#gonna chew on a brick i HATE that it's always like this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whataboutbibi · 1 year ago

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First of all: HI STINK, HAPPY NEW YEAR SWEETS AND FOR EVERYONE OUT THERE TOO!!!

Second of all: I WANT THEM TOGETHER NOW!!! they're my babies 😭😭😭

"It makes sense, though, when you open the door to see who is banging on your door like a madman. Eddie, of course." I'm convinced he's sexually attracted to birdies hotel bedroom door cause 💀

"Eddie laughs, “See, that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” He drawls, “I always knew you were pretty. I never thought you weren’t pretty. Who told you that?”

"Eddie lowly hums, taking a deep breath as he shifts in his seat, “Yeah, well, I intend on changing that, so, are you done eating?”

"You’re Eddie’s every dream compacted into the cutest, kindest, prettiest human he’s ever fucking known, and Eddie keeps having these moments where he wants to smash his head through a brick wall for ever letting a cruel word form on his tongue towards you. He would pay an endless amount of money to rewind time and do it over again, do it right, and give you the respect you deserve." Aww homeboy is in LUV

"He’s like a child for fucks sake! Touching things he shouldn’t be touching and grinning at you with a ‘you can’t do anything about it because I’m cute’ glint in his eyes."

"Eddie stops midchew, looking up at you for a brief moment. He’s silent as he resumes chewing his food and swallowing, quietly eyeing you for a moment before clearing his throat. “You hate hash browns?” He asks."

"Eddie raises two hands to his head, grasping his hair like he’s in distress, as he lets out a loud sound, drawing attention. You giggle, reaching out to grab his wrist and lower him back down to the table, “Eddie, you’re making a scene—” “You met Ozzy, and you just, like, casually forgot to mention that to me? Like he’s not my idol? Like he’s not my literal lord and savior? Do you even care about me?” He exclaims in a loud voice."

so so so Eddie coded <3

This whole chapter was sooo boyfriend material Eddie (who is my fav Eddie 🥲🥲) before we lived only on crumbs but now they're actually getting comfortable with each other and it's just so special to witness it

I feel like a proud mum

“Jesus. I’m gonna fuckin’ lose it,” Eddie grumbles against your lips, sloppy and wet, as he trails down to your jaw, neck, and collarbones. His hands are greedy as they grapple at your hips, squeezing the thicker parts to tilt you towards him, groaning when your pelvis drags against his quickly hardening length. You pant his name, one hand dropping to steady yourself against the counter as the other hand sinks into his damp, curly strands. Eddie groans, stuffing his face into your neck, licking and biting as he grinds you against him. You’re all whiney breaths and moans, and Eddie just can’t help himself when he nudges his nose against the strap of your dress before sticking his tongue out and dragging it up the length of the flimsy black piece." Oh I miss them. Like MISS them

"You don’t recognize the opening song for tonight, but you hear the words and Eddie’s voice crystal clear— tugging you back with every step you take towards the arena's door."

So, you can drag me through hell

If it meant I could hold your hand

I will follow you, 'cause I'm under your spell

And you can throw me to the flames

I will follow you, I will follow you

HELLO? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US RACH? The LYRICS???

Her coming back to Michigan did things to me like... BIRDIE NO 😞 she's stronger than me but we all know is 😭 for 😭 the 😭 better 😭 right 😭 this is me trying to convince myself that she didn't fumbled the bag 😀 but after everything Eddie being doing to gain her back I really really really hope that he won't give up on them!!! Also, what's the matter with that lany bitch? Ugh of course she was scheming but I'm glad Eddie sent her back to hell and as himself said "good fucking riddance" LOL

I already want part 12, you got me ADDICTED need to be sure my babies are ok and together once and for all. Just kidding, do your thing Rach I'm sure you'll come up with a great closure for this amazing series! I'm actually so glad I got to read this on new years cause this series has been one of the highlights of my 2023 year!✨✨ amazing job as always 💋

PRICE OF FAME (PART 11/?)

gasp she's finally here !!!

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: the last day of tour has arrived and you're pushed to make a difficult choice

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, smoking, sexual themes, mentions of oral, angst, and more glimpses of eddie being boyfriend coded <3

word count: 6k

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| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

song inspo for this chappy, thx to my stink @mmunson86 ily hehe:

Sunday mornings are meant for being lazy.

You wake up, you toss around in bed for a bit, maybe turn on the TV, and order food if you’re at a nice hotel like you are now— which had been your plan. You had wanted to try the strawberry crepes here for ages, and you planned to finally order it to start the last day of your short-lived tour on the right foot— but apparently, someone doesn’t believe in the mainstream concept of Sunday morning.

It’s seven in the morning when you get a knock on your door. You want to ignore it— and you have every intention to do so— except the person at the door is incessant and apparently doesn’t get the hint of silence.

It makes sense, though, when you open the door to see who is banging on your door like a madman. Eddie, of course.

“Housekeeping!”

He’s got a cute, wide smile and damp curls that make your chest flutter even though you still have one foot in a dream. Although, you think the dream might be the man standing before you, clad in jeans and a graphic tee, and beaming at you.

“Eddie, it’s seven in the morning.” You grumble.

Eddie’s smile widens, “I know. Perfect time for a walk in the park.” He says before pushing past you and walking into your room. Your eyebrows furrow as you watch him walk over to your window and open the blinds. You rapidly blink at the sunlight, “I– what? A walk?”

Eddie turns to you, smiling still as he nods, “Yes. Down at Central Park. They’ve always got cute dogs down there, and I know a place with pancakes to die for.”

You’re too tired to even wrap your mind around how cute of an image Eddie with dogs would be, “Woah… woah, woah, wait— Eddie, I— I would love to,” you blink hard, “But I’m still half asleep, and I only got to bed like four hours ago, so I think I’d pass out on a walk right now.” You softly laugh.

You feel a twinge of guilt stir in your gut, so you step forward to Eddie, reaching out to rest a hand on his bicep and gently squeeze, “Why don’t we order coffee up and sit on the balcony until my mind warms up a bit?” You offer.

Which, now that you think of it, was a perfect idea because there’s a cool breeze this morning that gives you an excuse to press up against Eddie’s side and curl into the heat of him as you sip on warm coffee and watch Eddie burn through cigarettes. Eddie was bold enough to drag your legs to rest across his lap, and you decide to blame your compliance on lack of sleep rather than desire.

“Are you nervous for tonight?” You wonder aloud, watching as the morning sun cracks through his fluttering eyelashes. Eddie’s lips pull into a smile, “No.” He leans into you, “Are you?”

You snort, pressing your fingers into the warm ceramic mug, “Why would I be nervous?”

Eddie shrugs, “Maybe I’ve got a surprise up my sleeve or something.” He teases. His fingers are warm and send goosebumps across your skin as they dance across your leg, inching up your thigh until you slightly squirm. Eddie doesn’t even try to hide the smirk on his lips.

You ignore his wandering hands as best as you can, although the lick of heat that runs up your spine when he fiddles with the hem of your baggy shirt sends your mind spinning, a dull throb of your center when his knuckles brush the crease of your hip. You raise an eyebrow, gazing at him and cocking your head to the side, “Well, do you?”

Eddie glances at you, busy drawing stars inside your thighs, “No.”

You roll your eyes, shoving your foot into his jean-clad thigh as he barks out a laugh, hands squeezing your bare calves. “That’s not funny, Munson. You’re on probation, you know?”

Eddie tilts his head, dreamy gaze in his eyes as he gently squeezes your calves, “I know. I’m working on it, though… which reminds me—” You take a deep breath, slinking your legs out of his grip and sitting up straight to stretch, “Think I’m in the mood for those pancakes now.” You hum.

Eddie gazes at you, jaw loose as he watches you stand up and completely dodge what he’s been spinning out about for the last twenty-four hours. “Birdie—” “Yeah, I’m starving now that I think of it. Let’s go.” You wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug him up, ignoring his grumbles of protest.

It should be studied, the pull Eddie has on you, because here you both are in a booth at an old breakfast diner, and all you can think about is how you want nothing more than to slink over to the other side and burrow yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

But Eddie’s friends are here.

The entire ensemble: Nancy, Robin, Steve, Gareth, Jeff, and even Eric, who you hardly even see because he’s the busiest with groupies out of the Corroded Coffin band.

They caught you and Eddie on your way down to the lobby, and well… they just tagged along. Eddie wasn’t so happy about it, mumbling about how he can never shake these assholes, but you just snickered and told him to be nice.

So, now, you’re sitting across from Eddie in a diner with the smell of pancakes and maple syrup wafting through the air and a friendly chatter ringing throughout the table.

You try your hardest to pay attention to the conversations, but it’s hard when Eddie is glancing at you with these eyes that melt your insides. It doesn’t help when he leans forward on the table, shoulders pressing into the edge as his fingers skim your knee beneath it. You raise an eyebrow when he takes a menu, opens it, and stands it up to block the view of his friends as he beckons you forward. You lean forward, chest fluttering at the sight of Eddie’s pretty eyes so up close, pouty lips and curly hair that you want to reach out and card your fingers through. He’s a dream, no doubt about it.

“Let’s ditch them.”

You snort, rolling your eyes, “You can’t ditch your friends, Eddie.”

Eddie makes a face, “Why not? They crashed, and I have work to do.”

You tilt your head in confusion, “Work?”

Eddie grumbles, his voice carrying an obvious tone, “Yeah, I’ve only got until tonight to pay my dues.” He reminds you. You hum with a teasing glint, “I reckon that’s a fault on your part, Munson.”

Before Eddie can respond, the menu is torn out of his hands to reveal Gareth and Jeff snickering, “You do know we can still see you two, right?” Eric teases.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “I don’t know if you dipshits got the memo, but you definitely weren’t invited to this.”

You giggle, nudging your foot against his shin, “Don’t be rude,” You mumble. “Yeah, Eddie, don’t be rude.” Robin teases.

Eddie grumbles, ignoring his snickering friends as he stands up, “All of you can fuck right off.” He sticks up a decorated middle finger to his table of friends, and you smile as you slide out of the booth, warmth spreading through your body when he reaches around to grab your sweater.

“Oh, come on, we were just joking, Eds!”

Eddie waves them off, slinking an arm around your body to rest a hand on the small of your back, gently ushering you toward the exit as his friends create a scene.

“Hey, don’t be late to soundcheck, asshole, we won’t hear the end of it from Richie!” Jeff calls out, but Eddie doesn’t answer because he’s walking you both outside of the diner and muttering something about them being a pain in his ass.

“We could just take a flight out somewhere far away from them, princess. Say the word, and I’ll book it.” Eddie jokingly offers. You smile as you take your sweater from him with a small thanks, “They love you. That’s a good thing to have.” You remind him. Eddie rolls his eyes, scratching at the back of his neck as you begin walking down the street, “Sure, except not when I have important things to do. Which, when are you gonna put me out of my misery and tell me what you think?”

You hum, feing ignorance as you blink up at Eddie, “Think about what, Eddie?”

Eddie stares at you, blinking once before his lips spread into a smile, “You’re lucky you’re pretty.” He teasingly says through gritted teeth, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in as he jokingly presses his palm to your face, laughing as you squeal and squirm in his hold. “Eddie Munson thinks I’m pretty. How cute.” You mock as you grapple at his wrist, prying his hand from your face, “Only took him a month to figure that out.”

Eddie laughs, “See, that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” He drawls, “I always knew you were pretty. I never thought you weren’t pretty. Who told you that?” “Nobody told me that; you just,” you shrug, “Kind of hated my guts, so it went hand in hand.”

Eddie’s eyes soften at that, and your cheeks warm as his gaze zones in on you. You clear your throat, glancing away, “Are we going to eat or what, Munson? I told you I’m starving, and you just dragged me out of that diner, so.”

Eddie nods, “Yeah, yeah,” He waves before lacing his fingers with yours to drag you along, “I got a place in mind; let’s go.”

“If you wanted strawberries on your pancakes, then you should’ve asked for them.”

Eddie, you are learning, has sticky fingers. Sticky in the metaphorical sense where he just takes things without asking and sticky in the literal sense where he keeps reaching over to steal strawberries from your plate and ends up dipping his fingers in your maple syrup as well.

He’s like a child for fucks sake! Touching things he shouldn’t be touching and grinning at you with a ‘you can’t do anything about it because I’m cute’ glint in his eyes.

You watch as Eddie sucks the syrup off his thumb and smirks at you as he says, “Sharing is caring, you know?”

You look at his plate, tilting your head with a smirk before asking, “Yeah? Then can I have your hash browns?” Eddie glances at his plate, a frown spreading across his lips as he looks at you, “But there’s barely any left.” He points out.

Your eyebrows raise, and he sighs in defeat, cutting into his hash browns to give you half of it. You snicker as he carefully reaches over to put the side dish on your plate, pursing your lips to hold a laugh when you look up at him. “What’s so funny?” He grumbles, stabbing into his food and shoving a fork full into his mouth.

“Nothing. I just, like, hate hash browns.”

Eddie stops midchew, looking up at you for a brief moment. He’s silent as he resumes chewing his food and swallowing, quietly eyeing you for a moment before clearing his throat. “You hate hash browns?” He asks.

You nod as you take a bite of your eggs, and Eddie looks at you like you just told him something concerning. “I—... what do you mean you hate hash browns? Do you like potatoes?”

You shrug, taking a sip of your drink, “Sure.”

“Do you like fries?”

“I love fries.”

“Tater tots?”

“I like them every now and then,” You shrug.

Eddie’s head cocks in confusion, eyes narrowing, “So what’s the problem with hash browns?”

Your eyebrows raise, and an amused smile spreads across your lips, “Holy shit. I’m getting the sense that you might, I don’t know… love hash browns or something?”

Eddie scoffs, “Of course I fucking love hash browns. Are you fucking kidding me? Who doesn’t like hash browns?”

“Tommy Lommi.”

“Well then, they’re fucking weird— wait…” Eddie blinks at you and stares like you’ve just discovered time travel. “What do you mean, Tommy Lommi? How do you know Tommy Lommi hates hash browns?”

You shrug, “Ate breakfast with the band a few years ago. They gave him hash browns, and he returned the entire plate. A lot of people hate hash browns, Eddie.”

Eddie waves a hand in dismissal, scooting closer to the table as he responds in a hurried and amused tone, “You had breakfast with Black fucking Sabbath?” He exclaims.

You hold back a smile as you blink at the man before you, his brown eyes wide and blown from adrenaline, “Yeah, it— it was, like, a work thing. I was doing a short piece on them, so Anna and I had lunch with them and their manager.” At the mention of your manager's name, you make a mental note to call and update her on your piece.

Eddie raises two hands to his head, grasping his hair like he’s in distress, as he lets out a loud sound, drawing attention. You giggle, reaching out to grab his wrist and lower him back down to the table, “Eddie, you’re making a scene—” “You met Ozzy, and you just, like, casually forgot to mention that to me? Like he’s not my idol? Like he’s not my literal lord and savior? Do you even care about me?” He exclaims in a loud voice.

Your eyes widen in amusement as the man practically spins out right in front of you. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think it— wait, haven’t you met him before? Like on a red carpet or something?”

Eddie scoffs, leaning back into the booth and pulling a face like the words you’ve just said are rubbish. “Yeah, right. Like Ozzy Osborne would willingly surround himself with a bunch of untrained nuts like the boys of Corroded Coffin. He’s a professional, Birdie. That’s an insult.”

You giggle, gently nudging your plate away, taking a deep breath from feeling so full as you shrug, “Maybe if you cleaned up your act, it would happen.” You teasingly say.

Eddie looks at you, runs his eyes over your face, and smirks as he folds his arms over his chest, reaching up with one hand to twirl a piece of his hair between his fingers. “Yeah? And how do you suggest we do that?” He slinks his feet forward, gently tapping his shoe against yours before hooking an ankle around yours.

You hum, “I don’t know. Maybe cut back on the parties. Less reckless act and more calculated rockstar. Less groupies… none, if that.” You mutter the last part, and Eddie snickers. He hums as well, tipping his head side to side as if he’s thinking, “And would you say maybe,” He clears his throat, “Like, a girlfriend would do good as well?”

You huff out a laugh, “Nice try, Munson.” You snicker. “You’re far from girlfriend status with me.”

Eddie lowly hums, taking a deep breath as he shifts in his seat, “Yeah, well, I intend on changing that, so, are you done eating?”

Eddie’s sure that Richie will chew him out.

It’s the last day of tour before the next leg starts in a month, and Eddie is almost an hour late to soundcheck. Richie was adamant about being on schedule for today because it’s the last show, and Richie’s a goddamn perfectionist (who would take on the job of managing a group of rowdy rockstars if they have the personality of a fucking sergeant?). But honestly, Eddie doesn’t have a single bone in him that cares because— well, why would he care when he’s spent all day with you practically pressed into his side?

You’re Eddie’s every dream compacted into the cutest, kindest, prettiest human he’s ever fucking known, and Eddie keeps having these moments where he wants to smash his head through a brick wall for ever letting a cruel word form on his tongue towards you. He would pay an endless amount of money to rewind time and do it over again, do it right, and give you the respect you deserve.

Then maybe you would stop dodging his kisses.

“Come on, just one?” He begs, watching as you walk a few steps ahead of him. Eddie won’t lie; it’s a great view he’s got from behind. You’re wearing these black ripped jeans that hug your ass and thighs so perfectly Eddie wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into you.

You shake your head, “Nope. A kiss has never been a kiss with you, and I’m not too keen on giving Richie more reasons to put me in time-out. You’re also definitely still on probation.”

Eddie grunts, “This is just cruel, sweetheart.”

He jogs a bit to catch up to speed with you, “While we’re on the topic, what’d he say to you?”

You glance at Eddie, brows furrowing, “Who? Richie?”

Eddie nods, and you shrug. “I assume the same thing he told you. Told me to hold off on it until the magazine blows over in the fanbase.”

Eddie hums because, well, that’s not what Richie told Eddie. Actually, Richie told Eddie to just forget it, don’t even attempt to do anything with that woman because when you fuck up, I’m gonna be the one left to clean it up. And isn’t that Richie’s fucking job? Isn’t that precisely why Richie was hired? To clean up the boys’ mess and make their appearance seem squeaky clean.

“I don’t blame him, though.”

Eddie’s neck practically snaps in your direction, and he has to stop you from walking any further down the backstage hallways because what the fuck are you saying right now?

“What do you mean?”

You shrug, glancing up at Eddie, “I mean, he’s just doing his job, Eddie. He’s trying to protect your image, and, honestly, I didn’t understand where he was coming from until he pointed out that I’m still practically press in the eyes of the industry, so.”

“Well, that’s bullshit.” Eddie snaps. Doesn’t mean to snap, really. Doesn’t mean to have a harsh tone or sound upset with you because he’s not. He’s upset with the situation and the absolute mess he’s created from having his head up his ass for so long. He’s upset because he doesn’t want to wait until the magazine blows over. He’s upset because he’s finally admitting to what he wants, and you’re right there, and he wants to work on getting you but fucking Richie— jesus christ, Eddie’s going to choke that bastard.

“That doesn’t even fucking make sense,” Eddie exclaims, “I already fucked up. There’s not much to fuck up at this rate.”

“It’s different when there’s feelings involved, Eddie.” And Eddie doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like that you sound as if you’re siding with Richie, and he doesn’t like that you’re using your hot ass journalist tone with him. “What difference does it make?” Eddie stresses.

“Because shit could hit the fan. Things could go bad again, and, in Richie’s eyes, I could easily become an enemy. It’s a rational call to make.”

No.

No, no, no, this isn’t what Eddie wants, and it’s not how Eddie wants you picturing what you two could be— a disaster.

Eddie blinks, heart pounding in his chest because god, he wants you and he’s scared he’s lost you before even getting the chance to fix things. “So… is that— is that what you want? To wait?”

You gaze up at Eddie, “I— no?”

Eddie frowns, stomach churning as you look away to avoid his gaze, “That didn’t sound confident. You don’t want to do this?”

“It’s… That’s not what I’m saying. I just— I’m not quite sure where this is aiming.”

“What do you mean? I told you how I feel.”

You make an exasperated noise, stepping out from the wall Eddie had you caged against, “No, you haven’t told me how you feel. You’ve told me what you want. That’s not enough.”

And you’re looking at Eddie with these eyes that make him want to crack open his chest and let you see it for yourself because fuck, the only time Eddie has ever confessed his feelings to someone, she ended up breaking his heart without a single care in the world.

And for this entire month, you’ve been slipping from Eddie’s hands, but this is the time that he’s actually felt it. He feels dizzy and sick and so angry with himself.

“I— well, how do you feel?” Eddie asks.

It’s like time slows as you gaze up at Eddie, eyes filled with so many words and uncertainty that Eddie has only himself to blame for. “I don’t know.” You softly reply.

Eddie says nothing as he stares back, gently nodding as you slink your arms around yourself, “I don’t know, Eddie. I’m… I don’t know this side of you— and that’s not to say I don’t like or want it, but— but what happens when we get bored without the chase?”

Eddie’s heart breaks.

“When?”

Your eyes fall shut, and you shake your head, “That’s not what I meant–” “But that’s what you said.”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. You know what I mean, Eddie.”

Eddie scoffs as he steps back, “No, Birdie, honestly, I don’t. I’m actually, like, really fucking confused right now.”

Your face twists in defense and your eyes glint with something that Eddie can’t quite put his finger on, and it makes him want to scream. “You seriously can’t be upset with me for being hesitant on this, Eddie.”

Eddie looks at you, pauses, and holds his breath before shaking his head, “No, I’m—” He steps forward, “I’m sorry. I’m not upset.”

Your lips are pulled into a frown as Eddie reaches out to softly skim his knuckles across your elbow, silently asking for you to stay open for him. “I’m not upset with you.” He repeats.

You don’t step closer or move away, and Eddie takes that as a win either way. But before either of you can say anything else, Eddie is being whisked away with his assistant and promising to finish the conversation afterward.

You don’t see Eddie for the rest of the day, and for the first time, it’s not Eddie’s fault but yours.

You regret to admit that the small dispute you and Eddie had caused you to spiral within your thoughts, and you spent most of the day holed up in your room packing, writing, pacing, and thinking until you exhausted yourself. On a good note, though, the day passes quickly, and before you know it, you’re making your way down the Madison Square Garden backstage halls.

You’ve walked these halls enough to know your way around by heart now, so you don’t have trouble finding the dressing room. The usual small group of ladies that stand outside are there in their Sunday best for the show finale, passing a blunt between each other— and you don’t even notice the missing leader of the group until she’s storming out of the room.

“Fuck you, Eddie!” She turns to yell into the room. You watch from a few feet away, stunned and slightly terrified. She’s beautiful, even as mad as she is now; her red hair is styled in bouncy curls that jump and jolt with each wave of her hand, her heeled boots clicking on the ground with each stomp of her heel. She steps into the room, pointing at someone who you can only assume to be Eddie, but the door obstructs your view, “I knew you before you had a single fucking dime! If you think for one second she’s gonna stick with you through all of your bullshit rock and roll facade, then you’re wrong!” She snaps.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Kenny, please get rid of her.” You hear the familiar grumble of Eddie’s voice. Kenny, the security guard by the door, steps forward and ushers the angry woman away from the threshold. “Don’t fucking touch me.” She snatches her arm from his hold, and Kenny lifts a hand in surrender, “Look, I’m gonna have to get you banned from the building if you don’t leave. Make my job easier, please.” Kenny replies in a bored tone.

The girl scoffs with a roll of her eyes before turning around and storming down the hall, her posse quickly trotting behind.

You don’t hear the usual chatter in the dressing room, so you’re slightly suspicious as you walk up, kindly smiling towards Kenny as he lets you in. The door shuts behind you, and you take in the empty room, void of the usual hustle of band members and staff.

“Kenny, I swear to god, if it’s another groupie, I’m gonna fire you.” You hear Eddie say from the ensuite restroom. Eddie doesn’t notice you as he walks into the room, busy ruffling his hair up for the show and walking toward the vanity, “I already told you who to let in.”

Finally, Eddie lifts his head, a cigarette hanging from his lips as his eyes brighten when he sees you through the vanity mirror. You smile, shifting in your spot as Eddie whips around to look at you, “Hi.”

Eddie’s eyes widen as he takes in the view, eyes raking over your body as he blindly snuffs out his cigarette on the wooden vanity, face stunned as he walks over to you, “What the fuck?” He lowly says.

He’s reaching out to loop his fingers around your wrist and bring you closer, eyes traveling further and further down your frame, “What the fuck?” He repeats.

“Eddie,” You groan. “Where the fuck have you been hiding this, princess?” He exclaims.

“It’s nothing. Stop.” You grumble, but Eddie only shakes his head, “Nothing? Are you insane?” He steps back, hand wrapped in yours as his teeth dig into his bottom lip, “Let me look at you, come on.”

Your dress is black, tight, and form-fitting, with an off-the-shoulder neckline and a puffy lace hem matching the long sleeves' scrunchie endings. Two thin black straps hug your shoulders, tauntingly digging into your collarbones. The dress stops just above the middle of your thigh, leaving little to the imagination—- much in Eddie’s favor. Below the dress peeks out a black garter belt, two shiny silver clips winking at Eddie as they hold up your black thigh-high stockings. Your feet are held in shiny black stilettos. Sex.

Eddie nearly whimpers.

Eddie wants to sink to his knees, push up the skirt of your dress, and stuff his face between your legs. He wants to make you cum on his tongue until you’re pushing him away and begging for a break. Wants to feel the nylon stretch of your stockings scratching up against his ears as your legs clamp around his head. God, Eddie wants it, he wants it so fucking bad.

