tell he was examining me, but it wasn’t until I stood in front of the mirror that I realized why. “Look at those bruises around your neck, Jailbird. They suit you.”

The bruises were deep and already turning a nice purple. I scanned the rest of me finding more bruises on my hips, thighs, shoulders, wrists, and not to mention the bite mark on my collar. I scanned Spencer next, his only bruises coming from his wrists and the red marks I left on his back. “I wasn’t expecting that from you.”

He met my eyes in the mirror, “What were you expecting?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know.” I truly didn’t. I went into it knowing I wanted to force him to see everything he had, everything he was, but I guess I didn’t really think about what that would force me to see. My exhaustion started to give way to a heap of emotions, and a single, involuntary tear escaped my eye. Spencer brushed his fingers over my neck, simultaneously pulling my hair behind my shoulder.

He kissed the tender, bruised skin, and I remembered the times before, the times when it felt like we’d really been in love. I felt his breath on me as he mumbled, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I turned on my heels to face him, “You didn’t.”

I didn’t know what compelled him to confess what I never thought he would, but he sounded deeply ashamed when admitting, “I wanted to.”

“What stopped you?” I was genuinely curious. We’d hurt each other in the most extreme ways before today, getting the other sent to a cage in hell, betraying each other.

“I’m broken, but I’m not beyond repair, and hurting you would make me someone that I don’t want to be.”

I gave him a tired smile, and all I could muster was, “Pretty convincing.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Don’t be, you didn’t. You couldn’t,” I assured him. It was the truth.

“I should’ve,” he bit, looking down at his hands, which were so delicately holding my waist I couldn’t be sure he was even touching me.

“Why?” I questioned, the seriousness evident in my voice, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He shook his head, and a stray curl or two tickled my forehead. “I could’ve.”

“I trusted you not to.” I clasped my hands together and rested them on his back.

Spencer’s shaky voice matched his glistening eyes as they locked with mine, “I just wasn’t sure. All I know is that I scare myself sometimes.”

I pressed my forehead against his own, “Well, then I guess we’re two people who have nothing to fear other than ourselves.”

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