You smell sweet and taste even sweeter when Eddie presses his lips to yours, practically swallowing you whole— he would if he had the choice. Your lips split into a smile against Eddie’s, breathily laughing as he blindly leads you to the vanity, walking until he feels your body softly thud against the counter.

Your head drops back, chest rising and falling with a sinful glisten under the vanity lights as Eddie drags his tongue all the way from your shoulder to your chin before smashing his lips back onto yours, fingers curled around the base of your neck. Wet, hot, and heavy.

Your lips curl against Eddie’s mouth, hips grinding against him, “S-should I be concerned about the angry woman that just stormed out of here?” You lowly ask.

Eddie laughs, smearing his lips against yours, teasingly flicking his tongue into your mouth, “Definitely not. Good fucking riddance.” Eddie can’t wait to tell you all about how he learned about Lany’s money-greedy actions that led him to the page of every tabloid with a false girlfriend.

You fail terribly to hold the snort that rises in your throat, and Eddie cuts it off with his mouth, swallowing your hums as he presses his body into yours.

“Want you.” Eddie needily whispers. You whine, fingers curling against Eddie’s roots to draw a throaty groan from him. “Need to have you, baby—” “I— wait, wait, wait.” Your hands are pressing against Eddie’s shoulders, and god, Eddie feels lightheaded as he pulls away, blown-out eyes blinking down at you.

You huff, squirming against the counter, breath heavy and bated as you reach down to tug your dress down, “We need to talk.”

Eddie swallows, running a hand through his hair as he gazes at you— and fuck, he’s so hard, and you’re so pretty, and Eddie thinks he might bust just looking at you.

Still, Eddie blinks through the thick fog of arousal and nods, taking a moment to not-so-discreetly adjust himself within his pants.

Ever the gentleman, Eddie offers you the seat at the vanity, but you only shake your head, and well— fuck, Eddie just wants to get back to kissing you so he doesn’t fight it. He hops up onto the chair and gazes at you as you lean back against the vanity, fingers fidgeting with one another.

You’re avoiding Eddie’s gaze, and Eddie doesn’t like it very much, so he distracts himself by lighting a cigarette, but it does little to aid him in distraction when the words slip from your mouth.

“I think we need time away from each other.”

Eddie’s looking at you like you just told him you killed his dog, and you hate that you start feeling as if you’re wrecking everything when you know— when you both know— this is the best thing for the future.

The unlit cigarette between Eddie’s lips is removed and tossed to the side as he blinks at you, shaking his head with a confused and hurt expression, “W–what do you mean?”

You slink your arms across your body from instinct, mentally pushing yourself to stand on the rocky island you’ve built— because even though you want nothing more than to cave and throw yourself into Eddie’s arms and start over, it’s not right. You didn’t start on a good note, and it’s unfair to yourself or Eddie to avoid fully acknowledging that just because of your intense pull toward one another. You both need time.

“I don’t understand.”

“Just so we can have the space to figure out what we want and need from each other, you know?”

Eddie runs a hand over his face, “Is this about what happened earlier? Because I was being an asshole, I know, and I’m sorry, but just give me a chance–” You shake your head, stepping closer to Eddie and running your fingers over his wrists, “No. No, that’s not what this is about— I mean, it might’ve spurred it on, but it was on my mind before that.”

Eddie’s face twists in defeat, “I want to fix what I did, baby, just give me a chance.”

You push his long bangs from his eyes, “I am, Eddie. I promise I am. But I need space— we need space.”

Eddie doesn’t even look at you, and your heart aches. “Everything’s been so quick, Eddie. It’s only been a month, and there’s been so many emotions—”

“That’s bullshit, Birdie, and you know it.”

You tense at his harsh tone, “Excuse me?”

“You said when,” He reminds you, “When you get bored. You really expect me to believe you ‘just want space’? You’re scared.”

Your eyebrows dip in anger then, eyes narrowing at the man in front of you as your chest tightens, “And you’re not?”

“Yes!” He exclaims, ringed hands flailing in exasperation. “Yes, I’m fucking scared, obviously. I never would’ve fucked up this bad if I wasn’t scared.”

Your eyes are brimmed with tears, and you’re beginning to think maybe you shouldn’t have even come tonight. Maybe you should’ve just left without a single word and made Eddie hate you all over again. At least the foundations of your relationship were solid and clearly stated then.

How could everything have gotten so confusing in such little time?

Eddie notices your shifting demeanor and breathes, rubbing his eyes and smudging his eyeliner. You fight the instinct to reach out and fix it for him. “Okay, so… you want time apart.”

You nod, fingers twisting amongst themselves. Eddie turns his rings around his knuckles as silence cracks down on you both. Eddie swallows, eyes catching yours for a split moment, “Okay.” He nods.

You want to sink your hands into his and tell him you’re hurting just as much, wanting him just as much, but if you touch him now, you’re afraid you’ll never let go.

“It’ll be good, Eds.” You softly say.

The curtain of his hair obstructs Eddie’s face, but through the tiny windows, you can see the twitch of pain that flashes across his features. “Are you staying for the show?” He asks, eyes trained on his busy fingers, rings glistening in the lights. God, you want to give in to him so badly.

You shift in your spot, clearing your throat and blinking away tears, “I’ll never leave if I do…”

As if on cue, Kenny opens the door and pokes his head into the room, calling for Eddie to notify him of the running clock. You and Eddie only speak through gazes for a split moment, and you both know if he stays any longer, neither will leave this room. You only have enough strength to nod towards the door.

You can’t even watch Eddie leave. Because watching Eddie go seems to be the recurring theme of the month— but now, you’re sending him away— and it hurts. You were so close yet so far away from justice.

The dressing room is vast and holds Eddie's phantom presence and smell, and you can’t seem to hold the silent tears that end up soaking your cheeks. You can hear the distant screaming of fans, the loud booming of the opening to a song, and deep down, you understand that if you don’t leave now, you’ll end up in the crowd, there’s no doubt.

You don’t recognize the opening song for tonight, but you hear the words and Eddie’s voice crystal clear— tugging you back with every step you take towards the arena's door.

My head is haunting me and my heart feels like a ghost

I need to feel something, 'cause I'm still so far from home

Cross your heart and hope to die

Promise me you'll never leave my side

…..

So, you can drag me through hell

If it meant I could hold your hand

I will follow you, 'cause I'm under your spell

And you can throw me to the flames

I will follow you, I will follow you

The song echoes in your mind from the time the door slams shut to the moment you step into your cold apartment in Michigan, and it never stops.

————

part twelve

————

a/n: OHHH PLS DONT HATE ME IT HAD TO BE DONE AND IM SORRY THIS IS ON NEW YEARS EVE !!! these two will be back for one more round of fun in 2024. ok let me shut up before i start saying all my sob shit

as always, thank u for reading if you've made it this far and i appreciate any feedback, ILY AND I HOPE YOU ALL HAVE A BEAUTIFUL NEW YEARS, STAY SAFE PLS <3

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn @mossiswriting @kellsck @joannamuns9n @siriuslysmoking

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jonesy-and-max · 1 year ago

Text

part 15: Synchronicity

Max let out a heavy sigh, bouncing his foot as he sat on the ground, his back against the brick. Both of his hands were buried in his hair, his fingers intertwined.

“I fucked up so bad, dude.” He said out loud, mostly to himself, but if Louie wanted to respond, he wouldn’t be opposed.

“How come?” Louie chewed on one of his drumsticks.

Max scrunched his nose and opened his mouth in disbelief. Maybe he was opposed to Louie responding after all. The kid wasn’t exactly known for his worldly and wise takes on interpersonal relationships.

“Are you joking? I messed around with Gina, Jonesy’s sister!”

“Oh!” Louie laughed, “Yeah, that’s crazy, man! Why’d you do that, she’s such a bitch.”

“Hey!” Max jumped to his feet and flicked Louie’s earlobe.

“Ow! Hey!”

“Don’t call her a bitch! She’s not a bitch!”

“Yes, she is! That’s, like, her defining feature.”

“Okay. Maybe she is a bitch. But, like, she’s dope, too. You don’t even know her.”

“HA-HA you like herrrrrrrrrr,” Louie taunted Max, pointing and laughing, “What a poser!”

Max flipped him off and knocked his hat off his head, “Grow up, buttmunch!”

“Hey!” Louie tried to catch it, but failed, “Don’t take it out on me. I was the one that got us this sweet ass spot in the line.”

Max whined and crossed his arms, returning to his spot against the wall.

Louie brushed the dirt off his hat and returned it to its rightful place on his curly head. He looked at Max with a furrowed brow, but quickly softened as he could see his hero was actually upset.

“Did you guys…like, actually…” Louie jammed his pointer into his fist, he couldn’t restrain the cheeky smirk on his face.

“Stop that!” Max smacked his hands apart, “No! Not really.”

“Not really? What does that mean?”

Max rolled his eyes and pulled Louie in closer, “We made out, like, hard, and kinda dry fucked,” Max made two fists and ground them against each other, “Until it wasn’t so dry anymore.”

“Awesome!!”

“It was awesome!” Max and Louie high fived, “But now Jonesy fuckin’ hates me, dude.”

“Hey! No, dude, no way!” Louie wasn’t going to let that kind of talk stand, “Jonesy does not hate you!”

Max wiped his nose with his sleeve, not making eye contact with his young friend, “Why wouldn’t she?” He was desperate for any liferaft that he could hold onto, but he wouldn’t allow himself the satisfaction of his guilt being relieved, at least not by his own hand.

“Because! You’re Jonesy and Max! You guys are special…You’re everything!” Louie threw his hands in the air, “There’s no way she would throw away all that you guys have over this.”

Max allowed himself to look at Louie, the smallest of hopeful smiles touched his lips.

“Plus, there’s no way she’d give Gina the satisfaction of breaking you guys up.”

He was right, Jonesy would rather die than let Gina win. The smile grew slightly. Max patted Louie on his shoulder, grabbing it and giving him a loving, appreciative little shake.

“Thanks, dude. You’re right about that for sure.” Max chuckled. He had been given a small glimmer of hope and that was enough for now.

Louie knew he had done good. A big goofy smile spread across his face.

“I’m always right!” Louie winked, probably, underneath all that hair, “When are you gonna figure that out?”

Despite Max’s personal crisis, opening day marched on. The doors opened, tickets were bought, and the Chain-Slaughter faithful stampeded into the lobby of Dreamland Theater. Max, for the moment, forgot his troubles in the fervor, and rushed alongside the mob in a desperate bid for choice seating. Louie broke off, as planned, to obtain one large popcorn and a medium Cherry Coke for Max, nachos, a large Mountain Dew, and a hotdog with ketchup, mustard, and relish for himself.

Once in the theater, the savagery was on full display. The best row was in absolute turmoil, one larger fellow in the worst Edgar Salt cosplay Max had ever seen had a teenager with greasy blond hair in a headlock, while another teen climbed over the burly assailant. The costumed wannabe wrestler swatted at him like a desperate King Kong. Towards the middle, two goth girls had lifted a bespeckled, scrawny, nerd above their heads as he scratched and clawed, throwing his popcorn around. The popcorn fell around everyone’s heads like rain as another man attempted to lay across three chairs. In the farther back seats, two patchy bearded men had each other by the throat as a woman attached herself to the fatter one’s back, sinking her teeth into his plaid covered shoulder. These scenes repeated themselves all throughout the theater as Max headbutted a pimply teen in the face, clawing his way onto the back of a seat, leaping on all fours across four hefty Slaughter-heads, and diving into an open seat slightly too close to the theater screen. Here he would make his stand. He whipped off his jacket and used it to save the open seat next to him for Louie. Out of the carnage a man crawled, pulling himself in Max’s direction, his shirt torn, his elbows bruised, a soda straw sticking out of his ear. He reached for Louie’s saved seat. Max went on all fours and snarled, gnashing at the beleaguered ghoul, almost distracting him from the interlopers behind him. In one quick motion, Max scooped up the waifish weeb from the floor and tossed him, crossbody at the oncoming invaders. Max stood on his upholstered territory, one foot on the seat the other atop the back, and howled. The fiery flash of madness in his eye, his tongue hanging free, and his fang in full display, he looked back and forth at the encroaching masses begging them for flesh and blood.

“You want some?!” He taunted with unhinged glee, “Come get some!”

His gambit successful, the attackers turned to find less fearsome prey. His territory staked out, Max dropped to his seat and kicked both his feet up into the saved spot to his left.

“Hey, Jonesy!” Max looked to his right, “Did you see -” The rush of excitement drained from his body. He was alone. “Oh…right.”

The battle exhausted, treaties were signed, and borders were drawn. Few would forget what happened there that day, whether through tale or trauma. Max waved to Louie as he entered carrying the delectable provisions in his overstuffed arms. Louie handed Max his popcorn and soda and dropped down into his saved seat.

“Aw man, we’re so close to the screen, you couldn’t get anything better?”

Max scowled, icily, “I got what I got.”

Louie sighed and shrugged, “I guess it’s fine.”

Max rolled his eyes and dipped into his popcorn. Louie took a big bite of his hotdog and a big slurp of his Mountain Dew.

“So,” Louie leaned over, “I’ve only seen Chain-Slaughter 2, you think I’ll get what’s going on in this one?”

Max tossed a piece of popcorn towards his mouth, his sudden shock causing him to miss, hitting himself right between the eyes. His eyes wide with disbelief, he froze, motionless, before turning his head slowly to look at his diminutive movie date.

“Eh,” Louie shrugged, “I’ll figure it out.”

Max lifted his glasses and held his face in the palms of his hands, groaning.

The lights finally went down and the audience cheered and hollered with excitement. Louie bounced up and down in his seat, kicking his feet, nearly knocking over his nachos. Noticeably subdued was Max, as he feigned a big smile for Louie, who turned to look at him as the previews began to play. As much as he wanted to enjoy the experience and lose himself in the world playing out in front of him, it was just no use. Every time he thought of a particularly spicy heckle he impulsively turned to his right to share it with Jonesy. Instead he was greeted with an increasingly uncomfortable middle aged man with a handlebar mustache. Louie was only exacerbating the situation, unable to sit still in his seat, something behind him would catch his attention, constantly turning around to look behind him at the audience, which caused him to miss moments in the movie, which then led to him asking Max what he missed. And on and on it went, around and around. Finally, about a half an hour into the flick, Louie realized he had finished his soda, hot dog, and his nachos.

He leaned over to Max, not quite whispering, “I’m out of snacks, I’m gonna go get a popcorn, you want anything?”

“Nope!” Max hissed, trying to restrain his annoyance.

“Be right back!”

Max sat alone in the theater, surrounded by laughter and joy, excited cheers and horrified gasps. He had seldom felt so alone. Finally, he had had enough. Louie had been gone now for almost fifteen minutes, and he wasn’t going to sit there, miserable, by himself any longer. Max rolled the top of his bag of popcorn and made his way out of the theater, leaving behind the delighted screams and whoops of the dedicated audience.

As he made his way to the lobby, the mystery of Louie’s disappearing act had been revealed. He was guzzling more Dew, locked into a game of Time Crisis 2 in the lobby arcade. He held in his hand the neon blue plastic gun attached to the game, dodging and weaving imaginary enemies, lost in the onslaught of the virtual world.

“Max!” Louie caught his pal from the corner of his eye, “Have you ever played this game?? It’s fuckin’ mint!”

“Yeah, dude,” Max rolled his eyes, “Hey, I’m getting out of here.”

“What??” Louie never took his attention away from the game, pulling the trigger manically, taking out five more bad guys, “How come??”

“It’s just…not the same without Jonesy.”

“Aw,” Louie wasn’t super paying attention, but did his best, “That sucks! I hope you feel better!”

“Huh?” Max raised an eyebrow, “Sure, whatever, man, thanks.” He shook his head, giving him a sarcastic thumbs up.

“Hey!” Louie called after him, “You got any spare quarters??”

Max pretended he couldn’t hear him and exited the theater. The night had grown cold, with a chilly breeze that caught him by surprise. He wrapped himself in his jacket, took out his beanie and pulled it over his head. He tossed his leftover popcorn in the trash with a defeated sigh and made his way to his van.

He couldn’t help thinking about Jonesy. Without him by her side, who knew what could happen! She was completely exposed, no one was there to watch her back! She could be in a ditch somewhere, dying, calling his name, asking “Why, Max? Where were you when I needed you?” He picked up his pace. Maybe she hadn’t left for the SIlver Mine yet. Maybe there was still time! He began to run. Picking up speed until he turned the corner into the parking lot. He was so deep in his thoughts when he made that turn, he was caught completely off guard by what he encountered next.

“Fuckin’!!” Max yelped in surprise.

Leaning against his van, finishing a cigarette, wrapped in the teal and purple of a Charlotte Hornets Starter jacket was Gina Jones. She raised a judgmental eyebrow as she watched Max spin around and clutch his chest.

“What the fuck dude!” Max swiped at the air, “You scared the shit outta me! What are you doing here??”

Gina took a last drag of her butt and flicked it away, stomping towards Max. Max took a step back, his eyes darting back and forth in panic. She gave him a shove and start raining smacks down all over his chest.

“Hey! Ow!” Max tried to defend himself, “Quit it!”

Gina growled and continued the onslaught, her little hands pummeled him all over his leather jacket.

“Okay, okay!” Max retreated, “I surrender!”

“Fuck you, Max!”

“Fuck me?? What’d I do??”

“This!” Gina pointed to the very light bruising near her right eye, “Is your fault!”

Max moved in carefully, lightly put his hand underneath Gina’s chin and moved her head so he could get a better look.

“Who did that?”

She slapped his hand away.

“Lindsay! She went completely psycho on me!”

Max couldn’t hold back his bemused delight, “Bwahahaa! Why?? Cause we made out??” The idea of it all just sounded so ridiculous to him. He shook his head in astonishment.

“Yes, numbnuts!”

“Bwahaha!” Max put a hand on his belly as he laughed. He never could’ve predicted in a million years how this day played out. The absurdity of it all seemed to hit him all at once.

“It’s not funny, you dirt!” Gina stomped her foot.

Max wiped the tears from his eyes and composed himself, “Oh, come on, it’s at least kind of funny!”

Gina launched into another barrage of smacks.

“Okay, okay!” He implored through snickers, “You’re right, it’s not funny!” A smirk still on his face.

Gina backed off, “She thinks I only made out with you to, like, fuck with her. To mess with your friendship and stuff. She thinks I’m messing with you.”

“To be fair, you’ve done some shitty things to Jonesy over the years.”

Gina pouted, looking off to her right at nothing, “She didn’t have to hit me.”

“I think you’re lucky all she did was hit you.” Max chuckled.

“Eat shit!” She flipped him off and stormed away, heading back to her car.

“Hey!” Alright, he may have pushed a little too far, Max admitted to himself. He jogged after her, “Hey, Gina, I’m sorry!”

Gina stopped and turned around as Max caught up with her.

“Was it bullshit, Max?” Gina’s face softened, she looked up at him with clear eyes, vulnerable to whatever would come next.

Max opened his mouth, no words came out, he closed it again. He furrowed his brow, took a deep breath and sighed deeply. His amusement gone now, he looked into the beautiful, earnest, honey brown eyes of the girl in front of him. Max was a man of feelings and impulses, not so much one for words. Expressing his feelings through eloquence was a skill he lacked, and he was fully aware of this shortcoming. He took Gina’s hands and gently pulled her closer to him. He noticed how cold her hands were, he wondered how long she had been out here waiting for him. He held them firmly and brought them to his chest to keep them warm.

“It wasn’t bullshit.” He smiled. “I really like you, Gina.”

She looked down and smiled.

He leaned in, almost whispering into her ear, “I just thought you hated me this whole time.”

She looked into his eyes, “I do hate you.”

Max chuckled, closed his eyes and touched his forehead to hers. They both opened their eyes and kissed. Gina met Max’s height on the balls of her feet as she reached for his lips. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up, their lips never leaving each other. He set her back down and took her hand again.

“Max…” She began, “Is this, like…something?” She asked, scared of the butterflies in her chest and the yearning beat of her own heart.

“I want it to be…”

Gina’s stomach twisted into a knot, “...But?”

Another heavy sigh escaped Max’s lungs, “Every bone in my body wants to just…” He searched for the least disgusting words he could think of, couldn’t find them, instead for once erring on the side of his better judgment, “...But I need to think about my friendship with your sister. It shouldn’t matter, but it does.”

“Yeah,” She sighed, “I know. Look, I guess I get it. I’m not trying to fuck you guys up. I’m really not.”

“Dude, I know I'm not exactly a genius or whatever, but I’m pretty good at detecting bullshit,” He gave Gina’s shoulder a playful little push, “I mean, you made out with me at, honestly, one of my grossest moments ever. I was covered in pepper spray, snot, spit, and puke! And you still wanted a piece of this.” Max gestured to his stocky body.

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Gina stuck out her tongue.

“If you were gonna mess with me, there have been quite a few better, less barfy, moments for you to do it!”

Gina laughed despite herself.

“I’m still pretty rank actually,” Max sniffed himself.

“You don’t get to touch me again until you shower.”

“Don’t try to change me, baby!”

Gina rolled her eyes and laughed with Max until they were left with the silence of the parking lot and the night sky.

“So.” She posed.

“So…” He agreed.

“Now what?”

“I dunno,” Max held himself and bit his lip, “So like, for now, let’s just chill.”

“Okay.” Gina smiled, and agreed with a maturity she had never experienced before.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay!” Max smiled and took her hand in his. “Maybe we can hang out sometime, take it slow. Just the two of us?”

“Like a date?” Gina softened. “Or whatever.”

“Or whatever!” Max couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

Gina laughed, Max’s warmth could be infectious, it was hard to stay even annoyed with him for long periods of time.

“Hell yeah, dude!” He lifted her up and spun her around, she giggled and kissed him as he set her down once again.

“Oh, what the fuck is this happy horseshit?”

The familiar mocking tone of Farley suddenly cut short Max and Gina’s moment. With the steady clop-clop of chunky heels on pavement, Farley emerged from the frosty October night. Greg slithered behind her, kicking a trash can over as he followed in his counterparts steps. Her joyless laughter assaulted Max’s ears like nails on a chalkboard, he winced and clenched his fists.

“Am I seeing this right, Greggy?”

“I think it’s Jonesy’s mutt and her little sister swappin’ spit in a parking lot,” He lifted his aviators for a better look, “But that can not be right.”

“How about the two of you fuck all the way off before I fuck you off.” Max snarled.

“What does that even mean?” Farley snorted and cackled with Greg.

“Come a little closer and I’ll show you.”

Gina looked on, a puzzled expression on her face, before transforming into realization, “Holy shit, you’re Adriana Farley! From Italian Wedding!”

“Oh shit, the kid’s got taste! Are you sure you’re related to Jonesy?” Farley crossed her arms and cocked an amused eyebrow.

“I'm going to your show tomorrow!” Gina was, admittedly, a little starstruck.

“Don’t encourage them.” Max growled through his teeth.

“Now, I see Mutty Max, but where’s Jonesy?” Farley looked around, “Did she finally take my advice and kick your loser ass to the curb?”

“What the fuck are you even doing here, I thought Chain-Slaughter was for idiots, or whatever.”

“Oh, it definitely is. We just got out of The Chamber and noticed this display going on.” Farley lied, “I couldn’t help myself, I had to get a closer look.”

In reality the gruesome twosome had very much intended to see the new Chain-Slaughter, but arrived too late to score tickets. With no other plans, they had been sitting in Farley’s car for the past hour, drinking Zimas and smoking Newports. Greg had recognized the sound of Max’s voice and suggested they go fuck with him.

Farley and Greg circled the couple like hungry hyenas. They smiled with bared teeth and watched them with hungry eyes.

“It’s just as horrible as we thought.”

“It’s actually worse up close.”

“Smells worse, too.”

“Did you shit yourself?”

“You smell like shit.”

“Are you into that, little girl? Homeless losers who smell like rank-ass shit?” Farley turned her attention towards Gina, “The very thought of putting your mouth on that…” Farley shuddered and pantomimed puking, “Willingly!”

“Willingly!” Greg echoed.

Farley and Greg stopped circling, standing in front of them, blocking their path to Max’s van, they laughed in braying hysterics.

Gina looked from Farley to Max and back to Farley, taken aback at what was going on, “Okay…I think that’s enough.” Gina had actually been excited to meet the lead singer of Italian Wedding, and was willing to look past the intrusion into her moment with Max, but now she was crossing some lines.

“Shut the fuck up, skank.” Farley scoffed, annoyed at her presence.

Gina’s eyes went wide, “Skank??” Lines had most definitely been crossed.

Gina may have been small, but the Jones temper was always alive and burning on the inside. She tried very hard not to engage in fights, she never wanted to be seen as a freak or a punk, like her sister. She hadn’t wanted to fight the Jennifers, it would have made things even worse for her in the long run at school. Would she have loved nothing more than to punch Jennifer C. in the throat? Break Jennifer K.’s new nose? Of course! And here was this bitch, practically begging for her to let it all out.

Max recognized the fire in Gina’s eyes, “Oh, that was a mistake.” He chuckled.

“I don’t make mistakes, I’m not your mom and dad.” Farley and Greg laughed at Max, proud of her cruel joke.

“You actually made two,” Max cracked his knuckles, “Number one: Jonesy ain’t here to hold me back, and numero dos: you just fucked with the wrong Jones sister, pal.”

In a beautiful display of synchronicity, Max and Gina swung both of their right legs back, and with all the force of a defensive midfielder for the JV women’s soccer team, planted their feet squarely between the legs of Farley and Greg. Max’s foot greeted Greg’s unsuspecting balls with all the anger and frustration that had been building inside of him all damn day. Gina’s steel-toed Doc Martens took a one way trip, at top speed, to its destination, finding Farley’s groin unprotected and unprepared for a clit-shattering, dead-on, cunt punt from hell.

The look of surprise and horror on both of their faces was, to Max, a work of art, but the real joy was what came next. Greg, naturally turning towards his master for a reassurance that would never come, released a torrent of gurgling puke that splattered all over Farley’s face. Worst of all, the blow between her legs came as such a surprise, she had gasped, unfortunately for her, at the same time Greg’s lunch had found its way back from his guts.

Farley screamed, her knees on the pavement, clutching her groin with one hand, while the other desperately wiped the barf from her eyes. She spit Greg’s vomit from her mouth as she began to gag and retch. Greg, meanwhile, could only cry and cradle his shattered balls, rolling in the puddle of his own puke. Max gave Greg a swift kick in the gut for good measure.

“Hey!” Max realized, “I won a fight!”

“Thanks to me.” Gina flipped her hair in Max’s face, “Hey, Farley,” Gina grabbed a handful of Farley’s hair, forcing her to look her in the eyes, “This is for my sister!” A textbook right cross knocked Farley on her ass, leaving her to gaze blankly into the night’s sky.

Max picked up Greg’s aviators off the pavement, snapped them in two and handed them to Gina. She tossed them over her shoulder, grabbed Max by the lapels and pulled him in for a kiss.

#opening day #story #oc #original story #ao3 #writing #original characters #ao3 writer #wattpad #clerks #90s #nostalgia #videocore #Jonesy and Max

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firehousewithaview · 2 years ago

Text

6x11 Reactions as I Watch

A collection of the disjointed thoughts I had about the episode as I watched it because I had to watch it over the course of a few hours instead of in one go

(under the cut because it got long)

The huddle omg

Buck making Daniel vaguely bitter is insane, I’m sure that means nothing

The Big Bear picture in Maddie’s living room ahhhhhhh

Jee into G

HOLY SHIT DOUG

credit where it’s due, the Buckley parents came to the hospital this time.

Buck’s face the whole time Doug is talking is priceless

I WANT TO KNOW WHY THEY CALL HIIIM CHIMNEY

Why arent you married

HE STOPPED BREATING WHEN HE HEARD ABOUT BOBBY

buck has now been struck by 2 random acts of nature

THE PARENTS NEVER ENTER THE ROOM

Albert I am begging you to leave Chim alone

The rewritten history lesson thing makes sense but I hate it (post to follow)

CHRIS INSISTED

had to pause to cry jfc that scene hurt, thanks Gavin. honorable mentions to Ryan and Aisha who were also great

on a lighter note, I will now picture all of buck’s problem solving process as if he has a mental Chim and Hen talking him

Mom brought 2 you brought 1 brb crying again

Peter Krauss has murdered me and I am thanking him

Buckleys still wont enter the room ugh

Because there was never a doubt in Buck’s mind that Hen and Chim would help him if he asked them. cool cool, I’m gonna be so normal about this

Oh man that hallway chase scene was not great for my brain but man did it do its job

Oh peter, turns out you will be killing me multiple times tonight, I’m so ready

I WAS NOT READY OH NO

Athena really said I will mom you back into consciousness and if Buck were any further in his process, it would have worked

The montage of memories ahhhhhhh

COLDPLAY Fix You how dare you

Chim <3

I’M ALWAYS GOING TO FEEL GUILTY FOR THAT ONE

Oh. I have too many bitter feelings about the Buckley parents to be satisfied with that. I’m going to pretend he was speaking solely to the parents that could have been. Moving on.

I have a family... not the same one I have here, YES SIR YOU DO

Oh the buckleys entered the room finally. Just for what might have been the end. I’ll be back to look at symbolism later

Daniel being a manifestation of his self hatred who

OHHH we’re getting some Dr Jekyll Mr Hyde action, love that

Oliver, please play more villains, I’m begging you. for science

FOR ME AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

The way maddie doesn’t look surprised while his parents do, I am going to chew on a brick

2 pizzas lmao

hahaha yeah, lets talk about his traumas please. it will only take like a full season of just him

The doctor looks. so fucking done. like, seems very done with him already.

EVERYONEEEEEE

Once again I point out that the Buckleys? Not in the room. Even when random other guy was (who I want to know, please) Oh wait there’s 2 of them? tell me who you are please

Awwww they’re playing cards when he didn’t with his dream family (there’s a whole cant count in dreams thing that was big in Sterek that I’m co-opting here for personal reasons)

Bobby was different because his usual method of giving Buck advice and letting him decide was going to be too slow, this is my personal headcanon now

‘It’s better here’ where he actually gets to have the dad he chose and who chose him back

Mmmmmmm if Chim wants to fix things with his dad, fine. I will not be satisfied until they duke it out in some way shape or form. And I mean them, not Albert or Myung or anyone else. Them.

I have to give Kenneth Choi props, the realization look he gave us there makes me think there’s some interaction we didn’t get to see that was... important

awwwww, Jee calls him Pop Pop

‘she called me funny’ alright I can see them being related lol

I’ll take that. It wasn’t forgiveness, it was an open hand.

‘I’m getting you a couch’ no, you’ve been here like less than three minutes, please at least pretend you have respect for his boundaries

oh god they’re staying

awwwwwwwwwwww the birthmark kiss!!!1

But I’m putting my money on ‘it’s kinda nice’ turns into ‘please fucking leave’ really fast.

Personal issues with the directions the Buckleys seem to be going in, this episode was really good!!!!!!!!!!!

Final thoughts: EVERYONE WAS AMAZING, GOOD JOB

#911 spoilers #firehouse gossip

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batsinurbelfrey · 3 years ago

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#A musical artist ever get so deep in ur brain it like makes you wanna rip up ur walls and chew on copper wire or-#is that just me #i am UNWELL #im MAD #im yelling im screaming im spiritually throwing bricks through windows #i hate the lack of free will that comes with hyperfixation #like it sparks joy. as fixations do. but MAN its like WHY DOES IT ALWAYS FEEL LIKE MY BRAIN IS HOLDING ITSELF AT GUNPOINT-#[ S C R E A M]#im gonna strangle Devil Borealis and Tori at the same time #i have Two Hands #when im done with them its YT music's turn for sneaking that in my shuffle and not TELLING ME it was HIM #music rambles

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katyasrussianaccent · 4 years ago

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you're so golden (corpse x reader)

Summary: You're a faceless youtuber that sings cover songs. What happens when a certain faceless streamer slides into your DMs after you cover one of his songs?

Author's Note: Don't hate me! This was gonna be a cute chapter but then I decided against that. Credit to @moontwinkles for the spilling scene idea. Let me know what you think!

Masterlist

The sound of your alarm wakes you from your slumber with a suddenness. Bleary-eyed, you roll over to turn it off, letting out a small sigh as your body and brain start to awaken. You’re going to meet Corpse. You’re going to meet Corpse. It bares repeating in your mind; the prospect still not quite registering.

You haven’t had the greatest sleep, your mind racing most of the night; skittish little thoughts that had you tapping your toes on the mattress in agitation as you struggled to turn them off. Sunlight streams through the cracks in your blinds, a warm glow painted in stripes on your wall. It was going to be a good day, tiredness be damned.

You get up, stretching your arms out as wide as possible and relishing in the relief as your muscles unclench themselves. There’s a little spring in your step as you walk to the bathroom, to wash your face and brush your teeth. You aren’t nervous as you pick out your favourite outfit, instead you feel excited. It’s funny how little scraps of fabric and thread can impact your mood so much, but you smile at your reflection, the feeling of confidence is nice, albeit rare.

The rumbling in your stomach signals that you need to eat something before you leave. Nothing too fancy, just some toast and a glass of juice. You can feel the nerves start to grow a little, the food sits heavy on your tongue, forcing you to swallow it. You grab your phone, scrolling as you chew. You go onto Corpse’s twitter, smiling at the picture he’s posted.

Out of curiosity, you go onto his likes. You always find his likes interesting; the random things he’s added gives you more of an insight to his thoughts and feelings. You chew the inside of your cheek as you scroll down past girls with perfect skin and bodies; your previous confidence now feels a little misplaced.

Deciding against letting it ruin your mood, you close the tab and go to grab your bag before locking your door and heading to your car. You text Rae to let her know you’re leaving and she replies almost immediately to wish you luck. Sitting in front of the steering wheel, you exhale as you start the engine and begin to drive. This was really happening. When Corpse had asked to meet, you were shocked. While you had discussed it, you had been under the assumption it would be a while before it happened. You just hope you don’t make an idiot of yourself; a tendency you had when you were nervous.

While you love the city, there’s something about driving on the open road. No noise, just the sound of tires on concrete. The scenery remains the same; nothing but trees and the occasional house far in the horizon. You’re meeting him in Santa Barbara; a place you’ve been to once in your life, so it might as well be brand new. It’s halfway between both of you, and while it’s still a few hours drive, you’ve got good music and some sunshine to keep you happy.

The drive flies in and before you know it, you’ve arrived. You’re meeting at a cafe that sells bubble tea; it was Corpse’s recommendation. It’s a charming little place, with white table and chairs on a cobbled patio area. The building itself is white brick, plant pots decorate the window sills and there’s a small crowd of people waiting in line. You turn off the engine, and grab the perfume out your bag, the smell of peaches invading your nostrils. With one last look at yourself, you exit your car and make your way to the cafe.

You’re not sure how you’ll find him, being faceless and all. A quick scan of the people around you, your eyes zero in on a figure dressed all in black, leaning against a wall that’s slightly in the shade. There’s butterflies in your stomach as you look at him from afar, your feet apparently unable to move on their own accord. He stands out amongst the brightly coloured outfits of everyone else, and you can see the sun glint against the chains on his jeans.

“Hi,” you greet, your hand going up to half-wave at him. He’s handsome; pale skin and cheekbones that disappear under the fabric of his mask. A mop of black curls are atop his head, falling out in different directions, and he brushes one off his forehead as he looks at you.

“Hey,” he replies and you smile a little. There’s a thick fog of awkwardness between you as you both take each other in, though trying not to look so obvious about it. You feel under scrutiny as his eyes move over you, and you meet his gaze before you both look down at the ground, a faint blush on your cheeks.

“How was the drive?,” you ask at the same time he does, causing you both to laugh. “Oh. Uh yeah it was good, thanks, how was yours?”

“Yeah it was good,” he replies, his eyes still on the ground.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

You scream internally as your eyes dart around, looking for something, anything to break this awkwardness. It shouldn’t be like this, you have such great chemistry on the phone and online, but there’s nothing right now. Is it you? There’s a niggling in your brain that says he was fine until now; until he saw you.

“We could go, uh, into the cafe? Get some food?” he suggests, breaking you from your self deprecating thoughts. You nod and you follow him to the door. He opens it and you dodge out the way as it narrowly escapes hitting you in the face. Corpse mutters an apology as he walks in, his eyes glued to the ground.

You order together; you get yourself a boba tea and a burger and Corpse does the same. He pays without saying anything to you, and while the day’s isn’t going quite as you pictured, the gesture makes your cheeks warm. You desperately hope it gets better. Maybe you’ve misread the situation and the chemistry you felt you had was just friendship on his part. Friends flirt all the time, and it doesn’t have to mean anything.

Your food arrives and you sit in relative silence as you eat. The times you do speak is stilted, full of one word answers and obvious observations. You go to reach for your boba as Corpse goes to grab salt, and the movement of his hand plus the crampedness of the table pushes your own hand back towards you, knocking the cup all over your neck and chest. Corpse shoots up in a speed that shouldn’t be human, his hand full of napkins as he comes towards you. The liquid is cold against your skin, and you look down to see your outfit now ruined, the fabric sticking to you in wet patches.

“I’m such a fucking idiot, I’m so sorry,” Corpse says, his tone panicky as he dabs at your neck. He continues to dab, his hands pressing at the neckline of your top and if this was another time, you’d feel all fluttery at his hands on your skin. But it’s not, you’re uncomfortable and the day has sucked so far and all you want to do is go home. He discards the napkin onto the table and grabs another, his fingers warm against your collarbone as he presses the tissue. He doesn’t realise that he’s travelling downwards to your chest before he presses once, twice, before retracting his hand back like he’s been burned, the napkin falling to the floor. “Uh fuck, sorry, I didn’t realise I - “

“It’s fine,” you reassure him. “I’ve always wanted apple scented boobs, guess I can check that off my bucket list.” It’s a failed joke but humour is a defence mechanism for you, even if it’s not very funny. Corpse widens his eyes a little, his gaze fixed on the napkin that’s on the floor.

He hands you some more napkins and you clean up a little more. Your skin feels sticky, and you smell of artificial apple; but the apple isn’t sweet, it’s bitter and slightly unpleasant.

“Uh, I should probably go home and get a shower, I feel like I fell into a vat of sugar,” you say, standing up and grabbing your bag.

“Oh, yeah, I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so clumsy,” Corpse replies. You can tell he feels awful, and while you sympathise, he’s not the one that’s just had almost a full cup of boba spilled on him.

You shake your head, “It’s fine, really. I just feel really gross. Don’t worry about it.” You smile in what you hope comes across as reassurance.

“Let me walk you back to your car,” he says. You nod and walk out together in silence; something you had gotten used to throughout the day.

“Have a safe drive back,” you say as you get to your car.

“I will. Let me know when you get home?” he asks, and you nod.

“Shall do. Goodbye Corpse,” you say, opening the door and waving at him through the window. He waves back and you watch him through the rearview mirror as he disappears out of sight. You feel like an idiot for believing this was going to be good, like you ever had a chance with him. You’d been saying it since the start; that it wouldn’t work, you had nothing in common, nothing to talk about. And you were right. Sometimes you hated being right.

You turn the engine on and sit there for a second, your head pressing against the steering wheel. What a waste of time this was. Grabbing your phone, you tweet quickly.

“Oh well, let’s go wallow in self pity,” you whisper before driving off.

Taglist: @genshinglitter @fanworrior @cherry-piee @mirahg @clara-bee @clubfairy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @more-like-reyna @boiled-onionrings @moneybagmgk @brendalopez99 @delicateavenuenacho @dreamsofficialwife @hydrate-tion @oi-itsemily @letsloveimagines @softforqiankun @evilunicorns4minions @captain-willowwitch @afuckingunicornn @theroyalbrownbarbie @buttersnitzle @officiallyunofficialperson @aha-red @frostbitelokii @butterfly-skinnylegend @sofianunes10 @ghostfacefricker6969 @alienvarmint @helena-way07 @woah2pointo @jasmine2042003 @youhyakuya @adore-holland @hyunjinhugs @finahja @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker @only-corpse-hands @remugoodgirl @gowhiteboygo-poggers @open-minded-chip-101 @daveedfanfics @justakpopstans @majasophieanna @mxjetlagcity @strawberrydonkey @meowtella @lizzylynch1 @chesca-791 @anescapefromtheworld @unded-bride @majasophieanna @adorkably @lost--in--the--moon @euphoricseokjin

#my fic #corpse husband #corpse #corpse x reader #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband x female reader #corpse husband x yn #corpse husband imagine #corpse x yn #corpse x you #corpse fic #corpse smau #corpse imagines #corpse x y/n #corpse husband fic

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sio-writes · 3 years ago

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A Botanist’s Guide - Chapter 3

Chapter 2 can be found here

Cassie

I know I have to go back eventually. My phone is there. But my anger is carrying me further and further away from the greenhouse.

Am I really as bad as he says? Messy, inconsistent, lazy? He didn’t actually say I was lazy, but the implication was there. I wipe away the stupid, fresh tears falling onto my face. Maybe I am all the things he said. That would explain why I'm being audited at all.

I hate this. I hate feeling like this. Like I'm not good enough for anything. Like I can't hold up under the slightest bit of pressure. I've never seen myself as a strong woman, raising her arms in defiance against a system meant to beat her down. No, I'm not a good person.

It's only been a week and I'm already crumbling. I can't do this anymore.

I hear Jillie calling my name behind me. "Cassie! Cassie! Cass!"

Great, I'm going to be crying in front of her. It's nothing she hasn't seen, but I hate it all the same. I feel weak, pathetic. I have to be strong, or at least pretend to be. Otherwise, what's the point of being here?

"Cass," Jillie says softer, finally catching up to me. "Jesus, you walk fast."

"I'm not going back in there," I say.

"I didn't say that," Jillie says, voice soft and soothing. She trots up in front of me and slows to a stop, stopping me as well. She rests delicate hands on my shoulders. “You need to calm down first. Take a deep breath with me."

I shake my head. "Jillie I'm not in the mood."

"Come on," her face is set in a serious expression. "One breath. It'll make me feel better."

I eye her tiredly. I'm really not in the mood for this. I want to go home, rip open a bar of chocolate, and shower this whole day away.

Instead, I take a deep, shaking breath in.

"There we go," Jillie says, and I know she means well, I really do, but it just sounds patronizing.

"Can I go now?" I ask, annoyed.

"One more," she says. Her voice is soft, like she's calming a wild animal.

I take another shaking breath and okay, that helps a little.

"I can't go to Diana," I say. "She'll tell me to suck it up."

Jillie opens her mouth to retaliate, but clicks it shut again and chews her lower lip in thought. "Yeah, she would." Then her face lights up; she's got an idea. "So we can't sack him, what else can we do?"

"Ignore him," I grumble.

"You tried that. Think again. It starts with a 'C'."

She's trying to lead me somewhere, but the adrenaline rush from storming out is starting to fade. It's leaving me feeling tired down to my bones. I want to jump into the Olympic-sized pool at the gym and sink to the bottom. "Jillie, I can't do this right now."

Her mouth sets in a hard line and her brows pull together. "Communication, Cass. You need to talk to him."

I groan, wrenching myself out of her grasp, and start walking away again. "Again with this, Jillie? He already doesn't respect me, what's he gonna think when I grovel at his feet?"

She keeps pace with me. "You're not groveling. You're telling him that his input makes you uncomfortable and angry."

"I shouldn't be feeling anything around him! And I'm not--" I stop, and Jillie runs into my back. I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. "I'm not doing that."

I'm not telling Kri that he makes me feel like shit. I'm not expressing myself in front of him just so he can throw it back at my face. Stephen did that more times than I can count and it's not happening. I'm not making myself vulnerable in front of someone who's going to use it against me.

I sniff hard, feeling the sting of tears. Again. God damn it.

Jillie sighs as she steps around me, and I feel her hands rest over my arms again. She rubs her hands comfortingly, and I can tell she's waffling on what to say next.

Jillie's always been good with words, I'm the one that's good at actions. Normally, we make a great team. She's the idea lady and I'm the one that pulls it off. But we run into pitfalls like this and it's like hitting a brick wall.

"Come on, we need to go back," Jillie finally says, gently steering me around and pushing me back towards the greenhouse. "Like it or not, we're stuck with him."

And I can't argue that.

Jillie manages to push me back into the greenhouse and, to both our surprise, it's empty.

"Huh," I say, trying not to feel too excited. It's finally quiet, no scratching pen, no weary sighs, just the sound of the water pump outside.

Jillie pokes her head in behind me. "Oh, he left. He's just as bad at this as you are. Where do you think he went?"

I shake my head. "Don't know, don't care." The empty greenhouse fills me with a new resolve. I have room to think. I can finally get some work done. Part of me is worried that Kri will come back with some new audit or a higher-up with a reprimand, but another, bigger part of me is screaming to seize the moment of clarity and be productive.

I grab the small pot of dirt I was aerating before I left and turn to Jillie. "Come on, we've got a lot of work to do."

***

Kri

After Dr. Rowland storms out, I immediately take off towards the Biology sector of the outpost, questions buzzing in my head. Why was that outburst different from previous ones? Was it the location? Why was she crying?

My associate, Hles'ari, will know what to do. They have always guided me on my interactions with humans, and they haven't been wrong yet. They are my resident Human Expert.

My wings are fast, and after a few minutes I reach the biology building. I fly up to the fifth floor, hoping Hles'ari is in their office, and I knock on the window. I cannot see inside, the reflection from the sun is blocking my view. I can only see myself, and at the moment I resent my reflection. I have made a grave mistake. I made Dr. Rowland upset, in a different way than before. It was acceptable when it was for the sake of the experiment, but this time was more personal, visceral almost. I heard the sound of her crying as she exited the greenhouse.

I assumed her frustration with me had been for the better of the experiment, but now that I’m reflecting, perhaps the ends didn’t justify the means. She bolted before I could make sense of her facial expression, and Dr. Masters told me if I made Dr. Rowland cry that she was going to "kick my ass." The phrase is something I'll have to ask Hles'ari about, but I understand what tears mean. And I hate that I made Dr. Rowland so unhappy.

I'm also aware that humans are masters of deception and sarcasm, so Dr. Rowland may have been lying. Was her outburst another sarcastic commentary on my work?

The window pops open and Hels'ari's head pokes out. They greet me in our mother tongue, "Asxu, have you been there long?"

I shake my head. "Only a moment."

They open the window further. "Please, come in."

I hover inside and land on the hardwood floor of their office. I'm glad to be in their company again, it's been too long. Ari is blunt with me, they will give me the truth of my actions. They are…uncomplicated.

"Are you busy, Ari?" The shortened name falls off my tongue, and I feel tension fall along with it.

Ari tilts their head. "I'm about to break for a meal, walk with me."

We exit their office and walk down the hall. "Are you alright?"

I glance at them, then back forward. The human hallways in the laboratory tend to be small, but some of the newer buildings have been adjusted so we may walk two abreast. I'm not used to having so much space.

"I was hoping for some advice." And I tell them of the past several days. How my initial meeting with Dr. Rowland went so poorly it still makes me shudder, how when I attempt to correct her she refuses, and of this whole morning. I leave out the parts where I feel deep shame for making Dr. Rowland upset, but Ari has always had good intuition.

We exit an elevator and walk through an open breezeway. I'm glad that we're speaking in our native tongue, it at least allows for some privacy as we're passed by dozens of humans also heading to eat.

"She turned red, Ari. I thought she may be ill."

Ari's eyes widen in surprise, the first reaction since I began talking. "And then you took off?"

I nod. "Directly to you." It seemed the best course of action at the time, as I had no idea how to respond. I'm not good with strong emotions at the best of times.

We've reached the communal cafeteria, and Ari stops at the entrance, secondary hands on their hips. With a primary hand, they smack the side of my head. "Asxu, you idiot!"

Their smack doesn't hurt, not physically, but I rub the side of my head all the same. "What?"

Ari stalks away, shaking their head and muttering under their breath. "Stupid, stupid male…" They angrily stand in a line for food, both arms crossed as they refuse to look at me. "Half your knowledge has fled your stupid brain."

"What?" I repeat. I have no idea what made them react like that, but if it's something I can fix, I want to know. "What did I do wrong?"

"Everything," they say, shaking their head. "You're without wings in a storm. I'll tell you when we sit down."

Their response makes my stomach lurch. I don't fear for my relationship with Ari, ours is stronger than the tides, but I fear I made an egregious error with Dr. Rowland. I need to think over the past week, but my mind continues to focus on this morning. Should I have gone after her and clarified myself? Perhaps my reaction was not the best, but I don't know the protocol for human confrontations. They change with the environment, the very human involved. I wish there was a guide to read. Dr. Rowland's anger I could deal with, brush off and move past, but this new emotion of anger and tears? I am not equipped to handle it.

Ari is quiet as we obtain our food and find a booth. One glance at me has them shaking their head again, and I feel my nerves light up with anxious energy. "What?"

Ari levels me with a glare. "You need to apologize."

"Agreed. For what?"

Ari takes a stab at their meal, some mixture of greens and fruit, and points at me. "You insulted her intelligence, you undermined her at every turn, you may as well tell her you think she can't handle the experiment."

None of that had been my intention at all, but it doesn't matter. I cut into my food, a large baked root vegetable with spices, and the flavor is sweet on my tongue. "So she was not lying?"

Ari shakes their head. "The opposite. That was raw emotion you saw. Very hard to fake. And you ran off."

I hunch low in my seat. Running off is the reaction of a fledgling, one who doesn't know how to handle things. Someone like me. I frown at my plate, shame sinking its claws into my chest.

Ari continues, "When humans turn colors and get upset like that, you know they're being honest."

I look down at my meal. "I was unaware."

"Well now you know, and now you need to apologize." They pause around another bite. "A proper apology."

"For making her turn colors?"

"For running away and being, as the humans say, a total dick the past several days." They say the words in English and it sounds harsh following our language. "And based on what you've told me, I can guess this whole time you've been making her feel miserable."

A stone settles in my gut and my secondary hands wrap around my midsection. "I was only trying to help."

Ari shakes their head again. "You've been correcting her. That's two very different things for humans. Correcting is for when you have assistants. But this situation with Dr. Rowland? You hold some power over her, but she is not your underling."

My mouth sets in a grim line. I knew humans weren't fond of being told what to do, but I didn't know to what extent. I assumed such feelings would be pushed aside for the sake of the experiment. This position I've been awarded as Auditor was thrust upon me, and Dr. Rowland's case was my first. I knew, logically, I'd get some things incorrect, but it's clear now I've been overestimating my abilities. "That explains the anger."

"Indeed it does."

"But not the tears."

Ari shrugs. "Humans cry for many reasons. Happiness, sadness, the range is impossible to pin down. But given your behavior, I'd tend towards the negative."

Silence follows as I digest this information and Ari eats. The stone that settled in my gut saps my appetite and I wind up staring at my food as it goes cold. There has to be a way to remedy this situation. Ari mentioned a proper apology, but there has to be more. I have to do better, have to be better. Dr. Rowland is a brilliant scientist and I have been making her feel like, well, not that. Perhaps it would calm my soul along with hers if we were to get along. The past week has been nothing but stressful for me as well. My remarks have turned biting, my demeanor unpleasant, and I want to travel through time and take it all back. The problem was not Dr. Rowland, it never was.

I'm suddenly struck by an idea. "What is a proper form of human apology?"

Ari pauses, examining me, then their eyes light up in understanding. "It depends on the nature of your relationship. It can be a simple spoken apology, or a song and dance." They frown and mutter, "Although that may just be a product of human entertainment."

Human apologies sound complex. I certainly don't want to sing or dance in front of Dr. Rowland. I've never been good at either, so I pray that's not the method I need to employ. Although, if making a fool of myself would make her laugh, it may be worth it.

Ari taps one of their free hands against the table in thought. "It needs to be honest. Completely. Possibly accompanied by a gift."

So many rules. "What kind of gift?"

Ari hums. "Depending on how big the error was, the gift will vary in size and complexity."

I lean forward. "So in my situation?"

Ari taps another hand on the table, a small constant rhythm as they think. "Something that shows forethought. Understanding." Ari looks into the distance, then their eyes light up with an idea as both hands stop tapping simultaneously.

"I know what you can give her."

***

Cassie

You make me feel stupid-- No, that's accusatory.

Your stupid little writing makes me angry-- Also bad. Focus Cassie. He pisses you off, but why?

After Kri left, Jillie and I measured, documented, photographed, and watered all our plants in the greenhouse. There wasn't much (or any) growth after only a week, but it still needed to go in the progress reports. We even started repotting and turning the soil on a few, something not on the schedule for the next few days.

My embarrassment had slowly faded into a sort of low-grade anxiety, a sizzling under my skin not unlike when I'm pissed off that I can only get rid of by doing something. So after all the work was done and I sent Jillie home, I started cleaning for lack of something to do. I could've gone back to the gym and boxed some more, but my muscles still hurt from this morning, so maybe it's best to, well, not do that. Instead, I've been dancing to the beat as I organize.

I also stayed back to see if Kri would show up again. I want to treat this conversation like a band-aid, rip it off as quickly as possible. My mind has been unhelpfully playing out every horrible scenario that could possibly happen for the past hour, and no matter how much I blast my music from my shitty phone speakers, my brain won't shut off. Kri laughing it off, getting angry, turning it into an argument, dismissing my emotions and reprimanding me for cleaning the greenhouse, Stephen walking in-- God shut up, brain.

I was brash and foolish where I should’ve been smart and calm. I overreacted. Our banter wasn’t anything out of the usual for us, and I cringe at thinking of our back and forth as anything normal, but I should’ve just done what Jillie had said this morning. ‘I feel’ statements, or whatever.

Whatever. Coulda-shoulda-woulda.

For now, I’m focused on cleaning.

It may seem like a futile effort to clean a greenhouse, and in some respects it is, but I tried to keep it practical. I'm certainly not sweeping the floor, but the empty pots are organized against the wall by size, the smaller ones are sitting on the table against the wall. I organized all of Dr. Karesh's test tubes and equipment, and I'm working on organizing my plants by scientific name when I hear the door open behind me. Probably Jillie coming back to check on me.

"Jillie I told you to--" I say, turning around to find not Jillie standing awkwardly in the doorway, but Kri.

“Dr. Rowland, do you have a moment? I wish to talk."

"Yes," I respond stiffly.

Now’s my chance, but my mouth won't move.

He's staring at me, and that's not making it any easier to focus. The sunlight is flickering off his exoskeleton, and small flecks of color are catching the light like an opal. I focus on one of those.

"I feel like you're underestimating my abilities and thus, my intelligence. You're insulting me." I grit out, trying to keep my gaze from wandering. My heart is pounding. "I feel like you don't take me seriously."

Great segue, Cass, perfect conversation starter.

I flex my hands, because the alternative is wringing them in front of my chest like a maiden in a period piece, and I really don't want to back down like that. The blood rushing to my face is making me dizzy. This is humiliating, and we’re the only two in the room. Kri stays silent, and I want to take one of the large pots and hide under it like a turtle until everyone goes away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kri blink slowly and his head falls to one side. Due to the chitinous plating covering their bodies, ento don't have many of the small facial muscles we humans do, so their expressions are limited to mouth movements and body language. I hear his wings twitch, a short fluttering that I know links to some kind of expression, but my mind is running in too many circles right now to parse it out. He's examining me, I can feel his gaze and my face heats up even more. God, this sucks.

“I suppose you’re right,” he finally says, and I do a double take. Did I hear him right? No biting remark about my lack of...whateverness that he hates?

Kri steps into the greenhouse, looking around while his lower arms are set behind his back. He's too far away for me to read his expression, but I can just tell he's judging my cleaning skills. So what, I'm not allowed to clean now? Is it gonna get me more marks that I touched someone else's stuff?

He stops in front of me and his upper arms clasp nervously in front of him, and I frown. That's very unlike him to be nervous. Usually they're folded across his broad chest, or planted on his hips. He's still looking around, and I realize that he's stalling.

"Well, out with it," I say, snappier than I want to.

Kri's gaze goes to my phone. "Would you mind turning that off?"

I sigh heavily and shut off the music. The silence that follows is heavy and I hate it. Uncomfortable, I fold my arms over my chest and look off to the side, hoping it acts as some sort of barrier between me and this conversation.

"I'd like to apologize," Kri says.

My gaze snaps to his, my eyes still narrowed. I'm instantly suspicious. What's he playing at? I look him up and down. "What?"

He seems just as uncomfortable as I am. He's not meeting my gaze, and his wings keep doing that fluttering thing. "My behavior, if you could call it that, the past several days has been brought to my attention as utterly atrocious. It was never my intention to make you feel unintelligent, or insult or undermine you in any way, and if I could--" Kri stops himself and inhales through his flat nose and minutely shakes his head.

"It doesn't matter," he continues. "I am sorry, Dr. Rowland."

The hands behind his back come around to the front and my eyebrows shoot up. It looks like an Elephant Bush succulent, but the leaves are spiked and the whole thing is a vibrant purple. This is a Summanian plant, and he's offering it to me.

I feel a weight on my shoulders lift, and my face relaxes from the scowl I'd placed it in. So he's not here to be a dick. That's a…very welcome change. And he seems genuinely remorseful. I've dealt with fake remorse, been burned by it before, but I don't see it here. If I refuse, not that I want to, will he be gravely offended and treat me even worse? I doubt that, and I don't think it's the ento way. The sight of the plant has a smile tugging at my lips already. He really put thought into this.

"This is for you," Kri says, looking away then back at me. "I'm offering you an, ah," he pauses, eyes narrowing. "A tree branch."

I know exactly what he means, but seeing him squirm like this is a welcome reprieve. I snicker and point at the plant. "But that's a succulent."

He winces, looking pained. Good. "No, the metaphorical kind."

"You mean an olive branch?"

"Y…yes." For the first time since we've met, he sounds unsure. It's adorable, in an awkward sort of way. I can't believe I'm teasing him and he's not getting all huffy and angry. I thought those were his default emotions.

"I'm not familiar with human rituals, so please tell me if this is insufficient. This is relatively easy to care for, but if it's too simple I have more complex plants in my home."

I look down at the little plant he's holding. This came from his place? He'd give me another if I asked? It's small, like a baby plant. The pot makes his hands look huge, his three long fingers wrap around the small cup and meet the other hand. But he's being so gentle, like with the sapling earlier. I finger one of the plump leaves, and smile at the silky texture. It's been well taken care of. "I thought we couldn't harvest Summanian plants."

He perks up. "You can't. This is a gift from one of us. It's different."

I frown, my mouth pursing at his choice of logic. If anyone were to discover this I might be booted back to Earth. It's like messing with the mail--small crime, big potential punishment. But NASA never said anything about gifts…And Kri's offering it to me as an apology.

Fuck it, I want the plant.

I reach out to take it, already thinking of names in my head, and Kri's fingers brush my hands. I expected them to be cold with the plates covering his skin, but he's actually very warm. Is it just his hands, or is the rest of him warm too?

"So you accept, Dr. Rowland?" Kri asks, and I realize he's bent over so we're at eye-level now. He's looking up at me and both sets of hands are clasped in front of him. His completely black eyes are glittering.

I look down at the plant, then back at him and offer a smile. "Yes, I accept."

Chapter 4 >>

#my writing #Exophilia #exophilia writing #monster writing #monster lover #posting a bit early since i’ve been under the weather #hope you all enjoy!#i tried to make kri’s pov sound distinct #without falling into too many ‘intelligent alien’ tropes like not having contractions #also because we’re on chapter three #i’m open to title suggestions #because i’m drawing absolute blanks #tune in next time for the exciting adventures of:#Incredibly intelligent scientists who can’t talk about feelings #A Botanist's Guide

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muffindaddystyles · 4 years ago

Text

KISMETS.

Harry Styles x fem!reader.

Slow burn, platonic love and jealousy clićhes.

Fluff! Fluff! Fluff!

Frenemies and dad!harry.

Author's Note: The concept's kinda weird but if you've watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S and Phoebe Buffay carrying child for someone. You've got it my pal!

MASTERLIST LETS TALK! PART 2 PART 3 PART 4

"Can ya stop breathing like, THAT!?" She whisper yells twisting to give him a sharp glare full of spleen elbow poking at his side abs, "Like what!?" He half squeaks peering down at her with doe eyes palms flat at sides to convey his surprise.

"Like a train engine whistling -- it's annoying." She mutters rolling her eyes and turning back to listen to instructor.

"Now, I can't even breath without ye' comin' fo' me throat?" He grits with a kink of brows and when she confirms with a no --- He gasps dramatically. It's gonna be a long journey of Hell for them. Harry hates her hormones. Little bitches.

Y/N is carrying a baby for Harry and his girlfriend --- but something went downhill.

Twinkling droplets of crystal rain pelts against the bricked road subsiding harsh noises of surrounding but a nettled groan caught everyone's attention ‐‐‐ stares turning in direction. Have you ever wanted to just disappear under a warm invisible cloak and enjoy the drollery aspects of life without worrying? Because this is what Y/N wants at the moment as she stands under the bus stop shelter with few people beside her and the british showers starts pouring mocking at her for not carrying an umbrella with her.

Everyone leaves when the bus didn't arrive — who remains behind's Y/N huffing and pouting wishing for rain to stop. When it didn't she muttered a 'fuck it' before risking catching a cold and stepping under the pitter patter with her books atop her head for less damage.

Trying to punch in the passcode of society's gate with shivery fingers perhaps it opens before that startling her wet-y self. Similar car drives near her and a head pops in from inside with his big goofy smile and crinkles by his charming eyes, "Ni!" She exclaims pushing away the drippy hair sticking to her lips with her pinky.

"Pet you're gonna catch a cold. Want me to drop ya?" Niall kinda yells over the rain's loudness. She sighs fog whirling infront of her. Shoves her hand in her trench coat's pocket to seek for heat instead it's all icky and drenching.

"No it's just a tiny walk away. I'll manage — call me will tell ya how my class went." She waves him looking at him from her shoulder while rushing away towards the most elegant house in the block. Niall gives her a thumbs up from before getting out of sight and she tries to hop over the puddles of water to make it to doorsteps.

The water she brings from outside pooling at the dark timber floor - it trails behind her past the pink door as she rushes jumpy-ly where the most hot's in the house and apparently it's more than she expected, "ouch. ouch my eyes!!" She screams covering them at the sight of Harry butt naked pinning his girlfriend against the wall near fire place. Her face turning into a tomato at the horrendous raid but she seems pissed and well . . displeased that Y/N ruined a mind boggling orgasm for her.

Before, they could disattach from eachother to unravel their humiliation Y/N jogged up to attic into the guest room slamming her forehead against the door to knock away the embarrassment. She always barges in Harry's house without announcing but sometimes she forgets he isn't alone everytime his girlfriend comes to live by every two weeks (it's his fault too that he never locks the main door as anytime anyone's coming at his place). Changes into clothes she forgets at her visits, tries to dry her hair with a towel that no-more smells like Harry but expensive fabric softeners and has a pep talk for a minute to show herself down infront of them.

Instinctive voices coming from the Kitchen and she pads towards it. They act like nothing happened. Like Harry wasn't dick deep into Chessie moments ago. Harry ushers her to barstool and hands her a cuppa tea moving on with a kiss to her head. It still gives her butterflies even though how many sense awakening scoldings she gave to herself at 3 ams.

"'M sorry." She squeaks with a wavering smile wrapping her palms around the mug. Harry cackles softly brushing the underbelly of his nose as Chessie cordinated the cutlery drawer, "'s okay moppet. we finished our business when ye' left." Y/N almost choked on her hot beverage gulping it down when Chessie shocked gasp throwing little socksies that were laying ontop of the counter at Harry. Are those of toddler? Adam's out of town so there's no way it could be his daughter's socks. Maybe Chessies's one of friend's?

"Should've called me t' pick y'up. Niall was loafin' around too —- wear it you're turnin' blue, pet." He comes back with a swarmy chunky knitted sweater Anne gifted him at his birthday handing it to Y/N and sitting opposite of her pulling Chessie with her wrist into his lap clearing his throat to bring Y/N's attention back from eyeing the socks on the floor. Her eyes flicker between them chest tightening at the love and glow that radiates from Harry when he looks at her.

No. She's not jealous. Mightyyyy bit yeah –- cause she could never be this lucky to have someone as Harry. He's the most caring towards her since ten years been her compass to the home she wanted, her anchor saving her from sinking and the sixth sense of a blind to her. In fact she thinks he's her soulmate and not every soulmates needs to be romantically involved some could watch them growing beautiful in love. Y/N's doing it. Admiring the maturity of his life with the person that truly makes him enough---or she thinks so.

"How was ye'r meditation class?" Harry asks (she took a semester off as she was unable to haul the burden'; Harry convinced her how her health should be her first priority) breaking a cookie in two giving half of it to Chessie who thanks him with a kiss in return, "Was good been feelin' great!" She chirps pulling the sleeves of the sweater that's drenched in cinnamon vanilla-y smell with lingers of what comes of as Chessie's scent. She assumes they cuddled shit loads.

To subside the gnaw in her brain down she finally asks the question pointing at the sock that nobody gave a heed to pick up, they stop chewing looking at eachother to come up with something. Chessie's face distressed knowing Harry wouldn't hide it from Y/N. He tells her everything and sometimes it could be too personal to share.

"Erm. . I bought 'em — 'cos. . " Harry stammers and Y/N smacks her hand atop her mouth avoiding from giving a shocked reaction, "Oh my goodness ye' guys are pregnant!?" It was enough to make Chessie flinch and hike down Harry's lap.

"No! 'S not what ye'r thinkin'." He shakes his head making Y/N confused. "Then you bought it fo' your fingers? Cause that's the only body part it could fit." She teases him to break through the insight tension around and he chuckles shaking his head grabbing Chessie's hand rubbing her knuckles how he used to when Y/N's anxious and over the edge.

"We want to have a family." His words low as he looks at Chessie but she shrugs in return as 'in it is what it is'. Y/N stomach twisted at that. The thought that one day He's gonna have a family of his own and the little bubble that Y/N would be privy to made her throat dry. Because she has no-one despite Harry and he deserves the whole world not just baby keeping Y/N everytime.

"So . .? What's the problem?" She raises her brows looking between them noticing Harry's fingers fiddle with the flower tea mats, "There are complications from Chessie's side." Chessie sighs in disappointment and Y/N ponders over the idea, clocks working and spindling wildly in her mind.

"I could do that for you guys — since I took a semester off --–" She puts the offer nervously and both of their jaws went slack Harry with an adoring grin while Chessie in hitting shock. "--Erm we could go through a traditional surrogacy."

"Are you sure?" Chessie asks squeezing her shoulder and Y/N nodded taking both of their hands, "Anything for ye' guys!" Harry's eyes glossing over and he leaves his spot sprawling his arms calling for her, "Gimme a hug pet. Life saver ye're - we're gonna take care of ye." They group hug tightly and excitedly.

Sometimes actions could speak much more than words because the lies that words hold could ruin the great bondages.

. . .

They went through the medical procedure two days after Her, Harry and Chessie being guided by their acquired doc. She was nervous and sweaty but Harry's presence beside her soothed out any negativity that was building inside her brain. By womb the babies would be Harry's and Y/N but legally Chessie's and Harry. She's just wishing that everything goes alright cause that happiness of them is million worthy to her.

People might call her stupid and brainless for going through sickness, crankiness, back pains and the pain during labour just to give those babies to someone else (she's too afraid to call them her's cause she knows her emotional attachments could be very destructive) but she loves Harry and love makes you do those thingies.

At the moment she's on the toilet seat eyes bolted shut counting threes with the pregnancy test in her wavering fingers. "Please it better work." A squeal of surprise leaves her lungs when her eyes fell over the two positive lines quickly dragging her panties over she tumbled outside where everyone's waiting for her.

"You guys are pregnant!!" Sounds dumb right? She announces loudly. Harry's and Chessie's heads perked up while everyone cheered beers spilling from the rims. She flashed grins to each one of them splitting her gaze away from Harry giving Chessie a celebratory kiss.

"Thank you. Oh my god, love! Can't belive it." Harry held her from shoulders giving her a toothy smile and it puts her off that Chessie didn't say anything just a nod along Harry. "Me too." She breathes out as he leads her to sofa sitting her cautiously. "We'll visit the doctor tommorrow." He reassures popping his head from Sarah's neck as she hugged him tight.

"We're gonna have a little Y/N and Harry running and pooping it's nappies soon." Everyone went silent. A grimace on Y/N and Chessie's face. Niall doesn't know when to shut up does he? Y/N's gonna strangle him alive. Harry laughed out aloud not caring about the thick tension in room, "I'll rip ye'r hair if you'll turn me baby into a golf freak Niall." His baby.

Niall raises his hands in defence, "No guarantees Harold."

. . .

They had a check-up and Y/N indeed's pregnant. Harry's over the moon. Kissing her forehead. Thanking her for millionth time – to the point she told him to let her watch telly in peace and shut up. Chessie bringing her organic vegan dishes that Y/N isn't a fan of but eats nevertheless under Harry's stern gaze. "'S not about them only I want ye' to be healthy too, pet. Can't be selfish now can I?" He'd insist.

When she'd be sick he'd be at her side giving her back rubs while Chessie stood at the doorframe of washroom. Y/N thinks since she's pregnant her womanly instincts has gotten more sharp as she sensed something's off between the pair.

He'd be at her flat early morning waking her up to have a morning walk with him not giving in her grunts and whines. Who'd want to leave their crispy warm bed to just be out in the cold? A fool like Harry only. Making her brekkie afterwards as a reward giggling and massaging her shoulders when she'd gobble down food like a greedy squirrel, "Easy there love. 'S all yours."

Chessie's back at LA. They had a small argument because Harry wants her to be participating in all of this as much as he's. But, her priorities are not set for this. They never were.

Y/N was at Harry's place nibbling onto chocolate cupcakes Anne sent specifically for her with a note ("my grandchild shouldn't be privy to their Nana's bakin' skills all my love to Y/N." along a winky smiley) when she spilled cold milk all over her nooked tee-shirt. Harry gave her his clothes to change into and baby wipes but she warded him with a scoff that water exists. She has become more feisty with each passing day.

Was discarding the tee when her gaze fell over the sveltest of bump in the mirror taking her breath away. It makes her realize it's all real. She never touches her belly in fear if she'd she will never stop. Now, when the pads of her fingers skim alongs the skin it strips shivers down her spine. She always wanted this. Not in this scenario though. Shaking her head of the thoughts she slips Harry's hoodie over it climbing down the stairs and it causes Harry to snap his head in alert. He stops chopping the carrots spinning to see Y/N standing feet away from him.

"My baby bump's showing." Her voice almost a whisper and it widens Harry's pupils as his hands fell in air midway between them hesitant to reach her, "Can I see?" She bobs her head shyly cheeks blazing red while revealing the bump for Harry to see. It's not like he hasn't seen her before. He has. But, this's more intimate than all of that. It made him fall on his knees. He's a sensitive person in general. Pure from heart but during this period it seems like he's pregnant not Y/N which's quite amusing too.

"She's beautiful." His gaze full of adoration. "She?" Y/N furrows her brow with a smile. He bobbed his head with a grin, "Think so our baby's gonna be she." Now that's the problem cause Y/N doesn't know which ours he's talking about.

"My pregnancy instincts says it's he." He scoffs, "Bet!?" She rolls her eyes forwarding her fist to do the hand shake they do while betting, "If you loose your pink macbook gonna be mine." They solid the deal with their traditional shake.

"Can I touch it?" Harry's asks politely. When she gives him permission he spreads his warm palms flat against her tummy tongue tied with the affection boozing in his veins for the baby that's not out in the world yet. Y/N eyes flutters and her fingers twitches by her sides from carding them into his hair. This's wrong she scolds herself. Her hormones all over the place.

"You wanna send a picture to Chessie?" At this his lips thinned and he gave her a curt nod standing up to fetch his phone, "Sure. But she might be busy..." on the verge of spitting his words in vile.

. . .

Y/N was reading a crime mystery book. Stroking the side of her baby bump carelessly. Cosy in her blanket hoodie telly murmuring in the distance. "Your dad's taste in books is shit, innit?" She peers down with a smile. It's the first time she's talking to them. "We'll read loads of good books together so that when you'll grow up – I could know what to gift you on Christmas." She tries to grab more popcorns from the bowl but it's empty. "Wanna be best aunt out there!!"

"Will you miss me? As much as I'll when we'll be separated?" Tears well up at her waterline. She huffs through her nose running her hand down her belly several times. It's coming; the breakdown she was toiling for days. "I know it sucks I cant be your mommy." Her cravings kicking in and all she want's a strawberry oreo icecream.

"Oh no. Seriously? I'm sad and ye' lil bean want an ice? Let's call your daddy and see what he got." She rings him and he picks up on the third one. Voice groggy from the sleep. She wants to feel bad but she isn't when all her taste buds could think of is strawberry flavour.

"'M cravin' strawberry ice-cream bad. . . Is it possible for ya to bring one?" He's already throwing duvets off his body reaching for his phone and wallet, "No worries pet I'll be there in tick."

"What the fuck Harry? It's three in the mornin'." Chessie groaned from beside him throwing pillow at her face. "We already stored her fridge with alot of food — " She squints about to change the side.

"She's carrying a baby for us Chess. Ye should know better since ya didn't wanted to." She sits up like bullet folding her arms against her chest.

"Thank you for throwing it at my face, H." He doesn't even spare her a glance walking outside and Chessie wants to scream at the top of her lungs. Why did she even agreed to this?

. . .

When he bought her ice-cream she throws herself in his arms kissing his cheek and he giggled in return feeling good when her bump pressed against him. They ate ice-cream with a bantering mess discussing names of the babies, the one that Chessie and Harry decided, him telling her about the little onesies they bought hearing that Y/N stood up taking out a little bag from the chests of drawers.

"I hope you wouldn't mind." She mutters showing him the lil knitted gloves and Harry slid his palm above her's wrapping them snugly, "I don't want ye' to think ya can't love on 'em 'cos after all it's ye'r womb they belong too." Her lip wobbles at his words and she stuffs her face against his chest fisting the hem. It fred away butterflies inside Harry. He sucka his lip. He shouldn't be acting like this. He has a girlfriend that he's gonna have a baby with. They're happy or atleast he thinks so.

They've been bestfriend for years and those feelings never drowned him. Is it because now she's having his babies? Maybe? Harry tries to convince himself.

When he looks down Y/N's drooling onto his shirt deep into slumber. He pecks her hair slipping his arms under her to hold her firmly against his chest. Laying her on the bed tucking her under blankets.

. . .

It sounds like multiple thuds as doctor hovered the ultrasound device over her gelled cover belly. Her belly growing way faster than it should. Her gaze glued at the ceiling fingers crossed. Harry and Chessie holding hands tight gazes fixed at the screen both of them confused at the disoriented image. They all were on the edge of their seats waiting for their turns. Y/N wished that someone could give her a huge warm hug to soothe her nerves down. But, in the first place she shouldn't be worried about the gender as it's none of concern but theirs. It's getting hard day by day.

"It's twins!" Doctor announces chirply getting a wave of silence in return. But, soon the room filled with happy giggles and gasps of Harry as he went to hug Chessie who's expressionless from shock. Y/N pouts wishing it was her. Smiling at doctor when she squeezed her hand in consolation. She's frightened though. How could she deliver two babies? To deal with the roughness that comes along them? Gonna be pretty hectic.

"We hit a jackpot, innit?" He grins down at her kissing Chessie's cheek last time before leaning down to hug her. "Gonna be super carin' with ye' now." Y/N gives a pat to his back in return awkwardly eyeing as Chessie left the room hastily.

. . .

It rakes against the wood harshly as Chessie glided keys of Harry's house towards him without a word. He puts the baby guide book aside arching his brow, "I can't do this anymore. I want an out." Dread. Seeping down Harry's bones.

Guarding himself down he grits, "What do ya mean you want an out? We agreed with full consent of yours Chessie." She shakes her head furiously.

"I didn't sign up for two of 'em Harry I could barely be there for one!!" He puts his elbows on his knees head lowering, "But you wanted to have a family with me didn't ye'?" His eyes tearing and she throws her head back in annoyance finding it difficult to make him understand.

"No. No – No. You wanted a family! Because of your continuous protests I gave in. Told you I wasn't ready for all of this bullshit now we are here." She emphasises. Harry stands up from his seat towering her pointing a finger at her.

He's rageous. Could burn this house down. How could she be so mean? Cowarding back at the last moment.

"Don't call it bullshit." He spits full of venom for the woman he mighty love and she snaps her head other way, "Congrats she finally ruined us and couldn't be more happy – now that she's having your mother fuckin' babies." He stumbles back knocking the coffee table lungs congesting.

"Don't drag her in all of this she's innocent." She laughs ironically looking him square in eyes yelling like a maniac, "Gave her your sperms now you can't hold back from fucking her. I knew it. You were fucking her behind my back weren't you?" She thinks of him like that? A cheater? He loved her and she always thought he was cheating her.

"Don't yell. I don't want to see ye'r cruel face when I come back home." He tries not to croak mustering strength to walk away from her. Exposing himslef to freezing weather locking himself in his car and crying his heart out. Sky crying along him. He punches the steering wheel brutally shouting "why's?" Head falling atlast as he thought of all his dreams shattering at his feet.

She caged him instead of giving him shelter. Replaced the butterflies he used to get from her with a burning hell in his pit, should've been mother of his children now she's just an ex.

The excruciating part is how he's gonna tell Y/N about this? She'll be crushed.

. . .

"Oh my god . . ." It was the roar of thunder that startled her but something else took her attention away. That tinsy kick protruding the taught skin of her belly, ". . . which one of you?" She was extra happy today. It's swimming in her head. It's just a thought but sharing it with Harry wouldn't kill someone. She wanna ask him if she could've one of the babies. It's just she's too much into the moment that she forgot she still have a degree to complete. A career to pursue and a life she always wanted.

When there's a knock at door she tries to stand up with the support of armrest a hand on her back. A gasp falling from her mouth at the sight of Harry's clothes soaked and another when he looks up with bloodshot eyes. Tears dried cheeks and heaving chest seeming utterly devastated.

"Pet what happened!?" She grabs him from elbow pulling him inside and he falls onto his knees smashing his cheeks against her showing tummy -- a sob recking through him, "Harry you're scarin' me. Tell me what happened is everything okay?"

"Chessie don't want these babies - sh-she didn't wanna ruin her career but atlast agreed . . . n-n now she doesn't want 'em 'n wants an out." He stutters. White noise deafening Y/N's ears and she steps back with expressions as if she's scared. Horrified of the future.

"It means she never had complications? She just didn't wanted her body to go through all of this." When Harry didn't fill in to her inquiry she flopped onto sofa from the shock shoving her face into her palms giving out a cry of hurt at her stupidity.

"God. I'm such an idiot!" He shakes his head crawling towards her with sad eyes and lil hiccups, "No please don'tcha say that. We'll figure it out yeah? Never wanted this t'happen." God. How bad he wants her to assure him that it'll be alright.

"You'll figure out what, huh!? Leaving them just like she did!?" Swear Harry felt a dagger jabbing it's way into his heart more upsetting tears spilling down his throat. "I hate you guys. They're none of your babies from now on. . ."

"Leave." She orders him wiping her tears roughly with the sleeve of her jumper. Running out of breath with each sniffle. Raises her hand stopping him to step forward and protest, "I said leave before I make you!!" He nods inhaling breath of remorse looking at the ceiling for a second then to her.

"Before, that want ya t'know. I still want 'em. They're mine. How could I not? love 'em. Hope ya'll forgive me." Then it's just sobs of Y/N taking over the buzz of telly as the door ticks. He didn't leave though. He's too afraid to. His back sliding against her door knees closing against his chest letting it all dawn upon him. His green luscious orbs hooding with sadness and the fluff of his curls.

Dunno if Y/N would be able to forgive him.

. . .

He woke up to a boot nudging to his thigh squinting up to find Niall stating down at him with consoling eyes. Poor Harry slept in the hallway. His neck sore and limbs stoned.

"Heard it 'lad. Was suspicious with Chessie long way." He helps Harry stand up patting his shoulders, "Y/N called ye'?" He grogs rubbing his eye with knuckles. When Niall confirms he quips with pleading eyes in a low whisper knowing he'll get his hair ripped if that furious little mama bunny will find him outside.

"Ye' think she'll forgive meh?" Niall chuckles to light up the situation, "'course H. Do ya think our pet's that ruthel—" He bites his tongue. Harry's gaze following the snap of his neck when the door opened revealing Y/N in a lilac chunky sweater. Puffy eyes and swollen lips. Harry feeling like a dickhead at her condition. It's all his fault. Then their eyes fall at the piping hot cuppa of tea in her hand.

With a stoic face she hands it to Harry and pulls Niall inside slamming the door at curly boy's face. So, she knew he was there sharing a door with her the whole night.

. . .

"Isn't it a good thing thou, love?" Niall smiles. He's chill in all of this. Watching it unwrap. They were meant for eachother Niall thinks so, "You wanted one of 'em and ended up havin' a whole bean can." She groans throwing her peach plushie at his chest. A smile swirming up her lips at his silly statement now that she's more stable less sad.

"You're the absolute worst, Ni!" He holds her cold hands tugging her close to make her look, "Want ya to forgive H. He did nothin' wrong, pet." When she pouts ruffling the silk strands of her rug with her feet he grabs her chin.

"Remember how happy he was? Don't go mad on him yeah?" She bobs her head not meeting his gaze. Meanwhile, there's knock at the door and Niall takes it laughing to himself softly at the box of doughnuts with a note.

"What is it?" He's already flopping beside her hooking his nimble finger around the white doughnut with rainbow sprinkles, "If I'd have known pregnant ladies gets treated this way. Would be havin' one baby every year." She smacks him in belly and unlatches the note reading it with a sucked lip.

Ye'r antenatal class's tommorrow. Don't forget to take ye vitamins :)

How gentle, calm and optimistic Harry could be needles her some.

. . .

Harry's waiting for her in the car fiddling with the radio. He isn't gonna lie. He's been going through a heartbreak. To cope with it he wants to accompany Y/N in her parent craft classes. When she waddles towards his car cosied up in a yellow baggy sweater and a cardigan Harry remembers she stole from him ages ago he mighty scrunched his nose in adoration at her cuteness.

Her nose pink and cheeks flushing as she slips into her seat, "Can you stop bringin' me stuff. I know how to take care of myself." She nips at him when he forwards her a kale smoothie. He doesn't seem to mind. Both, of them knows very well she's trying to avoid drinking it. She finds it yucky!

"Wanna take care of ya'll is all." He mumbles putting it in her side's cup holder. Ya'll .She regrets it instantly. Damn his puppy eyes!

. . .

"Mr. Styles and . . . Miss Y/N." The instructor calls them and they both raises their hand awkwardly as if in elementary school. "You're the parents of twin right?" She asks. Y/N wanted to say that their supposed to be parent ran off from the fear. But, she couldn't. Could never. It'll be like rubbing salt to his wounds. Bestfriends don't do that shit even in their most anger.

"Yes." She confirms. When Harry didn't. Scared if he might say something wrong. "Ok then! Lay your mats n' have a seat." Harry guides her with the little of his hand on her back. Her shoulder nudging his taut chest, and goosebumps pimples at her skin when his fingers brushes the side of her belly as he helps her sit down.

She takes an all rounder of the room and none of the parents looks like they're here to prepare for war unlike them. She shyly waves at the two mothers beside her and Harry twinges his lip equally flustered as her.

They start with relaxation and breathing exercises. Telling Y/N to let herself loose in Harry's arms. She fumbles with the hem of her sweater when his fingers gingerly winked at her sides and the lull of his breath hit her earlobe.

"Like a train engine whistling -- it's annoying." She mutters rolling her eyes and turning back to listen to instructor. "Now, I can't even breath without ye' comin' fo' me throat?" He grits with a kink of brows and when she confirms with a no --- He gasps dramatically. He hates her hormones little bitches.

It's gonna be a long journey of Hell for them.

. . .

"Are you hungry?" He asks turning the heat on knowing how cold her feet could get in the span of seconds. She huffs trying to buckle her belt and it squirms a fond smile out of him at her cute effort to be put in place due to her bump. If he'd coo. She'd rip him into tiny bits. It's better if he gazes away.

"Does it mean emptying your pocket?" She arches her brow sinking into her seat. "Bitso. . " He chuckles softly drumming at the steering wheel.

"Then I'd love to." She adds with a smirk. Clasping her hands atop her heart outta excitement. It makes him shake his poof of hickorey curls at her silliness.

They end up taking a takeout of onion loaded cheese burgers. Greasy fries. An iced-tea and a box of cookies from Babara's shop a block away from Harry's house.

"Wanna choose fo' ye'rself?" He asked her before going inside and she denied with a worried expression. Not knowing how she'll explain all of this to Babara who's her one of the good friends from UNI. Harry respects that. If she isn't ready to talk about it he isn't gonna pressurize her. They've been dodging the serious talk since she let him take to parental classes. Knows one day or another they've to decide how it's all gonna work.

. . .

Good food can make you more high than actual drugs. Licking their fingers off now they feel all sleepy and lazy sitting on the comfortable sofa watching telly with hooded eyes.

Harry's cheek smushed adorably against her baby bump ears tuned into what his babies are talking about.

"You know what? 'S not about winners or loosers. Bu' I won." She bubble hiccups slumping deeper with sugar rush hitting her. "Huh? Harry mumbles eyes drooping. The cotton balls of snowflakes glittering outside, collecting at the window and foging them up.

"I get to have babies of my bestfriend and this nice foodddd — 'n what did Chessie got? No babies and no happy feeling of being their mother." Harry shots up from his snooze blinking up at her and she quickly takes it back regret eating her alive, "'m sorry it slipped."

"No!!" He almost shouts cupping her cheeks making her look at him. His dimples deeps that someone could scoop them like an ice-cream. He gives her an eskimo kiss that makes her veins run with glittery blood.

"I wan' ye' to be the mother of me babies." No hesitation. No dithering. Just him asking for the tinsy bit of her heart. For her forgiveness. For the love they've kept blind eye for years. "We'll figure this out, yeah?" He murmurs their lips brushing and breaths kissing. Pulling back with a forehead kiss.

She lives for forehead kisses makes her shallow tin heart explode with glittery firecrackers.

She nods to give him the affirmation that she wants what he wants.

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bosspigeon · 3 years ago

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not if it's you

Prompt: Day One: Cooking, Day Two: Cuddling💕 Pairing: Mason/Male Detective Words: 3293 Summary: Mason is sick. Mason's not supposed to get sick, but magic tends to not give a shit if you're a big, tough vampire man with a reputation to maintain. A prompt fill for @wayhavensummer that I wasn't sure I'd finish, but I'm glad I decided to. I combined two prompts into one, along with the inclusion of the bonus challenge, "love languages!" Juni's love language is Acts of Service~ CW for emetophobia. Nothing actually happens, but it is discussed!

“I’m not a vampire, Mason,” Juni said to him when he clicked on the lamp on his dresser and Mason growled loudly in protest. “I’m sorry, but I can’t see in the dark.”

Mason's growl became a long, low groaning noise as he dragged a pillow over his face. It helped more than he cared to admit, being immediately plunged into soothing darkness and smothered in the warm, sweet scent of the detective buried in his pillow.

Still, he feels like absolute shit.

The illness should run its course in just a few days, from what Juni’s relayed to him about Nate’s research—since he won’t leave Juni’s apartment (he’s not going to say can’t, because that implies weakness, implies that he couldn’t even if he wanted to, and he could, he just won’t, and that’s all there is to it) until he’s well, and refuses to go crawling to the Agency when he just needs to wait things out.

If he went to the Agency, he’d just be “waiting things out” the same as he is there, only he’d be doing it alone in a stiflingly empty observation room, bored out of his fucking skull until someone decided to come poke at him for science. At least here, he’s got Juni fussing over him.

It’s sort of… nice, being fussed over.

And Juni would be fussing whether Mason was here or not. He’d probably be driving himself crazy with worry, making himself sick with it, if Mason were stuck at headquarters without him, and the thought of that makes Mason feel even worse than he already does. It’s really best for the both of them that the vampire is here, buried in a metric fuckton of blankets (because even if he feels like he’s going to burn alive, the second he leaves them the sweat cools on his skin and leaves him trembling) looking into the blank, beady eyes of a patchwork plush cat.

His entire body aches, throbbing dully from the top down, but he reaches out with a heavy arm and turns it around so it’s not fucking staring at him anymore.

Juni’s been gone for a while, but Mason can hear him over the low ringing in his ears, puttering around in the kitchen. His senses are weakened by the bizarre magical illness Juni’s likened to the flu after hearing the symptoms, but he hears the detective humming quietly to himself, smells some spices and herbs he’s too exhausted to bother identifying over the low thrum of something metallic and familiar.

Mason's stomach growls at the same moment it churns. Hungry, but the very thought of consuming anything, blood included, makes him feel nauseous.

He doesn't know how Juni managed to sweet-talk Adam into handing over Mason's blood rations for the few days it would take this sickness to work its way through his body, but it makes him faintly irked he'll have to disappoint the detective when he tells him he doesn't even think his traitorous stomach can handle it, no matter how hungry he is. Juni always looks so pitiful when he can't help, soft doe eyes and pouty mouth and genuine, heartfelt distress rolling off him in waves. Mason groans into the pillow and comforts himself by drawing another detective-scented breath deep into his lungs.

And then Juni knocks on the doorframe (of his own fucking bedroom, because he's ridiculous, and Mason's chest squeezes) and calls, "Still alive in here?" softly teasing, his voice carefully lowered in deference to Mason's throbbing skull.

He makes a rough noise and tosses aside the pillow, because the only thing better than being buried in Juni-perfumed sheets is taking in the scent of him right from the source.

Juni always looks so different when he's at home. He relaxes, softens, like a bird coming to roost. His shoulders aren't so tense, his eyes stop darting like he's waiting for an attack (something Mason noticed even before Juni was actually under attack every other week) and he just, he looks settled and safe. After the shit he’s been through, he deserves to feel safe.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Mason just awkwardly squirms his way out of the blankets to free his arms enough to reach out.

"C'mere," he grunts.

Juni laughs, and the way his cheeks curve, the way they make his eyes crinkle at the corners, makes Mason hate whatever magic bullshit allowed him to get sick in the first place with a burning fury that feels like it's immolating him from the inside.

Or maybe that's the fever.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Juni teases when Mason growls. It's not as fierce as he hoped it would be, which is more than obvious when Juni only smiles indulgently at him.

He perches on the edge of the bed and smooths a hand over Mason's clammy forehead, making a soft, commiserating cooing noise. Mason wants to be annoyed, wants to growl again, complain about being coddled, but the sound that comes out of him is not a growl, or a curse, but a soft moan. He pushes up into Juni’s hand and closes his eyes.

“You’re still burning up,” Juni sighs, sinking his fingers into the vampire’s hair and scratching at his scalp. He moans again, lower and rougher. A little awkwardly, he adds, “Nate said you should, y’know, drink something.”

Mason’s stomach turns, and he grits his teeth and shakes his head.

“Mason.”

He shakes his head again, turning his face into the pillow again when it starts to make him dizzy. He wants to break something. He feels so pitiful.

“Mason, you’re not gonna get better if you don’t—”

“You ever seen someone puke blood, detective?” he snaps. Juni’s hand retracts sharply, and Mason keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to see the hurt streaking across that soft, expressive face. “It’s not pretty,” he adds gruffly, and it takes all the strength in his flagging body to roll over and turn his back.

Juni’s quiet for a long moment, before soft fingers are sliding into his hair again,rubbing at the nape of his neck. “I had kind of a weird idea that might help, if you think you can stop pouting long enough to hear me out,” he says.

“You sure know how to sweet-talk a guy, huh?” Mason grumbles, but his body, an aching knot of sweaty tension, starts to slowly loosen up under the gentle petting.

Juni goes quiet again, and then, with a little laugh, he says, “Would it make you feel better if I told you you’re really cute when you’re all whiny?”

“How fucking dare you,” he snarls impotently into the pillow.

Juni laughs, and when Mason rolls over again to glower at him, he snorts trying to stifle it. “Do you want to hear my idea or not?”

“Not exactly in any position to stop you, am I?” Mason scoffs.

The detective pokes his nose. “Nope!” Mason nips at his finger, but his reflexes aren’t exactly great at the moment, and Juni just pulls it back with a smile. “I wanted to ask before I, like, ruined one of your blood rations for a weird experiment, but I’ve been doing research on different recipes that use blood—” “Why?” Mason interjects.

Juni flounders a bit, shoulders drawing up to his ears. “I… Well, I know you don’t like to eat human food, for good reasons, but sometimes I can convince Felix and Adam to try stuff I make, and Nate likes to eat sometimes, and I like… I like cooking for people? And I can’t really do that for you, because I know how overwhelming your senses can be, but you’ve said they’re kind of dull right now, so I thought maybe I could make, well… sort of a blood soup?"

Mason blinks at the detective.

Juni nervously babbles on to fill his befuddled silence. "If I thinned it out with a mild broth, I figured it would go down easier. And I know ginger is really strong on its own, but it also settles the stomach, and with the blood and the broth, it might help? I thought about adding some other things, but I tried to be picky with it, because even if your senses are dulled, I don't want to overwhelm you."

Mason chews it over, and even though he can tell his silence is making Juni nervous with every second that ticks by (fidgety, fussy, open and honest to a goddamned fault, a ball of nerves Mason wants to drag into bed and shield from the world) he can't really think of much to say, except, "Sure. Why the fuck not?"

"That's okay! I figured it was a long shot anyway, and—" Juni freezes, his knee-jerk anxious capitulation cutting off like he’s run into a brick wall. "What?"

"I'm already overwhelmed, sweetheart," Mason groans, and honestly, even talking is getting exhausting, his aching throat protesting every word he can manage to eke out. He wants Juni closer, wants to bury his face in his neck and hide like a wounded animal crawling its way home. "It honestly can't get worse at this point. If you think it'll help, I'll try it."

Juni still looks stunned, but is also clearly jangling with nervous excitement. Nate's used the term "puppyish enthusiasm" before when describing the way Juni lights up when he's actually able to help, and it's almost comically accurate.

Juni's bolted from the room before Mason's sluggish brain has a chance to even process the humor at the observation into a snort.

He's alone again, and if Juni were still here, he'd call what Mason's doing pouting, but he's scowling, damn it. Not that anyone's around to see it save for Juni's stuffed animals. He pulls the pillow to his chest, half-burying himself underneath the blankets again. He keeps his foggy focus stretched far enough to hear Juni in the kitchen again, making a game effort not to clatter around noisily and failing spectacularly. It's the thought that counts, Mason supposes.

It doesn't actually take all that long for him to come back, but it still feels like ages with how shitty Mason feels. He's painfully aware of every single ache in his body, radiating down to his bones, of the fever burning him up, the mutinous turning of his stomach even as it gnaws itself apart with hunger. He’s becoming so bogged down in the prison his ailing body has become, he almost doesn’t notice Juni pattering his way back into the room. Almost.

The second he crosses the threshold, Mason senses are honing in on everything they can about him, his smell, his warmth, the way his cozy sweater (it’s midsummer, for fuck’s sake, and sure the AC is cranked due to Mason’s fever, but it always is, because Juni’s body regulates temperature like a goddamned lizard and he hates the heat almost more than Mason does) makes him look soft and touchable. It takes him a long while to even notice the detective is carrying a tea tray with a bowl on it, as well as a glass of water, and when he does, he’s honestly not sure what to make of the smell.

Human food is overwhelming, usually. But usually, Mason’s sinuses aren’t swollen and borderline useless. Juni is walking as carefully as he can, and there is a palpable relief when he sets the tray down on his bedside table without incident. “I made the broth already, because I didn’t want it to take too long if you said yes. It actually smells, like, really good? Is that gross of me to say?”

Mason tries to push himself upright, and his muscles protest loudly enough that he can’t quite bite back a grunt of pain. Juni makes a sound like he’s been shot, and his hands are on Mason with an urgency that vibrates through his skin. Still, his touch is an instant balm to the vampire’s overwrought senses, his hands gentle as they ease him upright and fussily pile pillows behind him to support him. It fucking sucks to be so weak, but at least it’s only Juni seeing him like this. He can’t quite express why, when it feels like his head’s stuffed full of cotton, but he thinks it would suck a lot more if he were riding this out alone, or in a sterile room at HQ. He lolls his head towards Juni, his cheek smashing against one of a half-dozen goddamned pillows piled around him, and laughs weakly. “Gonna feed me too, Nurse Fenn?”

Juni blushes, and the usual rush of his blood doesn’t smack Mason in the face like usual, but it washes over him in a gentle wave of warmth, that tempting smell tickling the back of his tongue. “Do you need me to?” he asks, and it’s pretty clear he’s trying to make it sound teasing, but it comes out much more earnest than anything else.

Mason almost wants to say yes, but he also doesn’t want Juni to be in the splash zone if his stomach decides it can’t handle the detective’s little experiment. “Nah, I got it,” he grunts, reaching for the tray. It trembles dangerously when his shaking hands lift it, but Juni’s quick to steady it and guide it to his lap. He mutters a quiet thanks, and Juni mercifully doesn’t rib him for his uncharacteristic politeness. “You’d make a cute nurse, detective,” he says to cover the strangely loaded silence.

Juni laughs and sits on the edge of the bed, close but not quite touching. “I’m too squeamish,” he offers with a shrug that rubs their shoulders together.

“You just made me soup out of blood,” Mason says dully.

“I also have a borderline breakdown giving myself the same shot I’ve been giving myself every week for the last decade,” Juni retorts. “Do you really think I could do it for someone else?”

Mason snorts. “Probably not. Would kill to see you in one of those little dresses, though.”

The only thing protecting Mason from getting a hilariously ineffectual swat on the shoulder is the bowl of soup in his lap. He’s not even sure his current feeble condition would be enough to stop Juni otherwise. “Eat your soup, asshole,” Juni groans, covering his burning face with his hands. He peeks through his fingers after a moment’s hesitation, “And maybe I’ll show you the Halloween costume Tina got me as a joke a couple years ago when you’re feeling better.”

Mason’s whole body reacts to that, and he can’t be sure if the chill that rolls down his spine is due to the illness, or something else entirely. If nothing else, choking down some soup will be worth it, just for that promise.

The first spoonful goes down surprisingly easy. He doesn’t really taste much, at first, not even the coppery tang of blood. It’s thin, as Juni promised, so it doesn’t quite coat his mouth the same way fresh, raw blood would. Juni’s watching him with obvious concern, eyebrows scrunched together and plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. Either concern that Mason’s body is going to reject it fully, or he just won’t fucking like it. Probably both.

“It’s not too hot, is it?” Juni asks, touching Mason’s knee lightly through the blanket. He swallows his mouthful hard and bites down the urge to ask the human not to stop touching him.

“S’fine,” he grunts, trying to parse what exactly he makes of it at all. The warmth feels nice, soothing his raw throat. He takes another bite. He thinks he can sort of make out the individual spices underneath the taste of the blood and the broth (slightly watered down bone broth, he;d guess) but he can’t really smell them either. The ginger, at least, is obvious. He knows the smell enough to guess the taste, even with the complete lack of culinary experience. It’s, strangely enough, not horrible. It does taste mostly like thinned-out blood, which is weird, and gives him a sense of dissonance from the texture he expects blood to have. “Weird.”

Juni doesn’t seem to take offense to that. “Well, you’re not spewing it across the room like you’re possessed, at least, so weird is better than bad?” he laughs, squeezing Mason’s knee. “How’s your stomach?”

Mason takes a second to consider. “Not great, but not terrible.”

Juni almost deflates with relief. “And the taste? It’s not too much, is it? I can be kind of heavy-handed with my seasoning, so I tried to be really careful. It’s really only a pinch of salt, sage, and ginger, with a little bit of licorice root, which I know is kind of weird, but it’s good for sore throats?”

“Tastes like…” Mason screws up his face, realizing he has absolutely no context to work with. “I don’t know. I think I like it?”

Juni smiles like the goddamned sun, and it somehow makes his snarky little pet name for Mason that much funnier. “Really?”

Mason’s not sure he’d be saying the same thing if his senses weren’t dulled to near-uselessness by his traitorous body, but the way Juni looks, like he couldn’t be happier to be dealing with a sick, cranky vampire hogging his bed and sweating in his sheets, makes him bite his tongue. There’s always a brightness to the human when he brings food to the warehouse for Nate and Felix, he smiles so wide his face almost cracks when Adam crumples under the weight of those puppy eyes and takes the smallest portion of whatever concoction Juni’s brought to nibble on, and offers the most awkward compliment he can manage. Juni just likes doing things for people, providing for them any way he can. Food is his usual go-to, but if he can help at all, he’s happy.

I can’t really do that for you.

It almost makes Mason wish he could enjoy whatever the detective whips up in his cramped little kitchen, just to make him smile.

Christ, his brain must be more addled than he thought.

He manages a few more spoonfuls of soup before his stomach starts to feel uncomfortably full, but the gnawing hunger of going too long without drinking has gone away, and he doesn’t feel so much like he’s going to puke like he did earlier. He feels heavy, and tired, and honestly that’s one hell of an improvement. Juni’s quick to take the tray and spirit it off back to the kitchen, bending to press a quick kiss to Mason’s cheek before he goes, and when he returns, the vampire is slumped in his pillow nest and half-asleep, eyes shuttered to thin slits.

He feels more than he sees Juni approach, and when a gentle hand smooths over his clammy forehead, he pushes up into it with a raw, weak noise he has zero energy to be embarrassed by anymore. He reaches out blindly, tangles his fingers in the knit of his detective’s sweater, and tugs. He can’t be sure how it happens, a jumble of movement and complaining muscles, but Juni winds up in bed with him, slouched comfortably against the pillows so Mason can rest his head on the soft curve of his belly. The human plays idly, sweetly with his hair, twirling damp curls around his fingers.

“I’m sweaty,” Mason halfheartedly protests. Juni’s stomach rises and falls beneath his head. It feels like being on the ocean, like being rocked to sleep on quiet waves.

“I don’t mind,” Juni murmurs, thumb stroking the shell of his ear.

Before he can think of anything to say to that, he’s being pulled under, dozing off between one breath and the next.

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whitexwingedxdoves · 4 years ago

Text

a love like war | part one

Sequel to The Other Side

Pairing: Negan x Reader Pronouns: She/her Warnings: Language, Violence Summary: Despite your best efforts you just cant seem to avoid Negan A/N: SHES HERE. IM EXCITED <3 Again all the thanks goes to @jinxeee <3 Tags: @aubageddon91

“You belong to me” he whispered, catching you off guard and it showed “you always will” he added before you stepped away from the man, the confused look creasing your soft face as you reached for the door.

“Go to hell” you snapped before leaving the room, once you were outside you pressed yourself against the brick wall to catch your breath

You avoided the gardens like the plague after your interaction with Negan and it brought up some questions with Daryl, he’d grill you day after day, asking what was wrong until you had enough and told him everything. At first he was taken back by the assumption you and he were somewhat an item but he soon channelled that into anger, he hated the idea of you and Negan. He’d tell you, you deserved so much better than him and of course you’d agree. After that day, he promised to stay by you whenever you went out to the gardens so that Negan couldn’t corner you, and he thought he could get some revenge of his own by purposely flirting with you whenever the prisoner was watching. Of course his flirting was much more subtle than what you usually encountered, he’d pick you a fresh strawberry and tuck your hair behind your ear every so often but mostly he made you laugh to the point you’d forget that any one could be watching. You’d scold him when you’d get home at night but you’d never tell him you enjoyed knowing Negan would think of nothing else in his cell at night.

You felt confident walking through the gardens on your own today, you did your job checking up on people as you inspected the quality of the crops all while your face flushed red, attempting to avoid Negan’s stare. You left his section until last, thinking you could quickly get it done and leave before he had a chance to say anything to you but of course, that was too good to be true. Brandon stood over Negan as you approached but quickly dropped his weapon to his side as you did, he looked eager to ask you something “Im really sorry Y/N but I ain’t feeling all too good and there aint no one else I can ask'' You took a deep breath anticipating his question “Do you mind taking watch while I visit the doctor?” you cleared your throat before taking the spear he held in his hand from him, sending him a small smile and a nod.

“Sure” you watched as he hurried along to the infirmary, your heart dropping once you noticed you were now alone with the one man you didn’t want to be alone with.

You looked down at the man who was already staring back up at you with a wide smile, you rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to the rest of the garden. “You know when I first saw you sat on that rock, covered in all that shit” he started, pulling at weeds from the ground before turning slightly to face you “I still though, my god is she beautiful” his tone made you snap back to his direction, scoffing at his words

“Did you think I was beautiful when you locked me up in your little torture chamber?” you spat back at the man, he held his hands up defensively, his smirk seemingly disappearing.

“I never apologised for that” his tone was much softer now but you still shook your head at him

“It’s a little late for apologies now, Negan,” the man sighed at your truth, and turned back to the weeds, pulling at the leaves while biting down on his bottom lip.

“I am. Sorry that is. If I had known- I can’t help but think how different everything would be” he sounded defeated which pulled at your heart a little until you realise who you were talking to.

“It’s gonna take more than a meaningless apology for me to forgive you” you didn’t mean for it to come out as a hiss but it did. Your eyes now scanning the area to track down someone to take over for you, Negan surprisingly stayed quiet as you did just that. You signalled for someone to come over before you looked back down at Negan. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for what you did to me” you whispered before handing the spear to the man who saved you from Negan duty.

The next day you gathered before the council, you stood by Daryl as you listened to Gabriel explain a situation with a hoard of walkers and his plan for getting rid/diverting it. He put together some teams of people and explained their jobs, Daryl and Michonne were to take down any walker that strayed from the path and Aaron, Eugene and Rosita were to divert the crowd into the next town and attempt to trap them there. You embraced Michonne and Daryl as they left the room, wishing them luck and warning them to be safe, just as you were about to leave Gabriel called on you to stay behind for a moment.

You waited behind like he had asked, waving goodbye as people passed you. “Thank you for waiting” Now that the room had cleared, Gabriel took a few steps closer to you, you flashed him a smile and perched yourself on a desk that stood behind you.

“What can I do for you?” you questioned, oblivious to his intentions. He gave you a warm smile as he paced before you

“I want you out there too. I haven’t forgot that you were one of the best back at the sanctuary and think its time we put our skills to good use!” you couldn’t disagree with him, you pushed your lips together as you nodded at his words, waiting for further instructions. “I want you – I want you to go out there and keep the walkers on the right path” you cocked a brow at the man, you figured Daryl and Michonne already had that covered but he seemed convinced they may need extra help. “I also would like for you to take Negan with you”

You wondered if you had heard him correctly as you pushed yourself away from the desk “I'm sorry? You want me to take who?” You scoffed at the man when he repeated the prisoners name, shaking your head at his suggestion. “The man who left me in a room to die, that Negan?” your words tasted a little salty as you questioned the priest, his head hung low as he took a deep breath.

“I see how he acts when you’re around. I have faith he will keep you safe!” you rolled your eyes at his words, chewing on the corner of your mouth as you thought of all the possibilities of being left alone out there with Negan “He’s a good fighter, we need that!” He added, walking closer to you before placing a hand on your shoulder, you avoided his stare as you looked down at your feet. “We can’t let anything bad happen to you but Negan? He’s a life I’m willing to risk for the safety of the community” Eventually he broke you down enough to get you to agree with his ridiculous plan. Before you even left the gates, you warned Negan not to speak a word to you, threatening his life if he even breathed in your direction and off you went, leading the man to your station.

Negan seemed to keep to his promise and not a word was spoken during your time travelling, when you reached your spot there were already a couple of stray walkers roaming around. Reluctantly you handed Negan a knife and watched him run off to kill the walkers, you offered no help as you stood back and watched him take down each walker, he barely had time to rest when the next set came limping over to him. You decided to sit down in the grass, drinking out of your canteen ignoring his struggles. By this point he must have killed over 20 of those things, he was panting and sweating yet you did nothing to resolve his exhaustion. It felt like it was the perfect display of karma, like the world had finally given you what you had been asking for, for years. The walkie on your hip started to buzz before Rosita’s voice spilled through the speakers notifying you that their plan worked and they would see you all back at Alexandria, Michonne’s was next claiming that she and Daryl didn’t have a lot of strays and they were ready to head home. You thought it was best you didn’t reply, none of them actually knew you were out there and you didn’t want them to panic.

You looked up at Negan, he had a couple walkers on him but you figured after they had gone, you’d be fine to head home too. You picked yourself up and brushed off any dirt that may have collected over time and turned on your heels to get the car started. What you didn’t expect was the dead that seemed right on your tail, You grappled with the creature before it took you down. You managed to keep it at arms length but you knew if you reached for your knife it would get you, you called out for help as you struggled to hold its weight. It felt like you were under the dead for a while, the feeling far too familiar as it snapped its jaws at you, suddenly the snapping stopped and the body became limp over the top of you, allowing you to throw it off to the side.

A hand reached out for you to grab and you did, a little too hazy to realise who’s hand it was. Once you were on your feet, your gaze met Negan’s and you allowed a small sigh to pass your lips “Thanks” you whispered, brushing off your clothes “you know if you’d have left me to die, you’d be free right now” you added, disguising your grateful words.

“Na, wouldn't be worth it” you cocked your brow at the man now you had finished cleaning your clothes, he shrugged at you a small smirk gracing his features, his tongue caressing his bottom lip. “the five minutes a day I get to see you, is worth way more than freedom”

#negan twd #negan #twd negan #negan smith #the walking dead #jeffrey dean morgan #negan fanfiction #twd negan fanfiction #twd fanfiction #negan x reader #negan x you #negan x y/n #twd negan x you

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smellyfootboy · 4 years ago

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SMELLY ENCOUNTERS WITH ETHAN PT 2

So it had been a few months after my last encounter with Ethan where he basically made me his foot bitch. I had moven on and taken It for what it was. A one night fantasy come true because he was drunk. I still jerk off frequently thinking about that night. The whole thing still feels like a dream.

I hadn't really seen him much since then and I hoped It wasn't because he would feel awkward after what had happened. Honestly I question if he had even remembered with his intoxication.

But that day, he texted me out of nowhere:

ETHAN: Hey man. Wassup.

ME: not much hbu?

ETHAN: It's been a while... what are you up to?

ME: just playing PS5... I was able to snag the last one at target.

ETHAN: The fuck dude... and you weren't going to ask me to come play? I wanna try it out to see if it worth it before I get one.

ME: I mean, you are welcome to join me. Sleepover video game party? Haha

ETHAN: Fuck ya! I'll be over in about an hour.

I got butterflies in my stomach. Video game sleepover???? Was he gonna make me his bitch again? I was getting hard just thinking about it. I quickly picked up my apartment a bit. I was tempted to pick up some booze to hopefully recreate the last time but decided against it. It would look too desperate.

Some time past and Ethan arrived. He looked as hot as ever. I noticed myself acting a little nervous around him. I looked down at his shoes and they were a pretty beat up pair of Globes. Different from the converse he wore last time. He typically always wore skate shoes.

"Hey man how you been? I brought some snacks. " Ethan said as he brought them over to the counter.

"Cool thanks! Yeah I don't think we've seen each other since um... new years ?" I said awkwardly.

"Ha. New years that was a fun night... so show me this ps 5 you lucky bastard." Ethan said.

Fun night. Ugh. I just want to talk about it. And make it happen again.

We went to the couch and I handed him a controller. We played for a good hour.

"This is pretty sweet. I think i might have to get one." Ethan said.

"Yeah ... so what did you do all day?" I asked

"A lot of running around. Went and worked out a bit at the gym. Got pretty sweaty. And then came here" Ethan said.

"Not even a shower first? Is that what that smell is " I asked.

"Bitch you know you love it." Ethan said as he shoved my head into his armpit which was definaly strong. I resisted and pulled away.

We went back to playing games for a bit and somehow I ended up sitting on the floor leaning against the front of the couch while Ethan was still on the couch. At some point we switched from video games to watching a movie and I feel asleep on the floor.

I woke up to Ethan whispering my name.

"Guess he's sleeping. Fair game." I heard him say under his breath. His big shoes were hovering inches above my face. His feet had to be size 11 at least. He then removed both of his shoes and looked down at me. I shut my eyes quick to pretend I was still sleeping. The smell hit me like a ton of bricks. When I heard Ethan lean back I opened my eyes again. His big smelly feet right above my face. Not only that but this time the red, white, and black socks he was wearing had a bunch of holes in them like they were years old. The smell seemed almost stronger than the last time I had an experience with him. It was so overpowering. He lowered his feet a little more so my nose was right in his toes. His big toe poked out of one of the holes which I honestly found pretty hot. I couldn't belive this was happening again. How long should i pretend to be sleeping? I didn't want to move. I continued sniffing them trying not to inhale too deeply so he'd know I was awake. He suddenly took his big exposed toe and pried it in between my lips. I could feel it rubbing my teeth. And while he did this, his other foot remained hugging my nose. I heard him unzip his pants. I had no idea what he was planning.

"You awake yet?" Ethan asked. I didnt know what to do. But I guess it was time. I pretended to wake up.

"Huh wha..." I pulled his toe out of my mouth

"What are you doing! Ew not again" I yelled pretending I hated it.

"Excuse me! Did I say you could do that?" Ethan said sternly. He slapped my face with his stinky foot and I layed back down.

"Remember when we were young? At sleepovers, anyone that falls asleep first would get hazed." Ethan said. He was determined to make me his bitch again. Who was I to stand in his way? He reached down and pulled his socks off and leaned back again. His big rank feet centimeters from my face.

"After my work out, and wearing these socks for a couple days, I could use a good cleaning. Stick your tongue out" Ethan demanded. I obliged. What immediately followed was Ethans big foot sliding across my tongue. I could taste the workout and the days old socks with every lick. Ethan kept doing this and then started on the toes, sliding my tongue between each one. I could feel the sock lint on my tongue. After what seemed like forever, Ethan switched to the other foot and it was the whole process all over again. My tongue was so dry and so smelly.

After about 20 minutes of vigorous torture to my tongue Ethan took his feet off of me.

"Good boy. Now re-lubricate that tongue." He said. I pulled my tongue back in my mouth and all I could taste was Ethans feet. Once I gained enough saliva, I swallowed and could feel the dirt and grime go all the way down. It took me a minute to catch my breath. I started to get back up.

"Nope." Ethan said as he pushed me forcefully back to the ground.

I was confused... his feet were clean, what was coming next?

Suddenly I could see Ethan's huge balls coming down from above me. He layed them over my nose and they smelled phenomenal. Like they had been excessively sweating all day long.

"Tongue out" he said. Once again I obliged.

His huge nuts started to slide across my tongue. I could feel the stubble on his balls, but they were mostly smooth. He was stroking his large uncut cock while he did this. This was way further than we got the last time we hung out. Ethan suddenly used his hands and stuffed his huge nuts into my mouth. I had to open very wide for them. I could barely breathe. His balls were gagging me and his sweaty taint was over my nose. As he would jerk off I could feel his precum dripping down my chin. I was so turned on.

"Yeah clean off those balls good like you did my feet." Ethan said.

I could feel Ethan reaching climax as I swirled my tongue around his balls. I watched him reach over and grab one of his stinky holey socks, and put it over his cock. I watched him cum in ecstacy while my mouth was stuffed with nuts. He pulled his cum filled sock off his dick and pulled his balls out of my mouth and sat back up on the couch.

"Whew. So yeah. You can expect that when you fall asleep first. " Ethan said laughing. He went back to playing video games and I didn't even know what to do. I started to get up and I was about to grab the other controller to play with him and he grabbed my hand.

"Nah you aren't done yet." He said. He took his cum filled stinky cock and stuffed it in my mouth.

"Chew on that for a while and tell me when it's clean." Ethan said.

So i watched Ethan play video games over the next half hour while sucking on this cum filled filthy sock. This was probably the best night of my life, even better than the first time. I couldnt wait to see what would happen next time we hung out.

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jjmaybanksbaby · 4 years ago

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Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer IV

Part 07: Crashing Down

series masterlist | previous part

summary: A jarring family emergency forces you to consider the future of your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

a/n: I'm a little bit emotional about this series ending because I've had so much fun writing it! Enjoy the last part and, as always, please come share your reactions with me in my inbox. Okay, that's all from me!

word count: 2.1k words

Rafe Cameron knew how to text. He was somehow witty, charming, and hilarious all in less characters than a single tweet. Texting with most boys was like talking to a brick wall: single-syllable answers, unironic uses of punctuation, asking “What are you wearing?” before even listening to how your day went. Though, to be fair, Rafe had asked that same question a few times, which always earned him a sarcastic answer in return. Well, except for that one time.

You’d been forced to spill the beans about your dreamy summer romance to Alice and Kensie after one of Rafe’s funnier texts almost made you pee yourself laughing at the lunch table.

“Oh, so he’s a stud muffin,” Alice announced, peering over Kenzie’s shoulder at the photo on your phone.

“Please god don’t call anyone a stud muffin ever again Al,” Kenzie replied.

“What? The 80s are like making a comeback.”

“Yeah, not that,” you countered and Alice huffed.

“He’s totally hot though,” Kenzie said, handing the phone back to you. “And I kinda hate you for not telling us about him.”

You looked down at the picture. Rafe was kissing your check while you grinned up at the camera, the golden hour lighting made the whole thing look rather enchanting. It was your favorite picture of you and him.

“Oh shit,” Kenzie said causing you to look up from the phone. “You’re like in love in love with him.”

“What? No,” you protested. Yes, your brain corrected.

Kenzie glanced over at Alice for backup.

“Besides, I wasn’t hiding him. I just didn’t know if there was anything there to...tell,” you finished.

“I wish I had a handsome summer fling with spectacular cheekbones,” Alice sighed.

“Don’t let your boyfriend hear you saying that.” Kenzie chucked a fry off her tray at Alice who dodged it expertly.

“Oh, please. Matty knows I would dump his ass for someone who looks like a young Chuck Bass any day of the week. Gimme your phone. I wanna see the photos again y/n.”

“I seriously don’t know how you and Matthew have been together for two years,” Kenzie replied.

“Are you kidding? They’re practically made for each other,” you added.

“The phone, please,” Alice interjected. “I wanna thirst over your mans while my boyfriend is sucking up to his English teacher so she doesn’t fail him. Of course, I told him he needed to actually read Wuthering Heights and not just sparknotes it. But did he listen? No. I picked a real winner y’all,” she finished, taking the phone from your outstretched hands. “You sure Rafe doesn’t have any brothers? Not even like a half-step brother?”

So yeah, going great. Against the odds of three thousand miles, the whole thing was somehow working. Long-distance friends with benefits? Check. Well, except for those moments when that nagging feeling in your stomach came back and you’d start overthinking everything. His texts would sit, unread in your phone for days or even a whole week, slowly sinking to the bottom of your messages.

Then came the call from the Kildare Country Hospital in the early hours of a foggy April morning. You should have gone to sleep hours ago but were still up, desperately trying to cram Maria’s lines into your brain while also texting Rafe. The Sound of Music opened in three weeks and your director had already chewed you out twice for not being off-book, something about being an upperclassman and the lead, and what kind of an example were you setting for the rest of the program. Big speeches were kind of your director's thing, you learned to just ride them out.

Around 1 a.m. your phone ran with an incoming FaceTime call from Rafe. You pressed the green acccept button, a smile spread across your face as Rafe’s own filled the screen.

“Hey Broadway Star.”

“Hi Rafe.” The dim lighting of his bedroom made his feature especially striking. “What are you still doing up?”

“Can’t sleep. Plus you’re up too so. How’s the memorizing going?”

“Shitty,” you replied, closing your binder with a sigh. “I’m too tired to do anymore of it tonight anyway.”

“You know, I was thinking I could come to Oregon for your opening night?”

“Really?” The possibility of Rafe sitting in the audience made your heart race.

“Yeah, why not? I’ll ask Ward if I can borrow the plane that weekend and I bet Sarah’ll want to come too. I wanna see my girl kill it. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Rafe. You know my friends think you’re hot.”

“Oh, do they?” Rafe replied, rolling over onto his back in his bed.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Cameron.”

The home phone ran but you ignored it, much more invested in your conversation with Rafe. The second time the hospital left a message. Your Nonna’s heart had given out. The prognosis wasn’t good. She had barely any time left.

Your heart dropped as the words echoed over the speaker of the answering machine.

“Rafe,” you said, cutting him off momentarily. “I gotta go. I’ll call you back later. I gotta-” you ended the call before Rafe even had the chance to respond. You dropped your phone on the kitchen table, dashing up the stairs to your parents’ bedroom. Your father was booking a flight for your mother back to the Outer Banks minutes later.

The end had come so quickly, so unexpectedly. It was almost like that made it harder. There'd been just enough time for your mom and uncle to get to the Outer Banks, sitting on each side of your Nonna as her final breaths passed through her lungs. Now, everyone was there to say goodbye one last time. Uncle Austin and his fiancé. Your mom and dad. Both your siblings. The entire population of Figure Eight.

☼☼☼

Rain drizzled down from the dark, gray clouds looming overhead. It was as if Mother Nature was mourning your Nonna too, hiding the sunshine away.

Three baby ducks followed their mama into the man-made pond at the edge of the cemetery. You watched their tiny feet kick up small waves disturbing the peaceful water and the tears silently slipped down your face.

The cars were waiting to take you back to your Nonna's house for the wake. The same house with the for-sale sign now stuck in the front yard. The for-sale sign with Rose's patronizing grin that you were starting to really hate. Your dad had handled that. Listing the house. He'd handled most of the funeral arrangement's actually because your mother had been too sunken into her grief to make any decision. Sending out the invitations, picking out your Nonna's casket, choosing the flowers. Your mother clung to him during the entire funeral, weeping into his shoulder.

“Y/n?” Rafe's voice called out from behind you and you turned to see him walked toward you. He’d stood at the back of the church with his family during the funeral. You had longed for him to be sitting in the first pew next to you, to have had his hand to hold onto to ground you, but it hardly would have been appropriate. Your Nonna would have sooner risen from the dead than have had a Cameron front row at her funeral.

As soon as he was close enough, Rafe reached for you, pulling your body tight into him. Your head landed on his chest and the sobs came moments later. God, he always smelled the same. He just let you cry, holding you close, smoothing his hand over your hair.

“I know you’re selling your grandma’s house but I was thinking you could stay with me for the summer," he said as your tears began to slow. It was hard to imagine that you wouldn't return to the Outer Banks once school let out. It was the first week of May already and you could feel the tourist-attracting town waking up. But selling the house just made more sense. Your older sister was already living her life in New York, a real adult life. Next summer, you'd be moving out too, headed to college. The house would sit empty for eight months out of the year, your family couldn't keep it and your uncle certainly didn’t want it. Selling it just had to happen.

You stepped back, slipping out of his embrace. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rafe.”

“Why not?”

“Cause we’re like Romeo and Juliet.”

“I copied Cleo’s notes for that unit," he joked, trying to lighten to damp mood. “Plus I was never a fan of Leo DiCaprio so I didn’t finish the movie either.”

“It means we’re not supposed to be together, you and me. And whenever we try, the universe rips us apart. We hurt each other.”

Rafe shifted awkwardly on his feet, clearly wanting to reach for you again but stopping himself from doing it. “But I can't lose you.”

You reached your hand out, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “Oh Rafe, don’t you get it? You never really had me.” You stood up onto your tiptoes to kiss him just like you had the first time three years ago. Rafe barely parted his lips, kissing you back gently. Your hand cupped his face, your thump stroking over his cheek. It was a goodbye. Both of you knew it. It was an ending and this was your closure. You pulled away, your hand falling away from his face.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say the actual words. Your eyes fell to the ground. You needed to walk away now. You side-stepped Rafe but he grabbed your waist, turning you back around to face him.

“So that’s it? You’re not even gonna try to fight for us?”

“What even is there to fight for, Rafe? I’ve been fighting for us for the past four years. If we were supposed to be together that car wouldn’t have crashed into ours, I wouldn’t have fallen for Evan when I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at my Nonna’s funeral. What? Are we supposed to do long distance for all of college? I hardly know who I am right now. I have no idea who I’ll be in the next four years. Our future selves might not even like each other. I’m not gonna wait around for you Rafe and I would never ask you to do that for me.” You twirled the small, star charm between your fingers, a nervous habit you'd developed over the past year. His eyes dropped down to your neck momentarily and his adam's apple visibly bobbing as he swallowed his next weeks.

“You were it for me, you know. I tried to give a fuck about anyone else but I couldn’t get your gorgeous, stupid face out of my mind. I only wanted you.” Rafe paused gauging your reaction “I was falling in love with you.”

Your eyes wandered over his stoic expression. “The feeling was mutual, Rafe Cameron.”

He dropped your wrist but you both stood, not moving or saying anything. “Do you wanna walk me back to the car?”

“Yeah.” He reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers. Your other hand held onto his bicep so you walked together through the graveyard back to the parking lot.

The moment felt precious and delicate, like the fragile china your Nonna used to collect. You wondered what would happen to all that china.

Rafe placed a chaste kiss on your lips before opening the door of the car.

“I’ll miss you,” you said, the words hanging in the air meaning so much.

“Me too,” Rafe agreed.

You wanted one more kiss, one more passionate declaration of how much this all had meant but that would make leaving Rafe so much more impossible.

You climbed into the car, dropping Rafe’s hand in the process.

“See you around Cameron.” You knew it wouldn’t happen but it felt better than a goodbye.

He smiled back. “Maybe so.”

Perhaps Rafe was right and you’d both end up at a small liberal arts college in California taking the same second-year Econ class with a professor who always smelled like weed. Perhaps the stars would align and two of you would realize the universe wasn’t trying to keep you apart. It was just waiting for the right moment to show you that the love you had for each other was the soulmates, forever and ever kind of love. Perhaps you would get married and Sarah would be your maid of honor, of course. You’d buy back your Nonna’s house to raise your troubling-making kids in. Perhaps, you would find your way back and wake up each day and choose each other again and again.

Or perhaps, he'd always be your right-person-wrong-time. And, in the end, the passing days will steal away your memories of the blue-eyed boy from the Outer Banks.

taglist! @oreoenthusiast13

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron series #obx netflix #obx #obx fanfic #where it leads series #where it leads

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jean-kayak · 4 years ago

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A Little Courage To Confess

Summary: Maybe Valentine's Day isn't so bad

Pairing: Jean Kirschtein x black!fem!reader

Warnings: friends to lovers, confession of feelings, (smut 18+!!), fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, overstimulation, college!au, modern!au

Word Count: 2186

A/N: I hadn't originally planned to write a Valentine's Day fic, but I kept seeing them on my dash, so I caved lmao, and this is my first time writing for Jean, and I wanted to start writing for aot anyway so I thought I used this fic to break myself in lol, also this is lowkey self indulgent but nevertheless, enjoy!

All characters are 18+!!

"I hate Valentine's Day," you grumble as you throw your arm over your face, listening to Jean chuckle in response.

"You say that every year," he says, and you scoff, not moving your arm.

"That's because it's stupid. Everyone expects so much on that day, but you should be getting that amount of affection every day in a relationship," you rant, and Jean listens intently even though he's heard this spiel many times.

"That's fair," he offers as he looks down at you. "Or is it because you've never had someone to celebrate the holiday with."

"Fuck off," you respond with no heat behind your words as you lightly slap him on the chest. "The only good thing is that the candy is basically free." You finish the sentence by opening your mouth, and Jean sighs before he digs into the bag of chocolate before dropping it in your mouth.

You swallow thickly as you move your mouth around to get out the candy stuck in your teeth. "Besides, I'm pretty sure I'll never get to celebrate it with anyone. I mean, I didn't think I was that ugly," you joke, the self-deprecating joke not even phasing you anymore, it's the one you always use whenever you're on the subject of your least favorite holiday.

"Hey, you're not ugly," Jean opposes firmly, and you smile softly.

"Thank you." He moves your arm from your face, and you open your eyes, blinking as they adjust to the light.

"I mean it. You're beautiful." You feel your face heat up as you give him a shy smile, and he feels his heart skip at your reaction, and he's reminded again of his dilemma.

He's been in love with you since he can remember, the only issue is that it's one-sided, and he hates it. You're in your dorm, both of you laying on the tiny twin size bed. You're laying on your stomach while Jean is laying on his side, propped up with his elbow.

He's so close to you that it's a little unsettling for him because he's afraid that you'll be able to feel every time his heartbeat changes, and he can see and feel that you're not wearing a bra, which does absolutely nothing at helping his situation. Every year you complain about Valentine's Day and how much you hate it, and he also hates it because every time it rolls around, he finally gets the courage to say something to you only to chicken out.

You've both basically made it a tradition to hang out on this day, sharing the candy that you brought for a ridiculously cheap price and he listens to you rant. And that's the routine. But he wants to change it.

"Any guy would be lucky to have you," he says, and he feels a ping of jealousy in his chest at the thought of another guy being the one to steal your heart.

"You say that all the time," you respond with a roll of your eyes. "I'm just convinced that no one will ever go out of their way to confess their feelings for me."

I would. In a heartbeat, Jean thinks, almost says it, but he keeps himself from spilling by shoving another piece of chocolate in his mouth. He grabs another one to focus on anything but the close proximity of you two, and you open your mouth to stop him before he can put it in his mouth.

He rolls his eyes again but moves his hand over, and you lift your head to meet him halfway, and his breath hitches when your lips graze his fingers, but you don't seem to notice, humming happily as you close your eyes, chewing soundly.

You don't notice him staring at you, but his resolve is starting to weaken. So what if he confesses to you and you don't feel the same? What's he gonna lose? Many, many years of friendship? That only nearly makes him shut up, but his head is screaming at him to say something.

You hum when he calls your name softly, and you open your eyes when he doesn't speak right away. "Please don't hate me for what I'm about to do."

You frown in confusion, but he's leaning down, his lips brushing yours and he hesitates for a second but finishes the contact anyway, and you make a surprised noise as you kiss him back, your hand tangling into his hair.

He shifts so that he's hovering over you, the bag of chocolates resting on your stomach falling to the floor, but neither of you pays it any mind. He brings his hands to rub at your sides as he deepens the kiss, tasting the chocolate on your tongue as he moves a leg to rest on the other side of you, caging you under him.

He moves down to your neck, snaking his tongue over the junction between your neck and your shoulder before pulling the skin between his teeth, making you keen as your grip tightens on his hair lightly. He moves to the other side doing the same thing a few more times before you pull his face back to yours, crashing your lips onto his has his hands run up under your shirt.

He pushes the material over your chest, his hands running over the exposed skin, rubbing your nipples until they're erect before breaking the kiss to let his mouth have a turn. You moan as soon as the wet muscle circles at your nipples which makes Jean groan, his pants too tight to be comfortable.

You start to become impatient while he's working on the other one, your hands pulling at his shirt as you struggle to get it off. He sits up, quickly stripping off his shirt before resting his hands at your shorts.

He looks at you for permission, and you nod quickly, lifting your hips to help him pull down your shorts, slipping them off your legs, the soaked clothing landing with his shirt on the floor. He groans loudly at the sight of your pussy shiny with your slick, and he doesn't wait any longer to move down, his face inches away from what he's been dreaming of.

He licks an experimental stripe up your folds, and he revels in the feeling of your thighs squeezing around his head, and it makes him eat you out with more zeal. The pretty sounds you're making go straight down to his dick, the feeling of your thighs making his ears even warmer.

He pays a generous amount of attention to your clit as he nudges a finger at your hole, groaning when he slides it in, feeling how tight you are around his finger. He adds another, spreading them apart to stretch you out as you get louder.

This is what he's been thinking about for way too long, and he thinks he might just pass out from the fact that he's finally getting to taste you. He curls his fingers, hitting the spongy spot inside of you, causing a gush of wetness to seep out, and he quickly laps it up, moaning at your taste exploding all over his taste buds.

"Jean, please," you beg, practically breathless as you try to push him off of you which he does reluctantly, and he mentally takes a picture of the blissful look on your face, your skin glazed with a thin layer of sweat.

He's taking off his sweats along with his underwear, grateful that he isn't being constricted anymore when his dick slaps against his stomach, and he feels pride bubble in his chest when he sees your mouth fall open slightly at how big he is.

"Jean," you plead desperately when he rubs at your folds with the angry, red tip, and he lines up with you, throwing your leg over his hip.

"I know, baby, Daddy's gonna take real good care of you," he murmurs as he lines himself up. Your nails dig into his arm as you already feel stretched out from the head, your breath feeling like it's being punched out of your lungs.

He's whispering praises with soft caresses on your hip as he slides in slowly, your walls so tight around him, he thinks he might cum before he even gets all the way in. He groans into your neck when he bottoms out, his chest rising and falling quickly at how your snug walls pulse around him.

"God, Daddy, you're so big," you wheeze. He's even bigger than you ever imagined, almost forgetting to breathe. He whines into your neck, his grip on your hips turning from soft to bruising.

"Please tell me I can move," he groans, trying to wait for you to adjust, but he can't hold back for much longer. He feels you nod quickly and before you even finish, he's pulling out and slamming back into you, making you cry out loudly.

He lifts his head to see nothing but ecstasy on your face, your body jolting with every thrust of his hips. You've never felt so full, feeling like he's hitting every nerve ending in your body.

Your back arches off the bed when he rams into that spot, and you claw at him frantically as if you're trying to ground yourself. His eyes flutter close when you clench around him, but he quickly opens them to keep looking at you, finding it hard to tear his eyes away.

This is what he's really dreamed of. Having you literally writhing underneath him, but you feel amazingly better than any dream he's had. He lets out a deep moan when you clamp around him hard at the same time you let out a silent scream as your orgasm hits you like a brick.

Your tears blur your vision as Jean keeps moving, and you jump when he fingers your clit. "D-Daddy," you whimper, feeling it hard to keep a grip on him.

"You got one more for me, baby. You got one more for your Daddy, don't you?" he coos, and your breasts bounce with every jab of his hips, and he leans down pulling at your nipple with his teeth as he seems to go impossibly deeper, kissing your cervix.

He does the same to the other as you feel another orgasm building up, your clit puffy from overstimulation, but he doesn't stop his strokes on your bundle of nerves, and you feel like you're going to explode from having two highly sensitive areas stimulated.

"I'm so fucking close," he rasps out, crashing his lips onto yours before his body goes rigid, and he cums with a loud moan of your name just as you do the same, your release squirting all over him. He kisses you softly as he fucks you through your highs, slowing to a stop as he kisses away the tears on your face.

"I love you." His post-orgasmic state makes him lose his filter, and he's so out of it that he doesn't even register that he said it.

"What?" you question, and he pulls away, his blood running cold when he realizes what he said.

"Shit--I," he blanches, searching for anything to say now that he's in the most awkward position. "I didn't mean--"

"How long?" You cut him off and he stops his scrambling to look at you.

"For as long as I can remember," he tells you honestly. There's no point in hiding the truth now that the cat's out of the bag, and this is the part where he gets hit with rejection.

"Really?" you ask, almost in disbelief, and he brushes a strand of hair from your face as he looks at you fondly.

"Yeah. I love you, I've been in love with you," he admits wistfully. "And it's okay if you don't feel the same way--"

"I love you, too." His eyes widen at your confession like he can't believe what he's hearing. You bring a hand up to push some of the hair behind his ear, and then he's leaning down kissing you until you both are breathless.

"Really?"

You nod easily. "Yes, really. I have for as long as I can remember," you repeat back, and if his heart didn't already feel like it exploded, it sure did now.

He pulls out of you, giving you a quiet 'sorry' when you wince before slipping on his sweats, and you watch him walk out the room, coming back a minute later with a glass of water and a washcloth.

You grimace as he cleans you up, the soreness already blooming in your lower region, and he picks up the chocolate as you drink some water. He gets back on the bed, pulling you into his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat starting to lull you to sleep.

"Do you still hate Valentine's Day?" he whispers into your curls, and you hum softly as you shrug.

"Eh, maybe." He chuckles before pulling you closer to him.

You might still have a little resentment towards the holiday, but maybe it isn't so bad.

#jean kirschtein #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #jean kirstein smut #jean kirschtein smut #🛶.hoarny

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libraryofloveletters · 4 years ago

Text

passing ships

Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz

Warnings: nothing, just being being idiots really

Category: Angst

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Takes place right after Buck’s return after the lawsuit

AO3 Link

----

Silence.

No bickering, no fighting and no stupid jokes.

Pure deafening silence.

The two were no longer speaking, although they had the clear to- he couldn't bring himself to forgive him, not yet and truthfully he didn’t know if he would ever be able to forgive him.

After what he put the team through, what he caused them and what he did to them- to their relationship.

Buck and Eddie sat on opposite ends of the station, the blond on the couch and the brunette in the kitchen. Both glancing at the other when the other isn’t looking, hoping they’d think of something to say to each other.

Everyone can feel the tension, it hits whoever enters their vicinity like a brick wall.

Eddie blew up at Buck the day in the grocery store and since then, neither of them had spoken to the other unless they were in the field. They worked seamlessly there. Wordless communication, in-sync as always yet the moment they step off the truck, all of that goes out the window and they go separate ways.

Buck came close to talking to him one day while unpacking the halloween decoration. Eddie had walked past him, the urge to call for him and tell him that he was sorry but he didn’t.

A part of him knew that Eddie would forgive him but another part of him felt that Eddie would still hold it against him somehow.

Buck didn’t know Eddie as well as he thought he did.

Eddie’s pace was much slower than normal as he passed by, his heart pounding in his chest just waiting for Buck to call out to him and to fix what had broken but he didn’t.

----

“Dad?” the boy called from the kitchen table, his father’s back to him.

Eddie was washing dishes, the sponge in his hand and the tap running but his eyes were fixated on something outside the window. Christopher gets up and walks over to his father, turning off the tap then Eddie looks down. “Oh sorry bud, did you ask me something?” he puts the sponge down and turns to his son.

The look on Christopher’s face was enough for Eddie to internally groan, not because of Chris but because of what he was about to ask.

“Where’s Buck?”

And there it was.

“Buck’s been busy bud” Eddie tells his son. This wasn't a complete lie, from the overheard conversations in the station, it seemed like Buck had been busy.

“When is he coming over? We were supposed to have movie night” Chris sounded sad. Eddie knows how much Chris loves and looks up to Buck and for him not to be around was killing him.. because of Christopher of course.

“I’ll ask him tomorrow,” Eddie leans and kisses the top of the boy’s head.

“Bed now, I’ll come tuck you in, in a minute” Eddie smiles until he can no longer see Chris then a heavy sigh is let out. Chris isn’t the only one that misses Buck.

He did too.

Regardless of what had happened, Buck had been his best friend for the last year and a half. The person he confided in, the one who had his back and most importantly, the guy who was basically raising Christopher with him. It had been so hard not being able to talk to him those few weeks that the lawsuit was happening and now that they can talk, he doesn’t know what to say.

Where do you begin after that ?

What you did was fucked up and I hate you but I don’t because I actually love you and I need you in my life.

Yeah, there was no way he was going to say that to Buck. The thought of Buck was pushed back when Chris shouted that he was waiting. He shook the worry from his face, mustering up a smile as he stepped into Chris’s room.

“Alright kiddo, bedtime” Eddie pulls the blanket over his son, sitting on the bed beside him now. Chris looks up at his dad, “are you okay?”

“Hm?” Eddie’s brows furrow, unsure as to what brought up the question.

“Are you okay?” he asks his father again.

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be?” he chuckles, his hand patting Christopher’s leg.

“Okay” Chris smiles at his father, deep down he knew something was wrong and Eddie knew that his son knew that he wasn't okay but there wasn't time for that now. Eddie held himself together, he only had him and he had to be strong.

Eddie kisses Chris’s cheek, tucking the sides of the blanket in and turning on his night light. “Goodnight bud” he smiles from the doorway, about to shut the door. Chris calls out for his father once more and Eddie sticks his head back into the room, looking at Chris.

“I love you” he says from bed.

Eddie smiles, “I love you too.” the door shuts and his smile falls from his face.

How much longer would he have to keep up this facade?

When and how would they fix things?

Because no part of Eddie wants to explain to Christopher why Buck isn't around anymore and honestly, Eddie doesn't want to lose him but he lacked the words to tell him exactly how he felt.

His room feels cold and empty, it usually is but this time feels like the house is running out of happiness and warmth and there’s nothing he could do to fix it.

As he lays on his bed, his phone lights up. A notification from Chim, asking if he could help him move some furniture around. He answers and then he stares at the phone in his hand.

“l’ll ask him tomorrow” his words rang in his head. He hits Buck’s contact- what to say and how to say it.

To Buck: Are you free Saturday ? Chris wants to see you.

Less than a minute goes by before his phone chimes.

From Buck: I am. What time is okay for me to come over?

From Buck: Should I bring anything ?

To Buck: I’ll drop him off at your place. I have something to do.

From Buck: Okay. Is 6 okay ?

To Buck: Fine.

It was utter bullshit and they both knew that. Eddie had absolute nothing to do, in fact he was probably gonna go back home and hang out. It’ll be weird for him to be there when they aren’t speaking, hence why he's taking Chris to Buck and not letting him come to them because if they were at home, there would be nowhere for Eddie to avoid him.

----

“Buck!” The little boy’s face lights up when he opens the door.

“Chris!” Buck smiles with the same happy energy. The two of them hugging for a moment before Chris turns to say bye to Eddie.

“Be good mijo, I'll be back later” Eddie kisses the top of his head before he walks off into the apartment.

Buck looked at Eddie, his brows furrowed and he was chewing on his lip without even noticing. “You- You’re not coming in?” Buck asks quietly, his words barely coming out.

Eddie shakes his head, “got stuff to do, text me when he’s ready to come home.” he hands Chris’s backpack over to him and turns the other way and down the hall. Buck steps out of the apartment, in the hallway in front of his door and he just watches Eddie leave. He wanted to run after him and tell him that he’s sorry but he doesn’t.

The afternoon went by rather quickly, Buck and Chris catching up on what Chris had been doing at school, they began playing the new game Buck had gotten and they had pizza for dinner and ate on the couch while watching the sonic the hedgehog movie because Buck promised him that they would watch together.

Chris sat on the couch, his eyes glued to the tv screen until the end credits began rolling, then he yawns and sinks back into the pillows on Buck’s couch.

“Tired?” Buck looks over at Chris who gives him a sleepy smile and nods.

To Eddie: Chris is falling asleep, I think it’s time for him to get to bed

From Eddie: Ask him if he wants to spend the night. There are clothes in his bag

Buck was taken back by the message, not by Eddie suggesting that Chris spend the night because the 3 of them had sleepovers on a regular basis when he and Eddie were speaking but that Eddie was allowing him to stay. He assumed that because they weren't speaking that Eddie would want Chris to come home.

“Bud, do you want to stay over? Dad said it’s cool”

“Mhm, yeah” Chris’s eyes were shut, he was already halfway to dreamland by now. Buck smiled at the boy.

To Eddie: He just fell asleep, you can pick him up around noon ?

From Eddie: Okay

----

Saturday at 11:58am and Buck is dancing around his kitchen with a glass of orange juice in his hand. Chris had slept in and he made him breakfast. Buck was on his way to handing Chris the juice but he got caught up in the song that was playing.

Christopher sat at the counter, laughing as Buck danced. Buck was slowly but surely making his way over when there was a knock at the door. He sat the juice beside the plate, pressed a kiss to Chris’s head and shouted that he was coming when the person knocked a second time.

He pulled the door open, Eddie stood at the door with his arms folded.

Buck gave him a small smile, “at ease soldier” he said jokingly, the joke had delivered and failed all in one, the smile on his face dropped too.

“Is he ready?” Eddie looked at him, Buck stepped back so Eddie could see in. Chris was still sitting at the counter eating his breakfast, he smiled and waved when he noticed his dad at the door.

“Do you want to come in?” Buck’s eyes silently pleading for him to accept the offer.

“Sure” the one word was all he got from Eddie for the next 20 minutes.

He spoke to Christopher and waited for his son to finish eating so they could leave. The tension in the apartment was heavy and uncomfortable, Eddie egging Chris to finish up every 5 minutes so they could get out of there.

Buck had opened his mouth to speak multiple times, at this point there was nothing more that he wanted more than for Eddie to forgive him.

The way his heart clenched in his chest whenever he saw Eddie or had to work with him wasn't normal.

The way he smiled lovingly and stared adoringly at him wasn't normal either because friends don’t look at friends that way.

Buck loved Eddie more than the average friend. He didn’t know if Eddie reciprocated those feelings but now he’d never know.

“Bye Buck!” Chris’s arms wrapped around Buck snapping him out of his thoughts, his hand reaching down to rub his back softly. “Bye bud, thanks for hanging out with me” he smiles sweetly at the boy before looking at his father who was already waiting by the door with his bag.

Buck walks Chris over to the door, they share one more hug before he steps out. Once again, Buck finds himself in the hallway wanting to go after them- after Eddie- but it’s like he’s frozen in time, he can’t bring himself to move towards them. Christopher smiles and waves before he steps on the elevator and Eddie, he just looks at him. Opening his mouth like he was going to say something but instead a sigh comes out, his gaze lowers and he joins Chris.

It was a while before Buck heard from Eddie again. Usually, he would have texted to let him know that they got home and were okay but instead radio silence for the next 6 and a half hours.

His phone chimes, rolling over and grabbing it off the table, there’s a notification from Eddie.

To Buck: Thanks for last night, he had a good time

From Buck: Thanks for bringing him over, I didn’t realize how much I missed him

To Buck: He missed you too

Buck was about to type a response when the little grey dots appeared, disappeared and reappeared. He waited, looking down at the phone in his hands watching as the dots appeared and disappeared. At some point, Buck put the phone down, he got tired of waiting.

On the other side of the screen, Eddie sat on his couch with the phone in his hand. His last message to Buck telling him that Christopher missed him and he quickly typed out I missed you too but his finger hovered over the send button. Now reaching for the delete key, erasing the message. Eddie tried a few versions of that message.

To Buck: I missed you so much you don’t even understand

That one didn’t sound like him and made him seem desperate.

To Buck: Chris wasn’t the only one that missed you

What was he trying to do? Flirt with him? well.. maybe but this is not the time.

To Buck: Come over, let’s talk

Yeah if let’s talk is code for we’re probably gonna end up in bed.

To Buck: I don't know what I want to say but I need you here, things aren't the same without you.

This one felt right because it was the truth. Eddie had absolutely no idea what he wanted to say to Buck or if he would even say anything to him but he needed him. Things aren’t the same without Buck around, home didn’t feel like home without him.

Finger hovering over the button but he deletes the message, the phone getting tossed to the other side of the couch before getting up to check on Chris.

----

The men find themselves in this situation rather often. Eddie texts Buck asking when Chris can see him, Eddie drops off Chris or sometimes Buck picks him up and then when Chris comes home, Eddie texts Buck to say thanks.

Sometimes Buck is the one watching the little grey dots appear and disappear but sometimes Eddie is the one who finds himself in that spot.

It was as if they were two parents sharing joint custody of their son and having that awkwardness of what to say when the kid isn't around and honestly, that was exactly their situation. They played nice and spoke the bare minimum when Chris was around or if Chris had a school event and asked for them both to be there, they would both be there with their best smiles on and they'd make small talk with the other parents but the moment they stepped back out of that building, all of that went out the window.

Without Chris around, their conversations were nonexistent.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and they turned into passing ships in the night.

---

taglist: @mrs-dr-reid @yelenabelous @ickletheficklepickle @dralexreid @imaginebuck (cause you wanted some buddie angst)

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #christopher diaz #buddie #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #buddie fanfiction #911 #911 fic #911 fanfic

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moldisgoodforyou · 4 years ago

Text

i love you, say it back

wordcount: 1.8k

warning: you might gag it’s pretty fucking cute also there’s cursing there is always cursing

_____

“Hey, Soph.” Rafe tried snapping her out of her thoughts as she mumbled to herself, trying to calculate her midterm grades. Sophie had been chewing on her lip for the past ten minutes, anxious about if she could pull off an A in two of her classes or if she could manage a B+ on her global history midterm. “Hm?” She mumbled, keeping her eyes tracked on her calculation in her notebook.

“You’re stressing me out.” He nudged her foot under the table, trying to get her to look up. They were alone in her architecture lab, late at night, and Rafe was mainly keeping her company, just doing some homework while she was working on a model. It was a typical spot for them on Thursday nights, if he wasn’t able to convince her to go out instead.

“Oh I’m sorry, you’re free to leave then.” She replied, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Soph.” He tried catching her attention again, looking at her with a fond smile.

She glanced up with an apologetic look. “Sorry, didn’t mean it.”

“I know. Hey, let’s take a break, we’ve been here for five hours. What are you working on now?” Rafe came around and stood behind her, pulling her shoulders back to rub them.

She resisted for a second then let her head fall back, closing her eyes for a moment. “I’m figuring out my grades. I need at least an 84 on my global history midterm to pull it up, and I need a solid 87 on this model to keep my A in environmental studies, and an 88 on my other one to keep the A in programming, which is going to be fucking impossible, and -”

“You’ll be fine, baby, you’re a great student, you work hard. Take a break.” He urged, trying to tug her up out of her chair. She spun in the chair, looking up at him. “You don’t understand. I can’t, I still have at least 20 hours left on this one model.”

“You have a whole week -”

She scrunched up her nose in the familiar way she did when she was frustrated and Rafe had to resist grinning at her. He had made that mistake once, maybe twice, and she had just gotten pissed off that he wasn’t taking her seriously. “No, I have to get this portfolio perfect too. I’m applying to master’s programs next year and if I half-ass this project then it’ll show.”

He took her hands, tugging again to pull her up. “Soph, I love you, but you gotta stop putting so much pressure on yourself. Let’s take a break.”

I love you.

She froze and tuned out every single word after that, just blinking up at him.

“You what?”

“I said you need to stop putting -”

Sophie shook her head quickly. “No, before that. You said you loved me.”

Rafe raised his eyebrows, his arms going slack and he dropped her hands, exhaling slowly. “Oh. Did I?”

She spoke quickly, anxious, and grabbed one of his hands. “If you didn’t mean it that’s fine, I -”

“No!” He interrupted her and knelt down to her eye level in the chair. “I did! I do. I mean it.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, keeping eye contact and softened his voice a bit. “I love you.”

Sophie gave him a tight-lipped smile, clearly nervous. “Really? Me?”

“Of course you.” He grabbed the chair beside her and pulled it to sit, then rubbed his thumb back and forth over her hand, growing tense again. “I wish it hadn’t just slipped out like that, but I’d been meaning to tell you.” He paused. “I’ve known for a while now, I think.”

She finally came to her senses and pulled him in with both hands on either side of his face, giving him a deep kiss. He finally relaxed and smiled against her lips. “I...you’re my favorite, you know?” She grinned.

He nodded and did his best to hold back his disappointment, his heart pounding in his ears and all he could think was she didn’t say it back. “Yeah. Better be.”

She kissed him again, long and slow, then pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against his. “I, um...I can’t...” Sophie trailed off, hoping he’d get the hint.

Rafe cocked his head. “Can’t what?”

She leaned away, biting her lip anxiously. “I can’t say it back. I’m sorry, it’s not like I don’t - I don’t know -”

His face fell for a moment but he recovered quickly, forcing a short smile. “Hey, hey.” He interrupted, cutting her off with a quick kiss. “I know. It’s okay. Let’s just... let’s go take a break. Walk around, move a little.”

“I don’t know, Rafe, I gotta finish this -”

“Not asking, angel.” He stood, tugging on her hands again. She gave him a wry smile, shaking her head. “You know what that does to me, not fair.” Rafe laughed and nodded. “I know. C’mon, I’ll drag you out of here if I have to. Ten minute walk and then I’ll let you work again.”

She laughed and stood, giving him a quick hug first. He caught her around the waist and wrapped his arms around her, tight. “Love you, Soph. You’re my girl, don’t forget it.” She only nodded, words on the tip of her tongue as she rested her head against his chest. “Hey Rafe?”

“What’s up?” He held her for a little while longer, smoothing his hand over her hair.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled, not willing to look at him. She’d felt it coming from him for a while and had tried to prepare herself, but the weight of his words fell on her like a ton of bricks.

“You don’t need to apologize.” He kissed the top of her head, then let her go. “Come on, let’s go walk.” He cleared his throat. “Get your mind off of things.”

She didn’t need a translator to know what things meant.

Although every single instinct in Sophie was screaming at her to distance herself from Rafe for the next decade until he lost interest, she made herself continue to hang out with him like normal. She saw the way Rafe’s face dropped after she told him she couldn’t say it back and absolutely hated the way it made her feel - something that made her stop and think.

She’d never let herself get too attached in previous relationships, always being the one to break it off first. Usually she allowed herself a week-long maximum mourning period, then moved on to the next thing. The fact that Rafe even cared enough to say he loved her made her want to stay, to try, just for him.

Rafe was a little distant on his own part, trying not to get too upset with Sophie for not returning the sentiment. After all, he felt like he’d known since December - only two months into dating - and it didn’t feel right for him to say it then. He was a little hurt, but he’d also tried telling her at least twice already and chickened out. He just hoped she was feeling the same way.

Two weeks later, she snuck Rafe into the Theta house up the fire escape. She had just turned in her final project and declared a celebration was in order. He had the routine down by then - walk over, wait around the corner ‘til the coast was clear, hop the gate then come up the fire escape to the top floor. Allie and Julia were just leaving as he was climbing up the stairs, trying his best to keep quiet.

“Skip the fifteenth step.” Julia advised him as they watched him scale the stairs from the parking lot. Rafe paused, unable to place the voice in the dark and tucked a shoebox under his arm, not sure if he should hide or just run. “I’m not causing any trouble, I swear.” Allie laughed and shone her phone flashlight on him. “Just us, Cameron, we won’t tell.”

“Oh.” He laughed. “Is Soph up there waiting?”

“Yeah, will you convince her to come out with us tomorrow? She’s being lame.” Julia called out.

“I’ll do my best. Can you stop shining the light? I’m gonna get her in trouble.”

“Climb faster.” Allie teased as Sophie pushed open the door up top. “You two are the worst, you know that?” She called down, grinning as Rafe made it up.

“Yeah, yeah, you love us!” Julia yelled back, much louder than necessary. Sophie laughed and grabbed Rafe’s hand, pulling him down the hall and into her room quickly. “Are they gonna give me shit every time I come over?” He asked, smiling.

“Yeah, but it’s ‘cause they like you.” She raised her eyebrows. “What’s in the box?”

Rafe grinned, holding out the shoebox with a poorly-tied ribbon on top. “Made you something, to celebrate. Presentation isn’t quite there, but. It’s something.”

“Something.” She repeated, raising her eyebrows. Sophie took the box and untied the ribbon, then gasped when she opened it. “Rafe, you didn’t!” Inside were 7 cupcakes, haphazardly decorated with pink frosting - her favorite color.

He beamed, rocking back on his heels. “I hope they’re okay, I had to use the fancy ovens we have in the Delt kitchen. And it’s just from a box, but the box is normally okay, I think? James stole one - he didn’t know - but he thought it was good.”

She pulled out her phone to take a quick video of them first, then panned the video up to Rafe. He pushed her phone away with a grin, turning a little red. “It’s kind of cheesy, I guess. But. You deserve it. I’m proud of you.”

“God, I love you.” She breathed out, grinning ear to ear.

He paused for a moment, seeming to process, then came over and wrapped her in a tight hug. “You said it back.”

“I mean it.” She kissed him quickly, a blush on her cheeks. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” He replied, pressing his lips to her forehead. She giggled and reached up, swiping her thumb across his cheek. “You have dried frosting on your face.” He scowled but let her rub it away. “Pretty sure there’s flour in my hair too.”

“How’d you know I wanted cake?”

“You mentioned it last week when we watched Matilda, you said you wanted to celebrate with it when you finished finals. But more importantly, you love me back.” He grinned.

“I do.” She laughed. “I mean it, too. I love you.”

“I could hear you say that for ages.” He smiled, looking pleased. “I swear I’ll never get tired of it.”

“Careful what you wish for.” She teased and reached up to kiss him again.

Rafe laughed against her lips, then pulled away just to press his forehead against hers. “I’m glad you waited, you know. I didn’t want you to say it back just to say it.”

“You know I would have held out longer if I didn’t mean it.” She nudged her nose against his. “You’re still my favorite though.”

He beamed and nudged her nose back. “Always my favorite, Soph.”

#rafe x sophie #mine #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron #outer banks #obx fanfic #outer banks fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #college rafe #frat rafe

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xjoonchildx · 5 years ago

Text

danger | ksj x reader chapter one: good girl

summary: kim seokjin is a rich asshole. you are an ambitious attorney. smut ensues when he just won’t leave you alone.

pairing: seokjin/reader word count: 8.6K (Part 1 of 2)

rating: 18+

genre: smut | pwp | okay fine, porn with a thin plot | but it’s really thin

warnings: hate sex, language, terrible ethical decisions, blatant misuse of office furniture

Chapter 01 | 02

**************************

Are you fucking kidding me? What am I to you? Am I easy to you? Are you playing with me? You are in danger now Why are you testing me? Why are you testing me? Don’t get me twisted

-- BTS, "Danger"

******************************

“Excuse me, Miss?”

You look up from your phone to the bartender who’s just walked up to you. He’s holding a bottle of champagne.

“Yes?”

“The gentleman sitting just over there sent this for you.”

Your gaze follows the direction of his nod and immediately your blood warms to a boil.

The man who’s just finished wiping the floor with your ass in court has just sent you a bottle of champagne. Champagne is for celebrating, not for self-medicating after a brutal trial with a shitty outcome. But of course, that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?

You’d spotted the hint of a smile on Kim Seokjin’s lips in the quick moment you’d looked his way. He was seated at a table -- surrounded by his adoring lackeys -- who were no doubt high-fiving themselves into a frenzy after this afternoon’s verdict. You’d been so busy drowning your sorrows in wine and furiously texting with Nari that you hadn’t even noticed his entire group’s arrival.

The absolute nerve of this man.

“I don’t want it,” you say. “Please send it back.”

The bartender looks flustered for a moment, glancing at Seokjin and then back to you.

“But Miss, this is a very expensive bottle of champagne,” he protests kindly.

“I know that,” you reply quickly, which is bullshit because you don’t know anything about champagne but you’ll be damned if you let this server or Kim Seokjin know that.

“I still don’t want it.”

“Alright then, I’ll take it back,” he says nervously, clearing his throat. No doubt he’s not looking forward to telling the pompous prick you’ve turned away his selfless gift. “If you’re sure, that is.”

You make certain to give the bartender your warmest smile because you know he is looking.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

************************************

Kim Seokjin has never had to think about concepts like student loans and overdue rent. He’s never had to lie awake at night praying for an opportunity to get ahead.

Status and success are his birthright.

If you had to guess, you’d say those broad shoulders come from weekends spent lugging a bag of golf clubs across manicured greens. Those muscular legs are probably the result of hours of vigorous tennis at his family’s estate. And the face? Word on the street is that his mother was a beauty queen which fits quite nicely into his rich boy trifecta.

Truly, you can’t stand the sight of him.

But if you’re being honest with yourself, the worst thing about Kim Seokjin -- the thing that really sets your teeth on edge -- is that he’s a damned good attorney.

Maybe daddy’s money got him into the best schools, but he clearly paid attention. So instead of spending his days playing polo or drinking manhattans or doing whatever it is obscenely rich people do all day, he spends his days in court litigating circles around some unfortunate opponent.

Just your luck that his last two opponents happen to be you.

Kim Seokjin has single-handedly put an end to your personal hot streak. You should be celebrating a big win right now but instead you’ve run straight into a brick wall.

A tall, broad, well-dressed brick wall.

***********************

“Do you think he’s gay?”

“What?”

“Kim Seokjin, dammit. Are you paying attention to me at all?”

You pull a face when Nari mentions he-who-should-not-be-named.

“Gay? How the hell should I know?” you grumble, stabbing a fork full of salad with more force than is necessary.

“I’m just saying. Everyone knows everything about everyone at the courthouse, right? But you never hear about Kim Seokjin hooking up with anyone. Anyone. And I mean, he’s -- you know, gorgeous.”

“I guess,” you say flatly.

Nari tuts at your unenthusiastic response. Gossip is her specialty and you’re usually game to hear what she’s been able to dig up but just the mention of this man’s name is enough to put you in a mood.

“Listen, I’d be salty too if I’d lost that case, but that doesn’t change the fact that the man is a four-alarm fire.”

“Two cases,” you correct. “And he’s two-alarm. At best.”

“Oh, you’re hilarious,” Nari laughs. “Anyway, I picked up something super slinky for Judge Park’s party tomorrow so by then I’ll know one way or another which way he’s batting.”

You roll your eyes.

“Hope that works out for you. Either way, I really don’t want to talk about Kim Seokjin’s sex life.”

“Okay, fine,” she concedes. “But what about his professional life? Cause word on the street is that his firm is probably going to make him a partner. Like very soon.”

You chew on that for a moment.

He’ll probably be the youngest partner in his firm’s history or in any firm’s history, for that matter. It would be the only logical next step in the progression of this man’s obnoxiously charmed life.

“Good for him,” you grind out, silently willing Nari to drop the subject of the infuriating man entirely.

She smiles with satisfaction at having dropped a very juicy piece of information, but all you can do is frown into your salad.

****************************

You’ve been staring at this piece of art for a solid five minutes and at this point you are questioning Judge Park’s sanity. It’s objectively hideous.

“So you do drink champagne.”

The fine hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end at the sound of the deep voice that comes from behind. You’ve just lifted a flute of the aforementioned drink to your lips when he sidles up to you.

“When I’m in the mood,” you say tightly.

The low chuckle you get in response is very, very annoying.

You catch a glance of Kim Seokjin out of the corner of your eye because you refuse to acknowledge him with your full attention. As expected, he looks perfectly groomed, impeccably dressed, and irritatingly confident.

“So this is...interesting,” Seokjin says, gesturing at the art piece.

“Interesting,” you repeat. “Yes, well -- it’s definitely that.”

You know you’re sending him every signal that you’d rather be anywhere but here talking to him but he ignores the hostility pouring off of you in waves.

“I’ve been meaning to catch you,” he says, pausing to take a drink from an ornate highball glass. “I think it’s a shame we haven’t had the chance to speak one-on-one yet.”

Oh, please.

“Yes, what a shame,” you reply sweetly. “So glad you’re finally getting the opportunity to take your victory lap in person.”

“Ouch,” he laughs, tone light despite your obvious irritation. “I came in peace. I’ve had the pleasure of facing you in court but not the pleasure of a formal introduction. So I thought I’d make a point to get acquainted with the woman who’s had me up against the ropes in my last two cases.”

You lift an eyebrow at the thin compliment.

“I have to say,” he smiles, “I’m impressed.”

A flare of indignation ignites inside you at his casual condescension. As if you give a single solitary shit what Kim Seokjin thinks of your litigation skills.

“Well now that I know I have your stamp of approval,” you say, body rigid, “I can truly go on.”

You hear his faint huff of laughter as he takes another drink. A few uncomfortable moments pass before he seems to accept your silence as a sign that this conversation is over.

“Well it was nice to meet you anyway,” he says, and you hate that you can hear a smile in his voice. “I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

He leaves you fuming in front of that monstrosity on the wall.

************************

“He’s an asshole,” you say when Nari drops a to-go box at your desk. “I mean, I always knew he would be, but now I know firsthand. A self-important, super-inflated asshole.”

Nari laughs. “Kim Seokjin, huh? I saw you two talking at the party and wondered what that was all about.”

She drops into the chair on the other side of your desk with her own to-go box.

“For the record, I can’t get a read off of him. And believe me, I tried,” she sighs. “So what did he say to you?”

“He was so damned patronizing. He told me I ‘had him up against the ropes’ in his last case,” you hiss. “That I’m talented.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” Nari says, and you don’t miss her thick sarcasm. “Acknowledging your skill and whatnot. You’re right -- total jerk.”

You are immediately impatient with her lack of sympathy.

“You weren’t there, Nari. He wasn’t passing along some heartfelt praise, he was saying ‘close but no cigar.’”

“He’s professionally competitive, girl. A shark. What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Manners, maybe?”

“Ugh, you’re such a baby,” she teases. “I think your sudden success has gone to your head. He’s not about to bend the knee just because you’ve got a great record.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “No one’s asking him to bend the knee, Nari.”

She smiles.

“Okay, princess, I’m gonna let you believe that. But I will admit that you might be right about the goading thing,” she says. “Last night, Sang Yejun told me Seokjin took over that last case from a junior attorney. Stepped in and snatched it right up and no one thought it was even on his radar.”

Well that catches your attention.

You’d wondered yourself why the great Kim Seokjin had stooped to take such a minor case.

“See what I’m saying, Nari? It’s like he’s purposely trying to get under my skin.”

She snorts.

“Girl you know I love you, but you really need to get a grip. Not everything is about you.”

*************************

Nari was dead wrong. Apparently everything is about you.

Three days after your cringeworthy exchange at Judge Park’s party, you have the displeasure of seeing Kim Seokjin again. This time, he walks right into one of your open hearings and helps himself to a seat.

Your entire body goes rigid when you spot him. He has nothing to do with this case, his firm isn’t involved in any way and yet here he is, taking time out of his precious day to sit in your hearing. You silently simmer over his unwelcome presence and the anxiety that comes with it.

Just what is he playing at?

Your second chair elbows you.

“You ready?” he asks and you nod.

You take one last look at your notes and will yourself to focus. The last thing you want to do is screw up this line of questioning and you certainly don’t want to screw it up in front of him.

*************************

You assume the coast is clear when court adjourns and everyone scatters. You look around for any sign of Seokjin while packing up your files and come up empty. You hate to acknowledge the tiny feeling of relief that blossoms inside at that observation.

That feeling of relief doesn’t last long.

As soon as you round the corner into the hallway you spot him leaned up against the wall, scrolling through his phone as you walk past. You stride quickly, praying he won’t look up in time to see you but no such luck.

“Hey,” he calls after you. You grit your teeth.

There’s certainly no way to avoid speaking to him, not without causing a scene. The hallway is packed with attorneys and paralegals from firms all over the city. You’d hate to give any of them the impression that this man has rattled you.

You stop and round on him.

“How can I help you today, Mr. Kim?”

He smiles, refusing to be intimidated by your acid tone.

“I got a chance to sit in on your hearing,” he says, as though you didn’t already know that. ”Not bad.”

You are in uncharted waters right now. If Kim Seokjin was just another asshole in a bar, you’d throw your drink in his face and leave him sputtering. But he’s a respected colleague and you can’t make a scene -- not here. You’re still trying to figure out how to respond to that gem when he makes another observation.

“You did miss an opportunity to pin your witness on that last question, though.”

You catch your jaw before it has a chance to drop.

“I thought you were going to go for the jugular for a minute there,” he says, lips pursing to suppress a smile. “But then you backed off. It surprised me.”

He’s baiting you. And you know he’s baiting you. And you still can’t stop yourself from reacting.

“So are you billing me for these hours or do I get to enjoy all this unsolicited legal advice for free?”

“For you?” He shrugs casually. “Totally free.”

He slips his hands into his pockets and turns to walk away, but you are the one to stop him this time.

“Why?” you call after him.

He turns back to face you.

“Why do you care? Why are you here grading me like this is some kind of performance review?” you ask, unable to keep the astonishment out of your voice.

The slow smile that spreads across his face is downright smackable.

“It’s my job to keep an eye on talent. Even if the talent is overly confident, bad at taking direction, and just a little…” he stops for a moment to appreciate the look of absolute outrage on your face, “...bratty.”

“Bratty,” you repeat numbly.

“Bratty,” he confirms.

He shoots you a wide smile before sauntering away.

***************************

“He said you were…” Nari pauses for effect. “Bratty.”

“Yes.”

You wait through a full thirty seconds of Nari’s laughter before you interrupt.

“You --” you say, pointing an accusing finger at her, “are supposed to be my friend.”

“Oh, I am your friend, sweetheart,” she says, chuckling between words. “And as your friend I have to tell you that’s the most accurate take a man has had on you in a minute.”

You ball up a piece of paper on your desk and throw it at her.

“Seriously,” she says, breathless from laughter. “That is the funniest shit I’ve heard in a while.”

“Glad you think so,” you mutter.

Nari finally manages to collect herself after a moment.

“Okay, so Kim Seokjin thinks you’re bratty. And he’s definitely toying with you. And it’s working. So what are you gonna do about it?” she asks.

You say nothing for a moment. This is the internal debate you’ve been having since your embarrassing little encounter the other day.

“I’m gonna tell him to go fuck himself,” you say, finally. “Whatever little game he’s playing — I’m done.”

Nari’s sly smile around a fork full of noodles indicates she can’t wait for the gossip that will no doubt come out of this showdown.

*******************************

You have to wait for the right opportunity to confront Kim Seokjin.

You’ve crossed paths with one another a few times in the courthouse in the past few days, but the last thing you want to do is have this conversation in front of the prying eyes and sharp ears that always mill about the halls.

So you stew in your anger and wait for the perfect moment to strike.

The moment comes when you spot a box of files in the lobby of your office, with a large note right on top.

ATTN: Kim Seokjin

Lee & Kang Law Firm

“What is this?” you ask the receptionist, pointing at the box.

“That’s a load of files that has to go over to Lee and Kang. I’m having them delivered,” she replies.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say quickly. You check your watch. It’s end of business already, but you’re certain he’s still at his office. He’s far too ambitious to be the type to pack it in early.

You pull out your phone and shoot a quick text to Nari. Her response is immediate.

you: going to give seokjin a piece of my mind tonight [ 5:49 PM ]

nari: i expect nothing less than a detailed play-by-play [ 5:50 PM ]

The receptionist quirks an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to get off your phone.

“You don’t want me to call for delivery, then?”

“No,” you smile. “I’ll be happy to hand-deliver them myself.”

She shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

******************************

The offices of Lee and Kang are opulent.

Marble and glass and shining fixtures all paid for by hours of top-dollar billing. It’s one of the best firms in town and they clearly spared no expense in decorating the massive space.

When you walk through the heavy glass doors in the lobby there is no receptionist on duty. The main lights are down, leaving only accent lights and the glow coming from a few open offices.

You spot one lone woman still working at her desk in the common area.

“Kim Seokjin?” you ask, as you carry the box past her desk.

For a moment, it looks like she is going to ask you who you are -- because clearly you’re not a deliveryman -- but she sees the note taped to your box and points you in the right direction.

A corner office.

Of course the pampered asshole would already have a corner office.

You take a deep breath before knocking and immediately you hear Seokjin’s deep voice responding to invite you in.

The first thing that strikes you when you open his office door is that he does not seem surprised to see you.

At all.

The man’s beautiful, infuriating face stays entirely neutral as he looks up from the papers on his desk. His total lack of a reaction is unnerving.

The second thing you spot are the massive windows. Seokjin certainly gets to enjoy the perks of his high-status, high-rise office because the backdrop to his workspace is stunning. The sun has already set and the city is lit up behind him, a stark contrast to the night sky.

The last thing that you notice is that his office is a mess. You’d expect someone as anal-retentive as Kim Seokjin to be a neat freak, but there are boxes and papers all over the floors and even his pictures and degrees are leaning against the walls instead of hanging on them.

“Doing some redecorating?” you ask finally, when he does absolutely nothing to end the awkward silence.

“Something like that,” he answers smoothly.

“We owe you these documents,” you say, motioning to the box. You drop it unceremoniously on the floor in front of his desk.

He stares at it for a moment before finally deciding to speak.

“You --” he starts, “ -- hand-delivered a box of documents to my office? Can your firm not afford couriers anymore? You guys going out of business?”

“That’s a lot of questions at once, Mr. Kim,” you fire back. “Have I walked into a deposition? Am I being videotaped?”

“Would you like to be videotaped?” he counters evenly.

You search his face for any hint of humor -- any indication of teasing -- and come up empty. The look on his face suggests he’s just asked a serious question that deserves a serious answer.

Alarm bells begin to sound in your head.

“You seem to be at a loss for words tonight,” he says, finally. “Which from what I gather is a bit unlike you. So I’ll ask you again, what is a gifted attorney doing playing errand girl with a box of files?”

You stand silent, irritated at your sudden inability to string a simple sentence together. Moments ago you’d walked in here ready for a confrontation, ready to read this man the riot act. In a matter of seconds your momentum has died. You can almost feel the power shift in the air.

“I -- “ you start and falter.

Seokjin raises one perfect eyebrow.

“I am not bratty,” you say finally, lamely, and it’s laughable because it sounds exactly like something a brat would say.

“Not bratty,“ Seokjin repeats dryly. “Noted. Anything else?”

“Don’t do that,” you hiss. “That dismissive thing you’re doing right now. I don’t know who you think you think you are, or who you think I am -- but you are all wrong about me.”

He stands up from behind his desk, long fingers moving to loosen the tie around his neck and somehow the simple act comes across as painfully intimate. You very nearly look away.

“All wrong.”

“Yes,” you repeat firmly.

“Oh, I somehow doubt that,” he demurs, moving slowly around his desk to step closer. Not once does he take his eyes off of you.

A flutter of panic spreads across your chest.

“Just...leave me out of whatever game you are playing, Mr. Kim,” you say, the words spilling out in one nervous breath as you turn to make for the entrance of his office. You register the sound of his footsteps but don’t realize he’s made up the distance between you until it’s too late. He reaches past you to push the door closed.

It slams shut with a heavy thud and for a second all you can do is stare at it.

Slowly you turn to face him.

“What do you want from me?” you say after a moment, breathing a bit harder than you’d like. Your tongue slips out to wet your lips, a nervous gesture that his eyes follow with keen interest.

“You,” he begins slowly, “are in my office. You came to me.”

He’s crowding you with his body, guiding you both so incrementally you barely register movement until the door is nearly flush against your back.

“So why don’t you tell me what you want?”

You stare back at him dumbly.

What you want at this moment is to find the choice words that will take him down a peg. You’d love nothing more than to deliver some scathing, elegant takedown but you fail to find the words. You fail to find any words, in fact.

“You are obstinate,” he whispers, so dangerously close you can smell his aftershave. “Haughty. Smug.”

Your mouth falls open in silent protest.

“And clearly in need of a firm hand.”

Heat floods your cheeks.

It’s embarrassing, being spoken to like this. It’s humiliating to have Kim Seokjin of all people dress you down in this way . But the most mortifying thing about this bizarre exchange is the way your body warms immediately, blood humming in response to his words.

“Fuck you, Seokjin,” you whisper back, but the words come out thin and weak.

He leans forward, bracing his palms on either side of the door -- on either side of you, dipping his head low to bring his gaze level with yours.

“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer.

“Ask me for it. Better yet --” he leans close to whisper in your ear, “Beg me for it.”

He hasn’t touched you but that doesn’t stop the pang of arousal set off by his words from hitting you like a slap. The sensation that starts at the apex of your thighs spreads into your legs and across your arms, into your fingers like a current.

Seokjin continues speaking in that same even, unsettling tone.

“Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

He is too close, too warm, too aggravating, too tempting. You have to shut your eyes for a moment to block him out and give your brain a moment to catch up. No one has ever spoken to you this way, and this -- your body’s immediate, damning reaction to it -- is something new.

Something scary.

You’re certain he can see it all over you, the beads of sweat at your temples, the high color in your cheeks. Nari was right — Seokjin is a shark — and he’s looking at you right now like he smells blood in the water.

You stare back at him, conflicted and incensed and aroused beyond belief.

“I’m leaving,” you say finally, voice brittle.

He gives you one long look before reaching behind you for the handle to the door. He pulls it open and waits for you to walk through, but you just stand there for a moment, dazed.

“Get home safe,” he murmurs.

You nearly scream. He’s maddening like this, in complete control while you feel ready to fall apart at the slightest provocation. You look from him to the door and back to him.

You know you have to make a decision. You can walk out that door on trembling legs with your entire body on fire or you can swallow your pride and submit to the most infuriating man you have ever met.

He quirks that eyebrow again.

“Wait,” you say after a long, tense moment.

“For what?”

“Do it,” you whisper, barely meeting his gaze.

“Do what?”

You want to slap him for feigning ignorance but instead take a deep breath in and out before speaking again.

“Fuck me,” you say quietly into the narrow space between your bodies.

For the first time tonight you see a tell -- a tiny giveaway that Seokjin is as affected as you are by this charged encounter. The look of heat that flickers in his eyes is hypnotic. He shuts the door again and rubs his fingers across his lips before speaking.

“Fuck me, what?”

You grit your teeth -- irritated with him, irritated with yourself for being in this position. For not telling him off and leaving with your head held high. Your feet feel rooted to the floor.

“You are an asshole,” you whisper tersely.

“I am,” he admits in that infuriating placid tone. “And I’m still waiting to hear you say it.”

You take a deep breath, then swallow the taste of humiliation that makes your tongue feel heavy and thick.

“Fuck me, please.”

It’s damned near painful to choke out those words and the second they escape you expect him to gloat. You expect him to dangle your submission over your head, to weaponize it and use it against you. What you do not expect is the eerie calm when he reaches behind you again to cut the lights to his office.

His voice is low when he leans close to your ear.

“Good girl.”

***********************

#seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #kimseokjinsmut #kimseokjinfic #btssmut #bts fanfic #bts

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